Jean Otus
Would-Be Prince
In the summer of 1914, mankind had mastered many methods to slaughter one another. They possessed rifles and cannons that could kill from a great distance, gasses which choke the air with deadly fumes, and vehicles which could rend the sea and sky to bring death to any corner of the world. A new favorite, though, is magic, and it has proven to be more potent and deadly a tool than any other.
The art of magic had always existed in some small capacity throughout the centuries, mostly carried on by amateur practitioners in far-flung hamlets and villages. To most, it represented little more than a simple method by which a skilled peasant could make their life slightly easier, at the risk of incurring the wrath of the church. There were no academies where mages could hone their craft, and there was certainly no doctrine governing magic. It was simply a part of nature which few could harness and even fewer understand. For centuries its potential was suppressed by zealous religious organizations and shortsighted philosophers. As the world entered the industrial age, many theorized that such archaic practices would be completely abandoned in the face of machines which could complete tasks more easily and with less skill required. It would take a truly pioneering mind to bring those gifted in magic back into the fold.
In 1871, Field Marshal Helmuth von Moltke of the newly formed Imperial German Army proposed and conducted a complete revitalization of the general staff and army. This included the establishment of the state war college, the modern system of military officer ranks and units, a new doctrine regarding the use of artillery in the field, and the demand that mages be incorporated the imperial armed forces. For the first time in centuries, if not millennia, a procession of men and women, all magic users, was welcomed into a capital city to thunderous applause and a great military salute. Using the near bottomless funds of the imperial military, Field Marshal Moltke, Chancellor Bismarck, and the newly appointed head of imperial magecraft, Albrecht von Klein, devised the systems by which mages could effectively be integrated into the army.
For the first few years, the development progressed at a glacial pace, with the ancient ways of magic constantly butting heads with the German methods of industrial warfare. This process nearly broke the will of the chancellor, ever the pragmatist desired an efficient solution rather than this inefficient gamble. To many, the blame fell on the mages. The early discovery that a rifle could serve as a substitution for a staff which could channel their magic had seemed promising. The issue was that for most mages, their stores of magical energy was so low that any utility they possessed was nullified. After a single hour of magic use, many candidates experienced exhaustion, naturally muting their effectiveness on the battlefield. The answer most of the older mages offered was simple and unsatisfactory. They prescribed years of rigorous training and study to properly create a mage capable of use by the military. With the speed of modern war ever increasing, this would simply not do.
by 1875 all three men involved in the founding of the Imperial Mage Corps were prepared to shutter the program, by all accounts a failure. This changed upon the invention of the computational amulet. This eleventh-hour device, created by the collaboration of the most skilled theoretical mages and expert craftsmen, dramatically reduced the needed magical energy to power spells. With this a mage could levitate, even fly, for hours on end, firing off bolts of destructive energy with impunity. Now the course was set for the development of the corps. New mages would be trained using the computational amulet to support the infantry from the air, raining down fire and death on the enemy as well as scouting their movements.
With this development came an international arms race to weaponize each country's population of mages and give them the equipment needed to wrest control of the skies. With this came all the accouterments of war, machine guns, battleships, even airplanes to support the squads of aerial mages. Across the world, mages took to the skies, armed with fine rifles, using the best computational amulets their nations could produce. They were supported by the legions of soldiers armed with guns, cannons, and poisonous gas.
In the summer of 1914, these armies and their mages met on the fields of battle, and the war to end all wars began. Lush meadows were reduced to seas of trenches and earthworks, and the bloody cycle of attack and counter-attack chewed up young lives by the thousands.
As a citizen of these times, a soldier in the trenches, a mage high in the clouds, or an unfortunate civilian caught in the jaws of war, how will you survive to the end? How will you hold on to your humanity through the war to end all wars?
The art of magic had always existed in some small capacity throughout the centuries, mostly carried on by amateur practitioners in far-flung hamlets and villages. To most, it represented little more than a simple method by which a skilled peasant could make their life slightly easier, at the risk of incurring the wrath of the church. There were no academies where mages could hone their craft, and there was certainly no doctrine governing magic. It was simply a part of nature which few could harness and even fewer understand. For centuries its potential was suppressed by zealous religious organizations and shortsighted philosophers. As the world entered the industrial age, many theorized that such archaic practices would be completely abandoned in the face of machines which could complete tasks more easily and with less skill required. It would take a truly pioneering mind to bring those gifted in magic back into the fold.
In 1871, Field Marshal Helmuth von Moltke of the newly formed Imperial German Army proposed and conducted a complete revitalization of the general staff and army. This included the establishment of the state war college, the modern system of military officer ranks and units, a new doctrine regarding the use of artillery in the field, and the demand that mages be incorporated the imperial armed forces. For the first time in centuries, if not millennia, a procession of men and women, all magic users, was welcomed into a capital city to thunderous applause and a great military salute. Using the near bottomless funds of the imperial military, Field Marshal Moltke, Chancellor Bismarck, and the newly appointed head of imperial magecraft, Albrecht von Klein, devised the systems by which mages could effectively be integrated into the army.
For the first few years, the development progressed at a glacial pace, with the ancient ways of magic constantly butting heads with the German methods of industrial warfare. This process nearly broke the will of the chancellor, ever the pragmatist desired an efficient solution rather than this inefficient gamble. To many, the blame fell on the mages. The early discovery that a rifle could serve as a substitution for a staff which could channel their magic had seemed promising. The issue was that for most mages, their stores of magical energy was so low that any utility they possessed was nullified. After a single hour of magic use, many candidates experienced exhaustion, naturally muting their effectiveness on the battlefield. The answer most of the older mages offered was simple and unsatisfactory. They prescribed years of rigorous training and study to properly create a mage capable of use by the military. With the speed of modern war ever increasing, this would simply not do.
by 1875 all three men involved in the founding of the Imperial Mage Corps were prepared to shutter the program, by all accounts a failure. This changed upon the invention of the computational amulet. This eleventh-hour device, created by the collaboration of the most skilled theoretical mages and expert craftsmen, dramatically reduced the needed magical energy to power spells. With this a mage could levitate, even fly, for hours on end, firing off bolts of destructive energy with impunity. Now the course was set for the development of the corps. New mages would be trained using the computational amulet to support the infantry from the air, raining down fire and death on the enemy as well as scouting their movements.
With this development came an international arms race to weaponize each country's population of mages and give them the equipment needed to wrest control of the skies. With this came all the accouterments of war, machine guns, battleships, even airplanes to support the squads of aerial mages. Across the world, mages took to the skies, armed with fine rifles, using the best computational amulets their nations could produce. They were supported by the legions of soldiers armed with guns, cannons, and poisonous gas.
In the summer of 1914, these armies and their mages met on the fields of battle, and the war to end all wars began. Lush meadows were reduced to seas of trenches and earthworks, and the bloody cycle of attack and counter-attack chewed up young lives by the thousands.
As a citizen of these times, a soldier in the trenches, a mage high in the clouds, or an unfortunate civilian caught in the jaws of war, how will you survive to the end? How will you hold on to your humanity through the war to end all wars?
