There is sound, and there is fury, and then, she seems all of a sudden to be entirely immersed in blood.

Oh hell! Her active shell is immersed in blood, thank you. How about she floods herself with the analgesic formula despite this probably being a Bad Idea - ahh, that's better - then tries to gain some altitude.

She will be able to rapidly emerge from the blood, in that case. She is in some godforsaken mountain range and the Rhine, and trench warfare more generally, are nowhere to be seen. Instead, her location seems to be under fire by heavy cannon, who are themselves protected by units of spearmen and swordsmen from a small horde of what appear to be giant, bloodsoaked rats (additional bloodsoaked rats are also emerging from the water as she watches).

She's the only thing in the sky.

Well. Not quite the only thing. There's also a dragon, taking flight in response to her appearance from rocky perch where it had been resting.

She keeps ascending at a nice gentle pace while she takes it in. (Speed is life in the air.)

"...What by all the fucks?"

Where the hell has she ended up, Dacia? They once sent honest-to-god line formation infantry up against the Empire's aerial mages and artillery. It was target practice. Some ungodly hell-hole in the Balkans?

Transmission formula: "Flight leader, 203, any units, respond."

She listens to the orb. Nothing. Static.

...She looks for any sign of familiar uniforms or insignia.

One side is garbed only in blood and horrific mutations beyond god or man. (Also they're still giant rats.)

The other side appears to lack a uniform outfit, consisting as they do largely of levies with spears, swords, and crossbows, but they are at least wearing roughly coherent green and yellow colours.

The dragon has a rider, who is wearing elaborate full-plate with many frills and decorations, but has no visible heraldry.

The analgesic formula makes things seem so clear. It's not so much a cold calculation in her head as a series of reflexes and heuristics that lead to an inevitable conclusion.

There is a battle, and hesitation is death. There are infantry holding a line, and she is an aerial mage.

The dragon-knight complicates things but maybe blowing up its enemies will endear her to it.

Also, she really wants to kill something right now.

That relatively compact bunch of horrors will do. Load a magazine of blast formula rounds, charge with mana, judge range, adjust aim, fire. Work the bolt to load another round. Observe fall of shot.

The horrors are not that tough. Wherever she fires, they go down, and there aren't that many of them - a steady flow, emerging as she did from the blood, rather than an army.

The dragon-rider will suspend his judgement and not approach.

And, after a minute or so, another volley of cannon-fire will occur. It's pretty clear, now, that they're firing on the waterfall of blood emerging from the peak of the mountain, which is the highest mountain in the general area.

Objective discerned: Medeival army wants to destroy the (??)command center(??)... Spawning point?? What is this, a video game?

She woke up in that thing, though! It could be important! Though it doesn't exactly look safe to examine...

She has no idea what is going on here. As soon as someone recognizes her as an officer of the Empire she'll be hunted and imprisoned for extradition. Then the Francois and Unified States will try her as a war criminal and execute her.

Not an acceptable outcome.

Okay, so she's flying blind in unknown territory. She needs to go to ground and gather intelligence. But fitting in with the local population is a hopeless task when she hasn't got the first clue where she is. Guerilla raids, maybe? That will certainly get her treated as an enemy.

The other option is some sort of parley. They have pitiful technology here. She poses a pretty credible threat to this army, dragon notwithstanding. It's worth at least attempting to talk. Just... Not while there's an active battle. She can fall back to guerilla tactics later. Probably another six hours of wakefulness in her, she judges by feeling the strains on her body.

...Okay, and in support of an attempt at parley how about she helps with their objective. She has paused for maybe a minute, but now flies parallel to the army to get clear of the mountain and starts joining her bombardment rounds to their barrage. And with the Type 95, each one of those hits quite hard.

It takes nearly half of her ammunition, but when each shot carries the explosive force of a volley from the entire cannon of the Stirland army, it's not long until the water of the spring runs clear, the mountain is clearly lacking it's peak, and the rats cease to flow. 

Well, not all aerial mages are Major Tanya Degurechaff. Ahem. Half of her bombardment shots is quite a lot of work to get whatever deep bunker was pouring out that cursed thing - it'll take her days to re-enchant it all, and that's if she can get the right caliber of ammunition. But it's not like she was going to go for close assault. 

She slings her rifle, then, and surveys the charnel house below. Good day's work, always nice to shoot at something that can't shoot back... Now to hope it's bought her some good will.

She flies closer to but not over the lines, low, and shouts out with a sound formula, "Parley!"

People will hesitantly point crossbows and the occasional musket or rifle at her, but nobody will fire unless an order is given, and no order is given. There seems to be a command tent over there, with someone waving for her attention in front of it.

She slings her rifle over her back, to show a clear sign of non-aggression. Not that it counts for that much, they'll absolutely know she's still a threat, but gestures of de-escalation are still worth making even if they're just gestures.

And she'll slowly fly over and land, doing her best to look nonchalant instead of exhausted.

...Feeling kind of twitchy. And definitely maintaining her passive shell.

She will be directed by the waving aid into the command tent, where the dragon-rider, now dismounted, and a small military staff centred on a middle-aged german-looking man. The tent is packed to almost crowded with a bodyguard of men in full plate, armed with two-handed swords. A man in a very tall hat and several priests stands to one side, glaring suspiciously and grasping icons of hammers with intent to brandish at the first sign of trouble.

