Ein Mann, Ein Pony, Ein Land, Ein Reich
Author's Note
Note: "All dialogue in bold" is spoken in a foreign language.
This is just a little something I whipped up, that I wanted to do for a while and had no idea how to do it; my own little take on Aryanne. Nothing too special, but I had a lot of fun writing it!
So, I hope you guys will have some fun reading it!
Enjoy! 
Ein Mann, Ein Pony, Ein Land, Ein Reich
His room in Canterlot Castle was nothing to write home about… if he could even write home. Nevertheless, it was just as he preferred it: spartan and without unnecessary flair.
He never particularly enjoyed all the fanciness that came with someone of his stature back home, so when he found himself unexpectedly here in Equestria, he knew immediately that it would be a welcome change from the norm whence he came. In the end, though, he still preferred his room in his small house that had been graciously given to him by his hosts.
In-line with the east-most wall of his room lay a queen-sized bed with rather drab bedding and two simple nightstands on either side to complement it. Facing the bed, on the west wall stood a body-length mirror which was being utilized by the six-foot, three-inch tall human as he dressed himself.
Today was no ordinary day for Paul Werner, as he had a specific task given to him by his saviors, his friends, and now his employers, Princesses Celestia and Luna. Such a task required him to dress for the occasion. Standing in front of the aforementioned mirror, he finished the last touches on his uniform, smoothing out any wrinkles and ensuring his tie had a comfortable, yet tight fit around his neck.
Beyond his stoic complexion, his bright-blue eyes shone of one who had seen too much in the more recent past. Though he was forty-four, his fair, pristine face was marred with some wrinkles of past conflicts. His angular chin held a distinctive, horizontal scar across the cleft.
One of three small souvenirs from the war.
Unlike his face, his uniform bore none of the same scars that he did. His clean uniform’s coat fit as snuggly as it always had, though admittedly he was a bit surprised considering he had not worn the entire ensemble for well over a year.
That, and maybe he just might’ve put on a few pounds.
Denial wasn’t just a river back in Africa, after all.
His faded, teal-blue coat and breeches meshed well with the jet-black lapels and boots respectively. Said lapels played host to the proper markings of a German Wehrmacht oberst, or ‘colonel.’ Shoulder marks were also present, denoting the corresponding rank.
He ran a single hand through his dark, but graying hair. All the while, he breathed an almost regretful sigh as he found himself in the nigh-completed getup that he wished he never had to wear again. His former job endeared him with a particular set of skills that landed him as one of Equestria’s honored military advisors and a top officer. This new job, much more laid back and less-taxing on his health, also came with a uniform… one which Paul wore with an enormous sense of pride.
Said uniform just happened to develop a tear the day before today’s main event. This was the only replacement available on such short notice.
He performed one final check that all else looked as it should have. Paul then glanced at the two medals that lay on the dresser next to the mirror, tucked in a special box. He pursed his lips as his eyes spaced out over the two very familiar yet simultaneously foreign pieces of metal. Both his Iron Cross and his Wound Badge called to him… he should have worn them with pride, as he always had.
But, the mark in their centers always did well to repel him these days.
Paul was further reminded of this when he lifted the two medals from their sanctuary… and was greeted with a folded bright, blood-red armband with the rather distinctive white circle and a swastika at its center.
He scowled.
“I should really dispose of that…” he commented to no one in his fluent but heavy accent.
While his native language was, of course, German from back home, he was fairly fluent in English… or as they called it here, ‘Equestrian.’ Still, his thought processes were always in his native language, and his exposure to the ponies ensured he sharpened his fluency in his second language and a habit of using it over the former. Even so, his accent never dissipated, as he still got plenty of practice in his native tongue.
And one of those areas of ‘practice’ was the source of the sudden, three gentle knocks at his door.
“Yes? You may enter,” Paul stated blandly without removing his gaze from his reflection.
“Papa?” a young, meek female voice spoke, and its instant familiarity drew Paul from his pensive stupor.
His face lit up brightly (yet ever controlled) as he turned to find his visitor: an alabaster-colored earth-pony filly with a flowing, crimson mane running down her neck. Her wide sapphire eyes reflected all the light in the room as she peeked in… but at the sight of Paul, she instantly shed her reticence and galloped into the room towards him.
“Papa!”
“Seerose!” he exclaimed.
Paul dropped to one knee and held his arms open just as the filly accepted his implicit invitation, jumping into his arms and hugging his chest tightly. Paul held her snuggly against him, growling playfully on her neck as he swung her around, much to the little one’s glee.
He pulled away just enough to meet his adoptive daughter’s eyes.
“How’s my röslein?” he asked, nuzzling his nose into hers, eliciting another round of giggles from her.
She began with a beaming, open-mouthed smile.
“Es geht mir sehr gut, Papa!” she replied with a perfect accent, then continued in their shared, native language. “But why did we have to come to the castle last night?”
Paul sat the two of them at the foot of his bed, allowing Seerose to get comfy on her haunches next to him.
“I told you, dear. Papa has to work today,” he replied, scratching behind her ear, which she eagerly leaned into.
She attempted to pout with her next words, but found quite the difficulty in doing so when Paul tickled the crook of her neck.
“But you said we could go to Trottingham today and see the aquarium~!” she protested, though her whining was token at best.
Paul couldn’t help but smile painfully at his daughter’s words, and though she wasn’t entirely serious about her disconcertion, he still did not enjoy disappointing her. Back on Earth, he had no one. His father had died in the First World War, his mother in 1938 to illness, and he was an only child. Further, he never married nor had any children of his own.
So, as a most welcome consequence, Seerose was the light of his new life.
“This is true,” he replied in Equestrian, bobbing his head as he considered her words. “And I’m sorry that events had to work out this way… but the Princesses needed me today urgently. Besides, working is how Papa gets to buy you all those sprinkled cookies from the bakery that you love so much.”
He punctuated his words by poking his daughter’s stomach. She immediately pushed him away with a squeal.
“Ja, I know…” she said, also switching to Equestrian. Nevertheless, her ears flattened at the thought of the lost opportunity.
Sensing her disappointment, Paul was quick to act, and already had a contingency plan in mind. Old habits die hard, after all.
He looked to her with an impish grin.
“But~…” he began. “I heard that somepony’s turning eight in three days,” he playfully mused.
One of the few things Paul lived for was seeing Seerose light up like a Christmas Tree.
“Me me me!” she squealed, defaulting back to their native tongue.
“Ha ha! I suspected it was somepony special that I knew… so, I’ll tell you what,” he began. “We can go anywhere you like that day… your favorite restaurants, amusement parks, what have you! Okay?”
Seerose, of course, beamed at the prospect. However, this was slightly challenged when she appeared to still mull over her dad’s offer.
Paul had one last thing to add:
“How about we eat at your favorite diner tonight, after I finish what I must, hmmm?”
At an instant, Seerose needed no other convincing. She suddenly sprang upward and began bouncing on the bed excitedly
“Yaaay! Okay, Papa!”
Paul chuckled, pulling her into another embrace, which the filly gladly returned. He planted a lone kiss on her forehead, then tousled her mane which earned him another heart-melting giggle.
“Ahem.”
Paul and Seerose looked back towards the room’s entrance and found both Princess Celestia and Luna, garbed in their regal attire. Instead of expectant looks on their faces, their own hearts appeared to have melted as well at the scene that he and his daughter put on.
Seeing the two of them (or either one on their lonesome) would always ignite a spark of calmness and tranquility inside Paul. Celestia was always lovely conversation, and Paul enjoyed going on walks with her to discuss everything and nothing at the same time. Princess Luna was one in which the two of them confided in more intimate and darker thoughts, as well as sharing a much darker sense of humor and appreciation for things military.
In short, Paul was also blessed with some nice friends.
“I’m… so sorry, did we interrupt something?” Celestia awkwardly spoke once she wrenched herself from her cutesy stupor.
Paul set Seerose on the floor and whispered in her ear:
“Bow to your Princesses.”
“Yeah yeah, I know!” she whispered back before doing just that.
Both Princesses politely acknowledged her, and smiled brightly as well.
“And no,” Paul said, addressing his regal superiors with his business-like, friendly stoicism. “I’m just about ready to depart with you.”
He then turned to Seerose with the same smile he would always show her.
“It’s time for Papa to go to work. Run along now, and I’ll be back in time for supper. Save up an appetite, okay?”
