The Purest Rose – Chapter One

"Who cares if it's a ceremonial sword? It's made out of good steel, isn't it? Just because your living weapon lies broken, doesn't mean you should leave the rest of your weapons behind… Speaking of weapons, where the hell did you put my guns?" –Klaus von Wolfstadt

1928

The bells at Luckenwalde Military Academy tolled the hour solemnly, a testament to the monastery that the school once was. Klaus stood just inside the gate, looking with awe at the well-tended grounds. The road that led into the Academy gave way from worn cobblestones to crushed rock, blood-red and oddly dustless even in the summer heat. The buildings were structured of soaring wooden beams and solid grey stones. Fields of lush green grass, bordered by hedgerows and dark forests, were visible beyond the buildings, and evenly-trimmed hedges and flower boxes lined the fronts of the buildings. Some cadets were visible walking between buildings, but for the most part, the Academy was empty – the next Cycle didn't begin for two more weeks.

Klaus straightened unconsciously upon spotting the cadets, tugging briefly at his suit jacket and straightening his bag across his shoulder. He lifted his chin in a characteristic gesture of defiance before setting off, striding down that crimson boulevard for the first time. He wasn't supposed to be there.

1926

"Mother! Father, come quick! Klaus has fallen into the river!"

Winters in Northern Saxony were cold, brutal affairs. They left the ground frozen several feet deep well into Spring, and vast snowdrifts frequently blew across the river that cut through the von Wolfstadt estate. It was dangerous to walk in the vicinity of the river, because often you couldn't tell where the snow ended and the iced-over water began; there were very few sections of the river that didn't freeze in the winter, at least on the surface. For this reason, Klaus and his twin sister, Claudia, were always careful to cross at the old wooden bridge when they played in the fields. It was hard to tell where the ice was thick enough to stand on, so they never risked it; plenty of people had died of hypothermia after falling into the water or, worse, died beneath the ice, not to be found until the river thawed and the snow melted late in Spring.

The teenagers were building a snow fortress in the far fields when Klaus decided that Claudia's turned back made a fine target for a snowball. A fierce battle quickly ensued, ending with Claudia dumping a handful of snow down Klaus' shirt and running as if her life depended on it, laughing. Klaus cursed and hopped around for a moment, trying to get the snow off of his back, before giving chase, the pair headed straight for the bridge.

Claudia reached the bridge first, still laughing as she turned to watch Klaus follow behind her. His heavier footsteps thudded hollowly as he crossed the old planks, and Claudia turned quickly to continue running, right before a loud crack stopped her in her tracks. She turned back to the bridge just in time to watch her brother vanish through the splintered beams.

They found him nearly a kilometer downstream, washed up on the bank where the river hadn't quite frozen over yet. His lips were blue, and blood trickled from a cut on the side of his head. He wasn't breathing.

Klaus didn't remember falling into the river – he barely remembered reaching the bridge. The doctor told them that it was amnesia, either from hitting his head as he went under or from not breathing for nearly three minutes. His temperature had been dangerously low for days, and his father and older brother, Bertram, took turns burrowing under the covers with him, trying to bring warmth back into his frozen limbs. He had finally woken over a week later, and had practically been under house arrest ever since. The doctor said he was brain damaged from the drowning and from the cold, and his mother took that as a reason to treat him like a small child. He was constantly monitored, constantly told he had to stay indoors, constantly scolded and warned away from the river and the fields and all of his favorite haunts. It was that overprotective coddling that two years later had driven him to sneak away in the middle of the night, walking twelve kilometers to the next train station. He was damned if he was going to spend the rest of his life being sheltered by his mother.

Klaus' grandfather had been telling him war stories since as far back as he could remember – and probably even earlier than that. Tales of the Great War had sustained him as a child, and he had dreamed of learning to command tanks at the Luckenwalde Academy ever since Grandfather had mentioned it to him. It was just his bad luck that he'd injured his head only months before a new war spread throughout the world; with his mother's constant protective guard, it was unlikely that he'd ever be allowed to enlist, even to attend an Officers' Academy. It was unlikely, at least, if he bothered to ask permission first.

