"From florists, to farmers, to bakers, to watchmen… If one were to search for heroes in Gallia, they would never have to look too far."
-Irene Koller, "On the Gallian Front"
Outside of the Gallian camp, Fort Amatriain, a young man was sitting in the grass, sifting through his thoughts. So much had happened in the couple weeks, and life had thrown him such a curve that he wasn't quite sure where this strange future would take him next.
"How long is this going to go on…? Another few months, a year, a few years?"
There mere thought of it filled him with dread. He longed for his old, simple life back in Bruhl, away from this conflict… though he'd never be able to face his friends and hometown without seeing all of this war through. Not when he had things to protect… and not when there were other things threatening them.
March 15th, 1935
If anyone in Bruhl could be described as "ordinary", no one would fit the bill as well as Peter Rothchild. Perhaps an embodiment of the homegrown country-folk, the young man of 19 years was a casual hunter, part-time mail courier, and, like many people his age in Bruhl, a member of the Town Watch. The last bit was a point of pride for many, and he was no exception.
Peter heaved a long sigh as he took a breath of fresh air before observing the roads. Trucks and people carrying whatever they could fit in bags and boxes were trudging along towards the Gallian capital. By now, most of the town was starting to become deserted due to the fierce tensions rising with Gallia's neighbor, the East Europan Imperial Alliance, otherwise informally known as the "Empire". Since invasion was very inevitable, it was up to the Town Watch to see to it that the citizens of Bruhl evacuate safely.
Naive as it might have been, Peter still had his head up in the clouds. This might have been serious business going on, but as much as he'd never say it, part of him was still in denial something could happen to disrupt the peace of this country town. He looked off into the distance and noted the calm, green meadows, the relaxing rotation of the windmills dotting the landscape, that deer grazing not to far away…
His wandering eyes immediately fell squarely on the deer. Peter adjusted his blue flat cap just to make sure he wasn't seeing things.
Sure enough, it was a stag. Not too impressive a rack, only a three-point, although the size of the antlers were of little concern right now. Deer didn't migrate out here very often, as they usually stuck to the more heavily wooded areas. Stranger still, it was a solitary creature presumably separated from its herd. The cherry on top was that despite the occasional traveler on the road, it wasn't spooked at all and looked content sitting right where he was for a few moments. Peter was assigned to patrol this particular road and stay on the lookout for possible Imperial spies, although an opportunity like this couldn't be passed up. If he was lucky, he could take the meat home and preserve it before he had to move toward Randgriz. A little more foodstuffs for the road wouldn't hurt anybody. And venison sounded for a very good dinner in the coming nights.
Peter made a combat-style roll over by a bush, perhaps unnecessarily so, and tightened the grip on the rifle in his hands. The Gallian model rifle was the standard for most soldiers and watchmen in the country, and while it was intended for combat, it made a respectable game hunter.
"Alright… steady the breathing, aim carefully… Line up the shot, and…"
Looking through the iron sights, he fired... Unfortunately, only dirt was kicked up as the bullet hit the soil past the deer's head. Spooked, the creature was already starting to sprint away.
"Damn! Shot wide… I've still got a chance to get him before he goes over that hill though…!"
He aimed his gun again, although this time, there was a much greater certainty in the way he held the gun. Peter was confident this time. This was it! A good dinner could be had if he made this one shot!
"Peter, just what the hell are you doing?"
Peter, adequately startled, almost let a stray shot fire as he nearly jumped at the sound of someone behind him. The deer was out of sight by now. Sighing, he took his hand off the trigger locked in the safety, and turned around to see a familiar, albeit quite pissed off face.
"Oh, hey there Noce. Uh, something wrong?"
Standing before him was a young man of the same age as Peter, one of the captains of the Bruhl Town Watch, Noce Wordsworth. With his curly sideburns and a long strand of hair hanging over his face from under the bandana tied around his head, it might be a moment before one takes him seriously, although within the denizens of Bruhl he commanded a great deal of respect. So much so that Peter nervously ran a hand through his brown hair wondering just what it was he did wrong.
