Kevin Curry
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Courtly Chronicles 11 (The End)
🕑 Added 2025-02-01 15:00:13 +0000 UTCBefore anyone complains about this being the last chapter, I should point out that while it may have been more chapters if I had written this immediately after the other ones, it wouldn't have been that many chapters: I'd say no more than three, and probably only two at most. It was always going to end after the war did, and chapter 9-10 left off with the war being pretty close to over.
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[Tanya Degurechaff von Goethe aka Tenya Deguchiya aka Archduchess von Goethe, circa 1929, age 14]
Tanya had to phone the Imperial Embassy the instant they got to the police station, but they only had to wait in a cell for about a half hour until her diplomatic credentials were confirmed and she gave her statement. Her Type 97 and other sensitive materials were passed off to Monika before she surrendered to arrest, and the maid was then sent off to the hotel with the car; luckily Elya was a mage and could use the spell that made you sober up quickly.
“That minor spat of vigilantism aside, I think it’s high time we take a break.” Were their first words once they returned to the hotel room. “Monika, you can enjoy your date with the American boy, Elya? Did you have something you wanted to do?”
The spy hummed, drinking more water to hydrate from the side-effects of the sober-up spell. She had mostly recovered by now. “Mm, I’m not picky.” She said vaguely. “I’ve never seen you enjoy any kind of fiction… What did you do for fun before?”
Tanya waved their hand vaguely. “I usually just followed Momo’s lead, she was quite good at finding things for us to do together. Other than that, I usually just played online games with my children or other friends, I didn’t have much of a life outside work or family.” Tanya thought about that statement for a moment, and sighed sadly. “Even a decade later, I can still feel the hole losing them has left in my life.”
“I have noticed you’re a workaholic, yes.” Elya said dryly. “Look, I don’t know what ‘online’ means, even after your last attempt to explain it to me, but what I do know is that game parlors exist in this time too, and I’m sure we can find one with some of those oriental games. You’ll enjoy those, probably.”
Tanya spent a moment thinking about it. “I wonder if they have Go…”
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They did not, in fact, have Go. But they did have mahjong, which in hindsight Tanya really should have anticipated. It had been literal centuries for board games to proliferate, how were they supposed to know which ones proliferated when? This was not information that they had deliberately researched.
The parlor was clearly built for Americans who wish to indulge in asiatic culture, with white patrons while the workers… well, they weren’t all Chinese. If the worker had an accent, Tanya offered to speak in their native tongue, whether it was Mandarin, Korean, or even Vietnamese. No Japanese, though, which they chalked up to coincidence.
The players weren’t very competitive; this was a collection of neophytes, mostly wealthy women who marvel at the decorated tiles, seeing mysticism in the symbology so foreign to their previous experiences. Yeah, the rules were a little different than the kind they were used to, but that wasn’t enough of an issue to make Tanya miss a step.
“I must say, you’re very good at this, little girl.” Complimented the young-ish woman with dark curly hair. She peppered her words with yiddish, which Tanya understood. “I’ll need to take things seriously.”
“It’s good to see you get humbled every once and a while, Noa.” Commented another girl with brown hair. “Even if it’s from someone half your age.”
Elya hummed as she looked at her tiles, lamenting how far she was from victory. “Phooey.” She said, pushing them away so they can be reshuffled for the next game.
“You know,” The brunette started, “-do you know how Mahjong got it’s name? It’s a fun love story.” She said conspiratorally. “It all began thousands of years ago-”
“It means ‘sparrow’, and it’s named for the bird-like clicking sound that the tiles make when being shuffled.” Tanya corrected idly. Now that was the kind of useless history trivia they learned. “It’s a hundred years old at most.” Founded in the mid 1800s, although naturally the precise date was unknown.
“How do you know?” The girl said haughtily. “I was told-” Tanya cut her off.
“The Qin are absolutely delighted when you call something thousands of years old. They can’t get enough of the secrets of the honored ancestors or some other nonsense gimmick. You’ll find actual inventors of things like a new food claiming that it’s a secret family recipe that dates to some ancient dynasty.” Tanya explained, using a comparison that they did actually see in a few American restaurant advertisements during their trip, touting ‘Grandma’s secret family recipe’, “In America, you see advertisements emphasizing how ‘everyone is already using’ the product, or touting the opinion of a celebrity. In the Empire, they tout the sophisticated engineering that went into the product, how it is optimized scientifically by the finest minds. It’s the same thing, all marketing. Different cultures trust different markers of quality. Standing the test of time is just what the Qin prefer.”