1928

"Commandant? There's a young man here to speak with you. He's seeking admittance for the upcoming cycle." Commandant Reichert turned at his aide-de-camp's wry tone, lifting an eyebrow. The deadline for applying for the upcoming cycle had passed some time ago; those requesting admittance were supposed to be turned away and instructed to return during the next admissions cycle.

"You know as well as I do that this cycle is closed, Major."

"Of course, sir, but… well." He huffed a laugh. "The boy simply won't leave."

Reichert sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Did he give a name?"

"Klaus von Wolfstadt, Sir."

The Commandant looked up sharply. "Von Wolfstadt? You're sure?" The Major nodded. "Interesting… I served with a von Wolfstadt in the Great War. Good man. Stubborn beyond belief – if this boy's related, it's no surprise that you can't get him to go away." He chuckled. "Let me make a quick phone call first, then send him in."

'Well,' Reichert thought, 'he's definitely related.' Klaus could have been an exact clone of his grandfather at that age – golden eyes, a hint of a broad frame that he was still growing into, stubborn glare and all. He had trouble keeping the smile off of his face when he noted the defiant stance that Klaus had adopted.

"Well, boy? You're over a month late for the admissions process, and I have little patience for young fools who don't have the good sense to listen to a Major's orders. Explain to my why I shouldn't call the MPs and have them forcibly throw you out the front gate."

Klaus blinked, uncertain for a moment. Grandfather had never mentioned an admissions process, and Luckenwalde was supposed to be one of the most elite military academies in the world. What if he couldn't actually get in? He eyed the Commandant for a moment, trying to decide how to proceed. He suspected that digging his heels in and arguing like he would have at home would only earn him a swift boot out the door.

"My grandfather never mentioned an admissions process…" At the Commandant's withering glare, Klaus sighed, squaring his shoulders. "I had to sneak away from home to be able to come here. If I can't get in this cycle then I'll wait until the next one, but don't send me away. I can work; I've lived on a farming estate my entire life, and I'm not afraid of hard work. If you'll give me room and board, and guarantee me at least a chance during the next admissions, then I'll be the hardest worker you've ever had here." His fists were clenched at his sides, the gleam in his eyes almost desperate as he waited for the Commandant's response. If he had to return home to wait for the next cycle, it was highly doubtful that he'd be able to escape his parents a second time.

Reichert observed him quietly, considering the phone call he'd made. Gert von Wolfstadt had readily confirmed Klaus' identity, confiding that he'd been waiting over a year for his grandson to get fed up with being cosseted and to make a break for it. The head injury that he'd cited was worrying, but it apparently hadn't affected Klaus' reasoning skills or learning ability, for all of his parents' concerns. He had already decided, after speaking with his old war friend, to give the boy a chance, but it concerned him that Klaus was planning on not returning home. Family support, even support given grudgingly, was important to a soldier, particularly during a time of war, and Klaus' grandfather, at least, deserved a proper goodbye.

"I will not accept you as a laborer here. It would set a terrible precedent." Klaus' face fell so dramatically that Reichert immediately felt bad. The boy looked like a kicked puppy with that face. "However, I am familiar with you and your reputation." Klaus' expression changed to one of befuddlement, much to Reichert's amusement and relief, and he continued blandly, pretending as though he didn't particularly care how Klaus was feeling about the situation. "As it happens, one of the students who was supposed to start this cycle has withdrawn from the Academy, leaving a slot open." His gaze grew sharp. "If you ever talk back to my aide-de-camp, or any officer in this Academy, ever again, or if you give me even one reason to regret this decision, I will turn you out the door in an instant, and no military institution in the country will take you in after that. Do you understand me, Cadet?" Klaus was beaming as he answered in the affirmative, and the Commandant nodded before sitting down at his desk. "Good. Now, get out of my office. The Major will secure you a train ticket back home."

"…Sir?"

"You heard me. The dormitories are only open this early if you make prior arrangements. I don't care how well or poorly you get along with your parents; you at least owe your grandfather and your siblings a proper farewell, yes? The dorms will open two days prior to the start of the cycle. The Major will provide you with an inprocessing schedule; don't be late. Dismissed, Cadet."

Klaus sighed, his shoulders drooping a little as he turned and walked out the door.

