Markus let out a loud yawn as he slowly made his way down the stairs. He did his best to rub away what sleepiness remained, but he feared it was a losing battle. Lat's night's festivities went on for much longer than he expected.

  Reaching the bottom floor, he cast his bleary-eyed gaze toward the catastrophe that was the living room. Food was left out on the tables, dirty dishes were piled up haphazardly, bottles littered the floor… It was like a frat house after a welcoming party.

  He'd worry about it later. First came breakfast. Luckily for him there were plenty of leftovers in the fridge. Unluckily, the microwave has yet to be invented. Good thing cold food never killed anybody.

  Right?

  As he opened the fridge, he took notice of the distinct lack of a certain male parental figure. Namely his father. Normally at this time he would be sipping on his coffee, desperately trying to wake up enough function as a normal human being. It really shouldn't surprise him, he supposed, given the last time he had seen him.

  His mother was drunkenly dragging him upstairs, yelling, "Let's make another baby!" The following activities they engaged in was the primary reason for his lack of sleep.

  After all, it was hard to reach the land of Morpheus when your parents were making the beast with two backs. And they were not quiet about it either. If what he heard was even remotely accurate, he felt bad for his father.

  Pulling out a few thick slices of ham he decided to make a simple sandwich. He supposed he could make some cereal or something, but his mother refused to buy the sufficiently sugar filled brands, meaning it mostly tasted like cardboard.

  Letting out another yawn, he slathered a small bit of mayonnaise onto the bread. He wasn't the biggest fan of the substance, but a little went a long way. Once he was done, he stared somewhat blankly at the meal. It was edible, which would have to do.

  But it certainly wouldn't get him another Tier in the cooking Talent. Might actually be worth investing some points into. Sure it might not be the best thing to spend his hard earned points on for surviving the coming conflict, but he figured some luxuries could be afforded.

  At the very least if he was a good enough cook, he could keep up morale. Might be less likely to get hit by "friendly fire" if he fed them right. Never underestimate the power of good food.

  Taking the first bite of the meal, he thought over the amount of points he did have, 60. Not a whole lot in the grand scheme of things, but it wasn't bad either. Studying and exercising gave him at least one point a day. Gaining a Tier in a new Talent that he didn't have to purchase made up the difference.

  Just a few more and he'd be able to get the Architect Perk. Getting that would reduce the costs of future purchases for his necessary Engineering Talents by half. At which point he would get the Mechanical Engineering Talent and the Mathematics Talent up to four. Once that was done, he would move onto one of his secondary Perk choices, namely The Doctor Is In.

  After that, he would spend the time needed to get his Medical Formula Talent to Tier 2 and use his points to increase it to at least 3. Maybe 4 if he had enough. Then he would think of purchasing a few from his tertiary choices.

  All in all, things were going quite smoothly. He's sure that won't last, so he'll make sure to enjoy it while it does.

  Finishing the last of his sandwich and chugging down a glass of apple juice, he returned his attention to the filthy house. With a sigh, he got to work on cleaning it up.

  *Line Break*

  Frank woke up with a shuddering groan. The sun cascading in through the curtains playing drums on his eyelids, refused to allow him any more slumber. Opening his bloodshot eyes, he immediately closed them due to sensational overload.

  "Last night was a mistake…" he thought. During the party he had decided it was a good idea to challenge Brigadier General Rudersdorf to a drinking contest. Of course, he had already had a few cups on his wife's insistence, so he wasn't in the right state of mind. Otherwise, he never would have made such a miscalculation.

  He should have known something was up when Zettour, that sly devil, smirked as his long time friend was challenged. That should have been the first clue that a mistake had been made.

  Frank never stood a chance. After nearly drinking him literally under the table, Rudersdorf still looked fresh as a daisy, cheeks barely flushed. Just what kind of monstrous tolerance had that man built up?

  He cursed past Frank for his foolishness. He didn't have to deal with the hangover, the bastard dumping all the responsibility for his actions onto him.

  Feeling a bit nauseous, he forced himself out of bed, nearly tripping on the blankets and whatever else was on the floor. His eyesight was far too blurry at the moment to be able to tell. Perhaps once he's had his morning coffee he'd be able to tell, but until then, he was half blind.

  Flipping on the switch to the bathroom, a foul smell came up and punched him right in the nose.

  "Oh god, what is that?" he questioned, his vision suddenly clearing, though he wished it didn't. Then he wouldn't be able to tell just where that smell was coming from.

  Translate out, it was vomit. Lots and lots of vomit. It looked like there was some attempt made to reach the bowl, but whoever was responsible gave up halfway through and just let loose. He knew only two people entered this room normally, so chances were high it was one of them.

  But before he could think of it further, the sight, the smell, and the aforementioned nausea made him add to the pile. He at least tried to aim for the sink, but seeing as it was full, it probably didn't matter.

  Once he was done, he wiped the offending bile from his mouth, nose scrunched up from the addition to the already pungent aroma. He gave the room one last look before heading out.

  "I'll just leave that to future Frank," he said, flipping off the light and leaving. After all, past Frank pushed his problems onto present Frank, so why shouldn't present Frank push his problems onto future Frank? It made perfect sense to his addled mind.

  Leaving the bathroom and feeling marginally better, though his head still pounded like he was at a heavy metal concert and the drummer was using his head as an instrument. At the very least his nausea was mostly gone, and that meant he could properly enjoy his morning caffeine.

  He took a look at his wife, who was sprawled out on the bed, snoring like it was her job. It sounded like a bear with a sleeping condition. And just like a sleeping bear, he didn't dare wake this one up. Better to let her sleep off as much as her hangover as she could.

  Even if she was mostly responsible for his own predicament, waking her up would only add to his own misery in the long run.

  Seeing her appearance dredged up memories of the previous night's carnal activities. His wife sure was wild when she was drunk. Frank was sure there would be some bruising along his hips.

  She was completely bereft of clothing, the blanket barely containing her modesty. Her hair was seven kinds of messy, making him thankful for his own short curls. Straightening out that tangled mess looked like it would be a nightmare.

  Frank quietly dressed himself, thankful her loud snores dampened the little noise he made, before silently opening the door and sneaking out of their room. He doubted she would wake up for anything less than an earthquake, and even that was iffy, but why take the chance? Better to be safe than sorry after all.

  Making his way to the stairs he saw his son's door already open. Curious, he checked inside, seeing that indeed, his progeny was nowhere to be found. Checking the hallway clock for the time, he saw it was nearly 11:00 A.M.

  "No wonder he's up already," he muttered, heading back towards the stairs. Ever since awakening from his coma, Mark seemed to be an early riser. Almost as early as him even, and he was in the military! It drove Joanna mad, as she saw it was her responsibility to cook him breakfast. But when the person you were supposed to be cooking for woke up an hour earlier than you, it made having breakfast ready for them impossible.

  And no matter how hard she tried, she just couldn't get up that early. And even when she did, she couldn't function. Hell, he remembered one time when she tried and Mark had to make her breakfast!

