bbbyouuujhhjhgyh

The next morning saw a reunion of the officers of the 203rd around the breakfast table. Koenig had been teaching at the academy since he came back from the far east, while Neumann had recently returned from America and resumed his position on my security detail. Weiss and Visha, of course, had accompanied me on the trip from the capital. It had been some time since the five of us had been gathered together, but the conversation soon fell into the old familiar rhythms.

I sipped my coffee and enjoyed my scrambled eggs while the men caught up on each other's personal lives. And, naturally, started giving each other a hard time. The dynamic had changed since last time. Weiss, having married his childhood sweetheart shortly after the war, still stood opposed to the incorrigibly commitment-phobic Neumann. The change came from Koenig. While he used to serve as the instigator for many of Neumann's bad decisions, Koenig's efforts in Asia had included the liberation of a few groups of Russite aristocrats from the gulags. Among the prisoners had been a beautiful woman who had fallen in love with her rescuer. One thing led to another, and Koenig seemed happy with married life so far.

Neumann, taking more criticism than he was used to over his inability to settle down, seized on the one subject that was always certain to distract Weiss: his son. Weiss took the bait, happy to regale us with stories of little Anton. To be fair, the kid was going through some major milestones. He had just finished his first year of schooling. What's more, at the end of year test it had been revealed that he had the potential to become an aerial mage.

Little Anton, of course, wanted to follow in his father's footsteps. What surprised me was that Weiss was on board with the idea. He even openly solicited ideas for little training exercises that would help Anton be ready when the time came for him to enroll in the aerial mage academy.

I was taken aback at the sight of a father who was happy for his son to take a job that would put him in harm's way. A little thought, though, made things clear. Weiss was applying the same logic that I had before my own enlistment. If aerial mages were going to be drafted into the army anyways, it would be better for his son to be on the officer track instead of thrown into the front lines. It might seem unnecessary, given that Weiss's position would allow him to protect his son in the event of a war, but Weiss had never been one to take chances.

Of course, while his logic was sound, it was a rather damning indictment of my own foreign policy. I couldn't just let that pass. I set down my coffee and cleared my throat.

"I expect eight battalions trained up to the level of the 203rd should suffice for Germania's needs," I said.

In other words, I didn't foresee any need to draft mages into service in the future. Besides, as the required training for mages stretched out for longer and longer periods of time, raw draftees became relatively less and less useful.

"Eight battalions trained up to our level?" Neumann said. "That's enough to rule the sky from here to Parisee."

He received a general murmur of agreement from around the table. I sighed and shook my head. It seemed complacency could take hold just about anywhere.

"You don't think the Francois will be reforming their aerial mage doctrine after Duisbuch?" I asked. "We're not the only country developing new computation orbs."

The Francois aerial mage program was an ongoing source of concern. I knew that after a debacle like Duisbuch, something would have to change. Unfortunately, Elya's best efforts had so far only been able to uncover a woefully backward and underfunded orb research center. Other than that obvious decoy, she had nothing but unsubstantiated rumors about their future plans for their aerial mages. The Francois were holding their true plans close to their chest. I could draw some comfort from the unfair leg up we enjoyed thanks to Being X's machinations, but that bastard could just as easily hand out a boost to our enemies.

"I'm afraid the 203rd's standard is going to be the bare minimum for competence going forward," I said. "The future keeps coming whether we're ready or not. Our enemies will only be growing stronger with time."

"That's right," Weiss said, somewhat to my surprise. I had expected him to defend the pride of our old unit. "To be honest, I'd like to add another year to our magic and command curricula."

"You want to turn this place into a magic university, not just an academy?" I asked.

We were already effectively giving them three years of training, as we intended to run the rookies' first year of active service as a sort of post-graduate training program. Those first hundred mages would be split into two reinforced battalions. Very reinforced, once the enlisted veterans from the 203rd were seeded in. Command over one battalion would be given to Koenig, while Neumann would take charge of the other. The battalions would then be put through an intense schedule of training exercises simulating all the tasks expected of aerial mages, incorporating as much competition between the battalions as possible.

