Of Loss and Madness

A RDNA-verse Tale from Two Nations' Eyes

(Chapter 2: Ruled Britannia)

Devon countryside, England, United Kingdom. 19 November 1943.

"I say we take caution moving forward," Matthew's voice suggested through the private radio. "My commanders and our allies believe that the enemy's leaving more holes in its retreat, though I wouldn't put it against those maniacs to leave a few traps behind. I take your intelligence got the same conclusion."

"They have," Francesca C. Edelstein-Hedervary replied on the receiver with a warm if professional flair. "Still, while I agree, now is not the time to show restraint. Still, while I agree, now is not the time to show restraint. The sooner these Reds are thrown out of here, the sooner we can bring the Terror to a final end. And – and…" There was a brief pause, however, as she shook her head, straining to keep her voice level. "…My apologies. But you can count on New Austria's finest to carry this day."

"I'll take you up on that, eh?" the Canadian chuckled before sliding to a more concerned tone. "Just – be careful out there."

I should stop doing that. Despite the near-mishap, the Nation allowed herself a faint smile even as she adjusted the collar on her cavalry officer's uniform. "Of course. Bitte, just save me some of the glory, Matthew."

As she put the receiver down, however, she felt an uncomfortable sensation threatening to overwhelm her. Still, with some effort, she shrugged it off and took a moment to compose herself. With each passing week, these instances were getting worse. Must be the exhaustion. Gott...I can't afford to show weakness now. Blood must be spilled...Nein, I can't...

"Are you alright, Fraulein?"

Francesca snapped out of her reverie to find one of her officers approaching her. She recognized him as Col. Janos Mihaly of the 1st Hungarian Rifles, the latest in a long line of aides to her and her 'late' parents. "I'm fine, Ezredes," she replied in Hungarian with a measured nod. "I suppose it's just the exhaustion from battle. But this war won't end itself, after all. What is the situation now?"

He cleared his throat as they exited the radio tent and into the open air of the encampment. "The stalemate's broken. Our enemies are losing heart as we speak."

Before both of them, past their fellow New Austrians, craters and trenches laid the smoking husk of Honiton as the few remaining Red stragglers flee into the horizon. The once quaint English town, what remained it at least, had been inexplicably abandoned by the enemy along with others in the area, apparently to regroup further east. Compared to the frantic firefights of the previous weeks, it really seemed as though the Collectivist Internationale and its slaves were at long last letting up; some were even beginning to think that the campaign would actually be over by Christmas. Yet even as her commanders and soldiers advance across the English countryside it also seemed too convenient. Nein, I can't show weakness now!

" We can move in at any time, Fraulein," the aide whispered. "The men await the order."

"l see, but..."

The female Nation's eyes glanced at those around her, at once sensing the discipline, anxiety and anticipation of her own countrymen – Deutsch, Magyar, Czech, Mezoamerikaner, New Austrians one and all. She knew as well that the other commanders were making similar moves. Then again, there's only one way to be sure. Ja...It shall be magnificent...

"Go ahead, Ezredes. We have some Englishmen to free."

"Jawohl, meine Fraulein."

After returning salutes, she took to her horse and joined the rest of her soldiers. Francesca could already see some of the other units advancing ahead of her. Mustering her best face, feeling the familiar tinge of bravado course through her despite the fatigue, she rode ahead to the front. There was no time for speeches. It's now or never.

"Onward!" she shouted. "For God, Liege and Country!"

For what seemed a moment, the scene looked right out of old painting. Like Papa's old stories, she thought wistfully. Flags flying proudly. The sounds of horses and tanks meshed with a symphony of rallying cries while the air roared from the distance with the sound of planes and dirigibles. All moved relentlessly, knowing that each inch of land freed was payback against the Reds. And she was on the winning side. Before long, the town was right in front of her. Victory seemed assured.

Then the explosions came. Around her, the men found themselves in complete shock as ambushers started streaming out of the town. Desperately, she fired blindly with her pistol, struggling to stay focused. Amidst the screams, she could hear – and feel – the dying gasps of her men, all falling one by one to her mounting horror. From the horizon, she could make out the all too familiar banners, screams and massed swarms of the Internationale's minions. Gott. We were set up…Nein…NEIN…

"Fall back!" she shouted even she kept firing her weapon. "Bitte, for the love of God, DON'T DIE!" She looked on in immense pain and horror as her moment of triumph cost her even more grief. A sudden explosion soon threw all other thoughts aside as she fell off the horse, onto the bloodied ground.

Then she felt nothing.

Ezgeres is Hungarian for Colonel.

The town of Honiton is a real market town located in Devon, England, some 17 miles north of Exeter.

The references to the "Invasion" and "Liberation" of Britain in 1942-44 meanwhile can be found on DeviantArt. Which also explain in part the "bittersweet" triumph that left the UK in shambles as well as why the British remain rather upset with their New Austrian "allies." Which will be explained soon enough...up close.

As for those who participated in the Liberation of Britain, the Canadians, New Austrians, Americans and Gran Patagonians were the prominent powers who aided the U.K., the former two being the most involved.

And yes, New Austria's adoptive parents are who you think they are: A certain Austrian aristocrat and a free-spirited Magyar...