Wilfred Churbull, Duke of Marlborough and First Lord of the Admiralty stared at the paper in his hands with a feeling of irritation. "Christmas Miracle!" the headline proclaimed, detailing how the exemplary Imperial Armed Forces worked together to provide food for the needy.

  "Balderdash," Churbull growled under his breath, taking in a large inhale from his cigar. He was a slightly rotund man with sagging cheeks, giving him the look of a bulldog. An extremely well dressed bulldog, mind you, but a bulldog nonetheless.

  He wore a standard officer's uniform for someone of his station, and his steely eyes glared at the paper in his hands. He read over the details, lauding the ones behind it with adulation.

  "Nothing but propaganda," he muttered, but what else did he expect? It was an Imperial paper he was reading after all. Though his eyes softened as he took note of the small, malnourished girl happily eating her fill. Even for someone like him, whose heart had been hardened by years of service, he couldn't help but feel some amount of happiness for her.

  If nothing else, they gave her a good Christmas, earning brownie points the world over for it too. Whoever thought of this scheme was a brilliant person indeed. The whole damn Empire was singing the praises of the military for its supposed generosity.

  And according to reports, they even saw a small uptick in recruits in the new year. Yes, a damn clever ploy indeed. Setting the paper down, he picked up another, flicking some ashes into an ashtray as he read.

  According to spies they have placed in the Empire, the primary ones responsible for this were Brigadier General Hans von Zettour and Admiral Frank Adler. Zettour he knew as a somewhat crafty bastard, a learned man if ever there was one, and Frank…

  Well, you don't become an Admiral at that age without being damn impressive. He couldn't recall all the details at the moment, but he remembered the incident that propelled him to that position. It involved a mutiny, the kidnapping of one of the Kaiser's relatives, and a dangerous night mission to rescue him through a tumultuous storm.

  Such a shame he was an Imperial. Churbull would have loved to have him in their own Navy. But as impressive as the man was, that didn't explain the sudden propensity these men had towards altruism.

  Wait a minute… Looking at the man, Churbull had the nagging feeling he read another report of the man not too long ago. Something about his son… Yes, it was all coming back to him. His son came out of a coma last year, didn't he? Hm…

  "Lieutenant Abercroth," Churbull said, pressing the button on his intercom. A second or two went by before he received an answer.

  "Yes, sir? How may I help you?"

  "I want you to bring me the files on one, Frank Adler, the Admiral for the Empire, along with whatever we have on his son, Markus, I believe his name is," he ordered.

  "Right away sir."

  With that Churbull leaned back to wait. It took about 15 minutes or so before his assistant, Lieutenant Abercroth entered. She was a young woman, about 23, with curly brown hair and a perfect figure. She had a few freckles dotting across her face, and her green eyes shown with intelligence.

  She wore a tasteful skirt in military green that hugged her wide hips, along with a suit top. She looked the perfect part as a military secretary. Personally, Churbull had no idea why the women chose service, and frankly, he didn't care either. She was highly competent and easy on the eyes. What more could a man ask for?

  "Will that be all sir?" she asked, handing him the requested files. He took them and skimmed the report's title. Satisfied they were what he was looking for, he dismissed her.

  "No, that will be all Lieutenant, thank you. You may return to your post," he said, already taking out a few files to look through them. She gave him a crisp salute before making her departure, with the older man taking a sneak peak at her hindquarters.

  What, not like he was a monk. And he knew how to keep a professional boundary. Once she was out of his office, he started reading more thoroughly, nothing left to distract him.

  Markus Adler, came out of a coma nearly 8 months ago now. According to reports, his intelligence skyrocketed. So much so that they likened him to their very own mad scientist, Adelheid von Schugel.

  Poppycock, if you ask him. Kid was probably just a bit gifted and the Imperial propagandists ran with it. Made for one hell of a story though. The child of the Admiral gets into an accident, only to wake up a year later as a genius? You couldn't write a better script than that.

  However, that was the less concerning metric. Commonwealth spies also found out that his Magical Aptitude was on a level unheard of. Higher than anyone in the history of the Empire. Hell, if the numbers were to be believed, the boy might as well have been the spawn of Merlyn himself!