The over strength battalions would also allow us to try out an idea that had been suggested many times during the war: a command platoon of four officers who would stay out of the fighting. In theory, it should allow for better command and control of the battalion. It would also sap ten percent of a normal battalion's fighting force. During the war, the cost had been judged too high and commanders had been pressed to master the art of leading a unit during a dogfight. Using a command platoon with the training battalions would let us test out the idea while also giving our most talented officers a chance to receive direct mentoring from Koenig and Neumann.

Once the rookie officers were judged ready by the veterans, they would be split off to lead their own battalions. Doing things this way meant that we wouldn't have new battalions ready to fight for another two years, but once they were formed they should be fairly competent.

Adding another two years to the training would mean that our mage corps wouldn't be up to full strength until four more years had passed. I would be happy to do things that way if we had time, but I wasn't confident that we had that kind of time.

In an emergency we could always draw on the pool of retired aerial mage officers in order to have battalions ready to go immediately. I really didn't want to have to do that, though. First, those men were getting long in the tooth. For a nation to recall men who themselves had sons old enough to serve back to arms was a move of desperation. It also sent the wrong message to the new recruits. I wanted them to know that if they did a good job then they could enjoy a peaceful retirement. They wouldn't have to live with the prospect of being drafted back into service in their old age.

The second reason I wanted to avoid such a recall was more egotistical. I had a certain idea in mind as to I wanted aerial mages to do their jobs. My way had proven to be effective during the war, as it damn well should have considering how much future information I had in my head when I developed it. I didn't want senior leadership to be undercutting my lessons. Sure, the problem could be resolved by retraining the retired mages, but it defeated the whole purpose of drawing on experienced soldiers if they were going to be subjected to extensive retraining. Better to start fresh, and leave the veteran mages as a civil defense reserve.

"Of course, right now we don't have the time," Weiss said, "but the current course of instruction is very compressed. I can think of more than enough material to fill up another two years. And, as you said, it's not like the duties of an aerial mage will be any simpler in the future."

I wasn't entirely sure that he needed that much time. I'd managed to whip the 203rd into shape in a month, after all. Though, to be fair, they had come into the training with some experience already. Also, the reason I had put Weiss in charge of the aerial mage corps was so that I could delegate decisions like this instead of having to think of everything myself.

The quality of our aerial mages was the one area where Germania was definitely head and shoulders above our peer nations. It would be a horrible dereliction of duty to squander that advantage due to a short-sighted focus on immediate needs.

"Get me my eight battalions," I said, "and then put a proposal together. Maybe someday we could even add civilian classes."

It was an ambitious goal, but over the last year Weiss had built up a set of lecture halls, dormitories, an athletic field, and an artillery range. That was more than some universities had. The campus didn't have the grandeur of the War College in Berun, but that was something that could be accrued in time.

Our own national school of magic. That would be something. Honestly, I'd be pretty happy if someday the world saw magic as a tool for peaceful development instead of a weapon of war. Then there wouldn't be any reason for me to be dragged to the front lines.

Once we finished breakfast, Weiss took Visha, Neumann and I on a tour of the academy grounds. I was surprised to discover that many of the trainees had not gone out and gotten drunk celebrating their graduation. That, or they were made of tougher stuff than I was when it came to powering through a hangover. Either way, there were enough of them around to fill out a pick up game of aerial lacrosse that caught my attention as we walked by the exercise field.

A few minor abuses of power later, I was out on the playing field myself. My companions had begged off, apparently not as intrigued as I was by the novelty of a magical sport.

The game itself was interesting. As I'd surmised from watching, there wasn't enough room on the field to get up to top speed. Instead, the game put a heavy emphasis on reflexes, physical coordination, and the ability to change direction quickly. It actually hit a lot of the skills that made for a competent magical melee combatant. It wasn't something that could replace our flight training courses, but I thought it could be a very useful supplement. Certainly more so than the other things trainees could be getting up to in their free time.