The man at the centre of everything speaks: "Thank you for your help with the Blasphemy of Blood. But, uh, who the hell are you and where did you come from? We didn't ask for help from the colleges and they wouldn't have sent anyone, let alone someone as young as you are."

They're speaking imperial? Or something recognizable as imperial. Did she travel to the Empire's past somehow?

What implications does this have? What should she say? She knows of no 'college'; Presumably a mage's college, but... Bah!

You can't freeze up forever, it's just obvious you're concocting lies.

"...Glad to assist against such a blasphemy, then. It's obviously some incredibly foul magic, and the world is better off to be rid of it. Sir, I am extremely lost. The last thing I knew, I was on a different battlefield entirely, as an aerial mage protecting the lines. This place and your people are unfamiliar to me. My apologies, but it's rather shocking, and I'm fairly tired too."

"Whatever it really was, it's gone, but it's only one of a thousand horrors in these hills. With all due respect, we'd like to verify that you're not one of them."

"She's not a vampire, at least. There's less Dhar on her than there is on us, just for being in this foul place."

"Are vampires a going concern?"

"Rather. Do you really have no idea where you are?" 

(One of the battle-priests in the background: "Sir, I really think we should - " Asarnil: "If you are going to hire the greatest, and most expensive, mercenary in the empire, why are you going to just ignore my advice?". Both are soundly ignored.)

Sigh.

She still has no fucking idea how to put together a coherent set of lies, nor which ones would benefit her here, so she may as well just... Tell the truth? Maybe not the whole truth.

"I do not. My operational area was a flat river; The Rhine. The nearest mountains are some two hundred miles south of where I ought to be; Those would be the Swiss Alps. Or possibly the hills around Freiburg? And to answer a previous question, I am Tanya von Degurechaff, trained war mage, most proximately under command of Colonel Heinrich Muller, in good order of the Imperial Army of Germania. Precise operation details are considered military secrets, I cannot share everything."

"I've never heard of any of those places or people. You are currently about twenty miles north-east of Leicheburg, in the Haunted Hills, in Stirland, in the Empire of Man. I am Marshal Gustav von Jungfreud, commander of this army under Elector-Count Abelhelm Van Hal. We are seeking to purge these hills of the undead and make them once again safe for human habitation."

"...I see. The Empire. What is the current year?"

Perhaps she has travelled to the past. Or perhaps Being X has decided to be cruel to her and toss her into a third world; Another world where she'll face endless war. It's unlike him to not have gloated about it yet, though... She can't recall anything in her Germanian history lessons about necromantic horrors, or a 'stirland'. Just some folk tales about old witches, before modern calculation equipment, and the vague superstitions surrounding them...

What kind of impression is safe to give here? 'Mercenary' is something they already have reference for- The dragon rider!

"I would be much obliged if I could be compensated for blowing up the cursed spring somehow, though of course I didn't arrange it in advance so that's no obligation. But I do need to eat and acquire more bullets to enchant."

There, appearing reasonable by politely requesting pay for solving a military problem (or at least helping) but making sure to mention that it would be fair not to pay. And a subtle implication at the end there, that one might turn to banditry in extremis of desperation. That's a nice touch.

"The year is 2475! Of course we can ensure you're fed and supplied while you're here, it wouldn't do to see a heroic contributor to our cause to go unfed. You shall dine at my very own table!

... actual payment will require consultation with Van Hal and vetting by his spymaster. It's a damn lucky thing he's got a grey wizard on our side already, that sort of thing is their wheelhouse without a doubt, shadowed swords of the empire and all that."  

"We must be using different calendars, by my reckoning it would be 1923. Of course, I understand that you need to vet things like this, and I would thank you for the hospitality in the meantime." She sketches a bow.

She's seen the quality of the weapons here... Like hell do they have 7.92×57mm Mauser rounds laying around. Probably literally just lead shot, paper-wad powder charges for propellant, at best. Would they even take a guidance formula? The steel or brass jacket makes converging the formulae to a stable point much easier, and the rounds would tumble out of a guidance formula's ability to correct for if they're just spheres...

"I would like to note that the ammunition I used just now is specialized and should be considered a limited resource."

"This campaign is somewhat behind schedule but thus far has faced only manageable threats, thank Sigmar. We will not form plans on the assumption that you are able or willing to use any particular battle magic without specific case by case consultation." 

Left unspoken: if only because you may be executed for heresy within a few days. 

She will continue to make polite diplomatic noises and not give too much away as long as Gustav von Jungfreud wishes to, quite looking forward to the chance to eat something that's not Imperial Army rations. Even if whatever this army eats is worse, at least it'll be different.

She will be invited to share a meal that's honestly pretty okay, all things considered, a meal fit for aristocrats on campaign and thus containing, say, seasoning and hot fresh meat and preparation by an actually skilled cook, and other things that make life worth living, even if it was prepared mostly out of preserved goods from the campaign stores. It even has some nice Stirland wine. Gustav Von Jungfreud is canny enough to avoid too many details of the current campaign, but he's happy to regale her with tales of past campaigns, with particular focus on his derring-do as a cavalry outrider with pistol and grenade. 