  He had to admit, seeing his young son taking care of his dopey-eyed mother so early in the morning had been hilarious. What wasn't as funny was him sleeping on the couch that night after mentioning it.

  Still, totally worth it.

  Walking down the stairs, Frank heard a commotion coming from the living room. Curious, and hoping he wouldn't have to deal with a burglar while hungover, he crept down the rest of the stairs, making sure not to make a sound.

  Thankfully, it wasn't a burglar but the sight was almost just as shocking. It was his son, Mark, picking up the trash from the previous evening.

  "Hey son. Whatcha doin?" he asked. Hearing his father speak, Mark turned around to regard the man with a critical eye. It made him feel like he was being subjected to a surprise contraband inspection from his C.O.

  And he failed.

  "Well, I figured you and mother would be far too hungover to clean up after yourselves, so I took it upon myself to do so," he said, tossing a can into the trash bin.

  "Ah, I see… I certainly appreciate the thoughtfulness. And I'm sure your mother will too," Frank responded, sounding rather sheepish about it. How could he not, when his 6 year old son was cleaning up after his parents? It set a bad example.

  "Really? The woman who cries because she can't fix me breakfast on time? You think she'll appreciate me cleaning up after her?" Mark questioned, clear disbelief in his tone.

  "You may have a point there son. Still, I appreciate it if nothing else," Frank said, giving the boy a warm smile. One which was not returned, Frank only receiving an acknowledging nod in response.

  "I also made coffee. It should be just about done by now," Mark mentioned. Hearing this, Frank's expression became one of pure joy, giving his son a bone crushing hug in thanks.

  "Best son ever!" he exclaimed, getting a roll of the eyes from said son.

  "Seriously? You're happier about getting a cup of coffee over having this disaster zone cleared of trash?" Mark asked, exasperated.

  "You'll understand when you're older," he responded with some mirth, rubbing his son's hair. Mark frowned and tried to swat the older man's hand away, who only chuckled at his son's behavior before moving on to more important things.

  Daddy needed his fix!

  Mark only sighed watching the man enter the kitchen, a clear bounce to his step. Talk about having skewed priorities. He could only hope he never met another person who loved coffee as much as him.

  Sure, he understood the siren's allure of the beverage, seeing as he was subjected to months of late night overtime, but he never allowed it to become a dependency. His father, it seems, didn't hold the same beliefs. Hopefully, if coffee ever became scarce, he could handle the withdrawal symptoms.

  And if not, well… not his problem. He felt he could safely shirk such a duty to his mother.

  "Ah, that's the stuff," he heard his father moan from inside the kitchen. Markus shook his head at the antics of his drug addled parental figure. Hopefully it would at least bring him up to full consciousness and he could help clean.

  But until then, it was up to him. Bending down, he grimaced while picking up a particularly sticky piece of paper. He'd rather not know what caused it. What surprised him though was the weight of the object. Even if it was saturated in God knows what, it shouldn't have weighed nearly as much.

  It almost felt like something was stuck to it. That, at the very least, did not surprise him. Hell, he'd be more surprised if there wasn't something adhered to its surface.

  He thought it would be food of some kind, given the propensity of which he's stumbled across half eaten remains, it made sense. However, what came tumbling out was not something edible. Not unless the consumer was a goat at least.

  It was a Christmas ornament. Mark watched as it tumbled to the ground and rolled towards the large tree they had decorated in the corner. Walking over to it, he casually picked it up and inspected it with some curiosity, before turning his attention to the tree.

  His mind flashed back to them decorating the thing. It was… an experience, to say the least. His mother was far too eager to shove whatever she thought looked good onto it. Her decorating style was reminiscent of a Victorian home, where they seemed to believe that if they could see the wall, they were doing something wrong.

  Which means there was a startling amount of tree that was basically invisible. He could only barely make out the tiniest amount of greenery. He thought it defeated the purpose of having the tree in the first place.

  The worst part of the whole process was how determined she was that Markus was the one to place the star on top of the damn thing. The tree was around 9 feet tall, give or take, so even being placed on his father's shoulders, a precarious position to be in on its own, the process was more treacherous than it had any right to be.

  Especially given that Frank had to stand on a stool to do it. He could have just gotten a small ladder and they would have been fine and dandy but that troublesome woman wouldn't hear of it. It was like she didn't remember he was ever in a coma. Or had she already repressed that time of her life?

  Either way, her decorating scheme made placing the round ornament in his hand more difficult than it needed to be. Or perhaps it wouldn't matter, considering it already looked like one of Santa's elves threw up all over it. Shrugging, he casually hung it back up on a branch, making sure to block what little greenery remained.

  As he did so, his foot came into contact with one of the presents beneath the tree. Looking over at the pile of gifts, he idly wondered if they should have taken inventory before throwing the party. He wouldn't put it past one of the children to possess some sticky fingers and appropriate a package for themselves.

  Well if they did, he hopes they enjoyed whatever it contained. No use worrying about it now. Picking up the present he inadvertently kicked, he took note of how soft it was. He figured it was probably some clothes, given his need for such things.

  Most of his own clothes didn't fit after all, not after being in a coma for so long. He only hoped his mother didn't get anything too childish. She seemed awfully thrilled by the idea of dressing him up, and he feared for what may lie in his future.

  He did not fancy becoming a dress up doll.

  But as he held the gift in his hand, thinking about all the clothes that no longer fit him, his mind traveled back to that small, blonde haired girl from about a month ago. Her clothes weren't in the best shape, and he figured she must be freezing, given the time of year and the fact that she wasn't wearing a jacket.

  It wasn't the first time his mind wandered back to her. He wasn't sure why. Perhaps it was how startlingly blue her eyes were or perhaps he simply felt sorry for who he assumed was an orphan. She could have been poor, belonging to a poverty stricken family, but the area he saw her in wasn't known for its less fortunate citizens.

  Except for orphans, that is. And wouldn't you know it, there just so happened to be a small orphanage run by a few nuns that appeared near the path leading from his home to the hospital. It wasn't proof by any means, but it did impart more evidence than a gut feeling.

  Looking at the carefully wrapped package in his hand, an idea started to form in his mind. Perhaps he could donate the clothes that no longer fit him to that orphanage. They were barely used and in excellent condition, so he was sure they would appreciate it.

  He wasn't entirely sure why the idea appealed to him so much. He never considered such things in his past life, but then again, he was hardly in a position where he could afford the luxury of charity.

  Perhaps it was to assuage the guilt that gnawed at his conscience due to his usurpation of this child's life, one filled with means and affluence. Or maybe now that he did have the capacity to make a difference, no matter how small, he would take it.

  And with his father being an Admiral, that opened up some rather interesting doors. Perhaps he could do more than make a simple donation. The Navy was known for its culinary expertise, surprisingly, so perhaps he could muster up the troops and prepare a nice Christmas dinner for the less fortunate.

  Tis the season of giving after all.

