[h2][center][b]Emmerich Lisztmayer-Anschütz von Sabern, 
[i]Master of Rider[/i]
Somewhere on the Eastern Fields of Fuyuki
The 27th of August, 1939[/b][/center][/h2]

[hr]

The morning dew dripped idly on the few blades of grass that bothered collecting them. In the distance, buildings littered the borders of the fields - But only sparsely, as if the city was afraid of sprawling over the remaining flatlands between itself and the the forested coastline of Fuyuki. Nothing would dare disturb the beautiful idyll of this morning heaven.

That is, until the creaking roar of an engine arose near one of the earthen paths betwixt the fields of wheat. Like throat-cancer on wheels, [url=https://vignette.wikia.nocookie.net/world-war-2/images/4/41/Leichter_Einheits-PKW.jpg]a tidy little black car[/url] rolled along with a lofty demeanor and an ungodly racket that held no respect for the silence and bird-song of the morn. Perhaps the reason why the vehicle was so cheerfully chugging away on its journey is that it had no master - According to the lacking markings upon its hull, at least. The light-weight off-road car didn't even sport a license plate. What it did have was a healthy helping of equipment on the sides and back, as if it was meant to venture onto more treacherous terrain than a pleasant asian countryside. At its wheel sat a person deep in thought, his blue eyes fixated on the road until he eventually glanced aside. His melancholic visage was that of a man who seldom left his mind in silence. Longing thoughts raced in the dark head of Emmerich - His beloved lager, his dear family, his sweet nation.

There was nothing else to ponder on, however, once the loud ride came to a coughing halt on a deserted roadside. Rising from the driver seat, one could finally glance at the officer's modest garments - A simple white shirt, tucked in and its sleeves rolled up haphazardly to the middle of the lanky man's elbows. A field-gray pair of trousers, worn but well taken care of, all kept up by brown leather galluses. A pair of black high-shafted boots, proudly polished this morning no doubt. By all accounts, there was nothing necessarily identifiable on the officer's person. He did not bother to leave the vehicle, however. Procuring a pair of binoculars, Emmerich lazily lit a cigarette and proceeded with spying the horizon. Like a stork, he held still and straight-backed until he turned from the city to the harbor and back. Every odd fifteen minutes, he made a longing glance at the distant forests beyond Shinto in hopes of being able to make out something. He himself was aware of the hopelessness of this endeavor due to the mere distance between him and the home of worship, but the thoughts of his comrade in peril kept urging the officer to keep a hawkish watch over the direction where he presumed the church to be.

After hours of nothing, the lanky figure finally twitched to life again. As if sentience flowed back into his limbs once more, he let the binoculars hang from his neck and opened the driver-side door to exit the vehicle. With steadfast steps, the officer approach the trunk of the car only to open it with a fierce tug and reveal a robust device within - The thing looked nondescript for all intents and purposes, a mess of toggles, meters, counters and rotary selectors. Minutes of tinkering and the addition of an antennae later, Emmerich crouched down as he held a simple headset against his left ear. The officer's voice creaked to life.

[center][color=#8c8c8c]"[b][i]Batallion, hier Zugführer - Batallion, hier Zugführer. Stellung gesichert. Fordere Verbindungsflugzeug für sofortige Aufklärung an. Zugführer an Bataillon![/i][/b]"[/color][/center]

[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/wiD2ByQ.png[/img][/center]