"What were you thinking, running off like that? And you enlisted?" Klaus' mother indicated his cadet uniform angrily. "You're injured, Klaus! You have no business trying to join the military; your place is here with your family!" Klaus sighed to himself. She had been continuing in this vein for the past half hour, ever since he had stepped through the front door with his new uniform sharply pressed and his standard-issue duffel bag slung over his shoulder. It was quite a letdown, going from the approving glances and friendly nods on the trains to his mother's diatribe. His father stood silently in the background, radiating disapproval.

Tired of her scathing rebuke, Klaus finally broke in. "I didn't enlist, I signed up for a commission. There's a huge difference! And I'm not injured anymore! It's been nearly two years, and I'm perfectly fine now! I'm tired of you all treating me like I'm stupid or incapable of doing anything!" To angry to continue, Klaus left his mother standing there, stunned, and he stormed out the door.

Klaus' grandfather found him an hour later, sitting in the garden where the winter roses bloomed. The rosebushes in this particular courtyard were barren brambles of twisted thorns this time of year; they suited Klaus' mood well. Grandfather rested a hand lightly on Klaus' shoulder.

"They'll come around, eventually."

Klaus snorted. "Yeah, right. They're just upset that they can't control me anymore."

Grandfather chuckled. "You'll understand them better when you have children of your own, I think."

"I doubt that will ever happen. Girls are stupid."

Grandfather raised an eyebrow. "You're a little old to still be thinking that, aren't you? And I'd like to see you say that to your sister."

Klaus rolled his eyes. "I would say it to her, if she'd bother coming to talk to me. She's on their side. And girls are stupid, anyway. Getting older doesn't make that any less true, Grandfather."

"Claudia isn't on anyone's side except her own; she's upset that you didn't tell her you were going. And most boys your age would have complimentary things to say about women." He sighed. "I suppose it's no surprise; you haven't really been around girls beyond your mother and sister… and Anna, of course, but she's a little old to catch your fancy." Klaus looked askance at him, and Grandfather chuckled. "I know, I know. Sorry." He smiled, climbing to his feet and holding out a hand. "Come on. Supper's ready, and Bertram is back from the fields. I'm sure no one will say anything too terrible while at the evening meal." Klaus sighed, allowing his grandfather to haul him to his feet.

"If you say so."

Supper was uncomfortable, to say the least. Mother and Father still radiated disapproval, and barely looked at Klaus. Claudia ate in a similar stony silence, and it was left to Grandfather and Bertram to try and carry on a conversation. Klaus, disheartened by the continued cold shoulder from half of his family, barely tried to converse, instead excusing himself early from the table.

The next few days continued in the same vein, and Klaus frequently found himself sitting in the rose gardens, counting down the days and hours until he had to catch the train back to Luckenwalde. If he wasn't sure that he'd end up sleeping in an alley at best, and angering the Commandant and getting kicked out at worst, he would have gone back early to avoid the tense atmosphere in his home. How had the Commandant been so certain that this was a good idea, anyway?

He found himself greeting the morning of his return with relief. He wasn't sure if he'd be any good at learning to command tanks, and he had only his grandfather's reassurances that his home schooling was sufficient preparation for the Academy, but anything was better than staying at the stifling von Wolfstadt estate right now. Everyone always said that absence makes the heart grow fonder, so maybe after a semester at Luckenwalde his family would be more forgiving; at any rate, he wouldn't have to worry about it until the semester break in four months.

Klaus was surprised when someone knocked on his bedroom door; he had said his goodbyes to Grandfather and Bertram the night before, and he wasn't expecting anyone else in the family to want to talk to him today. He opened the door to find his grandfather standing there, an old tin box held carefully in his hands. Klaus gasped, recognizing the dented tin immediately. "Our soldiers!"

When they were younger, Grandfather used to supplement his war stories with an old collection of painted lead soldiers. There were three colors – gold for the Saxons, silver for their allies, and red for their enemies. The set was old enough to contain wagons to represent supply lines and knights on horseback to represent cavalry – their armor was detailed to show what type of cavalry they were, and Grandfather used the heavy cavalry to represent tanks, light cavalry for other vehicles. Bowmen became grenadiers, kings and lords became commanders of various ranks. Infantrymen, of course, remained the same. Klaus, Claudia, and Bertram used to wage enormous battles against each other with those soldiers, and Grandfather always used their wars as opportunities to teach them battle tactics and strategies without being too obvious in front of their parents. He chuckled now at Klaus' delighted exclamation.