  If he had to guess, it was probably more Imperial propaganda, but how to know for sure? Looking through the reports, he couldn't find anything beyond the initial record. Either they needed to dock some pay from their spies, or the boy was keeping a low profile.

  But if they were true…

  While his nation was currently neutral with the Empire, and enjoyed a decent trade, the future wasn't set in stone. Should they come to hostilities, which was seeming more and more likely as the years dragged on, they couldn't allow the Empire such a powerful asset.

  But he needed more information. He would sign the child's death himself if it meant the continued prosperity of his country. Convincing those soft hearted ninnies in Parliament might be a tough hurdle to cross, however.

  As he sat back to puff on another cigar, needing it to calm the nerves after such a stressful read, his thoughts were interrupted by his secretary.

  "Admiral, you have someone here to see you. A Mr. John," she said. Churbull raised an eyebrow at that, not recognizing the name at first. He was about to tell her to tell him to sod off before his brain finally caught up.

  "Right. Send him in," Churbull ordered. This was perfect. Mr. John was one of their spies, and a damned good one at that if he recalled. If anyone would have the information he needed, it was him.

  The man who entered was about as unassuming as could be, with a face you wouldn't be able to pick out of a crowd and a receding hairline. He was on the hefty side, but he walked with all the grace of a predator. His smile almost unconsciously put Churbull at ease before the man realized what was happening, sitting up straighter in his chair.

  Yes, the man who entered his office was exceedingly dangerous, but you would never know it. That's what made him such a good spy. Churbull continued to observe this, Mr. John as he sat down.

  "So, what brings you here today, Mr. John?" Churbull asked without pretense. He wasn't a man to beat around the bush. He looked like a bulldog and acted like a bulldog. It was just part of his charm. His John Bull spirit, as it was.

  "I heard you were looking into a particularly interesting individual, so I decided to stop by. Do you mind?" he asked, indicating one of Churbull's cigars. He waved the man off, and Mr. John happily lit one up, sighing in content as the tobacco did its job.

  "I take it to mean you have more information on this, Markus Adler?" Churbull questioned, after allowing the man a customary puff. Mr. John regarded the man in front of him for a moment before nodding confidently.

  "Indeed I do. I just so happened to be in the Empire during their whole "Christmas Miracle" and I managed to get a few nuggets of info into the young man."

  "Well, don't keep me waiting. Out with it man!" Churbull demanded. Mr. John only smiled politely before taking another drag on his cigar.

  "Apparently, he was the primary architect for the whole thing. He convinced his father, who convinced Zettour, who convinced someone else, and before you know it, free food for the poor. I have to admit, the move was quite unexpected for the Imperials to make, given their seeming aversion to such charity work," John said.

  Churbull nodded at this, well aware of how the Empire valued self reliance above damn near everything. But if a child was the orchestrator of the whole thing, that made a bit more sense. At least as far as the idea of the whole thing went, but…

  "How in the blazes did a child convince them of that? Don't tell me those blasted rumors are true."

  Mr. John nodded. It was a good question, and one that puzzled him as well. So he did a little digging, greased a few palms, and from what he gathered made an educated guess on the whole affair.

  "I wouldn't go that far. More like it seems Zettour is determined to keep up the ruse," John said.

  "A ruse you say?" questioned Churbull, suddenly a bit more interested.

  "Right. From what I was able to uncover, there seems to be an effort made to make the boy seem more than what he is. His school records, for one, have been altered. The boy's smart, I'll give him that, but he's certainly no Schugel. The Empire replaced its records, which were above average at best, and replaced them with perfect scores."

  "I see. I suspected as much. Imperial propagandists aren't the best, but when it comes to championing their own they are surprisingly effective. How certain are you of this?" Churbull asked.

  Mr. John stroked his chin in thought for a moment, thinking it over.

  "While there's always room for error, I'm fairly certain of this. The records were changed somewhat hastily, leaving a small, but decent trail to follow. Wasn't too much trouble to find the truth. As for how he convinced his father, well, Frank's known to be a bit… emotional. If his son asked, right after returning home for the first time, I have no doubt the man would cave sooner or later."

  Churbull nodded with satisfaction. Good, if the kid wasn't the next Schugel, that would put him lower on the assassination list. But there was still one burning question lingering in his mind.

  "And what of the magic. Is he really as strong as reports indicate?"