Noce looked at Peter with a deadpan expression, one of awe and exasperation.
"Just to be clear, Peter, you know we're gonna have a war on our hands, right?"
"Of course I do, sir! I just happened to find a deer all by itself, and… Well, it was a golden opportunity to get something for the long road to Randgriz, right?"
That response didn't seem to satisfy him as Noce simply shook his head.
"Geez… You really have a one-track mind when it comes to food, don't you? You also know of the intelligence that Imperial spies might be in our area?"
"Yes, sir! Uh, Noce, if you're simply quizzing me, you'll find that I'll be passing with flying colors."
"Then I'll cut to the chase and give you the common sense quiz: at what point did it seem smart to shoot your gun knowing that there are civilians around and that the town watch is on edge looking out for Imperials troops?"
As Peter prepared another witty retort, he found himself stopping to think about what Noce had just said. A glance at the roads showed that while some people continued moving along toward central Gallia, some passerby stood and stared at Peter, wondering what the commotion was. Perhaps shooting at that deer while on lookout wasn't such a smart idea after all. Peter started tugging at the blue shawl around his neck that was part of the watchman's uniform.
"Yikes... That's pretty bad when you put it that way…"
Noce gave Peter another look before sighing. It was as if he wanted to stay angry but either he didn't want to lose focus, felt it was a waste of time, or the bonds of friendship would pull through and Noce would let him off the hook. Peter hoped it would be the last one.
"I know you mean well, Peter. And trust me, I'd like to pretend none of this is happening and we'll wake up tomorrow at our homes and everything will be normal. But it's our duty to protect these people and make sure they get out of here okay, whether if we're directing traffic or preparing for a skirmish with the Imps. So do me a favor, ameliorate yourself, and let's take care of this town."
"What myself? Does that have something to do with eating?"
Peter cocked his head slightly at the strange word Noce had just used. While he wouldn't show it very often, Noce was quite linguistically skilled. He was a self-proclaimed poet after all. So once in a while when he'd be angry but not angry enough to lose his composure and use something more crude, he'd end up using a hard-to-use word only he understood. It could be a simple adjective, or maybe an insult. Whether this was his way of being more polite in comparison to using foul language or an intentional act meant to make someone feel dumb was still a mystery. Regardless, Noce made his annoyance clear.
"It means you need to improve yourself. Starting with your vocabulary. Anyway, Peter, maybe it's for the best you head back to Mill Plaza. Help Daniel with getting the last of the townspeople out of here. Some stubborn folk are waiting until the last minute... And maybe you could finish packing up over at your place? With war on the horizon, the sooner we leave the better."
Perhaps it was worded nicely, but from behind the watch captain's orders, Peter felt as though this was what he got for slacking off; now he effectively wasn't trusted to watch the borders an outskirts of town. Maybe it was a relief though. He knew he had some things to take care of before he left Bruhl entirely. It was… difficult to even comprehend the idea of packing your life up in a suitcase or two before heading off. Peter never lived outside of Bruhl in his entire life. Hopefully the big city wasn't too bad. Although the lack of trees, farms, and fresh soil might be a bit much...
Shaking his head, Peter tried to get a grip and be more optimistic about this. Perhaps this would be a fruitful opportunity to gain new experiences. The food might not be home-cooked, but the capital might have a variety of imports from across Gallia and Europa and other gourmet morsels that might not be able to be tasted anywhere else. Plus, the city might be easy to get lost in, but presumably that meant more shops and businesses with neat things in them, right?
The thoughts were able to tide Peter over as he walked in what was essentially a ghost town of Bruhl. Most people still wandering about were just gathering their final possessions before heading out. Navigating the roads and alleys like it was second nature, the town watchman finally made it to Mill Plaza, at the very center and heart of town, where Bruhl's signature Sister Mills continued slowly spin just as they always had. There was another young man wearing a blue watchman's shawl directing traffic, although given the sparse number of cars left driving around he hardly seemed necessarily.
"Danny! Working as hard as usual, I see."