She eagerly nodded.
“Okay!” she exclaimed, scampering towards the door between the princesses, already on a mission to occupy her time until then.
“And finish your homework!” the human playfully prodded like a good father.
Seerose chose to ignore that last statement. However, she could not properly leave without shouting something back at Paul over her shoulder.
“Ich liebe dich, Papa!”
But she was well out of sight before Paul could respond in kind. Still, those words always warmed his entire body each and every time she said them with the conviction a filly of her age could muster. The German officer sighed out lovingly whilst gazing at where Seerose formerly stood.
“And I love you my röslein, above all else.”
“If the species difference were not obvious,” Princess Luna cut in. “We would have assumed she was naturally your own.”
Paul walked to his dresser to grab two more items.
“She needed a home. If there was something good I could do for this world and simultaneously have something I never could… then the choice was obvious,” he said pensively.
He placed a handkerchief in his pocket while unholstering his pistol to check it; the latter was one of the few objects that survived his sudden ‘transfer,’ one that he cherished. Paul reholstered it and completed his ensemble with the visor-cap that rested on the dresser. Placing it on his head and adjusting it properly, he gave himself one more quick once-over in the mirror.
Oberst Werner was ready for duty.
He then turned to his princesses.
“Shall we?”
“Certainly,” Celestia replied, gesturing out the door, and they were off down the hall.
With a small guard detail, said trio marched with a purpose towards a chariot that was waiting to take them to their final destination. Celestia trot in the center flanked by Luna on her right and Paul on her left.
All of their respective footsteps and hoof-falls were synchronized.
“I’m sure you’ve read the brief over and over again, but do you wish to revisit it?” Princess Luna asked, directing her question to Paul.
No one looked anywhere but forward.
“Ja. But perhaps it would be good to recap and ensure I did not miss anything,” said Paul.
Celestia nodded and as the three of them exited out of the main entrance of the castle, and into the warm, brilliant embrace of the luminous sun. The aforementioned carriage was waiting for them, as expected.
“The fascist nation of Alemaneia has sworn in a new leader, one who’s much more… progressive than his predecessors. As such, he, on behalf of the militaristic nation, has extended an overture to us,” the Solar Princess went on to reiterate.
Paul let the name ‘Alemaneia’ swim through his mind; he wasn’t the first time he heard it, certainly, but it still baffled him. Not only was the cross-language parallel uncanny in several senses, but it was also the home country of his daughter.
“Right, and he as well as his top military advisor are arriving at the Port of Manehattan today, yes?” he added whilst following after Luna into the carriage.
“Precisely,” the latter added. “Due to the… less-than-desirable attitudes the former leaders of Alemaneia have exhibited, we could not in good conscience ratify any treaties or trade agreements with them. Now, we can attempt something on a trial basis.”
Celestia nodded and picked up where her sister left off. The carriage began to take flight.
“My sister and I will handle the Chancellor directly so we may hash out a trade agreement and potentially a formal alliance. To make things that much more binding, we would like you to negotiate the terms of military cooperation,” she said.
“Right. And I shall be meeting with…”
“One of Chancellor Unser’s top brass: ‘General Field Marshal’ Aryanne Land,” Luna finished.
Paul blinked. He didn’t recall that name in the briefing. Moreover, it seemed the universe was playing a hideous trick on him.
He responded with the subtlest of unease, undetectable by anyone who did not know him well enough.
“Right…”
Celestia continued in a more lecturing tone:
“Secure something which will be beneficial for both of us. Remember, Alemaneia is coming to us, and despite their smugness and arrogance, they’re beginning to get desperate. Ergo, you’re working from a position of strength. I trust you shall use that to your advantage. Negotiate back and forth to secure assured cooperation between our militaries.”
“Offer anything reasonable, we give you full authority,” Luna added. “We just need something on paper to look at, and the final decision will rest between us and the Chancellor. If the General refuses cooperation, walk out.”
Paul understood perfectly, and with a deep breath, he readied his sternest face… one which could buckle the knees of a lesser man. However, this time, it came about more naturally rather than it being forced. The reason was that Paul knew what was meant by ‘military cooperation.’ Admittedly, though, the circumstances were much different than back in Germany. Equestria was not a militaristic nation… quite peaceful, actually. Nevertheless, both princesses understood the need for a strong, unified, and ready fighting force under the pretenses of ‘better to have and not need rather than need and not have.’
He commended them for this ideology.
However, he knew of the mistakes that such ‘cooperation’ could spawn. Germany often had to clean up her allies’ messes, and this time, he would rather not have an amendment stating that if Alemaneia went to war, Equestria would be obligated to support.
He would not stand for that. In the end, however, he was not worried. Paul felt there would be no need to walk away from the negotiating table. This ‘Aryanne’ would most likely see reason if she was as competent an officer as she was made out to be.
“Yes, Your Highnesses. It shall be done.”
The largest port and harbor in Equestria, and one of the largest in the world, in actuality, was the Port of Manehattan.
Located in the city of its namesake, it served not only as a junction for commerce and supplies flowing into the Equestrian nation, but as a stop for passengers visiting, returning, and departing abroad. This being the case, it was never a surprise to see the dock terminals full of the hustle and bustle of ponies going about their business.
Even so, it was out of the ordinary to see an entire section of a terminal cordoned off and overseen by an entire platoon of Equestrian Army troops. Those who had lived their lives in the city and frequented the port knew this as the sign of somepony important visiting Equestria. More convincingly, the placement of regular soldiers was a dead-giveaway for the arrival of a foreign dignitary.
Who the foreign dignitaries were, however, still came as a massive shock to those who were able to see past the stationed troops.
The ship that had docked was not a typical commerce or transport ship, but an Alemaneian dreadnought with its flag raised high. An appropriate ramp was raised to accommodate the height of the ironclad warship, and as four individuals stepped forth and downward, it was as if the beautiful spring day suddenly chilled.
Opposite of the visitors, Princesses Celestia and Luna, as well as Paul stood ramrod and stoic. The human observed with keen interest as the four ponies descended to the dock, and he could more clearly make out defining features. The two proud, pristine-white ponies bringing up the rear were clearly soldiers, if their jet-black uniforms and steel helmets were anything to go by.
The two equally porcelain-white ponies in front, however, were another story.
The left pony, clearly male, was well built for somepony his size. A plain, gray-colored suit with the Alemaneian cross adorned on his chest was all he sported, and his square jaw and casual indifference played host to an air of confidence. His dark mane was neatly styled and combed to perfection, and his face was devoid of any facial hair or even the slightest trace of stubble.
The right pony was female, and a long, flowing blonde mane complemented her coat and piercing blue eyes. Further adding to her chilly exterior and monolithic aura of sheer confidence and arrogance was her military uniform. It held numerous medals and gargantuan rank insignias on both her shoulders and accompanying visorcap… and Paul had little question in his mind that this was the famous Aryanne he had heard so much about.
The mare in question appeared… uninterested in her surroundings. Her eyes scanned the distant skyscrapers, as well as her immediate surroundings with a barely-veiled annoyance. What’s more, when her eyes fell upon the stationed Equestrian troops, they honed in on the only batpony among them.
She pursed her lips in readily apparent disapproval. This was not lost on Paul.
The odd trio stepped forward to greet the newcomers, and the front stallion immediately perked up upon laying his emerald eyes on the two princesses.
Princess Celestia was the first to greet them with a genuine smile on her face.
“Chancellor Unser… such a pleasure to meet you,” she said, extending her hoof to the stallion.
The Chancellor hooked his right hoof with hers and beamed determinedly back at the Solar Princess. He promptly repeated the gesture with Princess Luna.
“Your Highnesses,” he spoke with one of the thickest, most quintessential high German (ahem, Alemaneian) accents Paul had ever heard.
He then bowed his head respectfully.
“Thank you, both of you, for hosting me in your wonderful nation on such short notice. It’s my sincerest hope that we are able to work something out for the good of both our nations.”
“Of course, Chancellor,” Princess Luna replied with a deep nod of her own.
Aryanne averted her eyes, disinterested. Paul had dealt with his fair share of larger-than-life officers back in Germany but for some reason, this pony in front of him was starting to get his blood boiling… and she hadn’t uttered a single word yet.
He took a deep breath and hardened his posture, and his gaze.
That was Celestia’s cue to gesture to him, drawing all attention to the lone human.