She will decline any wine at all, actually. Regulations, you know. (It would be polite in most social contexts to accept such a thing, but she is too foreign and too suspicious already and needs to stay sharp at this time.)

Oh! It seems there may be some overlap between aerial mage doctrine and cavalry tactics; In particular, the tendency for a sudden charge to either shatter the enemy or get oneself into a very vulnerable position if you misjudged it, and the immense power of scouting and flanking.

The comedown from too much analgesic formula is really starting to hit her, not that she can possibly let this show. Though she does start mentioning lodging arrangements.

Gustav is very familiar with both of those, though he notes that against undead or demon forces, decisive charges tend not to be as decisive as all that - they'll fight till they die or their binding is dissolved, so she should be careful not to overextend herself in that sort of fight. Between the broken terrain and the undead foe, his prefered style of warfare is really rather ineffectual in this campaign, hence hanging back with the artillery train. 

She can be directed to a spare tent in which she can sleep. 

Oh, if the undead are held together by magic, maybe an Interference Formula would be effective? Something to test later, perhaps?

Sleep sounds really good right now. She can't really fortify or ward the thing, and would prefer a nice concrete bunker or at least a foxhole, but needs must. She floats to the tent rather than walking; Being a scary mage will discourage any potential troublemakers in this unfamiliar mass of humanity called an army, which may or may not be as disciplined as she's used to. That's defense layer 1. Layer 2 is positioning her equipment and packs in such a way as to warn her if anything is messing with the tent- Canteen and food tins hanging from the flap so they'll make a racket if it moves, the large metal flight boot behind her head to serve as a barrier from any potential crushing from the rear of the tent. Layer 3 is, of course, sleeping while still wearing the Type 95 and holding her sidearm. The passive shell dissolves when she sleeps but she can snap it back up in moments upon waking, after being called to do exactly that dozens of times for sudden sorties.

And as she sleeps uninterrupted (anyone who decides to take a stab at the probably-vampire will get a quiet word from a priest set to keep a subtle watch on the situation), a fast horse will be dispatched back to Wurtbad to inform them of this development, and of the likely cause if the entire army disappears overnight, and another will be dispatched into the hills searching for a certain grey wizard as she works with the troops to clear the hills and caves of zombies and skeletons. 

And then another, much faster, horse will take her back the other way, to spend much of the rest of the night puzzling over this absurd magesight signiture. 

In the morning, nobody tries to wake up the mysterious battle wizard as they go about their days. 

In the morning, she cleans her weapons and boots first thing. And inventories all her remaining ammunition, quietly singing a bastardized version of Panzerlied to herself. 

Whether it storms or snows,

Whether the sun smiles upon us,

In the day's scorching heat,

Or the ice-cold of the night,

Dusty are the faces,

But joyful are our minds,

Yes, our minds.

Our spells roar there,

Along in the storm winds.

With thundering formulae,

Quick as lightning,

Towards the enemy,

Protected in the shell.

Ahead of our comrades,

In combat we stand alone,

We stand alone.

So we strike deep

Into the enemy's ranks...

And then tidying up her combat dress as much as she can, using a pocket compact to fix her hair and hat (as much as she can), and packing everything up neat and tidy, to march out of the tent with passive shell on and chin up.

A certain stealthy, and now somewhat sleep-deprived wizard departs silently once Tanya is ready to leave, off to make her report - to the effect that this is a deeply weird situation but that Tanya doesn't seem to be a necromancer, black magister, or chaos sorcerer. 

It's far too much to hope for there to be a well- Anything close to the tainted spring oughtn't be trusted- But what does getting water and breakfast look like here? The battle mage asks random passing soldiers.

Dealing with mundanities sounds like more fun than dwelling on the Rhine and how the 203rd could have been wiped out, to a man, without her.

Between the priests, the local guides, and the teams of siege engineers with a mandate to make this place fit for moving armies, water supply is surprisingly a nonissue. 

Once again, she is shuffled awkwardly into the officer part of the logistics chain, and can thus obtain water from a barrel already dragged up the hill and a breakfast of sausages, eggs, fried potato and fresh bread, all with savoury brown gravy. For beverages, there is milk (goat), beer, and wine. Tea or coffee would need to be talked out of one of the few officers who procures their own supply, if it is to be obtained at all.

Alas, coffee will have to wait. She will look for a way to make herself useful, maybe just with magic assisted heavy lifting, maybe by flying a lookout if nothing else seems obvious. And endeavor to determine who is watching her because they would be idiots not to have someone obvious and someone less obvious, to catch her when she thinks she's clear of the first.

People broadly speaking don't seem interested in her help - unless she's very pushy about it, they're totally fine and need no help miss terrifying witch, and then they clasp hammer amulets or make v-signs over their eyes when they think she's not watching. 

The obvious watcher is one of the priests from earlier, who lingers without finesse wherever she goes and glares at her if she uses magic or makes a social faux pas.

(The nonobvious watcher is currently taking a quick nap so that she'll be more on top of things when she actually talks to Tanya) 

On further thought, instead of going flying, she'll subject herself to whatever lecture asking the obvious watcher about Sigmar invites. She's heard of Sigmar, of course, (from overhearing muttered curses and invocations), wielder of holy hammers and protector against the undead, but not enough, and would love* to hear more.

*It serves her purposes to appear interested and sincere on this subject.