Noa blinked. As she was the East Wind for this game, she dealt out the tiles. “You’re just a well of trivia, aren’t you?”
“The Archduchess is very well-read.” Elya affirmed, “Never forgets a thing.”
Noa took a moment to absorb that, before smiling. “...Ever play Poker, little girl?”
Tanya blinked. “Wait, I’m not banned from the casinos here.” They suddenly realized, before grinning wildly. Mental quirks like theirs didn’t, strictly speaking, make one automatically banned from casinos. It was, however, grounds to enforce a ban, and if the casinos ever suspected you of using one to cheat they could request your quirk paperwork to disprove this allegation or ban you for having it or by refusing to comply. “Quick check: Have any of you heard of the term ‘counting cards’ in the context of blackjack?”
Both of them looked confused. Tanya smiled widely. “You ladies know of a good place?”
“I know the best places.”
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“Come to Papa.” Tanya laughed as they gathered their new chips. The blackjack tables just had a one deck boot! No auto-shuffler, no busty waitresses with low necklines, nothing! It was just them in a smoke-filled room, nursing a delicious soda made with cocaine as they played small, only to start betting big once the deck was primed to pay out.
It was so easy, they could even spare the attention to watch the table next to this one, as they were also much closer than the savvy casinos of the future. Actually, they were initially at that other table, but the count on this one ran up high enough that they switched.
The other ladies giggled as the brunette, whose name was Edith, gathered her own winnings. Her strategy of ‘follow Tanya and copy their betting patterns’ was holding strong. “How do you know?” She asked.
“I can sniff a hot table.” Tanya explained, being sure to infuse as much braggadocio as they could, “It’s subtle, so you need to play and probably lose for a while, but when a deck is primed right, you hit conservatively and wait for the dealer to bust.”
Elya snorted, already knowing Tanya well enough to know when they’re burnishing their explanations. “I don’t know what you’re doing, but it’s not that.”
The dealer shuffled the deck, which was Tanya’s cue to switch tables. “This other table’s lucky now.” They declared, as the count was up four on the third hand of the shuffle. The dealer looked annoyed at the declaration: two hours ago, they were smug when Tanya made those kinds of statements, but now that Tanya’s stack of chips was so high, they were taking them seriously. They had to act quickly, because a one deck boot meant shuffles every four to six hands, depending on the number of players.
After winning another tidy sum, the floor manager came up, aggravated by Tanya’s winning streak, although he concealed it with a greasy smile. “Hey, shuffle the deck now.” He said, watching Tanya like a hawk.
“You’re the boss.” The dealer said, obeying.
“I’m done.” Tanya said while gathering their chips, not even trying to play innocent. “Time to cash out.”
“Hey, now.” The floor manager said, bidding them to remain seated. “No need for that. Keep playing.”
Tanya rolled their eyes. Even legitimate casinos tended to operate pretty much exactly the same as the ones run by organized crime. “No.” Tanya said firmly. “You think they don’t have casinos in the Empire?” They strengthened their rural German accent, sounding like a hick pig farmer once more. “Rustle up a run of good luck and suddenly you have to start watching for people measuring your coffin.” Tanya huffed, returning to the aristocratic tone they adopted in this world. “So you have two choices: Either you let me cash out my chips, or start with the threats, and-” They flexed their quirk, and the type 97 started to glow ominously. “-that’s not going to end well for you.”
The floor manager stood his ground, but eventually said: “You should go talk to the boss.” He decided.
“Send him to the chip exchange.” Tanya retorted, “I’m not moving from there until I get every dollar of my winnings.”
“That’s not how it works in this town.” The floor manager growled, offended on behalf of his oyabun.
“What are you doing!?” Hissed Noa, panicking at the thought of someone pissing off the mafia.
“If they want to pretend to be legitimate businessmen, they need to actually act like legitimate businessmen.” Tanya replied, “When a business owner wishes to meet with a member of the peerage, they cannot go making demands, especially over the petty amounts that I won here today.” They turned a gimlet eye on the floor manager. “If they instead wish to act like the petty kings of the criminal underbelly, I will treat them as such and rip them out root and stem from the civilized world.” They let amusement show on their expression. “In my extensive experience, an intimidated judiciary tends to find some steel in their spine when they have the entire criminal enterprise in lockup with evidence aplenty.”
