NOTE: Anything, and maybe everything, written here is purely fictional and created through this indecisive author's imagination, though it is based on some historical facts, such as the names of the two sides in the war. However, the war itself is simply the work of the author and should not be mistaken for fact.

Thank you~

The prisoner was taken in today.

When Mathias first got a glimpse of him, while passing by the hallway through which the prisoner had been taken in, he hadn't looked like much. He looked clearly disheveled, full of bruises, bloody gashes, and other wounds. He wore the enemy's uniform and blood was dripping freely from one side of his head from a wound which his captors had obviously not bothered to bandage. A dirty white blindfold covered his eyes and both his hands were bound by a length of rough rope.

There was something odd about the prisoner from the first time Mathias saw him. It wasn't only the fact that the Dane had heard rumors that he was the best spy the opposite side had, or the fact that, despite being captured, he had a book with him, tucked away under his arm.

It was the fact that he was silent. In fact, too silent. Most prisoners would have screamed, begged, yelled, thrashed around, sobbed and generally be really noisy when they were brought in, but this one barely made a sound as his two captors led him through the dim hallway of the military camp. He kept his head, with its crop of neat light blonde hair and stray curl, bent low and his gait suggested that he was trying not to draw too much attention to himself. But Mathias couldn't see why he was doing this. He already drew much attention to himself as an enemy spy without trying.

One of the spy's captors looked up and spotted Mathias and the latter immediately recognized him as Alfred Jones, a loud and rather rambunctious man who apparently had a hero complex. Alfred grinned and waved at the Dane. "Hey, Mathias!"

"Yo~!" Mathias grinned and waved back at him. His attention went to the spy's other captor, a man with messy blonde hair, green eyes and very prominent eyebrows. Arthur Kirkland. Alfred's senior.

"So" Mathias turned back to look at Alfred, but his eyes couldn't help flitting over to the spy. He didn't show it, but Mathias could tell he was listening. "Another new prisoner?"

"Yup~!" Alfred gave him a thumbs-up. "Caught him all on my own, didn't I, Artie?" He grinned at Arthur, who returned it with a scowl and retorted, "Like you bloody well did, you git!"

Alfred laughed at this. "Anyways, what's been goin' on in the fort, dude?" he addressed Mathias.

"Oh" Mathias lifted his right hand, in which he held a sealed brown envelope. "Ya know...errands for Berwald..." This being said, Mathias suddenly remembered why he had been passing by this hallway in the first place. He really should be going on now...

"Ohh." Alfred nodded his head. Arthur sighed and grabbed Alfred by the shirt sleeve. "We're wasting time here. We must get going. There's a spy here who needs imprisoning." He shook the spy's arm roughly. The spy submitted to the action and shook with the Brit's hand but he made no sound as he did so. "Oh. Right." Alfred said and took the spy's other arm. "Catch you later, Matt!" He said to Mathias as they passed him and Mathias watched them go down the hallway with the prisoner in between them.

Mathias sighed and stared down at the brown envelope still in his hand. He sighed again and walked back the way he came from.

The war had been going on for more than 15 years now.

Nobody has really known how it started, nor who started it or why, but it had started all the same and soon people and countries were taking sides, all threatened and endangered by the promise of a long, bloody war.

At first, it had been the enemy side, the Nordics, who were consistently winning the numerous battles but slowly and surely, the side of the Kalmars began to gain the lead until the Nordics were soon losing their winning streak and the Kalmars had gained the upper-hand.

Slowly, it soon became clear that the war fought between these two sides, the Kalmars and the Nordics, was a war of territory and power. Put in simpler terms, it was a war fought by two different empires on who gained a certain territory.

But as time went by, and many more battles between the Kalmars and the Nordics ensued, the armies of each side were starting to diminish and it was soon concluded that they needed more men. So each side started recruiting. But they didn't only recruit young men eligible for the battlefield. They recruited young boys above 8 as well. But the Kalmars went beyond that. A shady government association began to form, centered on the recruitment of orphan boys for the army. Boys who lost their families, boys abandoned by their families, boys living off the streets, boys who looked miserable and desperate, boys who looked like they wouldn't last long.

Boys like Mathias Kohler.

Mathias had only been 4 when he lost his father in a previous war. His mother, due to the grief this loss caused her, followed shortly afterward. Ever since then, Mathias had been living in an orphanage. But the orphanage had been so terrible, so horrid to the young Mathias that, after only staying there for 2 days, he had run away. Ever since then, he had been living in the streets, trying to do whatever he can to survive the cruel conditions of the city.

He had only been 10 when the Kalmar-Nordic war started and 12 when he was first recruited by the dark recruitment association known as the Knights.

Mathias had never expected it when, while trying to find a small alley to spend the night in, two men had suddenly appeared, captured and taken him to an old warehouse where he had been assessed and examined in every way possible, to see if he was fit for the army. Then he had been made to spend the night in a dark closet, which had been his worst nightmare, even until now. He had been found in the morning, curled up in the floor, the vestiges of tears still in his eyes.

