Chapter 751 – Grand Inspector Tremali
The respected elite does not have to bargain or bribe, nor does it have to threaten or punish, in order to motivate a population to act in a certain manner. The tool that is disappointment and guilt of failing is the true test on whether a leadership is appreciated and looked fondly upon, or whether the bare minimum is done to satisfy the objectives that had been handed out.
Bargain as a tool inevitably will prove too expensive. To ask everything of a man, one will have to offer everything. Punishment breeds resentment, even when it is just, the most soft-hearted of us will rise to crusade against punishment and inevitably make it distasteful. But disappointment is eternal. One needs to rise to the level that failure is unthinkable, because having to explain failure bears an utterly unfathomable level of guilt.
The Imperial Aristocracy, the Imperial Bureaus and the Imperial Military’s High Command all need to carry this level of power amongst them. They should be able to solve everything, and yet to do so sparingly. They need to wield great and lavish displays of power on trivialities. They need to be an untouchable and higher race of being. The power they wield has to be immeasurable and through that, they have to inspire the common man to try and achieve the same level of competence.
For to be elite is to be one chosen out of many, and it is naturally exclusive. The Empire holds many elites, and there are many ways to become such an elite because the avenues of that transition are more important than the effect themselves. Any common man within the Empire has to feel as though greatness is within reach, that all that is needed to reach the levels of success, power, fame and inspiring loyalty that the current elites receive is merely one step away.
The elite, naturally, cannot do all the work themselves. The elite that fails to inspire is a failure in itself, for the excess of work that they do has to be done by someone. And so, the elite has to present itself as the best of the best. As things stands, we are too good to punish, we are too good to bargain, we are too good to bribe, we are too good to threaten and we are definitely too good to beg. The simple sidewards glance of an Imperial aristocrat, filled with disdain, should be able to crush a man.
Likewise, the word of the Imperial elite should be immutable law. Not because it comes from the mouth of a better but because they are more just than the population can ever hope to be, too charitable, too caring, too honoured and too good. Paragons in every sense of the word, held up to a standard impossible, achieving it, and showing the common man what exactly the body and the soul are capable of.
- Excerpt from “On Imperial Rule & Governance”, written by God Arascus, of Pride.
One did not have to be a general trained by Kassandora to recognise the telltale signs of a mobilization occurring. Yesterday, Iliyal had been to inspect the Doschian Sturmwerkhe tank plant, today, he had gone west to the Rancais Aerofleet Compound. When fools thought of what generals did, then these inspections most likely came to mind. They were the most important set of meandering tasks that could exist. Iliyal stared at Paida as the Goddess of Rancais approached him, followed by a troop of engineers and local commanders and technicians.
Behind her, the Imperial airfleet of Rancais stood arranged in long lines of fighter jets. Two massive masts, not quite ICDT towers but still just as tall, had been installed on either side of the aeroplane parking bay. Their tips were pulsing with the light of magic which devoured ashen skies. Save for the massive for those though, the Aerofleet Compound had been just as Iliyal had remembered it. A massive radar to the south-west, a control tower of the same style that was seen at civilian airfields. A small wall topped off with chainlink fences with guard towers dotting the entire perimeter. The location had been more fortified recently, when the airfleet was brought here to wait out the disaster of ashen skies.
This was easily one of Iliyal’s least favourite aspects of managing a competent military. There were some fools who thought it enjoyable, because they would be able to walk past and gawk at the smooth management and the lack of problems, but that set of fools would never make it to the rank of General. When the Imperial Army had still been new, there were things to do, problems to solve and there would be reason for running these inspections.
Now though? These inspections existed only for the sake of reminding the troops that High Command was still keeping watch and not to slack off. The only issues left to solve were ones of taste, why a statue of a certain Divine was there and not here, or why the men got pasta instead of potatoes in their meals. Minor trite that a General would have to pretend to be interested in. Yesterday, at the Sturmwerkhe, there had been such a minor thing. The factory had been in a semi-sort of chaos as due to the reassignment of the smoking room from one floor to another. One of the men had complained to Iliyal Tremali about the situation and the elf could only stand there, hands behind his back, and pretend to be interested.