  Regardless of the reasons why, the thought appealed to him, and now he would have to pitch the proposal to his father. But how to go about it…

  Well, he had some time to think as he continued to clean the living room, going over everything he would say to the man slurping up his dirty bean water like it was the antidote to life's poison. Which it very well might have been, at least to him.

  *Line Break*

  Brigadier General Hans von Zettour sighed as he sipped on his cup of coffee. It was a bit late to be flooding his system with the excess caffeine, but considering his late night, he felt it was well deserved. He stayed far too long at the Admiral's Christmas Eve party.

  He currently sat in his office, enjoying the rather lazy work day. Most would be put off to be working during the holidays, but he found the work to be soothing this time of year. Mostly because there was hardly anything to do and the General Staff Headquarters was mostly empty, meaning he could finish the year's last bit of work in peace and quiet.

  Peace and quiet that was ruined by the cacophonous ringing of the phone. Letting out a sigh, he placed the cup holding the solution to all of life's problems down on this desk before picking up the phone.

  "This is Brigadier General Zettour," he stated curtly. Not rudely, even if he felt a bit cross at having his peaceful afternoon interrupted.

  "Ah, General. I hope this isn't a bad time," commented the person on the other line. Of all the people who could be calling him, this was the last person he would have expected.

  "Admiral Adler, what an unexpected surprise. I must say, I didn't think I'd be hearing from you today, given last night's festivities," he said, leaning back into his chair.

  "Honestly, I didn't think I'd be calling. How's General Rudersdorf doing? Well, I hope," Frank said, getting a small chuckle from Zettour.

  "Better than you I imagine. Not many are brave enough to challenge him to a drinking contest," Zettour commented with some mirth. On the other end of the line, Frank let out a self deprecating laugh.

  "Not sure if brave is the word I'd use, General."

  His response got another chuckle from Zettour. "No, perhaps not. Glad to see you're up and about at least. I remember back in our academy days, he took out an entire platoon all be his lonesome. It made defeating them in the next day's war game a breeze."

  "Ah, I see. So he developed such a high tolerance for strategy did he? Glad his liver's on our side, at least," Frank muttered, making Zettour give a much louder laugh this time. Perhaps having his peaceful afternoon interrupted wasn't so bad.

  Or perhaps he should save that judgement for when he finds out the reason for the call.

  "I'll be sure to pass along your sentiment. Now, why don't we get down to the reason for your call?" Zettour stated, his words taking on a far more professional tone.

  "Of course. Let's see, where to begin…"

  After hearing the reason for his call, Zettour could only sit there in disbelief. Never in a million years would he have suspected that for being the reason the Admiral phoned him.

  Yes, he would have much preferred a nice and quiet evening. As pleasant as conversing with the Admiral was, the headache his words caused simply weren't worth it.

  "Do you have any idea what you're asking Admiral?" Zettour questioned. He heard a sigh come from the other end of the line, and the General got the distinct impression he knew exactly what he was asking for.

  "I'm aware of the logistical nightmare, General, but I do believe the idea has some merit. And not just because it was my son who suggested it," Frank shot back. Zettour leaned back in his chair once more, stroking his chin in thought. His eyes caught sight of his now cold coffee and he couldn't help but frown.

  He hated cold coffee. And with his usual assistants off for the day, he would have to make some more himself.

  "Is that so? Then please, enlighten me of these merits," Zettour ordered, though he had no real authority over the Admiral, being from completely different branches of the military. But considering what he was asking, well… he felt some authority was in order.

  He did have seniority over the younger man, after all, and age came with its own authority, one that was hard to overcome for most, and Zettour was not opposed to using such a means to get what he wanted.

  "Of course. First of all by providing such humanitarian aid to its citizens, it would foster a greater sense of loyalty within them. There's also the added propaganda we could use to do the same with the rest of the citizenry. Such a thing would likely cause an uptick in recruitment as well," Frank started.

  Zettour conceded the point. Certainly such an act would endear their citizens to the Empire and would be looked on favorably by the rest of the world. But it was still a massive undertaking.

  "Secondly, it might distract the more war mongering members of our society, at least for a time. Give them something else to think about," Frank continued. Like Zettour, he too was frustrated by the constant calls for war. Dealing with pirates was enough of a headache as it is, adding war on top of that would be a nightmare.

  "Third, it would shed a light on the less fortunate members of our society and may convince the rest of our citizens to lend a helping hand as it were. After all, if the military is doing it, shouldn't everybody?"

  Zettour considered that point. There was certainly an air of self reliance in the Empire. Not that that was a bad thing, per say, but they tended to take it to the extremes, to the point that charity itself was nearly considered a faux pas. It was a valid criticism of his home, he would admit.

  "And lastly, it's something that no other government in the world has done. At least, not recently. We would show the world that we, the Empire, care more for its citizens than they do. A small flex on the world stage if you will," Frank said.

  Now that was a thought that made Zettour smile. Showing up the entire world with such a simple act, relatively speaking, would do wonders for morale. That such a militarily structured country would do something that they, with all their lauded ideals of pacifism could not achieve was the greatest present the Empire could hope for on Christmas.

  It was also just hilarious. Zettour might agree for that fact alone. But still, even if the idea itself is simple, completing it in less than a day was… well, not impossible but certainly staggering in its logistical complexity.

  But then again, Zettour did love a challenge.

  "Why come to me with this Admiral? Don't tell me you wish to utilize our extremely talented chefs here at the General Staff office?" Zettour joked.

  "No, I think not General. I've heard the horror stories coming out of your kitchens. Rather let my own boys handle that if it's all the same to you. No, what I need your help with is provisions," Frank said, receiving a hum of acknowledgement from his colleague.

  "Of course, as a member of the Service Corp, I would be able to provide you with some assistance, especially given I'm the highest ranking officer currently on duty. I take it you haven't spoken with Supreme High Command yet?" Zettour questioned, but he already knew the answer. Better to have two high ranking officials pitching an idea than one. Because if two of them thought it was a good idea, that gave the concept far more credence.

  "Right, thought I'd get your opinion on the matter first before dealing with them. Hopefully they have someone with a sunny disposition stationed there today," Frank replied.

  "Well, good luck with that. I don't think that person exists," Zettour said with amusement. Most of the higher ups were more interested in their own positions than what they could do for the Empire with them. It was frustrating, having to answer to such men, but that was life in the military.

  "You don't have to tell me twice. So General, what do you think of the idea?" Frank threw out. Zettour took a moment to respond, thinking everything over. Honestly, they didn't have much to lose by providing aid to the needy, and the good PR might be well worth the hassle. There was one thing that concerned him though.

  "Tell me something. Have you or your son considered the ramifications of doing such a thing? The people may grow to expect handouts and full bellies every day. The Empire can't support something like that," Zettour stated.

  As much as he agreed with the criticism that they put far too much emphasis on self reliance, he couldn't exactly argue with the results. He didn't want to create a welfare state where people would rather receive handouts than work. That would eventually lead to the collapse of their nation.

  "I agree. Mark said something similar and says he'll work on a proposal to address such a thing. Something about an incentive program? He doesn't have all the details worked out, but it sounded interesting. He was also pretty excited for something he called, vertical farming?," Frank said, catching Zettour's interest once more.