“This is Colonel Paul Werner,” she said. Both Unser and Aryanne’s eyes were now upon him, though the former was pleasantly surprised and the latter was… visibly weirded out.
Luna picked up where her sister left off.
“He’s one of our best commanding officers in our forces, and he’ll be the one negotiating things military while we hash out our other agreements.”
Paul extended his hand to the Chancellor. Surprising himself, he had to physically prevent himself from acting on reflex and delivering a Nazi salute.
“A pleasure to meet you, Sir,” Paul said, saluting normally and extending his hand to shake the stallion’s hoof. Surprisingly, the Chancellor did not pull back from Paul’s ‘spidery appendages.’
“Likewise,” Unser politely replied, delivering a strong hand-hoof shake, as Paul had expected.
The Chancellor gestured to the mare next to him… who’s eyes had not left Paul. Her eyebrow seemed perpetually cocked.
“This is Generalfeldmarschall Aryanne Land. She will be Colonel Werner’s counterpart in the talks today while we go about our own business,” he addressed the princesses, and both sides urged the two of them together.
Paul, one who held the tenants of ‘be polite and courteous’ close to heart, stepped forward and offered his hand after he saluted.
The gesture was not reciprocated.
“Good afternoon, General.”
Aryanne only stared at his hand as if he offered her disgusting food. She tilted her head towards her leader and spoke out the side of her mouth.
“What is that and why does it speak with our accent? Is it mocking us?”
Paul had every one of his suspicions confirmed at that moment, and naturally, he understood everything she said.
And he would not stand for it in front of his leaders. So, he put on his best sarcastic voice possible.
“Pardon me?”
The look on Aryanne’s face made his interjection all worth it. Her eyes widened and her jaw slackened in disbelief. The Princesses were out of the loop for the few moments that had transpired, and Paul took her stunned silence to continue. If his further predictions about Aryanne in general were correct, he knew just how to approach this.
“And it appears you are not one for manners. My apologies. I suppose Alemaneia’s barbarism is far-reaching.”
Aryanne scowled immediately, and her brow furrowed as she closed the couple-step distance between her and Paul. Her eyes were brimmed with a certain hatred that Paul was accustomed to seeing back in Germany.
“Why you disgusting, insolent ape…” she seethed, pointing her hoof up at him.
Paul swiftly batted said hoof away, stunning both the princesses and the Chancellor. His eyes locked onto hers with a ferocity that he was more than capable of mustering, and the sides of his mouth curled downwards. Further, he switched back to Equestrian.
“You will not point your hoof at me, Generalfeldmarschall.”
“Paul…” Princess Celestia called out.
The Alemaneian troops that accompanied both the Chancellor and Aryanne trotted to the latter’s side and stood aggressively towards Paul. In turn, the Equestrian soldiers went onto high alert, ready to intervene.
The mare herself looked absolutely flustered.
Paul tactically ignored Celestia and gazed upon her new entourage patronizingly. His gaze then became icy.
“Your show of force does not impress me, Aryanne. Tell your troops to stand down or I shall obliterate any military cooperation at this instant, you white-shelled cockroach,” he threatened through gritted teeth, mimicking disrespect with disrespect.
Aryanne visibly flinched… Paul figured she had never been spoken to in this way.
Simultaneously, Celestia, horrified, was about to rebuke the human but Luna wordlessly extended her leg in front of her sister, stunting anything she might have done to intervene. The Lunar Princess was keenest on watching what would unfold.
Aryanne’s face soon mirrored Paul’s, regardless of the height distance.
“Are you threatening me?” she countered in Equestrian.
Paul only had a simple answer, and he preceded it with a simple smile.
“No. I’m walking,” he said, and made to turn on his heels and depart the area.
However, somepony had other plans.
“Soldiers, stand down,” Chancellor Unser gave the order imperiously. With he being the supreme authority, Aryanne’s troops, naturally, returned to their former positions.
The Alemaneian leader then looked toward Paul, who had turned his back on them and was about to leave.
“Colonel, please… I’d like to extend my apologies on behalf of General Land’s disrespect. We would very much like to continue as planned,” he added with an air of professionality.
Paul shot his Princesses a sideways smirk and a wink. That perked Celestia up (and furthered Luna’s confidence in the situation)… and Paul then turned back to face the Chancellor and Aryanne.
“Very well,” he said.
Unser nodded, then turned to Celestia and Luna.
“One moment, please,” was all he said before he dragged Aryanne off to the side to discuss something in private.
And from the scathing gestures Unser was giving the mare, she was getting a hell of a rollicking.
For his part, Paul smiled confidently at his leaders, his friends, and they smiled in return. As he had come to think, the Alemanian’s responded to one thing and one thing only: force. They respected power and detested weakness of any kind. Passive acceptance was equivalent to capitulation in their eyes.
He had this.
After a few more moments, Unser returned to the small little group… with an unnaturally stoic Aryanne in tow. He then smoothed out one of the lapels on his suit and cleared his throat.
“Let’s get to work.”
The trip to two of Manehattan’s most opulent hotels was one-sided… as the Princesses and the Chancellor, surprisingly, got on quite well. Unser, in their opinion, was a far cry from his predecessor, and the predecessor before him, and so on. He was not perfect by any means, but he promised transparency, an end to pony rights abuses, and an ultimate ‘good gut feeling’ allowed the two ethereal alicorns to take his word.
As such, they got along nicely.
Paul and Aryanne, however, did not…
…not in the slightest.
Eventually, the group separated to accomplish their original plans, which left the human and (what Paul had dubbed her as) the pseudo-Nazi mare to their own devices; each group would occupy the penthouse conference room of a respective hotel.
For Paul, he prophesied that things would not be easy for him. It was not because of the initial incident at the docks, though.
It wasn’t even the fact that Aryanne outright refused to make eye-contact or acknowledge his most basic existence as they strode along toward their destination.
Hell, it wasn’t even the fact that Aryanne’s reputation preceded her… and ponies would stop and stare with a mixture of fear and anger. A few native Alemaneians even spat in her direction whilst hurling “fascist whore!” and other insults at her.
What really would serve to make this difficult for Paul, was that Aryanne seemed to feed off the discord and hate that her very presence created. Each and every time a pony would stare at her, she would stare back in kind with an icy arrogance that had been perfected through experience. Every insult hurled at her, she returned with an almost jovial wink or a blown kiss.
Paul had to admit, however, that he was taken off guard when Aryanne blindsided him with an out-of-the-blue, nonchalant comment whilst they strode down the final street.
“You Equestrian’s let batponies serve in your army?” she broke the silence.
He knew exactly what she was doing, though.
“Some of my best soldiers are thestrals. Princess Luna’s guard force is almost exclusively made up of them, as well,” he replied, gesturing toward the entrance of the rather grand Manehattan Prime Hotel.
They promptly altered their course, and Aryanne only mulled over his words with a bob of her head.
“Hm. Shame,” she said. She made a vague gesture with her hoof to help stir her thoughts.
“They have their uses, but were… redundant. They’re not common in Alemaneia much anymore,” she added.
“Oh? Why is that?” Paul asked, though he already knew the answer.
He just wanted to continue getting a feel for what he was dealing with.
The two stopped at an elevator ready to take them both to the top of the hotel, and Aryanne looked up to him with an almost giddy smile.
“We got rid of them.”
“I see.”
Conversation dropped off after that, and it was not until the two of them arrived at the conference room did Paul attempt to get back to business. They had plenty of space, and despite the massive table at the center which extended the entire length of the room, filled with more chairs than could be used, the two decided on a traditional approach. Paul sat at the head (which held a chair in tune with his size), and Aryanne to his left.
“Very well. Shall we?” he bade, getting comfortable in his chair.
“I suppose,” Aryanne replied, indifferent.
He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose out of habit.
“Right. So, ideally we wish to form some manner of cooperation that shall be beneficial to both of our nations, with the necessary caveats in place. I propose a joint exercise in the next month as a show of goodwill with us as commanders,” Paul began to rattle off in a very professional tone.
“It doesn’t have to be large, but I’m thinking two infantry divisions from each of our nations, combined with some naval vessels to make things interesting. In my experience, we can—”
Aryanne slammed her hoof on the table.
“I want a mutual defense treaty,” Aryanne interrupted.
Paul’s stoicism never ceased.