  "Ah, now that was much harder to ascertain. They hid those records far better than his school ones. But I'm nothing if not persistent. Turns out, the machine they first used was rather old and malfunctioned. But by the time they figured that out it was too late. They had already bragged about it until they were hoarse," John said, a bit of a smirk on his face.

  It was always nice to see arrogant people get put in their place, and in his humble opinion, very few people were as arrogant as the Imperials. Logic and reason were all well and good, but not if you lord it over others and treat them as children.

  This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

  "Well, that's a relief. I take it they tested him again?" Churbull asked. John nodded, leaning over to deposit the cigars ashes in a tray.

  "Indeed they did. Three times with three different machines. All of them came back as slightly above the norm. But of course there's no way they could admit that, so they discreetly altered those records as well. The only part that I couldn't find any alterations on was his propensity for Medical Formulas, so he'll likely end up a doctor or a field medic."

  Churbull sagged back in his chair, a feeling of relief filling him. Looks like he wouldn't have to order the death of a child after all. He finished off his cigar before putting it out, ready to place the whole thing behind him.

  "Good. Guess I don't have to order anything unsavory then," he mentioned.

  "You would order the death of a child?" John asked, seeming surprised. He was good, Churbull could admit. Damn good. But he could see through the act. His tone was perfect but his eyes… They told a different story.

  "I'd put a bullet in his head myself if I had to. But I'd rather avoid such unpleasantness. Now then, any more news you wish to share?" Churbull asked, hinting at the man to leave.

  "Nothing of relevance, at least not right now, but I have a few leads to follow. I thank you for your time, Admiral, and the cigar of course. I'll see myself out," Mr. John said, standing up. He and Churbull shared a stiff handshake before the spy made to leave.

  Once he was gone, Churbull let out a sigh. He took one last look at the boy before gathering up the files and ordering his secretary to take them back. That's one less thing to worry about, too bad there were a million more.

  Just another day in the Commonwealth.

  *Line Break*

  Tanya sighed as she stared at the vehicle pulling up. Ever since that Christmas day, her stalker had taken it upon himself to visit her as often as he was able. While she appreciated the sentiment, it was also rather tiring. She had her own duties to perform at the orphanage and his insistence at seeing her made them pile up.

  But it wasn't like she could tell him to scram. He was far too useful a resource to let slip through her fingers. Especially after finding out she was "blessed" with an abundance of magic. That opened up some doors she didn't think possible to open.

  And apparently, she had him to thank for it. Or blame, depending on how things turned out. The Empire recently changed its laws to allow anyone, regardless of age to enter, so long as they had magic. Markus, or Mark, as he insisted she call him, felt that she had magic and informed his father.

  That was apparently the spark she felt when their hands connected.

  Now that it was discovered that she possessed the talent, she would be forced into the military when she came of age. Part of her felt appalled by such a notion, it being antithetical to her beliefs of individual freedom and personal autonomy, but rather than being upset by her decision being stripped from her, she would use it to her advantage.

  Namely, to get out of the orphanage as soon as possible. While she begrudgingly admitted some emotional attachment to those that lived here, primarily her fellow children, she wouldn't allow those emotions to interfere with her rising the social and economic ladder.

  Plus, with all the attention brought on by the so-called "Christmas miracle" the orphanage had received more than enough donations to last for several months, and they just kept coming. Another thing she had to be unwittingly indebted to that boy for. She hasn't been able to eat this much since she arrived in this world.

  More importantly, it removed some of the guilt she felt for leaving them. Ella was particularly distraught at the thought of her leaving, and Tanya had to promise to visit as often as she could to get her to stop crying.

  It was… strange. In her past life, she never had such close or deep relations as that. The thought of someone missing her so much that it brought them to tears was almost unbelievable. A small, budding feeling that could only be described as joy bubbled up from her chest at the knowledge.

  Which was actually even more reason for her to join. If she joined the Cadet Corps now, she would be able to move up to the Officer Candidate School after a year. From there, it would be approximately two more years before she would graduate as a commissioned officer, and she could send some funds back to the orphanage. Twenty five percent ought to do it.

  It wasn't purely to aid in her contemporaries, there was also the optics to think about. Sending money back home was a common occurrence, especially if they weren't well off, so it would almost be expected of her to do such a thing. If she didn't, she could come across as greedy and uncaring, and that stigma would do nothing to help her chances of promotion.