  "Vertical farming?" he questioned.

  "Yes sir. He said you could increase the yield and make better use of available land by growing certain food crops vertically rather than horizontally. Hence the name. Again I'm not sure on all the details, but it might be worth a test run come next season," Frank said.

  Zettour stroked his chin in thought. Young Mark became more and more interesting by the day it seems, and he was already sufficiently impressed with the lad on their previous meeting. His potential value as an Imperial asset was growing as well. All The more reason to make sure he wasn't lost to nations hostile to the Empire.

  "I see. I look forward to reading those proposals. Back to the matter at hand however, I say we give this crazy idea a try. I'll get Rudersdorf on board too. If I have to work on Christmas, then I'm sure not leaving him out of it," Zettour mentioned, getting a chuckle from Frank.

  "Of course. You wouldn't want to leave the missus out of the fun, would you?" he jested.

  "Indeed. It would put him in a foul mood if I did," Zettour joked back. The two quickly put a plan in place before making a call to someone higher up on the chain of command.

  They didn't know if it was possible to accomplish everything they wanted, but perhaps the Empire would receive a Christmas miracle.

  Later that day…

  The sun was starting to set and General Winter was launching a devastating evening assault. Snow had started to sprinkle down from the sky, gently floating along the air currents until it reached the ground.

  Caught in this surprise attack was a young mother and her daughter of only 4. The two wore essentially rags as they made their way towards one of the soup kitchens, hoping there would be something hot left for them to eat.

  If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

  "Mommy, I'm hungry," the little girl whined, holding her mother's hand as they walked the nearly empty streets. In her other hand was an old teddy bear that had clearly seen better days.

  "I know sweety. We'll get something to eat soon, I promise," claimed the mother, hoping she didn't just make another empty promise to the girl. Seeing her child shivering in the cold and clutching her empty belly in pain was the most heart wrenching experience in her life.

  It made her feel like a failure of a mother.

  When she found out she was pregnant, it was the happiest moment of her life. But when the girl's father, an Albish noble who she foolishly believed had actually loved her, found out, he was all too eager to ditch the extra baggage.

  She had sacrificed everything to be with him and this was the price she paid for love.

  He had even threatened her with death if she ever spread any rumors about him, like claiming that he would abandon his daughter and her mother. She snorted at that. It wasn't a rumor but a cold hard fact, one that was simply inconvenient for him.

  Just like taking responsibility for his own actions was. She wasn't sure if his reach extended into the Empire or not, but she wasn't willing to risk the life of the little girl holding her hand on the chance it didn't.

  Because as much as she hated the man, the moment she held her baby girl in her arms, her rage had all but evaporated. No matter who fathered her, she loved her daughter dearly, and would do anything to make sure she was happy.

  Even if she had to resort to selling her body. If that meant she could provide a better life for her than it would be worth it.

  But those thoughts were for another time. Right now, she needed to get some food in her daughter's belly. They were nearly there, and even if the food wasn't particularly appetizing, it was still food. It was far better than nothing.

  However, as the two of them approached the soup kitchen, she saw a military truck with soldiers bustling about doing… something. Her heart dropped into her stomach when she saw them enter the same building they were going to.

  Fearing the worst, she marched up to a man, one who was shouting out orders, fully intending on interrogating him. Antagonizing the military was typically in the shallow end of good ideas, but she needed answers and her daughter needed food.

  "Excuse me?" she asked as she approached. The man in question turned around, curious as to who was calling for him. She noted he was young, about the same age as her, give or take, with a clean shaven face and short, cropped hair.

  "Yes? How can I help you?" he asked, glancing down at the little girl beside her, who quickly hid behind her mother.

  "Is there something wrong with the soup kitchen? I was hoping…" she said, giving her daughter a melancholy look. She just couldn't bring herself to say the words. The Empire did not look kindly on those who couldn't help themselves, even if there were institutions in place for people like her.

  The soldier, seeing the look, gave her a kind smile. "No worries ma'am, the kitchen is open. We were just making a special delivery," he said. His words caught her attention, shifting her gaze to the rest of the soldiers who were pulling out trays from the truck.

  "Special delivery?" she asked as the other soldiers went by. The smell coming from the trays made her mouth water. It smelled like freshly made roast turkey. She could hardly remember the last time she ate something like that.

  "Yes ma'am. The Navy and the Army worked together to procure a nice meal for those… less fortunate," he said.

  She could hardly believe his words but the proof was right in front of her. Could this really be happening?

  "Mommy…" cried the small girl. The mother's eyes snapped back to her daughter, watching her shiver from the frigid air.

  "I'm sorry sweety, we'll go inside right away," she told her.

  "Or course. Wouldn't want to keep the little one waiting. Allow me to escort you out of the cold," he offered, ignoring the snickers of the men behind him.

  "That's not necessary," she tried, but he was having none of it.

  "I insist," he said. Left with no other alternative, she walked beside the young man, entering the building as he held open the door for her. Once inside, she gasped at what she saw.

  She knows he told her that there was a proper meal ready for them, but she wasn't expecting this much. The soldier, seeing this, couldn't help but grin, feeling that the extraordinary amount of effort that went into making this happen was worth it.

  "I can't believe it…" she murmured.

  "Mommy, is that food for us?" questioned the small girl, looking at her mother with hope in her eyes. She opened her mouth to answer her daughter, but the words wouldn't come out. She was far too choked up with emotion.

  Seeing this, the soldier took it upon himself to answer in her stead, kneeling down to address the adorable little girl, clutching her old teddy bear to her chest.

  "That's right. You can eat as much as you want," he told her, a smile on his face. One that she returned with a big toothy grin of her own.

  "Wow… Thank you so much, Mr. Soldier!" she shouted, rushing forward to envelope him in a hug. Her mother went to chastise her, but the soldier merely returned the hug with a laugh.

  "You're very welcome. But really, it's Brigadier General Zettour and Admiral Adler you should be thanking. They organized the whole thing," he told her. The young mother was determined she would remember those names, if for no other reason than the smile they put on her daughter's face.

  "Thank you. Thank you so much. God bless the Empire," she cried, tears leaking from her eyes no matter how hard she tried to hold them in.

  "It was my pleasure ma'am."

  "Emma. My name is Emma," she told him, wiping some tears from her eyes.

  "And I'm Alice!" chirped the little one.

  "Well, it's very nice to meet you, Alice. And you too Emma. I'm Second Lieutenant, Armin Richter. Now why don't you two go and get yourselves some food. I have a few more deliveries to make tonight," he told them.

  "Okay!" smiled the small bundle of sunshine.

  But before the man could leave, Emma called out to him.

  "Lieutenant!"

  He stopped and turned around, giving her a curious look.

  "Yes?"

  "Will I… Will I ever see you again?" she asked, voice tinged with hope. She knew it was stupid of her, but there was still that foolish part of her brain that longed for a proper romance. The chances of him wanting to be with a woman who had a child with another man were slim but…

  She already witnessed one Christmas miracle. Who says she can't experience another? Maybe that was greedy of her, but still…

  "I'd like that," he told her.

