Setting: France, World War 2 (between 1940 – 1944 when France was under German occupation)
Main cast:
Kunzite = Konrad Dietrich
Zoisite = Zachary Keitel
Jadeite = Johan von Fristch
Nephrite = Nikolaus Herschel
Minako = Marianne Lavigne
Ami = Ameline von Kluge
Rei = Roxanne Delacroix (Renée)
Makoto = Gabrielle Dupont
This is a work of fiction so there will be certain historical inaccuracies. Rating may go up for later chapters.
"Ask not for whom the bell tolls, it tolls for thee"
- John Donne
Chapter 1 - Prologue
June 1944
The waves brought a cool sensation to his numb and blood-stained body, awaking him from unconsciousness. He opened his eyes to the sandy ground now covered in corpses and shelling debris. Smoke and dust blurred his vision as the deafening screams and noises of guns firing raged on.
Slowly the man picked himself up. Blood was dripping from wounds marked across his bodies, but he paid them no attention as he looked up to the blue sky now finally clear of rain and clouds. He closed his eyes again, this time envisioning a much brighter setting.
There was a church, a white church, with a big golden bell. He could almost hear its toll.
There were two faces. One was his. They were smiling.
And he smiled.
.
.
Days later, as people gathered by the beautiful white church, for the first time in months, its bell was rung.
The bell tolled, each toll long and heavy, like dropping a weight onto the listener's heart.
Was it a joyful toll in celebration of a wedding, or a dreadful signal of a funeral coming to an end?
Lyon, May 1940
Lyon was a city located in east-central France and home to many of the country's cinematic treasures. After all, it was here that cinematography was invented. About 300 miles away from Paris and away from the atrocities of war, the people of Lyon were passing their days in modest quietude, sensing the impending doom on the country's doorstep.
Inside a middle-class home situated by the bank of the Saône River, a family of three was gathered around the radio. Their prayers were uttered in silence as they listened to bolstering words of encouragement from their leaders.
"Do you think we'll make it? Even the Netherlands and Belgium have fallen…" Turning off the radio, the middle-aged woman asked her family, though it was visible from her facial expression she had already known the answer.
Her husband simply shook his head as he buried his face in his palm.
"We beat them before. Surely this time... And more British troops are arriving in Dunkirk as we speak," her voice was barely above a whisper.
At that moment, their young daughter stood up and headed for the door.
"Marianne, where are you going?" the woman called after her daughter.
"To the studio, I have some scenes to shoot today."
"But it's-"
The door was slammed shut before she could finish.
Outside, the sky had never looked so bleak, Marianne thought.
Paris, June 1940
June 14th, the German army marched into Paris as thousands of its citizens looked on in horror. The mighty France had capitulated. German Divisions were now parading through the Arc of Triumph.
Leading the Second Panzer Division was General Konrad Dietrich, the architect behind this lightning conquest that had brought three countries to their heels. His military career had brought him to many places, Poland, Norway, the Netherlands, Belgium, and now to the country of Napoleon – one of the few figures who truly commanded Konrad's respect. Not even his current superiors afforded such privilege.
From his tank, the 27-year-old General gazed upon the famed "City of Light" for the first time in his life. The rumors certainly had not done it justice. It was a good thing the French had surrendered quickly. It would have been a shame to see these magnificent buildings in ruins.
This parade could not end soon enough, much to his dismay.
Hours later, as the sun was setting on Paris, just like it had on French hegemony, Konrad stood on the hill across the Seine River, gazing upon the Eiffel Tower - the prize which had deluded the Kaiser in 1914. Yet, here stood Konrad, once just a farmer boy from East Prussia, who had managed to claim this prize in barely a fortnight. He almost chuckled at the irony.
When Konrad was not busy being a ruthless commander on the battlefield, he was a man to appreciate beauty in its true form, such was the scenery before him now. Even so, nothing would ever bring him more joy than the sight of victorious battles and glory to his nation. The young General held nothing more sacred than his military oath and his duty to the Fatherland.
Beauty will fade with time. Only glory is eternal. He had always believed.
Sounds of coming footsteps soon shook him out of his contemplation.
The approaching officer dutifully saluted Konrad and proceeded to stand beside the stoic General. He was Konrad's trusted comrade and life-long friend, Major Zachary Keitel.
For a while they stood there in perfect silence, until one of them could no longer take it.
"We've won. You've won. You could at least crack up a smile," the young Major spoke up.
"Celebration is still a bit premature at this stage, don't you think?" Konrad's eyes were locked on the Swastika Flag hanging above the Eiffel Tower.
"Mope all you want, but please don't infect me with your glorious pessimism." Zachary rolled his eyes.
"We've let the British escape across the Channel." His brows furrowed slightly at the memory. It had indeed been an unforgivable mistake.
"Would you let it go? Because speaking of celebration, the Field Marshal is expecting us at the party down at city hall tomorrow night," said Zachary, casting a hopeful glance at his friend.
"Do I still have to go if I already knew what he wanted to announce?"
"You always do, don't you?" asked Zachary, his voice dripping with amusement. "Alright, what is it?"
"Starting next month, our division will be stationed in France. Lyon, to be precise."
"Lyon? What are we to do there?" Zachary did not take this bit of news well. Certainly they did not went through hell and back just to be transferred to a non-strategic little town in France?
Konrad seemed to be in deep contemplation, his eyes on the horizon. "Why don't you ask the Field Marshal yourself? And while you're at it, go inform Johan as well." With that he turned in the other direction and walked away.
"I haven't seen him since his laughable blunder at Dunkirk!" protested Zachary.
"There's a party. He'll turn up," came the General's nonchalant reply.
"Sure you don't want to go? Beautiful French singers and actresses in the house!" Zachary could not hide the amusement in his voice.
"Then I'm positive you'll find Johan there."
"Is that a yes or no?" Zachary shouted after him.
Only silence came for his question this time.
End of Chapter 1
Historical notes (skip them if you don't like boring historical facts):
German army ranks during WW2 used in my fic, in descending order: (The US/UK equivalent terms)
Field Marshal - General - Colonel - Major - Captain - Lieutenant - Private
Panzer: name for German tank
Kaiser: title of the German Kings
In the first years of World War 2, Germany was very successful, conquering almost half of continental Europe by 1941.
The Dunkirk evacuation: many British troops were able to escape from the seaport of Dunkirk to England after the fall of France because the German army fatally halted its own advance.