  It was somewhat difficult to convince the Matron of the orphanage to allow her to join, but Tanya was eventually able to wear her down with facts and logic. While it was true she could join the military at this age, she was still a minor, so she needed permission from a parent or guardian.

  It almost felt like she was getting a permission slip to go on a field trip.

  And the boy currently walking towards her was a big help in convincing the Matron. Apparently, he was quite the linguist, and knew several languages already. Though he admitted to not being fluent in them, it was enough to get a good grasp on the foreign newspapers. Whatever he didn't know, he had a dictionary for.

  It helped to explain to the Matron that the other countries were gearing up for war, just like the Empire was. Unrest was rampant in the neighboring countries, and it was only a matter of time until something happened. The world was a powder keg, and anything could set it off. If the war progressed badly enough, then Tanya would be drafted no matter her age, given that she had magic, so it was better she be prepared for such an eventuality.

  Pure logic backed up by verifiable facts. It was a beautiful presentation, she had to admit. It felt good to be doing something so familiar, though the fact that it was to join the military put a slight damper on things.

  Still, she had permission, and that was the important thing. Mark said he would do what he could to convince his mother to allow him to join her, but Tanya believed that was wishful thinking on his part. That woman was… something. She could still remember meeting her for the first time when he came by to visit after the New Year.

  Tanya never expected to be called a homewrecker, in this life of her last, but stranger things have happened. The only good part was seeing how embarrassed her stalker was during the whole affair. It was almost worth how mortifying it was, especially because Ella overheard and now assumed she would be marrying him.

  As if. She has no intention to get into any romantic entanglements. Even in her past life she was averse to such things, only figuring she would start a family due to societal pressures. But now that she was a woman, well, that complicated matters.

  She couldn't say she was particularly attracted to either sex in her past life as a man. Such things simply hadn't interested her, and she doubted that would change with her gender. Not unless that foul Being X decided to mess with her mind some more, something she wouldn't put past him.

  But that was something for future Tanya to worry about. Back to the boy's mother, she was dead set on the belief that Tanya wanted to sink her claws into him and rip him from his mother's arms. No matter what she said on the matter, the older woman refused to see reason.

  Mark had to threaten her with no more goodnight kisses before she relented in a panic. Tanya wasn't sure what to make of the woman and neither was her son, apparently. She left that day, but not before sending an "I'm watching you" gesture towards Tanya.

  What a weird day that was.

  "Hey, what's got you thinking so hard," Mark asked as he reached her, sending a friendly wave towards Sister Irma who was sweeping.

  "Your mother, in fact," Tanya responded. His face took on a look of embarrassment as he sheepishly looked away before clearing his throat.

  "Yeah, sorry about that. Mother can be… intense at times."

  "Putting it mildly," Tanya thought, half expecting the woman to have taken out a hit on her.

  "So, what brings you here today? I have some chores to do, so I hope you don't mind helping in that regard," Tanya said, crossing her arms over her chest. While it was true she traded candy to switch chores she didn't like, that didn't exempt her of all responsibilities.

  "No problem. I was hoping for your help regarding something as well, so this works out. A little tit for tat as it were," he said, intriguing her. So he came with a real purpose this time rather than to simply spend his time with her.

  "And what would that be?" she asked, her head tilting to the side.

  "Ah, well I've been working on a couple of proposals for Brigadier General Zettour and I could use some help. With how smart you are, I figured you were the natural one to ask," he said, attempting to flatter her. And while it worked, to a very small degree, she still had a face of doubt on her face.

  "Why would a child be writing up a proposal for someone like that?" she asked, dubious. He hadn't shown himself to be a liar, but Tanya always felt there was something he was hiding. Some secret he kept close to his chest. She never pestered him about it, of course, given her own, but the feeling was always there at the back of her mind.

  "Mostly my father opening up his mouth, to be honest. The first one is about an incentive program to encourage people to hire those of less means, and for them to get jobs in the first place. The second is a detailed plan to implement vertical farming to improve crop yields," he explained, opening up a folder he was carrying.

  Tanya scanned the contents. It was impressive, admittedly, and she was glad to see him applying free market principles in his proposal. Perhaps this would be more interesting than she thought.