Of Sigmar, oh great golden Sigmar, what is there to be said? An awful lot, apparently, said with a passion that has flecks of spittle flying from the priest's mouth. Sigmar Heldenhammer, golden-armed, friend to dwarves, bane of greenskins and beastmen and witches and chaos alike. Sigmar, who united all* humanity into a single immortal empire to survive the ages. Sigmar, foretold by the twin-tailed comet. Sigmar, who first wielded Ghal Maraz**. Sigmar Boar-friend, chosen of Ulric the ancient wolf-god. Sigmar, king of the gods, whose holy power is the finest shield against the chaos that lurks in the north and seeks to destroy all that is good and right in the world. Sigmar, in whose name we march forth today to slay the foul undead who have been the bane of Stirland since Sylvania's treachery against all humanity in days of yore. Sigmar, who cloaks us in fire and faith and steel. A pretty swell guy, all told.

*Except for those filthy foreigners and slash or heretics who barely count.

**You know. The Warhammer. That one. The one people fantasize about.

Pretending to instantly convert is a bad strategy easily seen through in any case, even if she didn't find the whole thing distasteful. Also, good data point that they're polytheistic- There's probably a whole litany of accepted, questionable, and outright banned gods, then. She can learn over time. And are these ones real? In the sense that they're powerful extradimensional entities, at least- She can't deny that Being Fucking X is that. They probably are.

But she can look impressed and reverent here and now, and agree vigorously that the undead certainly need slaying, if they seek nothing more than destruction and more death. Praise Sigmar for burning the foes of all, then. To burn them, to shatter them, burst them apart with magic, slice them with spears and arrows and artillery, rip and tear until it is done. That dragon and the knight atop it must be a huge help there, eh?

They are real enough that the list of acclaimed miracles includes miracles that occurred like, last week - apparently Brother Kasmir, Count Van Hal's personal chaplain, gets them fairly regularly.

Yeah! Kill the undead! Except not with magic. Magic is how they got this problem in the first place.

Asarnil (The exiled elf dragon-prince) and Deathfang (The Dragon) are very useful, yes, but also about as expensive as the upkeep on all the cannon combined, and who can trust dogs of war, even princely ones - there's presumably a good reason he's exiled from his homeland.

Being S, check. At least this one's not yelling in her head.

This chap does not seem the type to appreciate a nuanced discussion of technology, its uses, risk profiles, economics... But she can poke a little.

"Proper soldiers need to be paid too, don't they?"

"Mercenaries charge too much and then they run off with the money when the going gets tough, or brutalise the local population, or generally wreck havoc. Good honest sons of Stirland would never do any of that - if they flee, they know it's their families that'll pay the price of the province being overrun by the dead."

"Ah, put it like that I quite agree. I'd much rather have fellow believers in the Fatherland to fight at my side. None else can be trusted to fight to the last, and oft not even then. I merely wanted to say that wages, powder and shot, arms and armor, food and wagons and horses must all be phenomenally expensive too."

"War is an expensive matter indeed, but the alternative is death and dishonour in the eyes of our forefathers. But I think many people would rather have another three score of good honest Nuln cannon than a dragon."

At this point, a runner has arrived with a message - Tanya is wanted for another meeting.

"Might depend on the dragon. And the supply of ammunition. Ah, of course, as your disposal."

Flight boots aren't really meant for walking around with, but she really does not want to be far from her means of escape at this time. Also, her equipment still counts as property of the Army, and is not hers to lose track of near wandering eyes. So she'll tromp to this meeting wearing fifty-odd pounds of metal only lightly supported by a flight formula on idle.

Nobody has enough context to question this decision. Certainly, she's not the only person in camp wearing huge loads of metal armour - for example, the greatswords guarding this tent she's being guided into. 

Passive shell wobbles slightly as she double-checks it. She has no other visible sign of nervousness.

In the tent a woman in her early twenties, wearing grey robes that hardly show the hours of hard riding and subsequent surveillance and armed with a two-handed sword and pistols (all holstered safely, for now), who examines her silently for a moment before speaking.

"Greetings. I'm Mathilde Weber, here to discuss your magic use puissant to determining your suitability for recruitment into the Colleges of Magic as described in article 13 of the character of the colleges." 

Ah, the bureaucracy has found her. It's oddly comforting.

"Of course. I will be sure to answer your questions while maintaining the obligations I have to the Imperial Army of Germania. I'm Major Tanya von Degurechaff, 203rd Battalion, Aerial Mages, commanding. I would be delighted to review this charter and any other relevant laws, regulations, articles, declarations, letters, licenses, and so forth, in order to reach a... Better understanding of them."

"One important point of clarification, first: is your magic the blessing of a god, and if so, which one? It's very strange, I've never seen anything like it before, and divine magic is subject to a very different set of regulations."

There is a spike of

FURY

that does not show on her face.

"...While I have in times of desperation found my prayers answered with miraculous feats of magic above and beyond the norm, I strongly prefer not to rely on it. This is quite a sore subject for me. I believe my magic should be treated as would any other Imperial Mage's, honed by training and artifice rather than divinity."

The more loyalty she displays to the Empire- To the Germanian Empire- The more they'll trust her eventual conversion or recruitment here. That's the idea, at least: A reliable person who keeps to the duties taken on.