The russet-haired young man turned to face his friend, although the look of boredom was written all over his face. Checking the "traffic" and seeing how his work was probably done, Daniel Kappelhoff stretched his arms as he walked over.
"Yeesh, I get that war's looming and all, but they could've put me on a better post. I'm a good shot, aren't I? I could teach any Imp scout a thing or too… Instead they've got me doing the most boring-ass job ever."
"C'mon, everyone knows how good a shot you are. You just don't have as much practice as I do. Although neither of us is as good as Alicia…"
"Hmph. Beaten-out by a girl. What a shame..."
"Don't joke about that stuff! Girls might be listening! And there's plenty here that can make short work of us..."
As Peter started looking over his shoulder to see if there were any sort of girls listening in, ready to give them the hurt, Dan chuckled slightly to himself.
"What're you getting all scared for? You're the country gent who doesn't get on their bad sides in the first place."
A slight embarrassed look on his face, Peter started to scratch the back of his head.
"Geez, did you make that up just now or do people actually call me that? What kind of nickname is that?"
"There's… a couple guys in the Town Watch. Me included. Mostly because of how you and Susie are."
Peter facepalmed a bit, now understanding the situation a little better. Susie Evans was a childhood friend of his, introduced her to town when the two of them were little, and she's somewhat leaned on him ever since whenever she got in some kind of trouble. Peter had a chronic condition of trying to help girls in need when he was younger, though since most girls wanted to take care of themselves just fine, no girl really wanted his help aside from Susie. The scenario caused the odd pair to stick with each other for years. For good or ill, Peter didn't particularly mind, but as they got older, the friendship caused its own fair share of headaches from time to time.
"You're still hung up on that? Well, guys will be guys, I guess… Anyway, Dan, you want to head out and pack up? The Watch will be the last ones to leave, but with the town getting more and more deserted, we might be able to make it out before sundown."
Dan frowned, though Peter was well aware it was because he was trying to change the subject. That watchman could be hard-headed sometimes. Regardless, Dan sighed, glancing at the now relatively deserted Mill Plaza.
"Well, my post doesn't need need me anymore, so that sounds like a good idea. I was tired of standing around anyway. Though I wouldn't do any credit to the watch if I left early. After all, I might miss out on all the fun."
Noticeably unnerved by that statement, Peter let out a forced laugh. Frankly, he didn't think the idea of going to war was as fun as Dan did. That guy tried to find amusement and excitement in the most dangerous of places, and while Peter didn't like it, being a soldier might have been up his alley.
"Okay then. I'll see you around later. Hopefully everything goes well and we'll be out of here."
Before he could head off, Peter felt a hand on his shoulder, stopping him.
"Hey, Pete. Before you go, there's been a question on my mind lately."
The tone of his voice was notably serious this time, and that made Peter worry a bit as he turned his head.
"What is it?"
"If this war really does happen, if this mess gets really bad here… Are you going to enlist in the militia?"
The weight of the question fell on both young mens' shoulders, as both of them stayed uncomfortably silent. Peter smiled nervously, trying to form an answer even though he didn't have one.
"Heh, probably? It's a little intimidating, really. But… I won't back down from it. I've got a lot to protect, and a lot to lose to those Imperials if I don't do something. I just want things to go back to normal as soon as possible."
Dan smiled, letting go of his friend and nodding his head assuredly as the two parted ways.
Strangely, Peter's mind was starting to feel heavier as he listened to those words coming out of his mouth. It was quite a big thing to consider, and the thought never once crossed his mind. The more he tried thinking about it though, the more he tried to bring more confidence to himself. What was the difference from shooting a deer compared to shooting an Imp? Well, for starters they shoot back. And then again, Peter was never the best hunter; the incident earlier with Noce proved that. If he were an excellent hunter, then at least the thought of food would make Noce's scolding easier to bare with.
Eventually, Peter made it to his familiar homestead. Opening the front door, the cozy living room greeted him. The house was notably devoid of certain knick-knacks and dishes; Peter's mother had already evacuated Bruhl and made way for Randgriz a few days earlier. The youngest Rothchild planned to make good on his promise to meet up with her later after the evacuation was complete.