  "Color me intrigued. But why come to me and not someone like your father?" she asked, more curious than accusatory.

  "Well, he's busy, for one. So I don't wish to besiege him with something like this when he manages to return home. Second, he's not the most well versed in such matters. I would appreciate any insight he could provide, of course, but this is a bit out of his wheelhouse."

  Tanya nodded at that. Just because the man was excellent at his job doesn't necessarily translate that competence to other facets of life. She knew the man wasn't stupid, otherwise he wouldn't be in the position he was in, but his knowledge and expertise were likely geared primarily towards the Navy.

  "Understandable. In that case, I would be more than happy to help you in this regard. Providing I get the appropriate acknowledgment for my contributions," she said, eyeing him suspiciously. It wouldn't be the first time someone has stolen her hard work and paraded it around as their own.

  "Of course. I figured this would provide ample opportunity for you to network with others in the military hierarchy. I'm sure they're aware of you by now, given your age and closeness to me, but it never hurts to show your own merits," he said, hoping to provide her with assurance that he was not out to pilfer her labor as his own.

  "Well, I guess we better get started then. I hope you know how to use a mop," Tanya said, turning on her heels and marching inside. If he hadn't already known her, he would have suspected her of practicing for the military already.

  Markus proceeded to help Tanya and the rest of the kids with their chores. They were more than a little excited by his arrival, as he always brought chocolate chip cookies his mother made.

  As crazy as the woman was, Tanya would admit she could bake. Even though she didn't have the greatest sweet tooth, she wasn't opposed to a little self indulgence now and then.

  After nearly an hour of this, Tanya and Mark went to her room, with one of the sisters telling them to behave. Both of them shook their heads at the warning. They were far too young to get up to anything improper and too mature to cause mischief. But they simply agreed to appease her and went on their way.

  Once they were settled into her room, Tanya sat cross legged on her bed, reading through his draft while he watched her while sitting on a wooden chair. It wasn't the most comfortable thing in the world, but he doubted she would appreciate his presence on the bed with her.

  As he sat there watching her read, he took note of her mannerisms. The way her nose crinkled as she digested the words or the way she chewed on the pencil in thought as she contemplated what to add, he couldn't help but think that she was a very cute girl.

  Not in the way of him wanting to romance her or anything, it was simply a statement of fact. He had no doubt she would be a real beauty in the future.

  Did that influence his reason for befriending her? Not really. He didn't have the appropriate hormones to care much about that. No, there was something else that drew him towards her, and he had a sneaking suspicion what it was.

  She was smart. Too smart for someone her age. Might be weird, coming from him, but he was a grown ass man in a child's body. And he suspected she was in a similar situation.

  That thing claiming to be a god said there was another, and he believed she was that other. He just didn't know how to prove it. Or the right way to bring it up. Given her intelligence, if she wasn't from his world, she might think him crazy, and that could lead to several complications he didn't want to deal with.

  So he thought, "Why not ask something while she's distracted." Seemed like a good idea at the time, except… he had no idea what to ask. But now was his perfect chance, so he had to think of something.

  "So… good thing the Kaiser isn't named Hitler, right?"

  He felt like smacking himself. But at least if she thought the question was weird, he could play it off as him just not liking the name for whatever reason. It would make him seem odd, given that no one but someone from his original world would know the stigma that came with that name.

  And the moustache.

  But being seen as an eccentric was far better than being seen as insane.

  "Thankfully, the Empire's population doesn't seem to contain a large amount of Jewish people. Not to mention it hasn't bore the burden of the economic downfall brought on by various factors after the first world war," she responded, seemingly without even registering what she said.

  Markus stared at her for some time, his mouth agape. It wasn't until Tanya turned to him after finished reading through the first draft of his proposal that she realized something wasn't quite right.

  "What's with that expression?" she asked, frowning in confusion. She tried thinking back to their previous interactions, wondering what could have caused such a reaction. His mouth opened and closed like a fish, trying to form words. His eyes were wide with disbelief, yet held a glimmer of satisfaction in them.

  "I… you… right…" he stammered, making her frown deepen. That was when his question finally registered with her, and her own eyes widened to copy his, growing even larger by his followup question.

  "I knew it. It is you. You're not from this world either, are you?"