The fury, does, however, show in the spike of Aqshy that jerks towards her and then bounces off her passive shields.

Mathilde allows a little concern to show on her face, rather than the really rather large amount of concern she's feeling.

"Ah. Who, exactly, were you praying to?"

An untrustworthy meddler. Fuck. It'll be incredibly suspicious to be evasive about this. But she can buy at least a few moments to compose herself and think of a way of phrasing it.

"I would strongly, strongly prefer not to talk about it. If I must..." She pinches the bridge of her nose. "Then I suppose I must."

Mathilde has in fact thought about what she'd do if she was confronted by an arch-sorcerer, driven dhar-mad and in need of being put down. Unfortunately, the answer is probably "die". Still, if she can obtain more information before fleeing for her life to make a report to those back at the colleges who can handle this sort of problem better than her, that would be good. And you know, maybe this is the one time in a thousand where someone just has a complicated relationship with a sanctioned god, rather than being halfway to making mass human sacrifices to mad gods and sliding fast.

"Yes, you really must."

...Being X hasn't bothered her here yet. Could it have washed its hands of her? Did she out-stubborn the bastard? It really doesn't seem likely... And yet.

How about she gives in to the constant urge to complain about Being X and see if it decides to take it out on her. At this point it almost doesn't matter what he does; Surely Being X exists and is powerful, but that does not make it worthy of praise and worship. Every time she has prayed and been answered, it was out of desperation, in situations that Being X itself forced her into by fate and coincidence.

As long as it spites Being X... And describing him correctly to a whole new world...

Yes, that will work.

"The thing known as Yahweh is commonly worshipped within the Germanian Empire, and abroad, under several different names. It demands praise and faith for its glory, seeking to increase the number of faithful praying to it, granting miraculous might to those who would inspire others to greater faith, and feeling great spite at those who-" She smiles. "Reject its so-called greatness. As a victim of its machinations, I refuse to do any such thing as proselytizing, and yet I have become an unwilling symbol for the times I call out in desperation, and am answered. But it is not the kind and worthy thing it presents itself as, no. It's nothing more than spiteful, selfish, petty power in the shape of golden light. Were such a being a man he would be the worst sort of ruler, an idiot king who takes out his own failings on his subordinates and demands constant bowing and scraping from yes-men, unconcerned at what must be done to maintain his palatial standards, opposed to the advancement of technology and gradual flourishing of humanity for the sheer fact that healthy and educated people feel less need to bow and scrape to such a pathetic existence!"

A pause for thought.

"So I gladly reject his lucky breaks, the commandments and laws, the bullshit story about dying on a cross to save all from hell and get them into heaven if only you would have faith. From what I have heard in a single day here, you have more worthy ones about."

Okay, so she's at least willing to *claim* that it's just that she's in conflict with her local death-god, but not so much conflict that it won't help her when she's faced down with what is plausibly the forces of real chaos. That's a good sign, and also a sign that this is above her paygrade, probably.

"That doesn't immediately match to any major proscribed gods that I know of. I will be clear here: Drawing on the power of proscribed gods is extremely prohibited within the empire, especially with regards to using said power to enhance spellcasting, and is under many circumstances grounds for immediate execution without trial. While I see no immediate signs of corruption, and the god you describe doesn't match any of known censured gods, I would still advise being examined for lingering effects by a specialist, which I can put you in contact with after this conversation."

She pauses, waiting for a reaction. Everything else will be positively easy, after this.

Proscribed gods, check. Paranoid witch hunters, possibly also check.

"The correct response depends a great deal on the nature of the examination and the benefits of remaining in this Empire, as well as its worthiness in comparison to alternatives. I am for example duty bound to keep the practice of magic as used in the Imperial Mages as a military secret."

Ah. Well, it's fortunate that examinations for suitability can, under suitable circumstances, be extremely protracted. She's aware of one of her seniors who has been examining certain groups for suitability for decades. 

"I should outline the articles of magic, then. Arcane magic not permitted under their such charters is forbidden as witchcraft."

"Thank you for the detailed recitation..."

Tanya takes notes with a pencil and a neat little spiral bound pad.

Never know when you'll need to sketch out scouted positions before you forget, after all.

Now, loopholes and contradictions are to be expected in something like this. The technology level seems medeival- While people are not idiots, social and legal technologies need inventing, too. And the laws are written for the reality of the time.

Priority of loyalties: Empire, Emperor, supreme college head, college rules, college head, employers, superiors in the college.

"Just thinking out loud a bit. I appreciate that the first loyalty of every Magister is to the Empire, and not the Emperor. That would be a dangerous incentive."

Do not interfere with the Emperor.

Obey the normal law, with only permission to study magic as an exception.

Reasonable.

The colleges may study magic under certain restrictions in good faith.

The colleges may teach magic and pass on the authority to study magic to their members.

"Hmm- Is there a similar charter for magic users of a more divine persuasion?"

No magic without having permission or a good reason.

Thankfully blowing up necromantic rats probably counts.

Very stern warning against Demonic Powers, Necromancy, and Dark Magic. Very stern.

"I will want the standard no doubt redacted description of Demonic Powers, Necromancy, and Dark Magic, so as to better avoid such. Though I'll likely stick with the system I currently use regardless."