“That is not possible, nor desirable to Equestria. Nor am I willing to agree to it.”
The mare was colored most unimpressed, though her look had an underlying, knowing edge to it.
“Oh Please… military cooperation and a potential alliance with no mutual defense?” she questioned exaggeratedly. “That sounds silly, does it not? Allies are supposed to protect each other.”
“Alemaneia doesn't exactly have the best track record for... martial discretion,” Paul deadpanned.
Aryanne shrugged.
“And what does that have to—”
It was the human’s turn to smack his hand on the table, annoyed. He had a lone command for his counterpart:
“You will speak Equestrian in my presence, General.”
Aryanne narrowed her gaze, huffing, and Paul took the moment of silence to continue.
“Why would Equestria commit herself to mutual defense when Alemaneia finds itself embroiled in constant internal and external conflict?”
“Why wouldn’t she?” Aryanne countered. “Equestria has the chance to expand her influence and power into the next continent over! At Alemaneia’s side we would be unchallenged,” she added with an almost animalistic hunger.
The human raised a lone eyebrow.
“The princesses literally manipulate the sun and the moon… I am not so sure what this ‘lack of influence’ you are insinuating is,” Paul rebutted. “Celestia and Luna have no interest in imperial expansion.”
Aryanne shrugged again, and she chuckled gleefully with an epiphany.
“Weak ideals for a weak nation. How fitting.”
Paul crossed his arms and reclined in his seat.
“If Equestria is as weak as you say she is, then you and your leaders must be incredibly desperate to come to us for an alliance,” he prodded.
And he got the reaction he was looking for when Aryanne slammed her other hoof on the tabletop, propping herself up aggressively.
“Your nation is a poor excuse for one that claims to represent the interests of ponies worldwide, you daft monkey,” she snarled. “If it were up to me, I’d be halfway across the ocean back home at this instant.”
Paul decided to sit back and let her vent.
“And you’d be in tow… and on the first train to a work camp,” she seethed.
The right corner of the human’s mouth turned up.
“Your confidence in Chancellor Unser is quite reassuring.”
Aryanne bared her teeth, and her entire face seemed to scowl. With a deathly-low tone, she asked:
“Are you questioning my loyalty to my Führer?”
Paul shook his head.
“I am not questioning your loyalty. I’m questioning your confidence… which I need not do anyway, because it shows brightly like that band on your foreleg.”
Aryanne only had a few choice words.
“Fuck. You. You, worthless insect.”
As if tit for tat, it was Paul’s turn to be quite unimpressed. So much so, he actually laughed.
“Honestly, is that the best you can come up with?” he asked rhetorically. “And if you’re so offended and unwilling, why not walk out that door right now?”
The Alemaneian mare only steeled her position, nearly nose to nose with Paul. At his words and implicit permission to storm out of this meeting, she still did not budge.
And the Colonel knew exactly why.
“You won’t, hmmm? Perhaps it is because the Chancellor is ordering you to come home with something of value? Perhaps… if you don’t, he shall do it himself?” he fancied a couple guesses.
Her anger was palatable. Though they had gotten nowhere thus far, Paul at least made some headway on a different path.
What’s more, her right front hoof was shaking with barely-contained rage. Aryanne was given a harsh reminder of how little power she had outside of her domain, even more so when pitted against someone experienced in this art.
Paul was not done yet, however.
“I shall speak in a more familiar tongue for the both of us for this part,” he began. “Also, I’ll save your pride from admitting the fact that you do have no faith in Unser.”
He uncrossed his legs and sat forward, not afraid to press his nose against Aryanne’s.
“Allow me to wager… your entire career has been spent climbing the ranks under Unser’s predecessor, internalizing the ideals which, in your eyes, made Alemaneia so great. But the problem is that Unser is radically different. He wants to change things for your ponies. Make their lives better. But how he wishes to go about it directly conflicts with said ideals.”
“Alemaneia is great and shall always be so!” she finally spoke once again.
“Alemaneia is ‘great’ because you feel your fascist principles work perfectly, Aryanne. You feel Unser is attempting to undo the progress of all your leaders before him!” Paul stated confidently.
The mare pushed herself away and sunk back into her chair. Her death-glare never left the human.
“I grew up when our nation was a joke to the world. We were weak, and through our leaders we became strong! Feared! The degeneracy was rooted out and Alemaneia prospers as the greatest power on our continent! I would not expect something like you to understand,” Aryanne roared.
Paul suddenly stood up.
“I will not allow you to assume half-truths. I’ve lived through two world wars, and was fortunate enough to come here during the second. I’ve lived under fascism, I’ve experienced its effects, both positive and negative!” he asserted sternly, though never raising his voice inappropriately.
He pointed to the scar on this chin.
“One souvenir from a war to preserve it: shrapnel from an artillery strike.”
He undid one button on his shirt underneath his coat, and exposed the skin on the upper-left part of his chest. There was another quite visible scar.
“And another one: a bullet from the front lines.”
Paul readjusted his shirt and coat.
“All I knew was war; I lost my father to it and I lost a fair portion of my adult life to it. Fascism cannot exist unless you are engaged in war, preparing for war, or fighting an internal, common enemy,” he concluded. “And that shall be Alemaneia’s future.”
“Our hegemony will be sustained with or without Equestria’s help!” Aryanne barked.
Paul nearly recoiled with how fervently she spoke those words. Had she not been a pony, he might have figured he was back home on Earth. Catching his breath, he felt something stir inside of him. Part of it was a stark reminder as to what he left behind… and another was a sorrowful thought spared for his daughter. Her family gave her up to an Alemaneian orphanage, and he did not want to imagine how her life might have been.
She had willingly told him some things… but not everything; he never wanted to pressure her. Paul would hug her extra-tightly tonight.
Nevertheless, he continued.
“Your ‘hegemony’ is already receding, General.” Paul bluntly pointed out. “You prosper on war, on pointing hooves at your neighbors and punishing those who would disobey. Your economy is already contracting, and Unser understands this. He has enough foresight to see past state ideals for the good of the citizens.”
He glanced at his watch, then let his two hands mold together. He also had something genuine to propose:
“And you would allow Alemaneia to maintain the status quo. To continue conquest and subjugation. Have you ever wondered what will happen when you succeed? When you run out of enemies to fight?” Paul asked.
Aryanne only blinked, flinching as if struck. Her hardened scowl remained, but Paul could see past that façade; she was being forced to confront a reality that she had not had to think about.
Feeling he may have touched a nerve or hit his mark in some manner, Paul adopted a much softer tone; he switched back to Equestrian.
“So, General. I’m thinking of a joint exercise next month between our two nations. A show of friendship to the world. How do you feel about this?”
The mare’s glower only hardened, threatening to crack her face should it have gotten any deeper. She stared into Paul’s awaiting eyes with such a hatred… such a blazing furor that, had he been in Alemaneia, Paul knew for a fact he would have been killed by now.
The ethereal reaches of her anger and all of her prejudices touched him in such a familiar, horrifying way, but he knew right then that he had won.
And her next words, in a much more soured deadpan, did well to corroborate.
“I’m willing to contribute up to five divisions and six vessels depending on how large we wish to make this.”
The announcement of a successful agreement between the two nations’ militaries (and full cooperation between generals) was the best news that the princesses could have received.
As such, the moment Paul turned back to his friends after seeing the Alemanian warship off, he was assaulted by hugs and nuzzles. He apparently saved them from a massive thorn in their sides, and his unorthodox but proven methods had born fruit.
Affection from his good friends as well as the promise of a sweet, monetary bonus, and a few bottles of wine were nice. But Paul was looking forward to something much more enjoyable this evening. Further, despite the headache that Aryanne had put him through, they being able to see past their differences (at least, at the bare minimum) allowed Paul to take something from the whole experience.
He mulled over this as he gingerly hung his uniform on a trolley, along with anything else which would be taken back to his house. Dressed in a more casual white dress shirt and some slacks, he waltzed in front of the mirror to make sure his hair was parted as he’d like it.
Dusk was upon him, and that necessitated having some magical candles lit within the room. Their flames cast small shadows over his face, leaving half lit and the other half shrouded in darkness. Through the lack of direct sunlight, the mirror failed to reflect the scars on his face, but Paul knew they were there.
They always would be.
With one last sigh, he smoothed out his clothes. There was one last thing he had to do.