I seemed to have a knack for the game. I was quick enough to intercept careless passes that were sent towards my side of the field, and none of the defenders could stay with me in open flight. It had been a long time since I had been able to lose myself in the joy of friendly competition, which is probably why I didn't realize until after the third time I scored that my opponents were probably going easy on me due to my position.

It was a dilemma. If my opponents had simply underestimated me due to my age, size, or gender, I wouldn't have had a problem with bullying them until they took me seriously. With their treatment rooted in respect, though, they would probably take whatever I dished out without complaint. Only the very worst sort of boss would take advantage of that kind of situation. I waited for a break in play and called for a replacement to come on, using the excuse that I had too much work to do to play out the match.

I stuck around for a little while to watch the action together with Visha, Neuman, and Weiss. It wasn't as fun as playing myself, but it was still entertaining to watch.

"Next time I want to play, I'll have to drag some veterans from the 203rd out there," I said. "Make things more competitive."

The soldiers who had known me since before I was a national celebrity wouldn't be overawed by my presence on the field. They also weren't the type to be overly courteous in any competitive endeavor. Or, if they had been, I'd trained that out of them long ago.

"It might be," Visha replied. She sounded skeptical, which was fair. Even the veterans of the 203rd were used to putting me up on a pedestal as their commanding officer.

"I'll let the guys know the next time you plan to visit," Neumann added.

I appreciated the effort, even if I probably wouldn't be able to dig up competent and unscrupulous opponents unless a real professional league were to come into being. Even then, it probably wouldn't be appropriate for the Chancellor to participate. Well, it wasn't the first sacrifice I'd had to make in my pursuit of a safe and secure position away from the front lines.

The four of us left the athletic field and continued on our tour of the facility. Considering that the whole area had been empty fields a little more than a year ago, Weiss's efforts were impressive.

"How are the veterans fitting in here?" I asked. I was a little concerned about asking a bunch of rough and ready fighting men to act as mentors at an educational institution. I had only been willing to consider it at all because the educational institution in question was designed entirely to produce aerial commandos.

"They've been doing well. As they get older, I think they appreciate the slower pace," Weiss said. "Though there's definitely a group that are looking forward to deployment."

Building an entirely new military branch from scratch was an arduous undertaking. The veterans from the 203rd who had volunteered to help out were key to our plans. Their job for the first two years was to be present on campus to act as mentors and as assistants for the more practical classes. Once the first group of officers finished their training and we started building up our training battalions, the veterans would be spread throughout the ranks in order to help the rookies by example.

"How are we doing on the numbers overall?" I asked. My dreams of a fully professional, well trained aerial mage force wouldn't get anywhere if we didn't have enough volunteers.

"We have another hundred signed up for next year," Weiss said. "We might have a hundred for the year after. After that, not nearly as many. Right now it looks like we can expect about fifty a year in the long term. That's not much more than an informed guess, though."

That was to be expected. The first few years the academy was open, it would present a brand new opportunity to every mage between eighteen and twenty-five years of age. Once that initial backlog was processed, the academy would be recruiting from a pool of people who had rejected it the previous year, plus the people who were newly old enough to apply. The numbers from the first couple of years just couldn't be sustained. Fifty per year was a good number, though. In the long run it should give us a mage force of a little over four hundred people, more or less, depending on our attrition rate.

"Not bad," I said, as we came to a stop. We were standing at the entrance to the campus, where a modest sign announced the presence of the Germanian Mage Academy. "You've done a good job with this place."

"Thank you," Weiss said, almost as awkward as Visha when it came to taking a compliment.

"I'm sure that with such a skilled educator as his father," I said, "Anton has a bright future ahead of him."

Now that he knew not to worry about the draft, Weiss could start making other plans for his son's education. Thanks to Weiss's solid financial foundation, his son would be able to pick from any number of lucrative career paths when the time came.