Because she's not sure where to even start on learning an entire new paradigm, Imperial magic is already comfortingly algorithmic. Almost like lining up spreadsheets back in Tokyo.

Obey the Electors (within reason).

"Ah, right, an imperial electoral system... That could get messy when it's time for a new one, couldn't it..."

Serve the armies on request unless it would hurt the Empire.

Protect diplomats and do special missions on request.

...They want to get some use out of the mages. Keep them in the light. Well, the Imperial Army did the same. Wait...

Fair treatment, respect, and pay as befits a noble while employed by the Electors. Permission to seek employment to other approved groups that aren't enemies of the Empire.

"Hmm? Or not necessarily? The employment clause is pretty open, and 'fair treatment as befits a noble' is a fairly nice perk... Ah. 'While in the employ of the Electors'."

Doesn't count if it's not an Elector. So that's where the power lies: Definitely with the electors. At least most of the official power; The Templars seem to have a lot of soft power.

Seek out magic users and observe/recruit them, turn them over to the Templars, or kill them.

"Ah, thirteen is where you're at now. I see, I see. Registration and permissions required, eh? Not unreasonable. I truly understand the necessity."

Like owning a car, or better yet, a gun back in Japan- Only hunters, police, and military need them, and they'd better have a clean record and no shifty tendencies. You don't want criminals with a Passive Shell and Ignition Formulas robbing random stores, or even the mentally ill with the same.

Help the Templars deal with 'servants of malignancy'.

"I assume 'servants of malignancy' includes but is not limited to the aforementioned Demonic Powers, Necromancy, and Dark Magic?"

Seek out and counter destructive entities that are beyond the Templars and civil authorities, and serve Demons, corruption, etc. This is the 'prime concern' of the Colleges, and failure to do so voids the Articles.

"Ah, here it is. The purpose of magic is to be a blasting wand pointed at enemies. And here I hoped I would retire to a nice training position in a back office somewhere, some day..." Tanya sighs and cricks her neck. "Zombies are a less sympathetic set of enemies than enemy infantry, at least. I'd have no compunction burning zombies and the like for a living."

"Many wizards live long and comfortable lives in support or research roles. Clause 15 is generally considered to be relevant primarily on an institutional level. As long as the colleges can and do deploy Battle Wizards, the fact that many wizards will never be that strong is politely ignored, as long as they're generally compliant with the broader articles." She is not going to mention the Night of a Thousand Arcane Duels, or the fact that the subsequent 15-year siege proved that the imperial government can in fact no longer meaningfully destroy the Colleges, at least at a price they consider worth paying.

"... as for your other questions. Yes, Magnus was the first good emperor we'd had for centuries at that point, he was not expecting us to always have good ones. The Grand Conclave meets to formalise agreement about outlawed cults and resolve interfaith negotiation and disputes, but they have only limited capacity to oblige action from legitimate cults. There are very good lessons on how to handle dark powers - if you continue in a fighting role, you will inevitably end up fighting them all regularly." She gives a wan smile. "The electoral system hasn't produced a civil war over election in nearly a century. I will admit I don't have personal experience, but employers who are not elector counts do find that they need to match the offer Electors are obliged to give, if they want to get many takers. You would be correct, regarding servants of malignancy. The empire has many enemies, and many allies we spend too much time fighting with."

"I'm glad you understand the importance of membership in the Colleges."

"Mmhm. I would not want to be too hasty though. I'm rather low on local context, there could be important considerations I'm missing."

Such as what it's like in other countries.

"Indeed. I thought that, at a minimum, an observation period for the remainder of this campaign would be desirable, given the circumstances, and then I'd like to take you to the colleges to help you decide which one to join, since it doesn't seem like your current magic involves a specific wind." Which is several kinds of concerning, but it also doesn't seem to involve dhar or what she speculates that qhyash would look like, so. Something for the theorists to discuss.

She cheers up a bit at a clear course of action. It's not even a betrayal of the Empire, instructions if stranded are to lreserve yourself and make efforts to return.

She'll examine all those feelings about it later. Yes, later. Or maybe never.

"I'll need replacement armaments for a weeks or months long campaign. Or a handgun of local make perhaps, presuming I can get my formulae to stick to simple balls of lead. And I would appreciate an attempt to locate my home, unlikely as that seems to bear fruit."

"What's the limiting factor on enchanting bullets? That's what you were doing against the Blasphemy of Blood?"

"It's a specific formula designed for a specific, precisely shaped bullet. I have to enchant them ahead of time, and then cast a spell as they're fired as well. This much is general knowldge, I can talk about what I'm capable of. Just now precisely how I am."

"And the bullet is mundane, and you have examples of suitable bullets? If none of the engineers can replicate it, I'd be astounded if a dwarf could not, given examples and sufficient monetary incentive."

"Dwarves? Yes, I do... Though now I am wondering if it might be an example of invention beyond Dwarven craft."

Dwarves?? What is this, Tolkein? They live underground, right? Well, there are already dragons. What about elves? Goblins? Trolls? Giant spiders, orcs, and Balrogs? Or some genre of fantasy derived from it more like... Like some damned anime. Ugh.

"Dwarf gun-smithing far exceeds human gun-smithing, if you can afford it. You'll be able to see an example of it in action, hopefully, we're trying to coordinate our purge with another purge from the other side from the Zhufbar Throng."