Soon after that, he had been forced to fight another boy, another new recruit, until one had died and only one was left standing. Of course he had been appalled by the idea of killing another boy. But he still did so. What other choice did he have?

And after that incident, something had changed within the Dane. Somehow, the sight of the boy's dead and bloody body at his feet and knowing that he had done it, knowing that it was he who had plunged the knife into his chest, knowing that if it wasn't for him, this wouldn't have happened, it had all made Mathias realize something, discover something about himself that he had never known before. It was like finding something that had been hidden in your room for a long time and you hadn't even known about it.

Mathias wanted power.

He wanted superiority. He wanted to feel like he was above others, like he had power over them.

And after that realization, Mathias knew what he wanted to do.

He wanted to fight in the war. And continuing on with the Knight's cruel training was the only way he could do so.

It was hard, yes. It was painful, yes. It tested his morality and sanity, yes. But Mathias still didn't give up. The thought of being able to make a difference in the war and fight in it was the only thing keeping him going, and so it did.

And then finally, at the age of 18, Mathias completed the Knight's training and was sent to the very military camp where we first find him.

His first days in the military camp were easy to say the least. But compared to everything that he had to endure in the Knight's training center, life in the camp was practically luxurious. Even on his first few days there, Mathias had gained instant recognition and respect from the men and even from the stoic and tough Berwald. Because of his skill in handling an axe and his focus and determination when faced with an enemy on the battlefield, Mathias was promoted to a higher rank faster than all the other new recruits and word had even got around that he had become the boss' new favorite, though nobody could be so sure, as nobody hadn't even seen the so-called 'Boss' face-to-face, much less talked to him about personal things.

Even the Nordics, who were famed for their tough exterior, skill, and calmness even when faced with an enemy in the battlefield, feared him and avoided facing off with him as much as they can.

Basically, Mathias had been a force to be reckoned with.

And it was all worth it.

Because he knew where this war was going.

The Nordics would be forced to their knees, the Kalmars would gain victory, and he, Mathias Kohler, the pathetic orphan boy who had been beaten up numerous times on the street, would give it to them.

"You wanted to see me, sir?"

Mathias stood in the half-open doorway, wondering if he should enter or not. The man he was addressing sat in his high-backed chair, looking away from him and facing the large window behind his desk. Long rays of dark orange sunlight provided the only light in the small dim room.

"Is that you, Kohler?" The man behind the chair said in a deep voice with a tone that boasted of authority.

"Yes, sir." The Dane stepped into the room and closed the door softly behind me. He stood there uneasily, his posture straight, his hands behind his back, just as he had been taught.

There was a long pause before the man spoke. "How has everything been going?"

Mathias looked up, clearly not expecting this question. "Sir...things have been going fine." He tried. He paused, but the man didn't speak, clearly a signal that he should continue. "The attacks by the Nordics on this base and many others have lessened and we believe that the they are starting to weaken."

There was another long, tantalizing pause. "Good."

A long silence followed in which nothing could be heard but the sound of the ceiling fan and the distant calling of birds as the sun was starting to set.

"You were from one of those Knight orphanages, weren't you, Kohler?"

Mathias suddenly turned stiff, a surprised look momentarily passing over his features. Then he set his jaw and said, "Yes, sir."

"Then I'm sure you're familiar with the training they put you through?"

"Yes, sir..." Mathias said softly.

"And why?"

"...Yes, sir..."

"And has that training been useful to you so far, Kohler?"

Mathias frowned. Where was this conversation going? "Yes, sir. Very much, sir."

The man let out a snort, as if he doubted this. "Then, did they teach you how to get information from an enemy?"

Mathias stiffened again. As far as he can remember, all that the soldiers in the Knight orphanage where he had been sent to had taught him was how to fight, how to handle a weapon and how to use that weapon to strike down an enemy. How to defend yourself, how to gain the upper-hand in a fight and such. But never how to get information from an enemy. What use was the information in a fight, anyway?

"Well?" The man said.

"N-No, sir..." Mathias replied, staring down at the floor.

"Well then." The man said with something of an amused chuckle in his tone. "It's about time you learned, don't you think?"

Mathias looked up. "Sir?"

The man only said, "I have a new assignment for you, Kohler."

The Dane frowned. A new assignment? Oh what could it be?

"I assume you know about the Nordic spy that Jones and Kirkland caught just a while ago?"

Mathias' frown grew deeper as he remembered the strangeness of the spy. "Yes, sir."

"Then, I want you to guard him. And as you do so, I want you get as much information from him as possible. Do you understand?"

Mathias was surprised to say the least. He was going to guard some enemy spy to get some information from him? He had never done such a thing before, and the man knew that. This could only mean that the man was trying to test him. Test him and his wits.

Well then, if that's what he wants, then Mathias wasn't about to let him win.

"Yes, sir. Understood, sir." He said with a stiff bow.

"You may start immediately." The man said. "You are dismissed."

