Leila Malcal brought the cat close to her breast and thought what a shame it was that the courtyard was devoid of life. In her grandfather's day, perhaps, the open space would be teeming with guests, light, and song. That was a fantasy that Leila entertained as a child. There was no way of knowing what sort of social atmosphere the castle may have had under her grandfather's oversight. Leila had never met her adoptive father's father; she had still been living in Britannia when the old man died. These thoughts swirled through Leila's head much like the snowflakes beyond the iron and glass.
What am I doing here? she thought, and not for the first time. 'Here' was an ill-defined location. For the moment, however, Leila limited 'here' to the confines of her stately bedroom. Stepping away from the window, Leila brought the cat to the outsize bed, dandling the creature to the extent of its tolerance before letting it drop.
"You remind me of the Lieutenant," Leila said in a detached way, licking her scratched wrist. "He doesn't let people get too close either."
Under Leila's authority, Unit W-0, or "Wyvern" was currently down to two members: herself and Akito Hyuga. While the deaths of every other Eleven serving with them automatically promoted Akito to field commander, there were no men to command. Paris couldn't be counted on for reinforcements; there was no expectation that EU regulars would fill the abyss now defining Wyvern. If past sorties were any indicator, the half-trained and half-starved Elevens were sure to be annihilated.
Leila didn't want to use her authority to add yet more pawns to the board of this 200-year-old war. For his part, Akito was beginning to tint her views on the conflict in a most unexpected way. The fact that he had survived so long into his service was unusual, but what made a particular impression was the savagery with which the young man continuously displayed in the field. Despite her lack of practical experience, Leila had no illusions of the horrors of war. Akito's level of tactical barbarity was above and beyond this. Even while piloting obsolete Gardmares, Akito had never failed to rout his Britannian opponents with the utmost ferocity and bloodlust.
Now that he had been supplied with the new Alexander to wield, the agility of Akito Hyuga's frenetically defensive assaults became "something ghostly... hellish," according to one of the rare Eleven survivors of these actions. So common was it for all of his comrades to be killed in action that those freshly posted to Wyvern showed uneasy deference to the one they knew by reputation as the "Shinigami", the death god. So it must have seemed for the new recruits in the presence of such a defiant survivor of the battlefield. Their awe of Lieutenant Hyuga lasted until the moment they were torn apart by Britannian Sutherland lances or bullets. Possibly beyond, for there was never any doubt that the Lieutenant would outlive them.
Shivering slightly, Major Malcal drew the blanket over her nearly-naked form and closed her eyes.
He is a master of tactical slaughter, without question. Can I count on him alone? Surely one soldier can't defeat Britannia by himself, even if they can't kill him.
In the moments that preceded sleep, Leila's serious brain rolled over the facts of the war she was expected to fight, and what use one unkillable Eleven pilot could be to her. Considering their combined strengths as commander and field commander for a host of dead men, she began with the objective nature of the conflict. As her tired mind eventually reached the threshold of sleep, the causes and deeper purpose of this war brought her to dreaming.
As the brief service finished, the priest's head detached and floated to the chapel floor without a sound. "La Marseillaise" began over the loudspeaker. Leila and the other officers straightened their posture and saluted, their actions betraying their hearts. Some, Major Malcal noted, were misty-eyed as their anthem concluded. This, then, resonated with them more than the supplications to a distant and silent God. If the Elevens had died for anything, it was not for Heaven, but the Republic which had taken them in. In raping the homeland of the Japanese, Britannia only made the revolutionary zeal in Europe more potent. Clearly, these new comrades from the Far East strengthened the resolve of Paris to continue the fight against their old foes in St. Petersburg and Pendragon. Such was the EU Ministry of Propaganda's message. The unity assumed by Europeans with Elevens as common enemies of the Empire was undercut by conditional citizenship and rights not dissimilar from Area 11. After all, more dead Elevens meant less dead Frenchmen and Germans.
As a piece of music, Leila admired "La Marseillaise". As a national symbol to cleave to in times of troubled resolve, she had never felt so distant. Private Oda, one of two survivors of her last planned operation for Wyvern, had died hours earlier from his wounds. Lieutenant Hyuga had curtly refused the offer to attend the memorial service this day, telling his Major that he'd say a prayer for Oda and the others on his own at the castle grounds. Oda and twelve of the other dead Elevens began moving slowly toward their coffins toward the end of the song. A bloody trail and the squish of their wet boots were all that registered to Leila as she avoided looking at the dead shapes in motion. Slowly, slowly, her dead men climbed into the boxes, then slammed their lids. In the same instant, everyone left alive turned and strode out of the castle's chapel. The headless priest, now turned to stone, remained in place.
Perhaps it was better that Akito didn't come, thought Leila. He's not the most ceremonial of men. Leila wandered into the antechamber when she saw something surprising. As the seconds passed, it became increasingly unwelcome.
"Your trained monkey isn't here, I see."
"What do you want, Ioan? This castle is a workplace."