“Papa?” Seerose’s voice chimed in from the doorway, and she peeked in with a lone eye.
Paul smiled at her.
“Ready for supper?”
“Ja! Ja!” she exclaimed, bouncing up and down.
The German chuckled deeply, and made sure he had the essentials on him, such as his wallet, his knife, and his watch.
“Very well! Give me exactly one minute and we shall go eat, ja?”
“Okay!” Seerose said, nodding and slipping back out of the ajar door.
Alone once again, Paul’s brow furrowed as he reached into his right pocket. From its recess, he gently retrieved the lone occupant: the blood-red armband, one he had used to wear every day.
He could never stand the sight of it anymore… yet time and time again, he could never let go of it. He lambasted himself every day for that. That symbol represented something he was ideologically opposed to in all respects. He was a soldier of Germany, a staunch defender of the Fatherland.
But the ideology that this symbol represented, in his eyes, had no nation.
And today’s meeting with Aryanne further confirmed this. The takeaway from today’s negotiations was an undoubtedly more-secure Equestria, a (hopefully) more peaceful Alemaneia, and a more secure world.
For him personally, the takeaway was the strength to let go.
With a final breath, Paul let the armband hang limply in his grasp as he held it over the magical candle. Barely two seconds later, it began to burn. As a steady flame ate away at the armband, Paul calmly strode over to the room’s fireplace and tossed it inside. He watched keenly as the swastika was consumed by the fire, and as if an ethereal weight was lifted off of his shoulders, it was now nothing but ash and memories.
The human mustered a single, tame smile, and without looking back, he walked out his door to meet his daughter.
“So, I heard somepony was hungry!” he said with delight as he slammed his room door shut, letting the lock catch completely. He had a most refreshing dinner with his little girl planned, and he would enjoy every minute of it.
He spared one last thought to the armband as he hefted a laughing Seerose onto his shoulders. Possessions, artifacts, and antiques of one’s past serve to anchor one to their origins… to keep precious memories alive.
This one, he felt, was best forgotten.
Ein Pony, Ein Mann, und seine Tochter.
Author's Note
A little expansion on our characters. Feel free to leave a comment when finished, if you feel so inclined.
Hope you enjoy!
Ein Pony, Ein Mann, und seine Tochter.
The human stood in front of a rather familiar mirror, slipping on his uniform’s jacket after ensuring his tie had a proper fit around his neck.
With that taken care of, he took another hard look at himself and his presented appearance, though the stark difference this time was that he was quite happy with the result.
His Equestrian uniform was not marred by any last-minute tears, so the Colonel was able to display his new colors proudly. New, ‘local’ medals near the breast replaced his old Iron Cross… which, out of a gesture of goodwill, the Princesses had him fashioned an exact replica of his prized medal without the offending symbol in its middle.
He did request the Equestrian yin-yang insignia at its center as a counter-show of goodwill and pride, and his alicorn friends were all-too happy to oblige. His wound badge would forever be his to safeguard, and he still kept it sealed away for him to always remember.
Said uniform was a sleek, dark-grey color that fit him even better than his original Wehrmacht one… and it looked especially nice when the light of the early-morning sun fell upon it through the open balcony-doors.
He contorted himself in every-which way to make sure all was well. Gone was the blood-red armband with a swastika, yet to replace the one he disposed of, he requested a teal-blue band with Equestria’s insignia, much like his medal...
...and identical to the centerpiece of the visor-cap in which he fastened atop his head.
Not even two months later and Paul Werner found himself back in Canterlot, taking up residence in same room that the Castle provided so he could help make the arrangements for the preparations.
The day of the joint exercises had come, agreed upon by both Equestria and Alemaneia.
This time, however, there was no somber buttoning of a uniform he did not wish to wear again for the remainder of his life, nor having to negotiate with what was essentially a pseudo-Nazi nation.
No, all what Paul had felt were the more difficult aspects of this whole alliance process had been dealt with, and in his opinion, it was smooth sailing from here on out. Chancellor Unser of Alemaneia had been most cooperative and amicable thus far, and it certainly looked like a true bond could be formed between Equestria and the reforming fascist nation.
All Paul had to do was show up, do a little press photo op, and then command his troops.
Reflecting upon everything with a gentle hum and an upturn of the right side of his mouth, Paul figured that if anything was going to be difficult, it would be another exposure to Aryanne. The Generalfeldmarschall’s demeanor was not going to change overnight, after all.
Paul brushed some of his dark hair up and out of his forehead.
He did not foresee her being much of an issue, and as much as he quite vocally did not approve of her general existence (much to the amusement of Celestia and Luna), he knew that she would be a constant counterpart of his. Ergo, they would have to at least be professional and find some manner of workable, common ground to proceed without hiccups.
Paul was a true, iron-blooded German. Professional stoicism was a national trademark.
He could not apply those principles in good faith at the moment, however, due to a gentle, happy humming entering his ears from behind. The source: a certain crimson-maned, pristine-white coated filly resting her eyes on his bed.
Turning around to face her in full, Paul’s heart fluttered pleasantly at seeing his adoptive daughter catching up on some light napping; they did have to wake up early to get here on a weekend, after all.
“Seerose?” Paul cooed in his thick accent, stepping lightly over to and kneeling above her.
He lovingly brushed a few wayward locks of her crimson mane out of her tired face, and that’s when she stirred in full. The wide sapphire-eyed filly came face-to-face with her dad in full uniform for the umpteenth time in her small life.
She yawned, unimpressed.
“Yeah, yeah, you look fine, papa… but I’m tired,” she whined, curling back up into a little pony-ball.
Paul sat on the bed, chuckling at her display whilst scratching the back of her ear. He kissed her forehead.
“Did I not tell you to go to bed early last night? I said we would be getting up equally early today,” Paul forced her to recall.
No answer.
“Well?”
“Nph.”
“Ja… und?”
“Nph.”
“That’s what I thought. You’ve got to get up and go to your lessons before you can come to work with me later. You said you want to be with daddy when he’s in the command post, yes?”
“Mmph.”
Paul huffed out amusedly, massaging the back of the filly’s neck to calm her yet ensure she did not fall back asleep.
“Seerose…”
“Nph.”
Paul rolled his eyes. As much as he loved his daughter with every fiber of his being, she was being ridiculous. She did have to get up and study with the royal tutors before later, and Paul did not compromise on her education, though this often annoyed the little one to no end.
He moved to slip his hands under her chest.
“Komm. Steh auf, Seerose.”
“Neeeiiin...”
The military man had no intention of letting his daughter have her way this time. He gave her one last chance to get up on her own volition.
“Ja. Genug. Los gehts—spiel’ ich nicht.”
Paul’s tone brooked no argument this time around, and Seerose only grumbled before acquiescing to her father’s command. She, tiredly, got to her hooves, but Paul did her a little favor to help ease her ‘pain and suffering:’ with one hand, he brought her up to his shoulders behind his neck.
Through a fatigued reflex that had been honed undoubtedly an uncountable number of times, the filly wrapped her forelegs around his neck and lay her head on his shoulder, still resting her eyes.
Paul lamented that he’d probably get a little hair on him from what shed from her coat, but it was of no concern to him right now. He could easily take a roller to his upper-back if need be… a small price for Seerose’s comfort.
“Very well. Let us depart,” Paul spoke, taking the two of them out of his room and shutting the door behind him.
Not content to let the filly fall back asleep, Paul began peppering her with little questions as he walked.
“Have you made any new friends?” he asked.
Seerose nodded.
“Mhmm. There’s sometimes a very nice thestral guardmare who plays with me in the morning when she gets off duty.”
That certainly piqued his interest. She was already making allies who were older than her? Impressive.
“Really? What’s her name.”
Without much thought, Seerose snuggled into Paul’s neck and answered his question:
“‘Frau Sabre…’ aber sie will mich ihr ‘Stella’ heiβen,” she enlightened him with the mystery mare’s name. “She’s super nice. She helps me with history and teaches me vocabulary words.”
Paul knew the name all too well. That, combined with Seerose’s last statement was more than enough cause for concern.
He cocked a most curious eyebrow.
“And just what words is she teaching you, darling?”
A cooler day had befallen the Manehattan cityscape and coastline, but this was to be expected due to the ongoing change of season.
Yet at that same port, the same terminal, and relatively the same time as nearly two months prior, the day chilled further for the same reasons…
…namely that same Alemaneian dreadnaught being docked with its flag held high, dancing in the breeze.
