The tent had a familiar layout. Along its walls were small, narrow tables stacked with radios and documents. A larger, longer table occupied its center. The table was covered with a large map with points of interest marked with words, circles, and X's. A man stood by this table staring down at the map.

Major Ersatz. Ersatz was a heavyset man with a receding, graying hairline, and deep black eyes. The Capricornian cold had reddened his cheeks and forehead but had yet to freeze off his seemingly constant smile. His medals gleamed at the front of his uniform.

“Sir.” The hauptmann cleared his throat as he came to a stop in front of the table. He paused, gesturing to Werner who stood just behind him. “Here is Oberleutnant Waltz.”

“Good to see you, Oberleutnant,” Ersatz said as he offered Werner his hand. “Your performance on this past skirmish is praiseworthy, and I’m glad you’ve made a recovery.”

“Thank you, sir,” Werner responded, accepting this gesture. He wanted to say that his accomplishments were due to the division that served under him. However, a soft, motherly memory whispered in the back of his mind: appearances, Werner, appearances.

Ersatz merely smiled before he glanced over Werner’s shoulder at the hauptmann. “If you would let me have a word in private with your oberleutnant.”

The hauptmann glanced at Werner before nodding and departing.

“I hear that they’ve been calling you Kaltes Auge—’Cold Eye’—out here… in part due to your accuracy with your conductor and your complete lack of hesitation. They even say you’ve never missed a mark,” Ersatz mused once the hauptmann had left. He stroked his beard. “That’s something to be proud of, Werner.”

“Yes, sir.”

A pause.

“I received word that there’s been trouble with the Watch, sir,” Werner said.

Another pause.

“Yes, so I’ve heard as well.” Ersatz sighed. “There seems to be outside intervention. No one knows who ordered it. It’s quite unfortunate… however, the damage has been done as expected.”

“Sir?”

“But you needn’t worry yourself over that at the moment.” Ersatz leaned forward onto the table. He tapped at a town that was marked on the map. It bordered their country and Aquarius. “As we anticipated, the Ophiuchians have caught word of our conflict with the Aquarians. They’ve sent down peacekeepers to handle the dispute. Knowing them, they’ll surely side with the Aquarians.”

Ersatz slammed his fist against the table. It was an abrupt action, but Werner did not allow himself to flinch.

“As if they have any right to! That vitae reservoir is rightly ours,” Ersatz spat. His cheeks were beet red now. “The Aquarians have an endless supply of reservoirs right within their borders. At the end of the Reservoir War, the treaty clearly drew lines placing that reservoir within our boundaries. It’s been that way for years. And yet, here they come in dipping into it like they own it. It’s only right we defend ourselves! Not to mention those damn Sagittarians—saying things like we’re the ones dragging them into this. They’re the ones getting in the way! Using a trade route that is currently a battlefield!” Ersatz let out a sigh and straightened himself. “Anyways, the Ophiuchian Agents have sent a request for a representative from both sides of the battlefield to meet them in Gradstal near the reservoir.”

“A representative?” Werner repeated. “Will a general be coming down from the capital?”

“No, they’ve requested that we send someone who has been personally involved with this ‘dispute’ to attend.” Ersatz thrummed his fingers. “In other words, they don’t want to make this international incident an official one. Like always, they want to sweep it under the rug. Only those who know the details firsthand were requested. ‘Trickle up works,’ they say.”

To keep an appearance of peace.

“I would like for you to be the representative, Waltz.”

This gave Werner pause.

“Is there a problem, Oberleutnant Waltz?”

“With all due respect,” Werner drew. “I believe Hauptmann Weingartner would be the better choice for this. Not only is he of higher rank, but he’s also dealt with Ophiuchian Agents before.”

“Werner, you think too lowly of yourself. Rank doesn’t mean everything.” Ersatz gave a hearty laugh. “For instance, just because I’m a major doesn’t mean that I know the hardships of battle like you do. While I know of strategy and plans, that doesn’t mean that I know the toll it takes on a soldier to constantly be taking lives. The hesitation one must go through—”

“There is no hesitation, sir,” Werner replied. “As you’ve said yourself, that’s why I’ve been named Cold Eye.”

“Good,” Ersatz popped. “Then there should be no hesitation for you to take this task.”

“If you assign it to me, I will follow orders,” Werner replied.

“Good.” Ersatz sighed as if in relief. He folded his hands behind his back and peered down into the map. “I also want you to eliminate any Aquarian pockets you find along the way.”

Werner did not pause at this, but Ersatz provided clarification regardless:

“They are on our side of the border without permission, and they are acting with aggression. We must defend our people.” Ersatz paused only to run his finger in a circle around a particular spot on the map. The reservoir. “The meeting is in five days, so it’d be best if you selected a group and departed as soon as possible.”