  Hearing his words made her heart leap into her chest. With one final goodbye, he turned and walked out the door. But that wouldn't be the last time she saw him. The two would meet again and eventually marry and have two more children. The young soldier would even survive the coming war and walk his beloved daughter down the aisle at her wedding.

  But that's a story for another time. For now, let us return to a young man unaware of the lives he changed this day, traveling towards a certain orphanage where a certain girl lived, unaware of the changes this meeting would have on his own life.

  *Line Break*

  Mark was regretting the choices he made leading up to this moment. He was currently fastened in the backseat of his family's car, driving towards the orphanage with the trunk full of presents. One he wrapped himself, holding onto it as they traveled to their destination.

  What might be the problem you ask? Everything seems fine, doesn't it? Well, you would be wrong. When Mark and his father revealed their plans to his mother, who was little better than a zombie at that point, she claimed she had a brilliant idea, perking right up.

  Mark should have known something was wrong right then and there. The smile on her face and the sudden dissipation of her hangover were telltale signs that he would regret the coming hours.

  What was this bright idea of her you might be wondering? Cosplay. And not just any cosplay, oh no, but one that matched the season. His parents were now dressed as Mr. and Mrs. Claus, while he was relegated to the position of slave.

  His mother called him an elf, but he begged to differ. In no Christmas story did Santa pay them a fair wage. Or any wage at all. They were slaves in all but name and he has joined their ranks this day.

  That's what he gets for trying to be a good person. No wonder so many people were assholes.

  "Oh sweety, you look so cute! I could just eat you up!" Joanna cooed from the front seat, turning to get a good look at the irritated young boy.

  "Please do mother. Then at least I will not be subjected to this humiliation," he replied.

  "Oh don't be such a grumpy pants. It's Christmas, try a smile," she chided, looking at him expectantly. But if she thought he was capable of such a thing at the moment, she was sorely mistaken.

  "Perhaps you should give me a sip of your special drink, mother. That seemed to put a smile on your face last night," he quipped back.

  "Now Mark, that's a drink just for grownups. And I'd rather you not remember mommy in such an embarrassing way," she said, a blush clear on her cheeks.

  "I feel the same way about this outfit you forced me into. It's humiliating," he muttered. It wasn't like he was against elves themselves. Link and Legolas were pretty badass. But seeing as he looked more like a Kebler elf than one killing orcs or saving princesses, he felt he was more than owed some emotional leeway.

  "But it's cute…" Joanna whined, trying the old puppy dog eyes.

  "I'm already wearing it, mother. No need to rub salt in the wound," he said, completely unaffected by her attempts. His cavalier response only made her put even more.

  "Frank, our son is picking on me!" she complained, making said son roll his eyes at her.

  "There, he did it again!"

  "Now honey, I don't think that's the case. He's just antsy to be meeting new people is all," he said, hoping to calm her down. It worked, at least somewhat, as she leaned back into her seat, crossing her arms over her chest with huff.

  "Well he doesn't have to be such a meanie about it."

  "For the record, I have no issues meeting new people. At least not when I'm wearing appropriate clothes, and not that of a slave," Mark chimed in, just when Frank thought he would have some peace and quiet.

  "Santa does not keep slaves!" Joanna called back, offended by the mere notion.

  "He doesn't pay them, mother. What else would you call it?"

  "Christmas joy!"

  "I don't think slaves are allowed Christmas joy."

  "Frank!"

  The Admiral was very glad the trip wasn't a long one. He didn't think he'd be able to survive otherwise. The roads were a bit icy, but maybe he could speed up just a little.

  Several minutes went by with Mark pointing out all the flaws in Santa's system, driving his mother insane, before they reached their destination. Frank thanked whatever deity there was as they came to a stop behind a military truck.

  The group got out with Mark shivering from the cold. Even with his new jacket on, it was still rather chilly. Luckily his mother wasn't so bereft of sanity she would make him traverse the cold winter night without something to keep him warm, even if it did clash with his outfit.

  When he told her of his intent to donate his clothes that no longer fit, she allowed him to open up some of his presents, at least the ones that contained clothing. His new jacket, which was a sherpa style with a dull red coloring, fit much better than his old one.

  And the color was better too.

  Mark stared up at the building resting on top of a hill while his father went to greet the commanding officer. It was an old thing that was clearly in need of some repairs. The stonework on the outside was crumbling in certain spots and the gutters appeared green, even in the dim evening twilight.

  Next to the orphanage was a small field used for gardening, fenced off with whatever lumber they could find. He suspected they grew food rather than anything ornamental, given the lack of funds he was sure they were subjected too. There wasn't anything in said garden at the moment, given that it was winter.

  He saw some kids and one of the nuns step outside to see what the commotion was. He watched his father walk up to the woman with another soldier and start to talk to her. After a few moments, the nun seemingly burst into tears and looked to be on the brink of collapse.

  The children who were out there swarmed him, and it seems like his father had no idea how to handle them. It was pretty funny, Mark had to admit, watching his father be harassed by children while dressed as Santa.

  But the person he was hoping to see had yet to reveal herself.

  "You know Mark, it's a really great thing you did," Joanna said, wrapping her arms around her son from behind. She had a soft smile on her face and looked to be holding back tears of her own.

  "And yet you put me in pointy ears and a green tunic," Mark quipped, leaning into the woman's embrace. She was very warm.

  "Oh shut up. Don't ruin the moment," she chided gently, and Mark stopped himself from saying anything further. At least for the moment. As Joanna smiled from watching her husband be overwhelmed by small, hyperactive kids, yelling for backup, her eyes drifted down to the gift in her son's arms.

  "I've been meaning to ask, who's that present for? You never did say," she asked, a slight hint of suspicion entering her voice.

  "I don't know yet. I don't know her name," Mark said, not realizing the landmine he just stepped on.

  "Her name?" she questioned, tightening her hold on him.

  Her question caused Mark to freeze, recognizing his mistake. He knew how his mother felt about him getting too close to girls, calling them "homewreckers" and "hussies".

  Damn, he should have been paying more attention. Now he would have this to deal with.

  Um, I mean, it's for…"

  "Yes, go on. Who's it really for?" she pressed, and he could feel her eyes boring holes into the top of his head.

  Crap, he couldn't think of an excuse. And the longer he took to answer, the more suspicious she became. That means he only had one option available to him.

  "Look, over there!" he shouted, causing Joanna to turn in that direction. But all she saw was the military truck.

  "Look at what? I don't see…" she trailed off as she looked down at her son. Or tried to at least. But where there used to be an adorable boy dressed like an elf, there was now empty air.

  He was gone.

  "Mark! You get back here right now and tell me who this little homewrecker is!" she yelled, watching her son flee towards his father, who by now was trapped beneath a pile of children, with another officer grabbing hold of his hand and trying to pull him out.