The sun had not even reached its apex in its flight across the deep-blue sky, and Generalfeldmarschall Aryanne Land set her first hoof on Equestrian soil. Her troops had already arrived earlier than her and were awaiting exercise orders to come in the next few hours, and the Chancellor would not be arriving until later this evening.
So, it was just the immaculately dressed Alemaneian officer and her detail of four elite, black-uniform-clad troops.
Visor-cap high atop her head and trench coat around her usual uniform to shield from the cool morning air, Aryanne regarded her familiar surroundings with the same annoyance as before.
Stoic indifference.
Burdensome.
Further adding to her perpetual irritation, Aryanne’s warship had made much better timing than expected with calmer seas. Consequently, she had nearly four hours to kill before she had to meet with the infernal ‘human.’ As much as she’d love to smash his face in with a hoof and drag him back to her country, she would have to just settle with hopefully out-commanding him during their exercise.
That would do… for now.
The blank-faced pony’s entourage held their high and gravely still statures as the mare in question glanced around the empty terminal. A few Equestrian troops were posted for security purposes and they paid her no mind, as she did them. She commended them for not staring and minding their own business; perhaps Equestrians weren't entirely worthless as soldiers.
So, for all intents and purposes, she was alone.
Aryanne flared her nostrils as she cleared the inner-ramblings of her mind. But in so doing, she was reminded how breakfast did not go so well; spoilt milk ruined her entire dish.
As a result, she was quite famished.
As an even further consequence to that, she would have to venture into the city proper to obtain suitable nourishment, much to her chagrin.
Aryanne addressed her troops over her shoulder.
“Soldaten.”
All four snapped to attention, allowing her to continue stoically.
“You are dismissed for the next few hours. Do as you please. Meet me back here by thirteen-hundred.”
The four shared glances amongst each other, each face marked with the same amount of confusion.
However, her words were law, only second to the Chancellor himself.
“Jawohl.”
“Jawohl, General.”
“Jahwohl!”
“B-But where will you go, ma’am? Your safety is our top priority.”
Aryanne’s glower was almost painful for the stallion who spoke up.
“It is of no concern to you, private. I did not attain my rank being defenseless. Nothing shall happen to me, now enjoy a few hours off. Furthermore, some of your comrades made the mistake of questioning my orders once…”
She leaned in to emphasize her point, forcing the unfortunate soldier’s legs to buckle slightly. Her tone was controlled, icy, and downright terrifying.
“Once. Surely you shan’t make the same mistake a second time?” she questioned, her expression darkening.
“N-Nein, mein General. Jawohl,” the elite trooper, most unbecoming of his title, replied with a salute.
Aryanne huffed.
“Gut. Verpisst euch.”
One final salute and the group heeded her words, scrambling away to occupy their time however they could. The General watched them go with the most microscopic sense of remorse she could muster; her personal detail was made up of four truly magnificent soldiers; some of Alemaneia’s finest.
They meant well, but rigid discipline was a staple in the mighty Alemaneian Army. Insubordination, no matter how well-mannered, would never be tolerated.
With that, Aryanne was left to her own devices with nothing but her thoughts and a gentle harbor wind to keep her company.
She held her hoof out and tilted her head forward, letting her visor-cap flop into said outstretched hoof. The General then flipped her mane with the wind and stretched out her neck, allowing the cool Manehattan gust to caress and gently tickle her with its ethereal touch.
At least the weather was tolerable here.
That only left her to go grab a bite to eat. Her sentiment about the weather did not carry over to her hopes for the food, unfortunately.
Nevertheless, she needed to eat. Her tummy ached something fierce and she would have little mental clarity to command later if she were to ignore her body’s demands. Further, she was never in the habit of skipping meals if she could help it, though for more personal reasons…
Aryanne knew all-too well what it meant to truly go hungry.
She reaffixed her cap back atop her head and began her saunter towards town with her head held high. Each movement of her boot-clad hooves was deliberate and precise as would be expected of the highest-ranking officer in Alemaneia’s military.
Still alone, all that sounded were the distant city noises, though more prominently the heavy clopping of her hooves. Her medals swayed and jingled softly with her walking cadence, and the free portion of her mane and tail bounced freely in kind.
She enjoyed little walks with herself and only herself, much like this.
As she entered more populated and less-guarded terminals, the number of ponies began to gradually increase. Of course, this meant that Aryanne drew more attention to herself by sheer virtue of her uniform and that bright-red armband on her front-left leg. She didn’t mind in the slightest, actually. And in fact, she enjoyed bringing all eyes to her as a show of who dominated the room and the conversation.
It didn’t matter that those she passed would often sneer at her, or would look upon her with fear or confusion. Regardless, her head remained dutifully high and her expression unreadable. One hoof in front of the other dictated her strict walking cadence to ensure maximum intimidation.
Food mattered more to her than the lives of other ponies. This usually held true most of the time, anyway.
Exiting the docking facility and finding her way onto a main street which led to the heart of Manehattan, Aryanne found little reprieve from the same treatment. In fact, she drew even more attention as the population density increased.
None approached her nor attempted to confront her in any way (verbal assaults thrown at her aside). She was more than capable of defending herself if need-be, but her notoriety was proof that she was a foreign dignitary; assault on one who classified as such would amount to an international incident.
And deep down, Aryanne welcomed that option. She’d be lying to herself if she never thought of an invasion of the Equestrian mainland and the subsequent conquest. She did have to concede that it would be incredibly difficult to pull off, though. Besides, no one in her government would agree to it, even under more… conservative leadership.
Ergo, these thoughts would be relegated to little more than dreams. Still, Aryanne smirked at the warm, fuzzy feeling that the idea of conquering Equestria brought on. Then would come the ‘degeneracy cleansing.’
She bit her lip and shuddered as a pleasurable tingle made its way up her spine. Her little episode was quickly quelled and unassuming to the public eye, so she continued onward in earnest.
The porcelain-colored mare did have to stop in her tracks for a moment when she entered the city itself. Her eyes wandered over and traced the rooftops of the apartment buildings, the peaks of the skyscrapers that ascended beyond the low-clouds, and the sheer number of ponies going about their business.
Skyscrapers were not that common in Alemaneia, as the cities were just built outward around the center as opposed to upward, such as with the city of Marelin. The number of residence quarters would certainly explain the population size here, on top of tourism bolstering. What did strike the mare (as she had to deviate from her stature and glance around as she trotted) was just how diverse everypony was.
There was no consistency in coat colors nor race of ponies. Further than that, thestrals, minotaurs, zebras, and many other species were aplenty, roaming about without so much as an escort nor with chains around them.
How charming.
It was not like Aryanne expected anything else from Equestria. Thus, she merely rolled her eyes and continued onward. But, even her ideals were not founded in a modern reality anymore. The work camps had been dismantled upon Chancellor Unser’s appointment, and targeted arrests and deportations had ceased almost entirely.
Perhaps Aryanne was just comparing Equestria to ‘better times,’ as it were.
Her search for appropriate food continued down the main street. The best restaurants in any Alemanian city could be found on the main streets, such as the famous Kaiser von Pferdlich Straβe in Marelin; the General figured that this assumption held true for Equestria considering the massive variety of eateries that flanked her on either side of her trek.
And yet, she regarded each passing one with barely a huff. Fast food never appealed to her, nor did the assorted different styles—batpony cuisine especially was off the table for her.
Useless.
It appeared she would indeed be going hungry for a little while longer, and Aryanne continued to curse this nation in her mind…
…at least, until a small banner in her native language caught her eye.
The General came to an abrupt stop and took in what looked like a typical, hole-in-the-wall little restaurant. An awning with the colors of her nation, a small flag frolicked in the breeze which helped draw attention to the name:
“Taste of Alemaneia…” she muttered, repeating what was written in bright Alemaneian script.
Aryanne’s lips curled downward in a scowl, almost offended that an Alemaneian restaurant would set itself up here of all places. Further, the décor seemed authentic, and that appeared to annoy her more.
“How wonderful.”
It offended her enough to pique her curiosity. And in the end, she reconciled the fact that she was almost obligated to try this restaurant, if only so she could have the opportunity to justify her indignation even further.
“HEY! Go home, you fascist bitch! Free Alemaneia!” came from nowhere in particular.