"Yes," Weiss replied, "I'll make sure of it!"

I smiled. It was cute to see a normally stoic man so fired up.

I finally bid Weiss farewell and headed to the air field next door for my second piece of business. When General von Richtoffer had heard that I would be in the area, he had asked me to drop by at my convenience. The nice thing about being the boss was that I really could head over when it was convenient for me. Visha tagged along for the visit, while Neumann stayed back at the magic academy to catch up with some old friends.

We'd built up the area adjacent to the aerial mage academy into a respectable facility for pilot training and aircraft weapons testing in its own right. In time, I hoped the physical proximity would promote cooperation and cross training between mages and the rest of the air force. For today, it just made for a short trip between saying goodbye to Weiss and saying hello to von Richtoffer.

It was interesting to see von Richtoffer in his natural element. He carried himself well in staff meetings, but he seemed truly at ease on the airfield. As he led us toward the testing range, he took us on a quick detour through the hanger storing the planes that would be used on our aircraft carrier once it put to sea. They made an interesting sight, packed in tight with their wings folded away.

Seeing me take an interest, von Richtoffer took the opportunity to talk up all the work that was being done to prepare for carrier operations. I had been under the impression that the only way to practice landing on a carrier was to land on a carrier, or perhaps on a short landing strip. I was soon disabused of that notion.

It seemed that in order to land safely on an aircraft carrier, pilots had to travel at a slower speed than they would ever usually experience while in flight. Doing so would allow the plane to come to a stop once it touched down and caught the arresting wire, rather than being torn in half. Even without an aircraft carrier available, our pilots could practice flying, and landing, just above the stall speed of their planes.

All in all, after the lecture I was more grateful than before that aerial mages didn't have to put much thought into the physics of flight.

We stepped back out into the sunlight, crossed a landing strip, and soon arrived at an observation stand. Once we followed von Richtoffer to the top I found we had a clear view of the bombing range. A fresh set of markings on the field set forth the object of the day's exercise. A red circle, approximately a meter in diameter, marked the target. Around it were a set of concentric rings which, if I was reading the markings correctly, were spaced out five meters apart from each other.

Accurate bombing was at a premium for the Germanian Air Force. The Air Force was intended to fill a tactical, supporting role. In general its job would be to contest for air superiority over the battlefield and then use that superiority to help the troops below accomplish their mission. It would also be called on to disrupt the enemy's ability to move men and material by destroying railways and roads, again, in order to assist in particular battles. All of this was built on the experience of the productive uses of aerial mages during the previous war.

The Air Force was specifically not meant to take on an independent, strategic role. In other words, it was not intended to conduct massive bombing campaigns over enemy cities in order to degrade enemy industry or intimidate the enemy into surrendering. This was a deliberate decision on my part.

While I hadn't prohibited the development of a theory of strategic bombing, I had made sure that none of the theory ever made it into the Air Force's doctrine. I had a few reasons for this. Of course, the most effective tool for strategic bombing, the heavy bomber, was forbidden to us by the treaty I had signed. Even if we could elide the treaty, the only and obvious reason for us to develop strategic bombing capabilities would be to prepare for war against the Allied Kingdom, which would harm a relationship that I was trying to mend. Most importantly, though, strategic bombing just wasn't a good fit for our capabilities.

Strategic bombing was almost literally a matter of setting your GDP on fire and throwing it at your enemy in the hopes of reducing his GDP. It was a wonderful tool for a wealthy country that wanted to batter a poorer country into submission. It was not a tool meant to be used by a country like ours that was poorer and smaller than our potential foes. It would be like the Unified States choosing to develop an expertise in army-repelling border fortifications.

All of which was to say that for the bombers of our Air Force, unloading their munitions over the right city and calling it a day wasn't nearly good enough. In order to perform their role as flying artillery, they needed to hit what they were trying to hit and not hit what they were trying not to hit.