Heading over upstairs to his room, Peter's somewhat messily organized living space greeted him. The call of his bed was rather tempting, but he had to get moving. Taking a rucksack from the corner and carefully placing down his rifle, he tried looking around and cramming random odds and ends. Nothing in this room was "can't live without" quality, but it was the simple familiarity of these random things that would likely get him by in the coming days. It was at that moment that Peter noticed how much of his father's old stuff was laying around here. Not counting the hat on his head, which was also a hand-me-down, but there was a pair of binoculars, an old (but not necessarily valuable) watch… even a flask, oddly enough. Peter had no idea where the last one came from. He himself didn't drink at all. A quick shake of the silver container revealed there was still… stuff in it. Who knew how old the liquor inside was. 20 years maybe? He'd have to make note to dump it out. But still, Peter threw it in the bag with the rest of his things.
"What would Dad do if he were still around?"
Left with only a mother to raise him for most of his life, Peter recalled his dad in the earliest years of his life before he passed. A veteran of the first Europan War, EW1, an injury he sustained from the conflict would take his life years later. The details were scarce, and his mother didn't talk about it much, but Peter hoped his father's old stuff could help him feel closer, and maybe guide him through these coming days. He must have been a brave man to have fought for the Gallian army in the first place.
With the bag full, Peter tried looking around for any other bag or case he could start packing in. Grumbling about him needing to prepare sooner, Peter searched in his closet and under his bed but came up short. Just as he was about to walk out of his room though, he noted a very loud whistling sound echoing not just in the house, but seemingly the whole neighborhood.
"Muh?! What the heck was that?"
Before he could even begin to try and come up with guesses, a loud crash ensued, and the whole house seemed to be shaking. Books and other knick-knacks came tumbling off the shelves, as Peter grabbed onto the windowsill to try and get a better look of what was going on. It was not another minute since the first bang that another one hit, but this time, he saw what was happening before him.
Words escaped him, as he simply watched in terror. From the view in his window, he saw that the Sister Mills were starting to crumble, fire spreading throughout its archaic construction. That whistling and the ensuing explosions could only be explained as some kind of artillery. Someone was bombarding the town, though there wasn't too many guesses behind the culprits. It was already beginning: Bruhl was under attack! If the artillery was softening up the interior defenses, then that likely meant they were preparing for…
Peter's thoughts couldn't be finished as he heard the sound of a door opening and slamming shut on the floor below him. Immediately tensing up, Peter put his arms through the rucksack and grabbed his rifle from off the ground. The fact that the explosions outside were only compounding his paranoia. He cautiously walked downstairs leveling the gun to a firing position as he glanced around. He dared not make a sound a he tried to walk further, but the wooden floors made that incredibly difficult, as the occasional creak accompanying his footsteps only served to frustrate him greatly…
Patrolling the living room, Peter knew there weren't a lot of places for an intruder to hide out in. But the creaking of his footsteps was now accompanied by the sounds of gunfire and other explosions outside, meaning this really was the beginning of an assault on Bruhl. It now made the Town Watchman worried that if he simply walked outside of his house he might get shot at. However, amidst the floorboards creaking, gunfire, and other sounds of war, a new sound made itself known. Some kind of rustling coming over by the window. Glancing to the side, Peter noticed that by the window was the curtain that extended all the way close to the floor… and there was a conspicuous human-sized lump behind it. Peter sighed, almost letting his guard down. Really, they weren't even trying. It made him smile slightly. Peter kept his gun leveled with a finger on the trigger guard as he walked toward the curtain. Taking a moment to brace himself, Peter turned fabric away.
"Kyaaaaaaaaah!"
The rifle barrel was smacked away in the other direction, although instead of similarly panicking, Peter immediately put a hand on the shoulder of the frantic figure.
"Susie! Susie, it's me, Peter!"