Aryanne smiled maniacally, then spoke over her shoulder as she trotted towards the restaurant’s entrance:
“Beautiful country here! Lovely ponies!” she giggled her reply in her thick accent.
She blew a kiss and a wink over her shoulder for good measure. Internally, her response to that would’ve been much more… informative. In her educated and informed opinion through her service, Alemaneia was already free; free and strong.
Her country was going to the dogs… straight to Tartarus. Once Unser set his plans in motion, there would be nothing to stop Alemaneia’s death. Not a damn thing she could do.
Aryanne shrugged off these lamentations for another time as she gingerly pushed the door open. A gentle chiming of a bell rang out as she strode through the establishment’s threshold, and the pink-maned, thestral hostess who was lounging by her podium immediately sat up, startled.
With a perfect southern Alemaneian accent, she said:
“Welcome to ‘Taste of Alemaneia!’ How many…” her spry tone trailed off when she affixed her gaze on the customer.
Aryanne’s stoically stared straight into the batpony’s eyes… eyes which had shone of great apprehension.
“…General?”
All other servers and staff, even the patrons stopped what they were doing to observe the newcomer.
The officer’s reputation preceded her, even amongst ‘natives’ of her country.
Excellent.
“Your establishment claims to serve ‘Authentic Alemaneian Food.’ Is this true?” Aryanne demanded.
The hostess shakily nodded.
“J-Ja… Naturlich.”
Aryanne blinked without a shred of differing emotion.
“Very well. Table for one, please.”
The batpony shifted her gaze from side to side as everypony else awkwardly went back about their business, though the noise level remained temporarily suppressed. She grabbed a lone menu and beckoned for the General.
“Right this way.”
Aryanne dutifully followed the thestral to her table, occasionally locking glances with random patrons and service staff as she visually toured. She received a mixture of fearful and bellicose stares in return, though in either sense, she did not care in the slightest.
She just wanted to get fed… and hopefully not get poisoned.
Her ‘table’ happened to be a small booth, and the hostess gestured for her to sit down. Aryanne did just that, scooting into place and getting comfortable whilst the former placed a menu in front of her.
“Y-Your server will be ‘Lila,’ General Land. Please enjoy your meal.”
Aryanne glanced at her from an angle.
“I can only hope I do.”
And with that, the kind thestral hostess nodded once and left the officer to herself.
Aryanne could’ve sworn she heard the word ‘murderer’ under her breath, though she was not too concerned with the pejorative.
‘Murder’ and ‘pest control’ were relative, depending on who one talked to.
She placed her cap aside and browsed through the menu, paying notice to the many traditional and classic dishes that made up Alemaneian culture. Her blank countenance never wavered, and in the face of a series of possibilities, Aryanne decided upon something simple: a personal favorite of hers that never failed to fill her tummy and make her smile…
…provided it was prepared properly, of course.
“G-Guten Morgen.”
Aryanne extricated her face from the menu and turned to the waitress that happened to be upon her at that moment. Another thestral, though this one was navy-blue in mane and tail with the darkest-gray coat that if it were any darker, would be black. Her pink magenta eyes shone of one who had more confidence about themselves, but her discomfort still peeked through.
Aryanne huffed.
“Morgen,” she returned, then buried her attention back in the food selection.
The batpony set down a glass of water she was carrying for Aryanne and fetched a notepad from her uniform’s belt. Regaining her air of professionality, Lila recited her proper lines with respectful obligation.
“My name is Lila, and I’ll be the one serving you today. Can I bring you something, General?”
Aryanne was not immediately forthcoming with answers, and her server was left in an uncomfortable stance. She knew not whether to come back or remain, but had little desire to clarify with the Alemanian military mare.
Thankfully, Aryanne spared her that choice.
“I shall have the ‘Wald am See’ open-faced sandwich.”
“Sehr gut,” Lila spoke, writing down everything. “Butter und Sauerkraut?”
“Ja,” Aryanne said, nodding.
“Ja… und Mayonnaise?” Lila asked.
Aryanne closed the menu and faced the startled waitress with wide blue, yet blank eyes. Her mismatching, icy tone was as clear as morning light:
“Mayonnaise is for bats and communists.”
She slid the menu to the edge of the table for Lila to collect. The latter did just that and gulped audibly, writing down and triple underlining her notes at that point. Clearly she had her answer to that question.
“Keine Mayo. Und zu trinken?”
“Coffee. Alemaneian dark roast. One cream, no sugar.
Please.”
Lila did not bother responding verbally, opting to just tilt her head forward and back away towards the kitchen.
Alone at last, Aryanne sipped her water and reached into her coat with her muzzle. Rummaging through the pockets, she found what she was looking for and thusly retrieved a set of folded papers. Said documents were the lifeblood of the combat maneuvers taking place later, with everything from the mission brief to the ‘battle plans.’ Both Equestrian and Alemanian armies and navies would be taking part in a joint exercise that would test just how well they could work together in a pinch.
Aryanne had few hopes. All her country’s previous allies were worthless.
Taking a deep breath and sipping her water (and then her coffee when it was promptly delivered to her), she meticulously scanned over the briefing and diagrams. All the while, she retrieved a pencil from her jacket and made some notes for herself. Now would be as good of a time as any to review her plans for later, and hopefully streamline the whole event. Aryanne did not wish to remain in Equestria for longer than she needed to; she was having enough of an internal crisis as it were with the new administration.
Today was gonna be a long day, but at least one positive aspect was that the food and coffee were… delicious.
She left a decent tip.
[Twelve Hours Later…]
If there was one thing anyone expected once the exercises got underway, it was a lot of tension.
Both militaries were still unsure about the other, and if their conflicting values, if they existed, would hinder the performance. Such an outcome could sully an alliance before it even began, after all.
But thankfully, none of that came to pass save for very specific, isolated instances between individuals.
Not even the national newspapers reported any problems. The front pages were plastered with pictures of the enigmatic Colonel Paul Werner and the infamous General Aryanne Land… together. They stood high and proud looking over the battlefield, or were photographed working with a map side by side. Each shot was as candid as possible, showing the two mighty strategists at work together.
If there was one word to describe their appearance and their combined abilities, it would be ‘efficient.’
And this held true in reality, as the exercised concluded earlier than planned due to exceeding expectations.
Turns out, as much as they detested each other for their own reasons, Paul and Aryanne complemented each other on the field.
And as nighttime fell and the participating soldiers were free of their orders, the new allies could intermingle with one another. Unbeknownst to anyone but a select few, this post-battle phase was the most important aspect of the entire exercise: to see if the two armies could click with one another without major incident.
Aryanne, bundled up in her coat and observing with a keen eye, was somewhat interested in this dynamic as well. She sat on the edge of a trench-line just outside of the main command post, scrutinizing each little thing she could see over the darkened landscape.
She knew not whether to be happy or disgusted, but her soldiers were getting along quite swimmingly with the Equestrians. They drank together, they sang together, and despite few bilingual soldiers in the ranks, all were somehow able to communicate with one another and overcome the barrier.
Aryanne could have sworn, much to her chagrin, that a few Alemanians and Equestrians (including batponies) snuck off to more secretive areas of the field for less than reputable activities.
She huffed at the thought, internally gagging.
Though, she had little time to forment any potential disgust, as someone much taller than her took a seat to her immediate right.
“Zigarette?” Paul offered, holding a pack that he fished out of his coat pocket.
Aryanne glanced at the pack and then back up to him.
“Nein. Danke.”
“Suit yourself,” he replied, switching languages.
Paul then placed the pack back in his coat and lit one for himself. The mare looked on with a raised eyebrow.
“You smoke?”
“On occasion,” Paul replied. “War leaves nerves hard to calm sometimes. The lack of conflict here has let me wean myself off a bit… though I have a better reason to motivate me.”
On cue, a little filly’s voice rang out from the command posts entrance.
“Papa? Wo bist du?”
Aryanne’s instant bout of extreme confusion was warranted, and Paul smirked before calling out his reply.
“Ich bin hier, Seerose!”
Both heard the rapid scamper of little hooves before the filly in question appeared in the moonlight on Paul’s lap.
He hugged her tightly and the little one reciprocated in kind, nuzzling her cheek into his chest.
“I’m surprised you haven’t fallen asleep, röslein,” he cooed, kissing her on the nose.
She giggled at the gesture, and Aryanne looked on with some odd mixture of astonishment and horror.