  He ignored them, even as his father yelled for help, running into the orphanage itself, searching for a place to hide. He's sure his father would survive somehow. If his mother caught him, he might not be so lucky.

  Inside the orphanage, a young blonde haired girl with eyes of icy blue casually read one of the few tomes the nuns were able to provide, completely unaware of the chaos outside.

  She was glad to have something to read that wasn't filled with the usual religious propaganda. She didn't want to disparage those with religious beliefs, but after meeting the so-called God, whom she referred to as Being X, refusing to acknowledge his claim of Lordship, she wanted little to nothing to do with religions.

  So of course, that dastardly fiend would see fit to sentence her to a life of poverty surrounded by nuns. It was a clever ploy to gain her allegiance, but it would prove fruitless in the end. Even if she were forced to recite scriptures and sing hymns praising that false god, she would never accept him into her heart.

  She was currently sitting in her lumpy bed, leaning against the wall, a thin blanket covering her even thinner frame. Life as a poor orphan girl had certainly taken its toll on her. But she would find some way to overcome the trial and shove her success right into that smug prick Being X's face.

  Flipping a page in the book, her eyes scanned the words on the worn sheet of paper. The story wasn't terribly fascinating, being this world's rendition of Little Red Riding Hood, but it was better than words praising her enemy.

  She had just gotten to the part where the big bad wolf devours the granny when someone burst through the door. Of course she knew who the intruder was, seeing as she shared a room with her. Being in a poor orphanage with limited space did not afford her the luxury of private quarters.

  "Tanya! Tanya! Tanya! Guess what!?" the intruder, a young girl with auburn hair, shouted as she ran up to the girl sitting in the bed. But rather than answer right away, the now named Tanya finished the paragraph she was on before addressing the other girl in the room.

  Something she didn't take kindly to, as she stood by the bed practically vibrating on the spot.

  "Ella, what have I told you about barging into the room like that?" Tanya asked. By the exasperated tone of her voice, it could be easily deduced that this was not the first time they've had this conversation.

  Probably not the last either.

  "That's it's rude and symbolic of an uncivilized society," the young girl said. She struggled with the bigger words and had absolutely no idea what they meant, but she's heard Tanya say it so much she had them memorized. Heck, they were practically engraved onto her soul at this point.

  "Correct. Now, what has caused you to disregard my words this time?" Tanya asked, giving the girl a curious glance.

  "Oh right! It's the military! They're here!" she said.

  "Why? What did you do?" Tanya asked, giving the other girl a stern look. She didn't actually believe she did anything, but teasing the younger children in the orphanage had become somewhat of a pastime for her.

  Despite her initial efforts, Tanya proved quite popular with the other children. They just seemed to gravitate towards her for some reason, and her maturity led to the nuns placing her in charge of the energetic little ankle biters far more often than she would like.

  "It wasn't me, I swear!" Ella shouted back, sounding offended by the accusation. A little too offended, in Tanya's opinion. Like she was keeping secrets.

  "You aren't hiding anything are you? Like some candy for example?" Tanya questioned, smirking at the now panicked look of the younger girl. Ella had tried being sneaky about it, of course, but she was only a five year old. Even if the orphanage had been secretly run by ninjas she still wouldn't be stealthy at that age.

  Or would they be called nunjas?

  "You think that's why they're here?" she asked, sounding frightened.

  "Could be. You never know," Tanya stated. The horrified look of the younger girl swiftly turned to anger when she noticed Tanya's small smirk, letting her know she'd been pranked.

  "You meanie! Just for that, I won't share any of my candy with you! Hmph!" Ella pouted, turning away. Tanya rolled her eyes at the small waif of a thing in front of her, not that she had much room to talk in that department. Her current stature was a far cry from her previous one.

  Hopefully her shortness would only be a temporary ailment.

  "Good thing I have my own stash then," Tanya replied, unmoved by the threat. Ella turned to give the older girl a look of betrayal.

  "You have candy and you never told me!?"

  "Of course. If I had you likely would have pilfered it," Tanya replied, rising from her bed, if one could even call it that. Candy was fairly easy to come by in the streets, if you knew where to look, and it was an excellent bargaining tool within the orphanage.

  Children were so easy to bribe and there were so many chores Tanya did not want to do.

  "Pil… Pilf…" Ella tried to sound out the word, making Tanya sigh. Conversing with children was a chore in and of itself. Unfortunately, she was often relegated to the position of nanny, meaning it was all but an inevitability.

  "P-i-l-f-e-r-e-d," Tanya spelled out. "It means to steal."

  "Well why didn't you just say so?" Ella huffed once more. Tanya always liked to use big words to sound smart, especially when she had to explain them afterward. Ella, and many of the other kids, believed she did so on purpose, enjoying seeming smarter than them.

  Of course, Tanya did do so on purpose to establish herself at the top of the orphan hierarchy. It ensured that they all relied on her for homework and other such mundanities. She also did so with the intent to appeal to any would-be adoptees, but in her few years of life here, she hasn't seen a single person come to adopt anyone.

  Seems the Empire isn't keen on such things. There could be various factors as to why, such as monetary struggles or an aversion to having children at all, but Tanya suspected it was more of a cultural thing than any more grounded reasons.

  Regardless of the reasons, no one in her time here has found a home, so Tanya put such things from her mind. Besides, there was always the likelihood that she could be taken in by someone with dubious intent, so perhaps her unaffiliated status was more of a boon than anything.

  "I did say so. Now, what's this about the military?" Tanya asked, bringing them back on topic. Her words expelled the lingering irritation Ella felt towards her at the moment, eyes lighting up with excitement once more.

  "Right! They showed up not too long ago. Come on, look!" she exclaimed, grabbing Tanya by the hand and dragging her towards the window. Tanya rolled her eyes but allowed the excitable girl to do as she wished.

  Once there, Tanya could indeed see the military presence. It wasn't large, so that was good. It means they weren't likely conducting some kind of assault. But she did worry about what they were here for.

  Were the nuns involved in some kind of illicit affair? She didn't believe there was anything of the sort going on, but one could never be too careful. No child has mysteriously gone missing or anything like that, so the likelihood of this being an issue of human trafficking was slim.

  Could it be drugs? The kids here don't ever deliver anything to someone, so the odds of Tanya inadvertently becoming a drug runner was also slim. With the military involved, could it be an act of treason of some kind? Were the nuns secret intelligence officers for a foreign nation?

  Again, the odds of that were low. So why was the military here? Could Being X be involved? She wouldn't put it past that damnable creature to pull a stunt like this.

  "What do you think they're here for?" Ella asked, watching as they carried large objects into the orphanage. Her words snapped Tanya out of her rage fueled inner tirade against her enemy before it could fully begin. Shaking her head, she once more focused on what was happening outside.

  "I don't know…" Tanya replied, watching as some kid ran away from an older woman, likely his mother, like he was fleeing from a tiger. She idly wondered if that made said woman a tiger mom. But as amusing as the thought was, it didn't answer any of the questions.

  For some reason, the kid looked familiar, but Tanya couldn't place where she might have seen him. It could have been anywhere and no matter how hard she stared, the memory refused to surface.