The girl behind the curtain had her eyes closed and was shaking, though a few seconds after hearing a familiar voice, she hesitantly opened her eyes and let out a sigh of relief. A young woman with intricately curled blonde hair, a feminine pink bow, and classy air about her, Susie's spirit was about as delicate as her looks. She might have had a Town Watch uniform on, but she wasn't playing the policewoman role so much as she was just a public servant who helped people with their occasional daily problems.
"Ah! Peter… Thank goodness it's you…"
"Susie, first off, never push a gun away from someone while it's in their hands! I could have accidentally let off a shot and hurt you if the safety wasn't on!"
After calming down a bit and noticing the gun in Peter's hands, Susie quickly put her hands to her face and bowed her head in apology.
"I'm so sorry! I didn't know if it was you, and I was just so afraid, I… I… Wait, you left the safety on? What if I was an enemy?!"
While what she did was dangerous, with the way her face was he couldn't really stay mad. Peter sheepishly adjusted the cap on his head covering his eyes a bit. He looked just a little embarrassed.
"Well, when I saw someone was hiding behind the curtain, I… y'know, figured it was you... Erm, anyway! Susie, why are you here?"
Apparently missing the very unintentional jab at her, Susie snapped back to attention as she looked out the window and saw the crumbling Sister Mills.
"Well, whenever I'm in trouble or need help, you tell me to come here. And… Well, I don't know what to do anymore, Peter! I'm not ready for this."
Starting to panic again, Peter wasn't sure how he could comfort her. Running a hand through his hair, he looked out toward the window again. Heading to Mill Plaza wasn't advisable, considering he could now see Watchmen exchanging fire with enemies unseen, hiding around corners. He almost felt guilty for not fighting out there with them, but he hoped that if he made a break to get out of the city, he could take out a few of the Imps and make things easier for everyone. He didn't want to get into too much heat though; Susie wasn't armed in any way.
"Nobody's prepared for this sort of thing. I've kinda been in denial all day, I'll admit…"
The silence between the two was only compounded by the constant sound of battle outside. Glancing down at the gun in his hand, he carefully checked the magazine. Four shots, plus another magazine Peter kept on his person. It was usually a rough day for a Town Watchman if he had to empty just one magazine for whatever reason… Loading it back into the Gallian rifle, he clicked off the safety.
With that, Peter outstretched a hand to Susie, the girl looking up at him with a curious expression.
"I don't know how, but… I promise we'll make it out of here. If it helps, then take my hand and I'll guide you through town; it'll be like old times."
A nervous, albeit somewhat encouraging smile adorned Susie's face.
"Okay… I'll trust you."
As she grasped Peter's left hand, Susie followed him as the two walked out the door. Cautiously looking both ways, they started to head out to try and find a way out of town.
"No one will lay a finger on you. They'll have to get through me, first! I promise…"
April 15th, 1935 (Today)
"Hey, Peter… Peter! You awake over there?"
Peter Rothchild was snapped back into reality, as he turned around to face the voice that called him. Standing before Peter was his friend, Dan, clad in a Gallian militia uniform. Sheepishly waving his hand back, Peter looked at his own feet and sighed. He too was wearing the uniform of a Gallian Militia soldier. 3rd Regiment, Squad 1. Only difference between his uniform an Dan's, who wore his properly without accessories, was that Peter kept the trademark blue shawl of a Bruhl Town Watchman, and of course, his blue hat.
"Yeah, I haven't lost it yet, Dan."
Raising a confused brow, the fellow former-watchman shrugged his shoulders. Peter thought that since joining the militia, Dan definitely pulled off the look better… Peter's own ensemble might have been a little silly, but he still didn't want to forget his roots.
"Alright, well, Lieutenant Landzaat will see you now. Just letting you know."
Nodding his head, Peter headed straight over to headquarters to have a discussion with his squad leader. Talkative but stern, Faldio Landzaat was still a reasonable fellow. Hopefully this would go over well.
"Wait, Peter. Before you go, are you really sure you want to do this?"
Hands in his pocket, Peter didn't stop walking past his friend, still looking forward. Today would be a big step in his life, but he didn't show any hesitation.
"I don't have any choice in this, Danny. I haven't made good on my promise."