What was Iliyal supposed to do about a smoking room? Or the lack of one for that matter?
He offhandedly mentioned the issue and suggested two smoking when he was leaving the massive factory complex which supplied the Imperial Army with tanks. They were working on a new design, a small vehicle which could be dropped from airplanes. Enough parachutes and it shouldn’t crash. That was how the theory went at least.
Sturmwerkhe yesterday, Aerofleet today. The grand parking lot of the Imperial airforce, what planes remained grounded in the scattered airbases across the continent were still there, but the Aerofleet Compound Rancais’ factories sent their completed jets and bombers and all other manner of airborne vehicles. A train would come through once a day, bringing another jet or two which would have be unloaded by a cart.
The inspection was there to inspect precisely nothing. It was there to remind the garrison that they could be inspected. Or at least, it was supposed to be. Somehow, someone had said something and Paida must have gotten word of Iliyal’s arrival. The Goddess of Rancais was already here, with a whole team of men conglomerating around her. All of them wore the long military coats of the Empire, the officers had peaked caps, the lower ranks berets, Paida herself a small band of silver in her blonde hair to symbolize her position as Goddess of this land.
Iliyal raised his hand, his own security detachment stopped and he advanced towards the group. Paida was watching him approach. Polite as always, the Goddess actually led her troop forwards. “Paida.” Iliyal said. “Inspection. Any issues? I assume you know if you’re here.” Coincidences like this did not happen. The woman had the Imperianna Ball to deal with, she should be back in Aris playing with her dresses rather than here.
“I’ve reviewed the Aerofleet’s security details Iliyal.” Paida said, she was half-again the elf’s size and immediately, she was careful with her tone. Most people were. “Since the start of the plane-grounding, there have been four security breaches here.” Maybe that sort of news would sound terrible to a civilian who thought a security breach was a terminal disease. No, it wasn’t. Successful sabotage or worse, lack of supplies, were the cancers of organisational logistics. Security breaches were the common cold. Four almost seemed too low although the Aerofleet did lie in the middle nowhere.
Iliyal Tremali realised Paida was waiting for him to motion her onwards. Was she a child? Did she really think that he would be interested in a deer tripping the alarm? “Go on.” Iliyal said.
“Twice, deer have tripped the alarm.” Paida said with some satisfaction. Iliyal kept his face straight even as internally, he wanted to fall asleep on the spot. Who could have predicted that? Paida stopped again, this time, Iliyal did sigh.
“Just go on Paida, what else.” He said, his voice tired. The purple-eyed Goddess of Rancais was technically his subordinate, maybe she was just following Imperial guidelines to the letter of the code.
“Wasps have inhabited one of the planes and constructed a nest in the jets.” Iliyal just stared at her, he realised she wouldn’t explain and tried to not seem like he hated this job.
“And that tripped the alarm?”
“Well we don’t know if the jet is operable.” Paida said. “They’re running inspections on it right now, the nest is removed but if they brought sand or stones deeper into the structure, or into the engines. The local commander didn’t know how to label it so it’s a security breach.”
“It’s a loss to natural attrition, wildlife.” Iliyal corrected her, then looked at the men behind her. The shy expressions, the averted eyes and the glum looks explained why they had needed to bring their Goddess here. They were simply afraid of Iliyal. “Mark it down, fill in that it was wasps and report it.” That was how the Empire operated, everything had to be known. This was the first time that Iliyal had heard of wasps inhabiting jet engines. A freak occurrence of random chance could be ignored and forgotten about. It being too common would need a change in plane or base design.
“And the fourth?”