That seemed to be the last straw for the floor manager’s fraying temper.
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“I’m sorry.” Tanya said sincerely. “I wasn’t supposed to work on my day off.”
“How did you even find them all?” Asked the head of the local FBI office.
Tanya took a moment to consider the question. “...Experience.” They eventually said. “Once you’ve taken down your twentieth criminal cartel, you just start to see the patterns.” Also, criminals as a general rule advanced via selective pressure, not by institutional knowledge development. It meant that this environment, with relatively weak law enforcement, encouraged lax standards.
“How old are you?” The federal agent asked, exasperated.
“14, but I have forty years of experience in a past life.” Tanya confirmed, not giving a single solitary fuck about how absurd the statement was. “Look, you have my report,” Half-assed, in their opinion. “-and I’m willing to record testimony if I leave the country before the trial.”
“Why do you even have printing plates for this kind of thing?” He continued.
Tanya scoffed. “I used magic to burn the marks into the paper. It’s not ink.” Tanya clarified. “Again, forty years experience. I can print incident paperwork in my sleep.” She grabbed some more of the blank paper and, before his eyes, printed out a template as well as a few others for him. “Feel free to use them for your internal documents going forward, if you can find a good way to replicate it.” They printed off another set, which a competent orb programmer should be able to use in order to replicate the printing formula. “From your friends in the Empire, the program for magical printing.”
The man just stared at the paperwork, eventually doing what thousands of law enforcement officers have done before him: kick ‘working with Argent Silver’ up the chain of command.
It’s not their fault that people aren’t usually ready for competent assistance.
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While it would have been nice to tour the entire country, visit Hollywood (or Heywood, rather) at least, the truth was that there wasn’t anything on the west coast of the Unified States that would help in their goal of sourcing logistical support from American manufacturers; yeah they could theoretically schmooze a few senators from out there, but Mr. Hughes pulled through; a one-million dollar loan from the federal banking system opened up the floodgates for ten times that much from private sources, all at reasonable interest rates: after the peace treaty, there was absolutely no concern that the Empire couldn’t make good on its debts.
For image’s sake, Tanya was welcomed back to the country at Hansburg, the Empire’s largest port, at the head of a massive cargo ship filled with American goods to supply the front lines. Uniforms made to the Empire’s exacting specifications, drums of oil, antifreeze, and other chemicals, munitions in the proper calibres, and the most direct aid of all: the M29 Weasel tracked platform, designed to tow large loads over snow and mud.
Tanya rode one off the boat, ignoring the massive amount of flashes that these olde timey cameras used. They gave a few soundbites to the reporters, emphasizing the cooperation of the Americans and how it was a good first step for lasting peace once the communists have been defeated.
Brigadier General Lergen was there to receive her, and the picture of that meeting would probably feature in history books about the Great War. It was beginning to look like they were on track to avoid having its name changed in this timeline.
Time to take things home.
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[Tanya Degurechaff von Goethe aka Tenya Deguchiya aka Archduchess von Goethe, circa 1930, age 15]
Quirks or no quirks, people were still people. More importantly, villains were still villains. They craved respect, to be treated as superior. When you were dealing with Kings, Heroes, and Emperors, sometimes being treated as equal was superior enough.
Furthermore, the mind of a villain never changed: they lacked the understanding of history that shows the futility of their actions, and if they did they usually were the type to accept the price of their inevitable failure if it meant they could chase the ‘good life’ until it occurred. It was the kind of nihilistic hedonism that’s endemic when the world looks to be falling apart, as it appears to when there are no heroes.
So in that predictability, they tended to assume that normal social niceties, the kind where both sides were supposed to bare their metaphorical necks to the other to engender trust, as the actions of a fool. After all, the best way to avoid getting betrayed was to make it impossible, or to betray them first.
Idiots. While Tanya agreed with the broad sentiment that one should be careful to not trust too completely, particularly when dealing with untrustworthy sorts like communists, modern society was built on the idea that everyone benefits if you just put your war-boners away and cooperate. The idiots who couldn’t keep them in drydock never left, of course, and the motivational power of conflict did influence things in a positive manner sometimes, but by and large dominance games just wasted everyone’s time and energy and made people miserable for bad reasons.