"We don't have time for one last battle, or you'll never make your train. I kept these with me during my own days at a military academy though, and they helped immensely in visualizing complex battlefields. They showed up a time or two on actual fields of war as well, when we weren't content with using paper markers to represent forces on the Commanders' map tables." Grandfather smiled. "Take them with you, Klaus. They'll remind you of happier times here at home, and they'll help you with many of your classes."

Klaus took the case reverently, setting it carefully aside before flinging himself forward to wrap his grandfather in a hug. "I'll miss you, Grandfather." Leaving wound up being a lot harder than he had expected.

Klaus stood on the train platform quietly, duffel bag by his feet. The train to Luckenwalde would be there in a few minutes, and despite everything, he was regretting not saying goodbye to Claudia. The twins had been inseparable their whole lives, and as angry as he was that she had ignored him all week, he wished he'd been able to ignore his pride enough to find her and apologize. He doubted she would have supported him sneaking off to Luckenwalde – she had babied him almost as much as his mother had the past year and a half – but she probably wouldn't have told their parents that he was going, and she would be a lot less upset about it now. He sighed, looking up as the train pulled into the station. There was nothing he could do about it now.

He hefted his duffel, the tin full of soldiers tucked carefully in on top, and turned towards the train, so focused on boarding that he almost missed his name being called. He turned just in time to drop the bag and catch the blur of gold that threw itself at him. He recognized Claudia first by the scent of roses in her hair, second by the vicious slap she delivered to his face. Heads turned to watch as she caught him across the other cheek with a backhand; he grabbed her wrist in time to keep from being assaulted a third time, but there wasn't much he could do to keep her voice from carrying from one end of the platform to the other. "I can't believe you were going to go off to Luckenwalde without even saying goodbye, you big… oaf!" He flushed crimson, well aware that even the train conductor was standing by watching and trying not to laugh. Claudia told him off soundly, and probably would have hit him again if he'd been foolish enough to let go of her wrist. Klaus tucked his chin and didn't bother interrupting; he figured he probably deserved it, and at least the conductor was too entertained to let the train leave without him.

Claudia wound down after a few minutes and collapsed, sniffling, into his arms. Klaus sighed, hugging her back. 'Just like I said… girls are stupid, not to mention completely incomprehensible.' Why go through all the trouble of yelling at him if she was just going to hug him afterwards, anyway?

The conductor, deciding that the entertainment was over, called for all passengers to board, and Klaus gently pushed his sister away. "I'll probably see you at the semester break in four months; I have to go now though."

Claudia nodded, wiping her eyes. "Take care of yourself, Klaus." Klaus nodded sharply at her, then turned to board the train, his step much lighter now than it had been earlier. He'd probably have a pair of embarrassing handprints on his cheeks the next couple of days, but it was better than leaving with her still angry and ignoring him.

She stood on the platform, watching the train pull farther and farther away, until it was out of sight.

A/N:

So, in the English version of Maiden Rose that I own, Klaus' name is spelled "Claus." In the online translations, it's spelled Klaus. It looks more right with a "K," so that's what I'll keep for this story. I've also decided that the school term at Luckenwalde is a three-semester term, with short breaks between semesters. I'm debating making it a five year course of instruction to keep the story timeline more plausible… will let you know :)

As mentioned in the Prologue, the events in this story will only loosely mirror the events of the actual manga, so don't be offended by the plot changes :) I also have no idea how old Klaus was supposed to be during the coronation and later when he attended Luckenwalde, so I'm pretending like he's the same age as Taki (even though he seems older than Taki in the manga). I'm sorry that I'm turning Klaus' mother into a "bad guy" here… she seems like she was probably a cool person in the manga, being a pilot and all, but I started this story based off volumes 1 and 2, before I knew anything about her, so she's stuck now :p Maybe I'll find a way to redeem her later…

Please review if you enjoy the story!