“I like staying up late!”
Paul chuckled, scratching the top of her head through her mane and letting his adoptive daughter relish in his comforting touch.
“True, but you’re definitely gonna pass out in the next hour. We’ll sleep in late tomorrow, don’t you worry.”
Seerose didn’t respond, but instead stood on her hind legs to fetch Paul’s visor-cap from his head. She placed the garment on hers, and though it was barely too large for her, it still fit her well.
“Now I’m Captain Seerose!” she giggled.
Even Aryanne was not immune from the display of cuteness in front of her. Ignoring Paul for the moment, her heart fluttered at the sight.
Paul, of course, also shared in the playtime.
“Ah, but this is the mark of a ‘colonel.’ So you would be Colonel Seerose Werner!” he gently corrected, booping her nose with his thumb.
After she tried to munch at his thumb (though Paul was much too quick), the German turned Seerose’s attention to Aryanne.
“My dear, this is Generalfeldmarschall Aryanne Land aus Alemähne. General, das ist meine Tochter, Seerose.”
“Hallo General!” Seerose greeted heartily, waving her hoof and extending it.
Aryanne smiled and met the little one’s hoof with her much larger one. They shook.
“Grüβ dich!” the General greeted in return. “A pleasure to meet a spry one such as yourself. Paul is your… father?” she asked, pausing for that specific word that felt almost heathenous to say due to the circumstances.
Seerose didn’t notice. Paul did.
“Mhmm! He adopted me from an orphanage in Alemaneia. He’s the best dad in the world and I love him!” she exclaimed, throwing another hug around Paul, who quietly smiled and returned said hug.
Aryanne shifted her gaze between Seerose and Paul for a mere second.
“You look happy to wear his cap. I wish some of my soldiers had as much heart and enthusiasm as you, young one.”
“Danke, Frau Land!”
Paul took this time to jump into the conversation.
“Alright, Oberst Seerose,” he began, removing his visor-cap from her head and placing it back on his, much to the little one’s annoyance. “We’ll be done here shortly, so then we can head back home okay?”
“Okay Papa!”
“Run along now. I’ll meet you inside the command post.”
“Okay! Goodbye, General!” Seerose bade farewell, then scampered off back through the entrance of their command center.
Aryanne watched her go, then spoke to Paul with a banterous, if thinly-veiled chiding tone.
“So you can adopt one of our nation’s children and raise them to be respectful and well-moraled. On top of that, your skills as a commander, I must admit, far exceeded my expectations. Perhaps I have misjudged you, if only a small amount.
“Maybe there is hope for you yet.”
While her distaste for him still shone through like the moon above, Paul huffed humorously at her words. It was progress nonetheless, and would only serve to make their jobs easier if they got along somewhat, and agreed on the tiniest things.
He decided to reply in a similar fashion.
“And your attitude towards things beautiful in life does not appear as toxic as it could be. Perhaps we can work on you, yet.”
The Colonel and General shared in an awkward laugh, though there was a mutual understanding.
Their relationship would be professional. No more, no less.
Though, Aryanne had something else to add:
“There is nothing to ‘work on,’ Colonel.”
Paul raised his head and looked toward her at an angle. Aryanne, uncharacteristically, was facing him entirely, giving him her undivided attention.
“And just what does that mean?” he ventured to ask.
The mare’s reply was ever as candid as her existence:
“You know exactly what I mean. And I’ll restate the obvious: I hate them.”
Paul cocked his left eyebrow.
“Pardon me?”
The General’s countenance became horrifyingly vicious, yet ever controlled.
“When I was fifteen, the bats were already being rounded up for reasons that eluded me. In defiance, the mongrels would form gangs and prey upon the innocent like disgusting cowards,” she explained.
Paul listened intently, though he held his stoicism firm.
“One such innocent happened to be my youngest brother who was walking home from a school event at night. Like the feral animals that they are, they tore him apart under a street lamp, killing him where he stood before they disappeared into the shadows. Nopony caught them.”
Aryanne spoke with such a cool-headedness that colored Paul impressed, but nevertheless, his exposure to a great many people and ponies bestowed him with some conversational skills. That is, he could still, just by subtle body language and tonal differences, hear a smidge of pain in her words.
…and yet, all of the hate she harbored.
Paul merely nodded for her to continue.
“I joined the Alemaneian Militarists’ party the next day, lied about my age, and enlisted in the army with my father’s forged signature. My entire family was horrified, and they all disavowed me… as if little Stahl didn’t exist in their minds anymore.”
Paul tilted the cigarette pack back at Aryanne for a second time. This time she accepted one, and he graciously provided her with a light.
She exhaled her first drag, glancing out towards the darkened battlefield and the multiple groups of their soldiers intermingling.
“I was cast out of my home, left to hopefully starve on the streets during my waiting period but I’m more resourceful than that. My newfound comrades took me in. They opened my eyes to what I suspected all along. Bats, Zebras, all of them… the poison that plagued Alemaneia at her lowest since the Great War all those years ago—the evidence was too compelling to ignore.”
“Was it?” Paul asked sarcastically.
His words masked his astonishment as to how similar everything was from whence he came. There were those that held worse attitudes and outlooks than her, but even so, the resemblance was uncanny.
Aryanne ignored his comment.
“Our party seized power with over half the country’s support, and our work began immediately… b-but I’m sure you were filled in on those details. In short, we rounded them up and deported a good few of them. Those that didn’t leave, or that resisted and fought we put on the first trains to our new work camps to help fuel our industrial complex and military might.”
The mare took another deep drag and faced Paul once again.
And if it was even possible, her expression darkened.
“I hate them. I chuckled at each one that was deported. I danced on my tippy-hooves for each one I helped squeeze onto a train… and I celebrated everysingle one of their deaths.”
Paul felt it was appropriate to interject here.
“I’m sure I need not tell somepony as smart as you that actions like these would not have returned your brother to life…”
“Oh I was well aware, Colonel. I don’t attempt to necessarily justify what I’ve done nor hide from it. Avenging my brother’s murder is not my life mission, nor am I seeking some skewed form of justice. You could say it was… ach! What’s the word…”
Aryanne twirled her hoof, thinking for a second before Paul weighed in.
“Catalyst?”
She perked up immediately.
“Yes! That’s it. He was the start of my life’s mission, a catalyst: to propose a solution to the country which I love with all my heart. From there spawned a specific set of events that enlightened me to what I… we as a nation had to do.”
Paul remained silent, taking in her words.
At the same time, in a sick sense, Aryanne admitted to herself that this was somewhat therapeutic. Here was a disgusting creature, clearly skilled in his art, and that held her in the lowest regard possible. Yet, he was listening to her side of things.
“Wherever Alemaneia goes, I shall answer her call, as her well-being and wishes will forever take precedence over my visions. That does not mean I must enjoy any part in it, however. If our new path leads us back where we were over twenty years ago, then I’m left with merely nothing than with what I started with.
“But even if it is no longer state sanctioned, I will forever hold the deaths of our true enemies close to my heart. It always brought me an immeasurable joy that I could project such suffering on such a scale, as they did us. I have no intention of letting those feelings and memories escape me.”
Paul looked on without a peep as Aryanne breathed in her last bit of nicotine, finishing off the cigarette.
She cast one last steel look at him.
“I don't want your sympathy nor your understanding. You like countless others view me as the death of all kindness and friendship in the world: Tartarus walking. A wretched equine being with a bastardized vendetta. A fascist pigdog prostituting herself out to corrupt ideals.
“Or better yet… a monster.”
Aryanne got to her hooves and extinguished the cigarette beneath her boot. Paul had nothing to say to her, and she looked up at him and shrugged indifferently.
“Good. It’s better you do. It will do wonders for our partnership. Until next time, have a good night, Paul.”
For the first time in their contact, they shared a salute (albeit a weak one) before Aryanne wandered off down the trench and past the command post. It was getting late and the Alemaneian’s had somewhat overstayed, so it was time to recall all the troops and set out within the next couple of hours.
Paul also crushed his cigarette and stood up after watching Aryanne leave. Smoothing out his uniform methodically, he pondered the mare’s words as they told him more about her than he ever wished to know. But like most things in his life, he could prioritize importance. As such, these musings could be saved for another time.
Standing up straight and sparing a last look at their combined handiwork, he marched back into the command post to collect his daughter.
It was past her bedtime.