So when the front was pushed forward enough to besiege Josefgrad, with more and more communist atrocities not only discovered but broadcasted, with proof, the leadership took the only step they could, after trying everything else: they entreated for peace, with their sole… condition, although they phrased it as a request, being that the ‘famous Archduchess’ be the one to negotiate the terms. Exactly as they planned.
“-and in twenty years, the Russy territory will be allowed to vote in a plebiscite on whether or not to fully become an Imperial territory, or become an independent nation, with the terms outlined in the Contingency Treaty.” Which were good enough to heavily encourage them to become independent. “If the plebiscite fails, the districting as outlined in Document 3-c will allow the portions of the territory adjacent to the Empire the option to secede from the rest of Russy and become an Imperial nation, but at a higher eighty percent threshold from the plebiscite to authorize.” Tanya explained, showing the map that more or less copied the Russy’s internal territory lines. “Or, and the Kaiser would prefer this I assure you, you can instead submit to full annexation and allow the Kaiser to do as he wills.”
“Not much of a choice.” Grumbled Josef Dzhugashvili, the Stalin equivalent. “Why something so complicated?”
Tanya shrugged. “Because this way the Americans and the Albish don’t get pissy. In the long run, letting Russy become an independent state that doesn’t put themselves as the international bad guy,” doing things like, well, all of the 21st century. “-would improve global stability over giving the Kaiser an even bigger ego.” The poor man’s head will pop if it gets any bigger. “I want what any thinking man wants: peace and prosperity, for everyone. Then there will be no need for villainy.”
Josef took a moment to think. “Your eyes…” He said, “-I believe the stories now. You come from happier times than this, to speak with such conviction.”
“Happier?” Tanya asked, thinking about it. “...I was happy there, to be sure. Things were getting better, and had been for decades by the time I died.” They always did feel uncomfortable bragging… “I contributed in part to that peace. I plan to continue doing so.”
“...I would like to take the night to think on my decision.” Josef requested, “You may occupy the estate while I do so, just… leave my quarters be.”
“A reasonable request.” Tanya declared, “Your deadline is noon tomorrow.”
“Too generous, I assure you.”
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Tanya had suspected that Josef was planning on committing suicide, which would be absurdly inconvenient. Thus, they kept an eye on him through their formulas from the floor below, while keeping their own guard light in order to conduct said spying in secret.
Unfortunately, their vigil was impeded by an uncharacteristic onset of fatigue, and it was interrupted by a Russy secret police abduction team, which explained the fatigue: they were drugged and didn’t notice. Sloppy. Probably from the water they had taken to their room.
Still, it wouldn’t be the first time they had to fake weakness in order to bring criminals to justice, so this wasn’t entirely new territory. So they let the NKVD operators take their limp body, an easy task given their light weight, to wherever they were supposed to ‘vanish’ to. Honestly, Tanya couldn’t quite wrap their head around the plan here.
The NKVD team wasn’t entirely incompetent; they used secret passages to avoid the guards, and Tanya found themselves secured in a chair that had manacles attached. “Take her orb.” Instructed the team leader, taking the type 97 from Tanya’s throat. He checked his own orb, presumably using a magic scanner, and frowned. “There’s still magic happening, search her.”
Normally, Tanya would complain at their paranoia, and about the perverted giggles the short one had as he explored Tanya’s clothes… but they did actually have two extra orbs running recording formulae padding their chest, so they really couldn’t call foul on doing what it took to find them.
Still, they cut off the metabolic acceleration formula when they were separated from the orbs, even cursing at the secret policemen in Russy. Right on cue, the villain emerged. “See? As I said. It was smoke and mirrors, the tools of the witch.” The man was corpulant and ugly, and Tanya immediately clocked onto his motives with ease of experience: Ah, this is a sex crime in progress. The recording formulae should still be functioning, as Tanya was deliberately supplying them with mana at a distance (a difficult trick), so they needed to get proper evidence quick.
“Kidnapping a diplomat?” Tanya asked, “You must have been a very bad boy if you’re so certain that you won’t survive the criminal investigations of the communist leadership.” They recognized the man now: Slavenity Loria, head of the NKVD. One of Josef’s right-hand men, and the one who was so evil that he couldn’t get communists to kidnap a small girl for him.