"I have a few hundred rounds of various types left still. Some twenty bombardment, two hundred guided, one hundred piercing. I can convert them with time. Perhaps I could serve first as scout or courier and use what I have sparingly for now, though forgive me, you don't seem like a field commander."

Mathilde allows some of her terror at the possibility show through. "No, on the battlefield I'm a good obedient soldier. More useful than a regular knight but not a qualitatively different thing. I have other strengths. Here, my job is to make sure that you're an asset at all, and to advise the commanders on how to think of that asset."

Not Bureaucracy. Intel. The strategy is much the same, though.

"I had a command position before suddenly and inexplicably turning up here. Alas, there is nothing I can do for my comrades now, so to the future, no? I'm sure my cached tactics and doctrine are largely irrelevant here, of course. And I'm sure you will arrive on a judgement of my reliability quite on your own. For what it's worth, I understand the nature of incentives."

Shyish is creeping up her body, adding to the faint hints already present. Kind of hard to make out against the bright sun of her operation orb and torso, though.

"I will take your information under advisement, though I suspect you will not have a command position under normal circumstances - Battle Wizards are expected to focus on not blowing themselves up, and literally everything else up to and including basic social skills comes second to that. Are your capacities typical of mages, where you come from?"

"Imperial mage doctrine is centered around the flight boot and operation orb, each of which can maintain a single spell at a time. A matter of skill in not blowing oneself up, allowing more unstable tools- I can maintain four spells plus flight at once, making me a remarkably potent and flexible combatant even by Imperial Mage standards. Particular focus on ranged combat and aerial maneuvering, less so the melee."

That's ... got a lot of implications, honestly. "So most mages would not be able to do what you did, at the Blasphemy of Blood?"

"Not alone, at any rate. A full squad, let alone a platoon, could certainly have managed it. A sitting target like that, though, that's what you call in the big tubes of divisional artillery for. I was showing off and demonstrating my willingness to oppose whatever the fuck that actually was."

"I don't think anyone really has a good idea of what the Blasphemy of Blood actually was. I was going to follow up on that now that the region is safer to investigate, but, well. You seemed more important."

Shrug.

"I know what I am, and that's not an engineer or spy. A clerk at heart, and soldier by necessity. I'll shoot or scout or slice and dice gribblies to earn my not-put-to-fire-and-sword for now, and everything else can be worked out later."

"Very fair. Is there anything else you want to have communicated to the commanders of this army, other arrangements that will enable you to work better with them during this interim period?" 

"I would appreciate some general background information? Oh, and mission, enemy, terrain, time. The mission is to destroy all undead in the area, or a sufficient number to establish dominance, yes? Good to always keep in mind what you actually want to do. Enemy, I need to know more about how they work. There was some sort of regeneration going on. Are there venomous specimens? Magically dangerous ones? Ranged attackers? Notable weaknesses? That kind of thing. Terrain is obvious enough if I do a few overflights. Maybe I can make maps. For time, how long is this overall campaign set to last? It's clearly not a lightning assault, that wouldn't work with horse wagons for supply trains."

"So, to summarise the background of the conflict - this is the provincial army of the province of Stirland, under the command of Elector-Count Ableheim Van Hal, and the area we're in is the Haunted Hills area on the border of Sylvania with Stirland. Sylvania fell to corruption when their counts married into vampire bloodlines and have been a blight on the face of the empire for hundreds of years since. 

The current campaign's goals are primarily to destroy as many minor to medium sized monsters and problems - things like the Blasphemy of Blood, while we have the military, diplomatic, and economic slack to do so, to ensure that when the next real war occurs whichever necromancer is running the other side can't drag all of these things up to supplement their army. Secondary objective is to build a road to enable further campaigns through these hills. A complete purge isn't realistic; the terrain is to too broken. Even if we achieved a total victory and killed every necromancer in the region forever, the land is so poisoned and there are so many little hidden caves, that even in five hundred years time there will still be ghouls and skeletons popping up. 

How undead work - obviously the exact details are classified, but the broad strokes of fighting them aren't. Many of the undead we'll be fighting are spontaneous and self-motivated products of the corruption of the land but intentionally created undead can often be killed by disrupting the formation they were raised in sufficently, or by killing the guiding necromancer. Many undead, especially vampires, can regenerate - though not forever, unless they're Vlad Von Carstein. If you do kill a vampire, keep track of the remains, though, and hand them off to a specialist for storage. A necromancer actively maintaining an army can repair and reanimate the fallen of both sides in real time - all the more reason for someone like you to focus on taking out the head. Some undead are quite venemous, yes - ghouls in particular. If they're ambiguously alive and unambiguously ravenous, that's probably a ghoul. Vampire and Necromancers often know dangerous magic, including spells intended to slay instantly - sometimes even on the scale of entire regiments. I doubt that we'll face anyone of that callibre in this campaign, but you can never be sure. Specters and banshees are also capable of striking through most mundane defences, and the latter have a killing scream as well. The only ranged attackers they will have are whatever local militia with shortbows or crossbows they've managed to press-gang, and precious few of those - even the most powerful necromancers often don't want to bother with the logistics burden of peasent archers in an army with otherwise perfect morale and no hunger or exhaustion. Instead, you should be wary of flying monsters - swarms of giant bats and vargeists are likely the worst we will see, but terrorgeists and reanimated dragons are not in principle impossible. 