“A trio of young men were drunk and driving about. They crashed near the gate.” Paida said and Iliyal smiled.
“It’s all that Rancais wine.” He said jokingly. “What about them?”
“They’re currently on military police supervision, so they report in but it’s not…” She trailed off. “I’d prefer if you were lenient on them.”
Oh. Iliyal suddenly realised her issue. The military police was under jurisdiction of Empire-government proper, and not of Empire-Rancais Province. “When?” Iliyal asked.
“For about a week now?” Paida said, turning around to the men around her. A few nodded although Iliyal was already bringing out his phone, unlocking it and scrolling through his contact book. It was nicely sorted into folders. Paida was about to speak when the elf silenced the Goddess with a raise of his hand, then proceeded to call Commandant Likeau.
The Commandant in charge of Rancais answered almost immediately, of course he did. There were a few people in the Empire that did not need to wait. The man on the other side had a deep voice, tinged with Rancais even though he spoke common Allian. “Marshal Tremali, this is Commandant Likeau of the Rancais Provincial Military Police.”
Iliyal answered in perfect Rancais. “Commandant, it has come to my attention that there was a situation regarding the Aerofleet Compound. Three young boys crashed.” The silence that followed meant that Likeau did not know a single thing about it, but why would he? The man was in charge of logistics and keeping the hierarchy here, a case would have to be fatal for him to be aware of it personally. Iliyal let him stall for a bit, random calls like this were always good to test the character of a man.
“I am aware.” Likeau lied slowly and carefully.
“Indeed Commandant, issue them full pardons. They have learned their lesson. Give me confirmation when you are done. It happened roughly a week ago in the Aerofleet Compound. That is all. Confirm with me when it is done.” Iliyal dropped the call and put his phone back into his pocket. “Done Paida.” He said to the Goddess more than half again his size. The rest of the humans behind her at least had the decency to look sheepish about making Iliyal handle the situation. Paida was in even worse a state, she looked taken aback. Her purple eyes, the same colour as famed Rancais wine, were blinking rapidly.
“It’s done?” She asked.
“Done.” Iliyal said. He moved on the topic, this was a non-issue. What did he care about three drunk boys getting into trouble? It wasn’t near his home, and he had a tolerance when it came to foolish civilians. “How is the situation on Rancais’ air quality.” Paida turned around to her men.
“Gideon.” She said, a pale man who looked like he spent far too much inside stepped forwards and saluted Iliyal. The Marshal replied with the same salute, as quickly as possible.
“Captain Gideon of the Epan Western Support force.” He saluted. “Reporting air cleanliness and viability for flight.” He took a deep breath, and then launched into the report. “The southern barrier strategy is confirmed to be working.” That was a plan devised by Arascus rather than anyone else. Instead of trying to carpet Epa in a field of towers and gemstones, the Empire had instead carved a hard border of them in the south. Major cities and locations which already had towers were equipped with the excess transmutation stones Elassa produced. Those formed clean zones throughout Epa which slowly cleaned the rest of the continent as natural wind currents circulated the ash around. If all things went well, civilian air travel restrictions could be allowed within two months.
“Is that the report?” Iliyal asked.
“We’ve confirmed with long distance flight tests, from here to Hallin, then Ilan, then Arseille and back.” Gideon said. “The engines show minimal ash damage. It’s there but it’s a long-term issue. The air is clean enough for one flight.” Iliyal made no change in his posture as he silently judged the man as inept. This is why the man had been relegated to the Epan WSF and not promoted to high command. Losing the entire airforce in one operation would be the greatest failure of the Empire since actual defeat in the Great War.
“Very well.” He said. “Keep monitoring the situation, run these tests as you do, once every two days to monitor the air cleanliness and inform command when the damage becomes non-existent, not negligible, non-existent.” Negligible was on the list of Iliyal’s most hated words. There was nothing in warfare that was negligible and in the military, the only negligibility was under which bush the local garrison pissed in.