“Yes, sir.”

* * *

By noon Werner had selected his group. He had weighed all the candidates in his unit with care, noting all strengths and weaknesses and conducting types. His division contained all six types of Conductors: twelve Projectors, eight Conjurers, eight Transmutationists, two Manipulators, two Elementalists, and one Diverger. After parsing through all of the possible combinations, he had come up with what he viewed as a well-functioning team.

They stood before him now, straight-backed at attention at the mouth of their encampment. Passing soldiers eyed them. Werner also eyed the line-up he’d chosen. He walked past them, surveying each one and analyzing their strengths.

The first he had chosen was, of course, Gilbert. Gilbert was a fine marksman, after all. An exceptional Projector Conductor.

The next was Wilhelm Fischer. The eager landser. A Projector. Unlike many other Projectors, he had chosen to train using melee conductors instead of the long-range conducting rifles Projectors often chose. He preferred a longsword. Like the days of old. Gilbert thought Fischer an odd choice because of Fischer’s desire to stand out. Gilbert thought this was foolish on the battlefield.

Alwin Brandt was Werner’s third choice. Brandt had been transferred into their unit two weeks prior just before the initial incident that kick-started this border conflict but had adapted to 212th-division life rather quickly. He was a combat nurse with a light-hearted demeanor that made even the jaded Derik Stein warm to him quickly. Although Alwin was a Transmutationist with conducting abilities not suited for combat, he was a quick thinker and quicker with a plain pistol.

The jaded Derek Stein was Werner’s fourth choice. He threw around the sentence, “It’s no use getting to know a newbie—not unless they last two weeks,” like it was his catchphrase and was one of the few soldiers in the division able to look Werner in the eye.

His fifth choice was Emilia Bergmann. A rare Elementalist Conductor. Niche element: earth. Unfortunately, she was not adept at extraneous vitae manipulation and required physical contact with the element to manipulate the vitae particles within it. Still, her rare skill was useful.

Werner’s sixth choice, Klaus Kleine, was a Conjurer Conductor who preferred burying his head in a book to scoping out the battlefield. His ability to fully immerse himself in his stories aided his ability to conjure items to an exact degree. His range of conjuring was limited only by his inability to think and act under pressure. Which was another reason why Alwin was on board.

His last and final choice was Otto Vogt. The boy who played soldier. The one who had disobeyed orders on that watery overpass. The one who had run from the trigger. He too was a Projector Conductor.

In front of Vogt, Werner came to a stop. In turn, Vogt tensed. Their eyes met. Vogt looked away. Swallowed. Remaining silent, Werner observed him. The silence stretched on.

“I-I’m very sorry for what happened, sir,” Vogt stammered. “I-I’m really glad that you’re all right… I… It was all my fault that you were—”

“I’m aware,” Werner interjected, “who is at fault.”

Vogt stiffened. “I…”

“You would’ve been punished if I didn’t select you for this operation. But don’t mistake this as a favor. There is no point in throwing away something that can still be used,” Werner stated the finality clearly, loudly. “If you don’t display the appropriate behaviors on this operation, you will be dishonorably discharged.”

Heads turned in their direction. Vogt shrank deeper inside of himself.

“D-discharged…?”

“That is the lightest punishment for cowardice,” Werner continued. “This is your last chance.” He paused to allow the reality of his words to sink in. “I understand that the military stipend helps to provide for your family.” He paused again. “If you don’t want to disappoint them, then don’t disappoint me.”

Vogt’s lips trembled and parted, but no words came out.

Turning away from him, Werner addressed the rest of his men: “Gather your things. We depart in three hours.”

How cruel, came a sudden thought as he watched all but Gilbert make their way back to their tents. Fear is a teacher but not a good one.

It’s for his own good, Werner argued back. Vogt’s skills would be wasted if he didn’t change. And if he didn’t change, he would also be a danger to himself and his comrades. There was no room for error or weakness here.

 Then why not say that, to begin with?  

I…, Werner began to respond before a cold and creeping realization dawned on him. Why in the world was he arguing with himself? No. The voice resounding in his head was not his own… Was it?

A sharp, pulsating pang struck his temple and began to spread to his forehead. Despite using all of his strength, he couldn’t resist pinching the bridge of his nose. The world blurred. Colors bled into sound into smell into touch.

 A train horn bellowed in the distance. A piano chord was struck. Oil and soot. The smell of worn, leather books. Ringing, musical laughter. A crack of heat.  

Straighten, Werner told himself through the confusion, appearances are everything. And so, with great effort, Werner did as he ordered himself to.

The world snapped back into place. The gray clouds passing overhead. The slap of leather boots against the wet earth. The men and women sitting silently in front of their tents. And Gilbert, who still stood at his side. Gilbert who regarded him with a frown but said nothing.

At dusk, they set off.