Terrain-wise, these hills are some of the most broken and innavigable hills I've ever seen, and if we get through them, then on the other side is a nice wide stretch of cursed swamp and blighted forest, and on the other side of *that* is the thin strip of whatever excuse for farmland the Sylvanians have managed to maintain in the face of the levels of dark magic they have to deal with, and then somewhere on the other side of that is the World's Edge Mountains into which the Zufbar dwarves are dug. Hopefully, they'll be able to send us reinforcements, but they're busy dealing with some underground war of their own for now, against beastmen of some sort. 

Timing wise, this campaign was set to be three months but it's looking like it will drag out to longer. Less than a year, though, if it takes that long we'll have to pack up and go home." 

"All understood. I'd bet on passive shell to stop specters but don't know about active shell stopping heavy enemy magic. I'd also appreciate if a selection of whatever kinds of oil you have could be made available- Not food oil, alchemist stuff. For the flight boot. Some of it will be sufficient, I'm sure. Plus clean cloth. Aside from that, I'll need to talk to a Dwarf about replacing my ammo eventually, but I'll just use my bayonet on the fodder, if they want me to hunt fodder. All this is to maintain peak readiness. I'd also appreciate some sort of pay, eventually, or at least access to study materials. Well met and fine conversation. I'll submit myself to the command of Stirland." 

She snaps to parade rest with a salute.

Because being a good, zealous little weapon is what the Charters are aimed at. Better to be on 'best behavior' right away.

"I'll put in a request with the quartermaster, and see if there's room in the budget for fair wizard's pay for you. There should be, but I'm not the accountant." 

No need to alienate the archmage by stiffing her on a minimum wage she doesn't technically qualify for, after all. 

She turns to leave, striding with her best air of mysterious importance off to her tent, where she can start work on all the reports about this which desperately need to be written and sent off to her various masters. 

Tanya waits for a bit and writes notes.

She can't easily go exploring without being incredibly suspicious to everyone so she has to stay present and visible. Tragic.

And she'd rather stay busy and not think about the Rhine, her comrades, Being X...

The immediate future will be tricky what with everyone being suspicious of magic, but if she hangs around offering to go fly reports or stab zombies surely that will give her something to keep busy with eventually. She acts serious and diligent at all times, for days if necessary. She's literate, is that particularly a thing where help is needed?

There is much work to be done, but not much of it is 'worthy' of one of her importance (and terrifying-ness). She is asked, in the next week, to fly rapidly to reinforce three units - twice, to find a small knot of infantry holding against a larger force of zombies and skeletons, and one to find a sort of horrifying giant bat-wolf thing working it's way through devouring a pile of now-dead soldiers, but other than that, she is left largely alone and the common soldiers tread on eggshells around her. She is given her own tent, and meals are brought there unless she makes a point of trying to obtain them somewhere else. The quartermaster offers her a selection of of several kinds of seed oil, lard, and rapidly imported oil of vitriol in an attempt to satisfy her request, as well as a monthly wage of sixty gold crowns (minted with the face of a long-forgotten warrior-queen), a quantity which seems to be entirely sufficient to live a noble, albeit not extravagant, lifestyle.

It almost seems like they're following a script, for how to handle terrifyingly powerful mercenaries. She is, after all, not the only one they have.

She very thoroughly deals with the gribblies. Mage Bladed bayonet in high speed flying passes, for the chaff, and a single Guidance formula into the eye followed by a series of brutal Mage Blade slashes until it stops trying to regenerate, for the bat monstrosity.

It's clear they don't want to deal with her. Fine. She'll cultivate a businesslike persona, paying the quartermaster or equivalent to obtain bits of leather, a spare knife, paper and ink, a little bit of coffee or tea, books (preferably rented or borrowed rather than bought), perhaps new clothes, and so on. One of the seed oils ends up... Close enough, to keep lubricating the mechanisms in the flight boot.

She takes up trying to get the camp smiths to make something that can receive an overpowered Transmission Formula, and making topographical maps of the Haunted Hills. What an evocative name.

Many of these things - books, civilian clothing, and at great expense, tea and coffee, must be obtained from the merchants who swarm around the camp like flies around a cowpat, but nothing she wants is impossible to obtain.

One of the more adventurous camp engineers is willing to play around with copper wire and iron superstructure according to her instructions; he would otherwise be hard at work trying to replicate a design he once saw for a spring-loaded land mine in his spare time between cannon-maintenance tasks. He is missing two fingers, unrelatedly.

The command centre is happy to receive her reports and add her maps to the pile which invariably covers every table they have. If she's looking, how are these various towns which are notionally-sort-of-maybe sworn vassals of the empire doing? Do they still exist, even?

Oh! She knows how land mines work! The spring can bounce the explosive to a perfect height to burst apart mid-air, enhancing the effect of shrapnel! Reliable Sparking mechanisms for black powder are really tricky, though... Maybe he could try this, or this...

She makes sure to inspect such isolated villages from a great distance. Stealthy recon is best recon, and binoculars are great. They appear to have living people doing farm things, for the most part. This one is empty and dead. This one seems fine, as do those two. This one had a lot of undead activity around it.