“We were actually planning to run a test today Grand Marshal.” Gideon said and Paida stood straighter. Of course they were. Iliyal swallowed his sigh, it didn’t look well for him to sigh.
“Go ahead, you don’t need my permission to start it, I will stay to watch.” That was another evening stolen from him, everyday something would come up. But he couldn’t miss the test, that would look even worse. How could the Grand Marshal not care about his planes after all?
“Of course, at once Sir.” Gideon said, saluted, and then returned back to the gaggle of soldiers.
“I will take a walk through your site.” Iliyal said, he raised his hand, made a signal and the small security detachment of bodyguards ran past the group and towards Iliyal. Paida was the only one who followed, the rest of her gaggle began to meander about and make their calls. By the time Iliyal got to the first plane, he could hear a jet roar to life on a distant runway.
The planes were planes, there was little to comment on them. They had fresh coats of paints, that was good. They were clean, or as clean as outdoor vehicles got. Iliyal spent more time looking at the rubber of their wheels than the silver-steel vehicles themselves, that was the mark of whether the garrison was taking maintenance seriously. Some had engines built into them, a few of the larger models had engines under their wings, others had cannons. All of them had cockpits. All of them had wings.
Ahead of him, a plane suddenly took off. Iliyal stopped and stared and felt the eyes of the locals on him look as he looked up at the plane. He had absolutely nothing to comment on the situation, there were a pair of transmutation crystals in the area, of course the planes could take off. Nevertheless, the situation did demand comment. “It does fly.”
“It does.” Paida replied as they watched the jet fighter spin in the air and then fly south, painting a streak of white cloud in the grey-blue sky of winter. This area, being an outdoor carpark, had a full detachment of weather control mages to make sure that rain, snow, sleet or even fog could not even begin to think of touching the vehicles.
Another plane set off, the Grand Marshal walked down a full row of jets. “That’s the second time we see rubber rotting.” Iliyal pointed to a wheel that was obviously too dry. Paida sounded like a school girl who had been caught cheating on the exam.
“I’ll make sure to inform the garrison.”
“Do.” Iliyal said.
“It’s only two though.”
“I’m not saying it’s a bad job, I’m saying your men missed two.” Two out of a hundred was far better than Iliyal had expected. But this rubber was going to become an issue, the vehicles needed to be kept indoors. Iliyal would raise the issue to Kassandora today. As he was planning the rest of the day, his phone began to buzz: Commandant Likeau was calling. The man had picked up immediately when Iliyal had rang, there was no point to indulge vain sadism and make him wait. “This is Tremali speaking.” Iliyal said. “I assume this is about the boys Commandant.”
“Yes Sir.” Likeau said over the phone, he didn’t bother to try and impress with his Allian this time. “They’ve been released Sir, all three are unhurt although shaken. The MP are… Well, they’re MP Sir.”
“As expected.” Iliyal said. “Write them off and kill the case, don’t bother with the paperwork, it’s not worth your time.” Transferring a case from military police to the locals would be something that the Commandant would have to sign off on. He saw Paida’s lips curl into a satisfied and thankful smile.
“Of course Sir. Thank you Sir.” What was the thanks for exactly? Iliyal couldn’t think of any work that would be justified to give on the spot, so he just ended the conversation.
“That’s all, have a good day Commandant.” Naturally, the man didn’t drop the call. Naturally, Iliyal didn’t even give him time to respond. “Paida.” Iliyal said. “Your boys are alive and released.”
“Thank you.” Paida replied. “I’m grateful, really.”
Iliyal didn’t comment, such a case was so far beneath his paygrade he would purposely not say anything about to make try and forget it.
Sturmwerkhe yesterday, Aerofleet Compound today, West Epan fleet headquarters tomorrow.
If the Grand Marshal not being sent to personally inspect the combat readiness of the troops was not the sign of an operation happening soon, then the sun would rise in the east.