Our bomber pilots had been trained with their mission in mind, and they showed it as von Richtoffer called for the first demonstration. A squadron of dive bombers swept by overhead before lining up to take their bombing runs. Even having read the specifications for the Jonke 87, it was still disconcerting to see an 85 degree dive executed before my eyes. Visha gripped my arm in apprehension and I found myself instinctively bracing against a disaster, but despite their hair-raising approach each plane was able to pull up safely and fly away after releasing its payload. When they were done, almost all of the blue-painted concrete "bombs" had been embedded inside the innermost five meter ring.

The following demonstration was less heartening. On von Richtoffer's command, a squadron of medium bombers flew down the length of the field, each releasing its load in turn as it approached the target. The twin-engined Jonke 88 was a fine machine. It was able to keep up with our fighter planes in level flight, while carrying a significant bomb load. The level bombing tactic also allowed the bomber to sweep past the target from high above, requiring much less time in the danger zone.

Unfortunately, it was much more challenging to put a bomb on a target when you weren't able to point your plane straight at that target. The result of this demonstration had most of the red-painted concrete bombs inside the 100 meter circle in scattershot fashion. Not a great result on a clear day in the face of no enemy fire.

"As you can see," von Richtoffer said, "level bombing is still a challenge."

"In the end, it's a math problem," I said. "We'll solve it eventually."

I was pretty sure that my previous world had seen relatively accurate level bombing using the technology we had available. Worst come to worst, we could probably magic up a solution, although having to put even a C-ranked mage on every bombing crew would be a stretch.

"I hope so," he said. "It's our only practical option for delivering bombs into contested airspace."

Dive bombers, while accurate, were woefully slow. In the face of any kind of enemy fighter cover, they were dead meat unless they were accompanied by an overwhelmingly powerful escort force.

"Even the dive bombers have their issues," he continued. "They are close enough to the target to hit enemy ships or bunkers, but destroying tanks is a more difficult proposition."

The description of dive bombers as flying artillery was helpful, but of course it wasn't completely accurate. In the face of a real artillery barrage an exposed tank was dead meat. Dive bombers couldn't produce the same volume of fire or maintain it for as long. They were ideally suited to take out shipping or fixed targets such as bridges or supply depots, but asking them to put a bomb on top of an active enemy tank was a bit much.

"That brings us to a most pleasant surprise," he said, "and the reason I invited you here."

For this demonstration, a tractor was used to drag the frame of one of our twenty-five ton tanks out to the middle of the target area. Workers also set up several standing plywood targets, roughly ten meters apart. From where we were watching, the targets led from the left to right directly to the tank.

This time only a single plane was used. A Jo 87 dive bomber with oversized guns bolted onto its wings came swooping down toward the field. It looked to my eye to be flying with even less speed and grace than its unmodified cousins. Any complaints about its airworthiness, though, disappeared as it opened fire.

The noise was a continuous rumble, like distant thunder. The prototype autocannon was supposedly putting out 120 rounds per minute, but the cannons in front of us were doing much more than that. The plywood targets practically exploded as the plane moved forward. Even the tank was rocked backwards as the storm of cannon shells played over its frame. A quick vision enhancement spell let me make out gaping rents in the tank's armor. The P-25 had never been meant to withstand so much punishment coming from above. If the tank had been stocked up with fuel and ammunition then the demonstration would have been more dramatic, but even as it was, the point was made.

"Impressive!" I said. "How did it get built so quickly?"

"After the designers studied our request for a hardy, low-flying airframe capable of carrying two autocannons, they realized that our dive bomber was most of the way there," von Richtoffer said. "By taking out the dive bombing capability, they freed up enough weight for some extra armor, the two cannons, and hundreds of rounds of ammunition. It flies like a pig, but it's certainly effective."

"You're going to put aerial mages out of a job," Visha said.