In Leila's experience, her adopted brother had nothing better to do the past seven years but drink and feign an interest in her career. It could have been due to his own lack of ambition, though the aimless way he imposed on her profession in words and deeds hinted at something with real conviction. Ioan was completely drenched, though Leila couldn't be sure if he was covered in water or vodka. Her fellow officers took no notice of him, climbing the invisible staircase up to the vaulted ceiling. They too lost their heads gently, becoming stone gargoyles much like the priest. Deaf and mute, they remained still in the air above the siblings.
"I had nothing better to do. Besides, we all have our eccentric pursuits in this family, do we not?" Snapping his fingers, a Euro-Britannian soldier in the red dress uniform of the streltsy materialized out of the carpet underfoot, a bottle in hand. He took a massive step forward and pushed the heavy container of vodka into Leila's hands. The streltsy jumped straight up and vanished.
"It would be wonderful if you could pour me another drink," said Ioan. He drained his glass.
"If there is nothing important, Ioan, then please leave."
"Do you know how Elevens like their women, Leila? Of course you do, you're an expert on them! Even if you've never been to Area 11..."
"Ioan, you're drunk," Leila rejoined. It was becoming a familiar admonishment over the past few years.
"You can tell? Ah, I'll have to be more careful from now on." Ioan clacked the ice cubes for foppish effect. "Where is Mr. Samurai, anyway?"
"Lieutenant Hyuga is busy with work, as am I. It appears you aren't. What are you doing so far away from Paris, Ioan?"
"My little scrumptious betrothed sister..." Ioan took several unsteady steps in Leila's direction, his glassy eyes rolling. "Those charming little Elevens enjoy a woman who knows when to pour their future husband some damned sake." Without changing his voice's inflection, all traces of a smile on Ioan's face vanished. "They know what to do to keep their men happy. It's too bad your boyfriend has to deal with a cold bitch like-"
Leila's hand struck Johann's face so hard that he slumped to the floor in a single sloppy motion. His glass shattered and pierced his hand with its glittering shards.
"Shut your God damned mouth. If you think I'll forgive you because you've had too much to drink, Ioan, you're crazy as well as drunk. Look at me." With tranquil fury, Leila got down to her fiance's level and gripped his collar. Ioan's face drained as the blood migrated to his shredded hand. He averted his unfocused eyes from Leila's. "There is no way I will ever marry a bastard swine like you, Ioan. I'll never be your wife. If you talk like that to me or Lieutenant Hyuga again, I'll no longer be your sister."
The blood spreading out into the carpeted floor was disproportionate to Ioan's injury, as well as the amount of blood in the human body. The pool contracted, moving upward until it solidified into the form of Akito Hyuga. Every inch of him, from his hair, to his eyes, to his glistening uniform, was crimson. Soon everything in Leila's field of view was the same color.
"Leila. Look at me."
Akito quivered and burst as the red shape of her fiance slid through him and came within an inch of her face. Pushing Ioan away with a martial artist's practiced hand, Leila strode from the room with the same solidity. Her face was red and wet. She made sure she was well away into darkness before releasing a quiet sob.
The translucent pink fabric of Leila's scanty nightwear rippled as she shuddered. She didn't wake violently, but her eyes brimmed with tears. The blanket formerly covering her sleeping form was on the floor. It must have been the cold that brought her out of the dream. Instead of reaching for more coverage, Leila went into a ball, ignoring her inadequate clothes as she hugged herself, crying soundlessly. Hours passed as she huddled in the frozen dark.
"Akito. You deserve so much better."
After the dawn Sun had burned away the last of the night's snow from the air, Leila forced herself from the bed. After a brief shower, she made her way to the great hall in which the soldiers at Chateau Breisgau took their meals. She took a seat. It wasn't until the sharp clack of ceramic against wood that Leila's blurry eyes focused.
"Good morning, Major." There was no trace of warmth in the greeting, but there was no hostility in it either. At the same time, there was an honesty and weary veracity so integral to Akito that Leila knew without a doubt that her Lieutenant did in fact wish her a good morning with all his heart.
"Good morning, Lieutenant." Any trace of moistness from Leila's eyes evaporated. Her steely gaze met Akito's dead eyes, and she sipped her tea. A mistake, because her cheeks reddened and she flinched as the liquid burned her tongue. Leila returned her mug to the table and the blue steel of her eyes flickered. If Akito noticed, he made no indication.
"Has word on our relief from Paris come in yet, ma'am?" He meant the latest batch of Eleven soldiers to make up for their losses.
"No, it's still too early to say when or if a contingent will pick up the slack." Leila subtly emphasized the last word that might have escaped Claus, or even Anna, but not Akito. His face betrayed nothing.
"If we have nothing in particular to do today, Major Malcal, I request permission to be excused after morning systems check in the hangar."
"...Yes, permission granted."
Akito saluted smartly, picking up his mug and turning. Knowing he didn't intend to sit, Leila spoke just as Akito was about to walk to the open doors.
"Lieutenant."
"Yes, ma'am?" Akito killed the impulse to walk and turned back crisply.
"Are you going anywhere in particular?"
"A walk on the grounds."
"I could use some fresh air myself. I trust you don't object to my joining you."
"No, ma'am."
"When Dr. Randle is finished with her report to us, please give me five minutes to organize my files, and I will meet you at the west portico."
"Very good, Major."
"We may not have much in the way of R & R in the near future, Lieutenant Hyuga. We must enjoy what we can."