With another stiff bow, Mathias walked out of the room. He hadn't realized it but he had been sweating all throughout his conversation with the man. He had that kind of effect on his soldiers.

Mathias walked briskly down the hall, in no particular direction and only when he had reached the main hall did he realize that he had failed to give the man the envelope from Berwald.

"But he barely speaks, dude! How do you expect to get ANY information from the guy?!"

Mathias shrugged his shoulders as he descended the creaky wooden steps to the dungeon below. "I've gotta try, right?" He said to Alfred, with his usual air of confidence and arrogance. But he screwed his face as the musty smell of snake-oil met his nostrils. He had always hated that smell. Before this place had been a military camp, it had been the ruins of a long-decayed castle. But the dungeons were kept intact for prisoners. But Mathias couldn't stand it.

The thought of spending hours, maybe even days, surrounded by the horrid smell of snake oil was enough to make Mathias wish he hadn't been assigned to this assignment.

But! Duties were duties.

"Still!" Alfred followed closely behind him as Mathias made his way down the long, dim hallway. "Do you even know what kind of information you're supposed to get from him?"

"Simple." The Dane grinned over his shoulder at the American. "Information about their strategies, bases, and about what their planning for the war, of course."

Alfred was silent for a moment as he and Mathias made their way along the hallway. "Which is his cell again?" Mathias asked Alfred.

"Cell number 13." Alfred replied simply. Mathias nodded his head and turned right toward another hallway, this one dimmer and longer than the last. He advanced 4 cells on the left side until he finally stopped in front of one and peered into the interior. The call was shrouded in shadows but for a small ray of light which illuminated a man, sitting on the floor, leaning against the right wall and with his back to them. He neither moved nor made a sound as Mathias rapped loudly on the bars of the cell and said, "Yo~! Nordic spy!"

The Dane stepped closer to the cell. "You don't look like much. You sure you're one of the best spies the Nordics got?" He broke out in gales of laughter and leaned his back against the bars of the cell, his arms crossed over his chest. He turned to Alfred, "You go ahead. I've got this covered." The American didn't look reassured but he simply shrugged his shoulders and said, "Well, it's your problem now. See you later."

Mathias watched him walk away before sidling down to the floor and saying, "So, if you're the Nordic's best spy, then why did you get caught?"

The reply was so immediate that the Dane was almost surprised to hear the cold voice which answered, "If you're trying to get information from me, then your efforts are fruitless."

Mathias laughed, "Oh so we've got a difficult one here? This gonna be good!" After which followed silence.

"All right" Mathias finally said. "What's your name?"

"Like I'd tell you." The man replied coldly. Mathias grinned, "Aw come on! Here, my name's Mathias. Now it's your turn." The Dane turned around to face the cell and was surprised to find that the spy was facing him. The spy had a pair of dark blue, almost violet, eyes which stared coldly at him. But amid that coldness, the Dane could see something else. There was a sadness in them too. A sadness...and a longing. For what, Mathias could only guess.

For a long moment, the two sat there, staring at each other, then the spy closed his eyes, sighed and said, "Lukas."

Mathias raised his eyebrows. "Lukas?" He grinned, "Well that's a funny name."

Lukas opened his eyes and frowned at the Dane. "I'll have you know that Lukas is actually quite a good name where I come from." Mathias grinned, "Sadly, you're not in your hometown now, so I suggest that you get comfy."

Lukas looked away from him with a look of disdain on his face. "You Kalmars...Not satisfied with your own plot of big land are you? Had to go for much bigger territory, had to conquer everything, had to HAVE everything." He fixed him with a long, hard gaze. "You disgust me."

Mathias frowned,"Hey now, that's a little rude considering that we've only known each other for less than a minute now."

Lukas only stared back at him with his cold look before saying, "You better leave now. You can't get information from me that easily."

Mathias scowled determinedly at him, "What if I don't?"

"Then you're wasting your time." Lukas replied simply. He got up, walked to the end of the cell and lay down there with his back to the Dane. Moments later, he was asleep.

Mathias sighed and leaned against the bars of the cell.

Getting information from an enemy was harder than he thought it would be.

Aah, DenNor, how I love you~ XDD. Anyways, this concept was originally made to be a USUK, but after I read a few DeNor fics, well, I decided that this would fit them just nicely ^^.

And because I think this needs some explaining...

In real history, the Kalmar Union was when all the Nordic states were united under a single monarch. The Union included Denmark, Sweden, Finland (under Sweden), Norway, Iceland, Greenland and the Faroe Islands (the last three were, then, under Norway). In my story, the side of the Kalmars are the Danish and the Swedes while the Nordics are the Norse and the Icelandic people. The Kalmars are an empire here (sometimes I refer to the Union as the Kalmar Empire) led by the Danish while the Nordics are a rebel group in Norway (where most of the battles takes place) who are against the Kalmars taking their land, and are led by the Norse. Most of it is just historic gibberish that I made up anyway ^^ but I hope the idea is presented clearly here.

Thank you for reading and I enjoy reviews very much

~Anon~