…Well, he managed to get some more loyal communists since then. “It is true, your bourgeois armies have managed to suppress the proletariat once more. I will likely be unable to escape the kangaroo courts and will be hung as a man who fought for the people, a martyr of the cause.” Tanya had seen a lot of villainous monologues before, justifying their actions and reframing the heroes as tyrants. On conviction, they’d give Loria a 2 out of 10. He can’t even be bothered to shout his speech, reciting it calmly as if he was describing his breakfast. At least he didn’t sound bored… “But that leaves me with the last resort of dead men:” Loria continued, scowling at Tanya. “Spite. I will spend my last moments doing what I love most in the world: Putting arrogant little chits like you in their place.” He dropped his pants.
Tanya glanced over to the orbs. Yes, still active. “That’s all I need, thanks.” Tanya said sincerely before grinning her best All Might grin. “One Man Army: Silver Regiment.” The restraints snapped like paper in the face of one-fifth of All Might’s strength. “Army of One: Blitzkrieg.”
Was it difficult to take them alive? No, of course not. What do you take them for, a vigilante? Now, if they had suicide measures installed, that would be different, but Loria either couldn’t get a hold of his cyanide supply or simply didn’t think that it mattered enough to risk what little hold he still retained on his subordinates by issuing the order.
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In the end, though, Josef did successfully kill himself instead of surrendering, but between the recordings on the Albish and American orbs they had kept going and the still-alive perpetrators, the international community didn’t have much choice but to follow through with the plan.
Tanya personally oversaw Russy’s revival, recovering as many people from the gulags as possible and putting every effort into modernizing the country that had been ravaged by the communist’s depredations.
Was it annoying? Absolutely. Did the traumatized Russy public make them want to tear their hair out with their attitudes? Yep. But they needed a Hero. Argent Silver will just have to be that hero, because the rest of the world would just throw them to the wolves.
[Tanya Degurechaff von Goethe aka Tenya Deguchiya aka Archduchess von Goethe, circa 1950, age 34]
The instant the results of the plebiscite arrived, with the Russy Republic deciding to stand on its own feet once more, a proud nation with a proud people, time stood still.
“...How?” Came Being X’s voice.
“You’ll need to be more specific.” Tanya replied drolly, a smug smile arriving.
“In just twenty years, one generation.” Being X said, disbelief in his voice, “You turned a bunch of godless heathens who would betray their own families to survive just that little bit longer… to people, still godless, who…” He struggled to put it into words.
“Who have hope?” Tanya supplied.
“They’re literally praying to you.” Being X said, “I put you among the faithful, instead of that idolatry-ridden hellscape, and… they still worship you.” Yeah, they’ve seen the shrines.
“Everyone needs a hero.” Tanya said sagely, “Someone’s got to be that hero. I told you before, people choose heroes over gods because the heroes are real. Still human, but the best parts of it. Strength enough to not be afraid, wise enough to know right from wrong, and compassionate enough to forgive their mistakes. Gods… they’re just an idea. Heroes can be real, all it takes is the will to become one.” Also many advantages that can be leveraged into heroics instead of martyrdom, but the idea that a hero can be humble was important.
“...You were right.” Being X admitted, looking physically pained as he said it. “When you’re done here, I’ll… do you a favor… or something.”
“Safe to assume that getting my old life saved and continuing back home is off the table?” Tanya asked idly.
“Yes.” Being X said definitively. “Bet or not, your death was not part of it.”
“What about some kind of red thread of fate, letting me and Momo fall in love once more in future lives?” Tanya posited.
“That’s not possible.” Being X said sympathetically. “Once you’re cleansed, that’s it.”
“Just a chance to say goodbye to her, then.” Tanya said firmly. “My children as well if that can be swung.” They added, “Hopefully not too long after my death, if you can meddle with the timing?”
“...How about a job?” Being X offered instead. “Become My Agent, my advisor, my…” He trailed off.
“Manager?” Tanya offered ruefully.
“Yes.” Being X said.
Tanya grinned as they immediately started haggling on the job description, pay, and benefits. One, the job begins when they die in this life, giving them time to cement the cultural changes they instituted in Russy. Two, they get Momo’s soul, once she dies, if she still wants to spend their afterlives together. Job obligations will not require anything of her. Three: Related to point two, they get their old body back. There were other points, but those were the main concessions.
It was interesting, navigating the Celestial Bureaucracy as Bein-sorry, Yahweh’s, administrative consultant, but the hours were actually less intense than being a hero: Being X just had bad workflow habits and took a lot more overtime than he really should have.
But still; every night he got to go home to his beautiful wife, who knows everything about him and loves him for it, and that was all he really wanted out of life.
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