  "But idle speculation will do us no good. Come on, let's do some reconnaissance," Tanya said, moving to leave her room.

  "Reconna… Reconna…" muttered Ella, once more trying to sound out the large word. Tanya sighed as she once more began to explain the meaning. These kids would be the most articulate orphans the Empire has ever seen.

  The pair made their way down the stairs and to the main entrance of the orphanage, which was more or less a worship hall. Tanya frowned at seeing the large, angelic woman depicted above the altar, but she was quick to cool her expression.

  The Empire, for all its lauded value of logic and reason, was surprisingly religious. The faith of Being X was quite strong in this world, much to her frustration. It was maddening to hear them sing his praises.

  If only they knew how little he cared for their individuality or personal freedom, they might not be so quick to bow their heads to him.

  But there was little she could do about it, at least at the moment. She had no way of revealing to the masses the truth of that thing, so she would simply school her features as best she can and curse his name in her mind. She prayed daily for a pox to fall upon that despicable abomination.

  The pair hid behind one of the wooden pews, watching as the soldiers carried in trays of… food? Tanya blinked in confusion. Was she seeing this right? Why would the military bother expending resources on a bunch of no name orphan children? It didn't make sense.

  "Psst, Tanya," Ella whispered at the older girl, though her idea of what a whisper entailed could use some work. It was far too loud to be considered quiet. She may have been more inconspicuous had she just spoken normally.

  "Yes?" Tanya returned, in an actual whisper. She felt a bit silly, hiding behind a pew like this, but without knowing the intent of the soldiers, it was better to remain unseen, just in case she was forced to flee.

  No matter how small of a chance that was.

  "What's that smell?" Ella asked. Tanya felt a small pang in her chest at the question. It was sad to know that a young girl like Ella would be unfamiliar with the smell of roast. Though it was the first time in this life Tanya had been able to sample the aroma of upper class cuisine, even if it was only the middle class, she did have the distinct memories of her old life of eating delicious meals.

  It only made her more determined than ever to rise into the upper ranks of society. Bread and potatoes may have kept her alive, but it wasn't exactly exploding in the nutrient department. It was amazing how something as simple as good food made one feel like a human being.

  Right now, she felt more like a dog. She supposed she should count her good fortune that she was, at the very least, bereft of fleas.

  "I believe it's roast beef."

  Tanya nodded at that though the little girl didn't really understand what that meant. How could she without a proper reference point?

  But the blonde haired girl's thoughts came to a crashing halt when she realized she didn't recognize who spoke. She swiftly turned her head to the left, looking over the head of her companion she could make out a figure.

  He was dressed in a warm looking, rusty red coat, the sight of which made Tanya shiver as if her body realized by the sight of the garment that she was dressed far less appropriately for the weather. Her long sleeved shirt offered some protection, but not nearly enough given the swift chill entering the room from the open door.

  His hair was a fiery red color, almost like it was made of actual flames. On top of said flames he wore a small, cone-shaped green hat. That, coupled with the pointy ears she could see, stunned her.

  "Is he an elf!?" she thought. Normally such a notion would be absurd, but considering she was reincarnated into another world by a hypocritical, overworked, self-proclaimed god, she couldn't rule out the possibility entirely.

  That is, until she saw the strings attaching said ears to his own. That made her feel some semblance of relief. So he wasn't an elf, just some weirdo in a costume then. She wasn't sure it was all that much better, but at least she knew how to deal with weirdos.

  His crimson eyes stared into her own with a look of recognition, making her worry exactly how this stranger recognized her. It set her on edge and put her on the defensive.

  "Who are you?" Tanya hissed out, careful not to alert the throngs of soldiers busting about. Ella, upon realizing there was a stranger next to her, scooted closer to Tanya, with the older girl wrapping an arm around her. The blue eyed girl had warned her about strangers and the dangers they posed, and with how smart she was, Ella and the rest felt it prudent to listen.

  Tanya liked to pretend she didn't care, for whatever reason, but Ella knew she did. Why else would she take so much time to teach them and make sure they were safe? It sounded like caring to her.

  "Ah, right. Introductions. Yes, I suppose that makes sense. My name is Markus Adler, but you can call me Mark," he said, offering a hand to shake. Tanya stared at it for a moment before tentatively reaching out her own hand, introducing herself as Tanya Degurechaff.

  For the first time, she cursed her Japanese politeness. Refusing the handshake would have been considered extremely rude in her past life, and given her desire to climb the corporate ladder, being rude wasn't exactly conducive to that goal.

  Once their hands connected, both of them could feel a spark of some kind, like a bolt of static electricity. Tanya withdrew her hand immediately, giving the boy a suspicious look, who was staring at his own hand in confusion.

  "So, Mark, want to tell me why you're here?" she asked, snapping him out of his miniature trance. He turned back to look at her, and that's when Tanya finally realized where she had seen him from.

  It was about a month ago and she was out and about in the city, hoping to find some spare change or edible treats she could use as currency with the other orphans. Unfortunately, her efforts were stymied by those foolish demonstrators baying for blood.

  She watched the parade from the relative safety of an alleyway, she saw a car drive by, with a red eyed boy in the back seat. His appearance intrigued her, as it was so much different from anyone else she had seen so far, and their eyes met for the briefest of moments.

  But that was it. That was her one and only encounter with this child, if you could even call it that. So why was he here now? Was he some kind of stalker? She didn't think such a thing was worth considering, given her age and station, but perhaps she had more to worry about than what she thought.

  Mark nodded at her question, but he found himself unsure of how to answer. After all, he himself wasn't entirely sure of his reasons.

  "I guess it's due to the season," he said, getting a confused look from the girl. She pondered his statement for a moment before she realized what he meant. Today was Christmas, and there was no better time in the Empire to seem charitable.

  "I see. So you're here to assuage a guilty conscience brought about by privilege?" she asked. If that was the case then she supposed she could rest a little easier. If he wanted to ease the discomfort of his lifestyle by helping the needy, which Tanya and the rest of the orphans definitely were, she would gladly accept his charity.

  "Not a bad way to put it, I suppose," he said with a chuckle, shocking the girl somewhat. She was so used to explaining herself after using complicated words, she assumed the same would occur now. But he understood her? Or was he simply pretending to save face?

  Ella, however, was trying to figure out what Tanya had implied, her face scrunched up in thought.

  "If that's true, then why is the military involved?" she asked. If he himself simply wished to give a charitable donation to the orphanage that would be one thing, but the soldiers told a different story. Something wasn't adding up.

  "Ah, right. You see, my father just so happens to be the Admiral of the Imperial Navy, so I convinced him to utilize the might of the Empire's military to provide a nice Christmas meal for the less fortunate," he explained, further shocking the girl.

  "This kid is the son of the Admiral!?" she shouted in her mind. If that was the case, then his claim was at least somewhat plausible. The value of having access to someone that high up in the military was enormous, more so if they're related.