She sounded like she was joking, but I remembered the particular joy she had taken during the war in raining explosive spells down on the helpless troops below. Well, if building more of these planes made being an aerial mage less appealing to Visha, I'd count it as an unexpected side benefit. One of the many things that worried me about a potential war was that my able assistant was liable to quit and run off to the front lines. Honestly, I hadn't expected her to last this long in a desk job to begin with.

"Mages will still have plenty to do, I'm sure," I said, before turning back to von Richtoffer. "This will be a big help. You did an excellent job putting everything together."

It was such a delight to have a competent subordinate.

"I never would have thought of requesting such a plane if you hadn't suggested it," he said. "I was fixated on bombs as only effective method to attack the ground from the air."

One of the most useful things that I had brought with me from my previous life was my mastery of the self-deprecation dance that surrounded any successful project. Sadly, I could never brag about it to anybody.

"I was just fortunate to have experience with that sort of thing during the war," I said.

Obligatory modesty aside, it was only natural that people with different experiences would come up with different ideas. He would have been flying planes during the Great War that were armed with one or two 7 millimeter machine guns. While that was an impressive amount of weaponry compared to what the average infantryman was carrying around, it wasn't enough for an effective air to ground attack. I had seen a report during the war stating that in the absence of an aerial mage, the most effective method for an airplane to take out telegraph wires was for the pilot to carry a hatchet with him in the cockpit so that he could land and cut the wire by hand.

Aerial mages, of course, were much better off. Even when all we carried was an infantry rifle, the use of magic meant that it hit with the force of an artillery shell. Rigging an airplane to carry weapons that could hit with the same level of impact was the natural next step.

"Still..." he said. "There was something I wanted to talk to you about."

"Oh?" I replied. No matter what the context, that sort of statement was never followed by anything good.

He hesitated, glancing at Visha. He seemed to want to talk to me alone. I caught Visha's eye and nodded. If I decided this was something she needed to hear, I could always share a recording from my computation orb.

Visha, fortunately, was the most personable of any aerial mage who had ever served with me. She picked up on what was going on and suddenly remembered an urgent task that she had to complete. I excused her and she flew away back to the academy.

After she left, there was a moment of silence. Finally, von Richtoffer sighed and began to speak.

"We never had a chance to meet, during the war," he said. "I'd imagine you selected me for this position because of my military record."

That was a fair assessment. I had done my due diligence, digging into his background enough to confirm that he was temperamentally suited for command, but in the end the idea of putting the country's most accomplished pilot in charge of the air force had been the natural choice.

"Are you unhappy with what you're doing?" I asked.

He'd been out of the military for a while when I had asked him to take on his current job. He had seemed happy enough to accept at the time, but it was possible that experience had since soured him on the position.

"Not at all. It's an honor," he said. "I'm just afraid that time has passed me by."

It surprised me that he would feel that way. I had always thought of von Richtoffer as one of my more forward looking senior officers.

"Why?" I asked. Some of my confusion came out in my tone.

"Look at the Missimer Bf-109," he said. "We put the biggest engine we could into the smallest practical airframe we could build. In terms of speed and agility it would have been the perfect weapon for how I fought in the Great War."

I nodded. It was a fine plane. I wasn't sure why that was a problem, though.

"The latest design proposals, though, call for an even larger engine in a larger frame. Not as nimble, but it could climb about as well as the Bf-109 and make the same top speed," he continued. "And that's while carrying more weapons and armor. With a proper adjustment in tactics it could sweep anybody trying to fight the way I used to out of the sky."

I was starting to see where he was coming from. It was certainly true that aerial combat was a rapidly evolving field.

"And that's not even getting into the changes that will happen as more and more planes participate in every battle. I don't even know if individual dogfighting talent will matter in the next war," he said. "And now I'm blind to an innovation like this. If all I can do is build up an air fleet to fight the last war, I would be doing a disservice to the country to cling to this position."