  Come to think of it, she vaguely recalled a story in the paper that claimed the Admiral's son woke up from a coma. Could he be the one? As far as she knew, the Imperial Navy only contained one Admiral, so he must be. Looks like luck was on Tanya's side for once.

  She knew that war was on the horizon. Given the rampant, overzealous patriotism displayed by certain members of Imperial society, it was all but guaranteed. The only real question was when it would happen. As much as she hoped it would never happen or that it was a far off problem for the future, Tanya was never one to gamble.

  Which meant she needed some plan for when it did, and this kid might just be her golden goose.

  "I see. In that case, I suppose thanks are in order. But why choose here, specifically?" she asked. She watched his face shift to one of embarrassment, shyly looking away from the girl. The look sent a spike of panic shooting through her veins.

  "That's… I happened to spot you about a month ago in the city and you weren't wearing a jacket, even though it was freezing. So that got me thinking… I have plenty of old clothes that don't fit me anymore, most of them were barely worn, so instead of throwing them out, I could donate them," he said, but his words did very little to comfort the girl.

  "I knew it! He is a stalker!"

  But though his words instilled a primal fear inside of Tanya, it was the exact opposite with Ella, who wiggle out of Tanya's catatonic grasp.

  "So, does that mean we're getting presents!?" the girl asked, eyes sparkling. Mark looked down at the small, paper thin girl wearing little more than rags.

  "It sure does. There's also a ton of toys I don't need as well, so I hope you like them," he said, reaching out to rub her head. Ella made an excited, squealing sound that would have almost certainly deafened any dog within earshot.

  It did have the side effect of snapping Tanya out of her fear induced state.

  "What was that?" asked an older voice. The three turned and saw one of the nuns looking around confused. It didn't take her long to spot the three children hiding behind the pew.

  "Children, what are you doing here?" she asked, hands on her hips and glaring at the three of them.

  "Forgive us Sister Irma, we were merely curious about the soldiers," Tanya spoke up. Sister Irma's expression softened at that.

  "Understandable. It was quite a shock to see them pull up. But it appears as if God has seen fit to bless us with a miracle this day," the nun said, clasping her hands in prayer, giving thanks to the Lord above.

  Tanya grimaced at the reverent tone the woman was using, hating that fact that she was praising that false god Being X. If anything, she should be thanking the boy next to her, given her stalker was the reason for their apparent good fortune.

  But when she turned to glimpse at him, she saw that he too wore a frown on his face. It filled her with curiosity. Why would he be making a face like that? Did he too run afoul that belligerent, free market hating god? Or did he just not like religion in general?

  Could he be an ally in her crusade against that beast?

  She shook her head free of those thoughts. He was a stalker, nothing more. She would use him and his connections as a resource to fuel her ascension through the social and economic hierarchy, but nothing more than that.

  "As you say, Sister," Tanya responded. The nun looked down at them with a smile.

  "Now, why don't you three come along and get washed up. The soldiers are almost done preparing the spread," she said, reaching down her hand. Ella happily grabbed hold of it, walking off with Irma to do just that.

  Tanya sighed and rose to follow, but she was halted by the boy beside her.

  "Um, Tanya?" he asked, hesitantly. She turned back to face him and saw his nervous expression. That, coupled with the present he was holding, something she had missed earlier, sent alarm bells off in her head.

  "Oh, crap! A present!? I should have expected this. It's not a good idea to accept gifts from a stalker, but what choice do I have? I can't afford to alienate such a useful resource!" she thought.

  "Look, I know this is a bit weird, but… here. Merry Christmas," he said, holding out the gift.

  Well, there was no backing out now. With shaky hands, Tanya reached out and accepted the offered gift. It was soft, and Tanya suspected it was an article of clothing, probably a jacket, if his earlier words were any indication.

  "Right, um… thanks. Merry Christmas," she said, sounding unsure. He gave her a nod and she could see the barest hint of a smile forming on his lips. Giving a quivering smile of her own, she slowly undid the wrapping.

  Like she thought, it was a jacket. A thick brown one with wool lining the inside. She was grateful for the neutral color palette, as she didn't think she'd be able to tolerate something of a more girly nature. Though, considering it belonged to a boy, that was perhaps a moot point.

  Honestly, she was happy with the pragmatism of the gift. He recognized a need and provided a means to satisfy it. And judging by the size, it should see ample use in the coming years.

  So while she disapproved of his stalking of her, she couldn't complain about the results. Hopefully he wouldn't misconstrue her acceptance of the gift as something other than simple gratitude. Though she doubted he held any romantic interests in her, given their age, she wouldn't outright dismiss the possibility either.

  Who knows if Being X could be infecting him with his influence. Better safe than sorry.

  Feeling a small breeze collide with her, she shivered and decided now was as good a time as any to make use of it. She casually put the jacket on and immediately sighed in relief as it did its job shielding her from the cold.

  "Looks like it fits. That's good," Mark said, nodding in approval. It was actually slightly too big on her but that left some room to grow. Hopefully she would get at least one more winter out of it.

  "Seems like it. But I should do as Sister Irma suggests and prepare for dinner. Judging by the smell, this is not a meal I wish to miss," Tanya said, trying to extradite herself from the conversation before things get awkward.

  Well, more awkward.

  "Of course. I wouldn't want to keep you. I should probably get back to my parents anyway before mother decides to send the soldiers after me believing I've been abducted," he said. Tanya thought he was making a joke, but it was hard to tell with his tone of voice. The last thing she needed was to be accused of trying to kidnap an Admiral's son.

  "No, we wouldn't want that. Thank you again for the gift. Goodbye," she said in a clipped tone before spinning on her heel and marching off.

  "See ya," Mark replied, watching her leave.

  "That could have gone better. I should have thought of a better excuse for the gifts. Oh well, at least she doesn't think I'm some kind of stalker," he thought.

  However, just as he was about to turn around and search for his father, wondering if the children had done him in, his body froze at the sound coming from behind him.

  "Ahem!"

  Turning around slowly, almost robotically, he saw the dull eyed stare of his mother.

  "Mark, who was that girl?"

  "Oh, crap…"

  On that Christmas day, Tanya and the other children were able to eat their fill, with enough leftovers to last until the new year. The presents gifted to them would be met with much joy, with little Ella receiving a small stuffed rabbit with the fluffiest and softest fur you could imagine. She would treasure it her entire life and take such good care of it that she would someday be able to gift it to her own daughter.

  Tanya enjoyed her coat and the extra reading material she received, even if it was somewhat juvenile. But she wouldn't be the only one, as the kids would constantly pester her to read to them. And as much as she would complain about doing so, she would always cave in the end.

  Mark and his family would return home and have their own celebration, with him even able to avoid his mother's pestering about who the mysterious girl was. They would open presents and eat a nice meal together, enjoying the peaceful holiday.

  And all across the Empire, not a single person went hungry that day. Some would call it a miracle, claiming that the Empire was blessed, while others would call it pure dumb luck. No matter which it truly was, many lives were changed that day, and very few would ever know who was truly responsible.

  But that was just fine by him.