The penny finally dropped. He wasn't worried about change in the abstract. He was troubled by the fact that I, specifically, seemed to pluck future innovations from thin air. Not just with this latest development, but throughout my military record. He, meanwhile, was stuck working things out through trial and error. Anybody would be frustrated by the comparison.

I bit my lip for a moment, lost in thought. It wasn't like I could tell him I had come up with the ground attack aircraft idea when I was reminded of an internet video I had seen in my previous life.

I could see in his eyes that he was troubled. The situation was doubly frustrating for me in that it was one of my most talented and intuitive officers who was doubting himself. I would much rather have had some of the idiots running the last war be intimidated by my record into doing the smart thing, but those old men had stuck to their old ways to the bitter end.

I couldn't let the silence stretch on much longer. I bought some time by reaching out to clasp von Richtoffer on the shoulder. Visha would say something comforting in this situation.

"I think you're doing a disservice to yourself," I said. "Honestly, the fact that you recognize that new technology calls for new doctrine puts you ahead of half of the old General Staff."

I gave his shoulder a pat and stepped back, chuckling. "Besides, can you suggest a replacement for your job who can tell me exactly how aerial combat will go in five years?"

He shook his head.

"Then why should I accept your resignation?" I said. "You're not the only one muddling along without a clear view of the future."

Even I, with my unfair advantage, was just guessing about how warfare would evolve with aerial mages thrown into the mix. Our military wouldn't have any competent people left if they all resigned the first time they failed to predict the future.

"I suppose you're right," he said with a sigh.

"I know I'm right," I replied. "You want to know why I picked you?"

He nodded, a wary expression on his face.

"It wasn't because you won so many dogfights," I said. "You were put in a brand new theater of war. You developed your own theory on how to fight. You tested and refined your theory into a doctrine. Most importantly, you taught that doctrine to other people, and they used it successfully."

Honestly, it was inspiring. I was pretty sure that if aerial mages hadn't stolen non-magical fliers' thunder, he would have been famous in his own right after the war.

"That's why I wanted you to run the air force. Not because of your mastery of tactics," I continued, "but because you were able to devise new tactics to fit the new situation. That's what I want you to keep doing as technology keeps changing."

There were eternal principles of war, but no eternally successful tactics. The most valuable resource any army could have was a leader who could adapt those eternal principles into new sets of tactics that were appropriate in new situations. A man who had done it before was more likely to be able to do it again.

He nodded, more confidently this time. We were able to put the resignation talk behind us as he showed off the rest of the recent developments in our aerial fleet and we talked over his plans for the future.

It wasn't until I was flying home with Visha and Neumann that I realized what a colossal idiot I had been.

When von Richtoffer left the military after the Great War, Germania had been forbidden from building airplanes altogether. He had traveled abroad in order to keep up with the latest innovations in the field, but for the most part he had just lived off of his family's savings. He couldn't do anything else, as working in his area of expertise was forbidden in his home country. When the renegotiated treaty opened up the skies of Germania, a position in charge of the nascent Air Force would have been appealing as a much safer option than any of the brand new aviation start ups in the business world.

Now, though, the situation was different. The market for private flight was booming. Of course, it wasn't a patch on what I remembered from my previous life, but compared to the recent past it was an amazing change. With his sterling military record and family background, von Richtoffer was in the perfect position to become a country-shaking aerial tycoon.

He just had to slip out of his military obligation with grace, first. Leaving with a black mark on his record would tarnish his ability to earn trust and build up a business in the private sector. That was why he had come up with that story about his lost confidence.

A talented man was eager to leave behind his profession of fire and death in order to make a living helping people get to where they wanted to go. With the best of intentions, I had stood in his way and taken away his dream. I couldn't imagine how frustrated he must have been.

I almost turned around and went back to accept his resignation. In the end, though, what was done was done. In a way, it was his own fault for being such a convincing actor. I would have been happy to give him what he wanted if he had just made himself clear.

Still, I felt bad. In the future I would have to do a better job of paying attention to the thoughts and feelings of the people around me.