Hey guys. This update isn't exactly speedy, and I apologize for the delay. This one is rather short, and doesn't contain any cool battle scenes and whatnot, but it does show some character development and background, so I hope you'll still enjoy it. It's been a while since I've actually put in a scene in between the combat, but I hope it'll be sufficient enough for you guys. As one of my earlier reviews put it, "Not the most exciting thing, compared to action, but the most rewarding in the end. Anyone can write "bang bang the Imperial died" but it takes lots of work to craft a believable, deeper character." Ah, ArtilleryImbecile, where the hell are you, and all the other good VC writers who haven't updated in forever...
All was quiet on the cloudy day at Fort Amatrain. It was rather silent for a large squad, and tense even, but Peter was glad to finally have a safe and stable roof over his head. It was about a couple weeks since Squad 7 came back from Kloden, though some people were still feeling the exhaustion and grief from the battle. Several people were in the infirmary, due to their many injuries. Though Peter never really noticed until they came back to Randgriz, the battles recently were a hard hit to the squad's morale and manpower. Peter occasionally paid a visit to any of his friends at the infirm, checking up on their progress. For once, things seemed to slow down, people could take a breather, and things might go back to normal, if only temporarily.
However, no matter how Peter put it through his mind, those last days of battle hounded his thoughts. The deaths in Squad 3 were still a hard hit, and he had even tried sending letters to Elizabeth and the others to see how they were doing. No one ever responded. To add to that, Nils Daerden and Dorothy Howard were missing in action, and no doubt dead somewhere in the forest. While it was beyond his control, Peter couldn't help but blame himself for their deaths; after all, they somewhat looked up to him as a commanding officer of sorts while in Kloden. Claudia and Oscar seemed very grateful to be alive after all that, and they, along with Peter, became somewhat more closely knit. It was a rather nice change of pace, and Peter was glad he was getting some more friends. It bugged him that throughout the war, he has to spend time looking up the people of Squad 7, just to know who the hell they are, and if he can trust them in a battlefield. Everyone always had their little social cliques: the Darcsens, the Darcsen haters, the outcasts, the gossipers, the Bruhlers (which Peter was respectively a member of), the jokers, loners; most everyone was divided, and whereas in Squad 3, Peter remembered everyone pretty much knew everyone, if at least by face. The individualism was a refreshing change, yet it was also very distressing.
A new day began. The simple, everyday routine of squad role call, and eventually breakfast at the mess hall continued on, as always. With the exception of the merciful conversation of a friend, the days seemed just as drab and uniform as the Gallian military's standard dress code (luckily rather liberal in the Militia, in contrast to the Navy and Regular Army).
The food seemed slightly better, and Peter was able to notice that Alicia baked todays buns for breakfast, so the air and mood of the mess hall was slightly more at ease. Peter always liked to think that something made Alicia's baking... magical, for lack of a better word. Continuing his meal, Peter looked to his side and saw off in the distance Claudia sitting at a table with two other girls, Aisha, and a girl with glasses and a beret; Nancy, if Peter could recall. The engineer noticed Peter and waved her hand smiling. The scout couldn't help but wave back too, before he went back to eating. It was nice to be noticed and acknowledged a bit everyday, and even Peter's Darcsen friends tend to forget his presence once in a while, but they were only human. Taking another bite off of a fresh bread roll, Peter felt a hand place on his shoulder.
"Peter."
Flinching slightly, Peter looked over his shoulder to see Noce Wordsworth behind him. A bit relieved it was only him, Peter went back turned his attention back to his breakfast as he responded.
"Noce, what do you need?" Peter asked, as he continued eating.
"I saw you waving to Claudia. I've just been noticing that you two-"
"Can it, Noce. You just hear to talk my ear off, or do you actually have some sort of meaningful purpose here?" Peter coldly interrupted.
"Hey, hey! Easy, Pete. No need to get touchy... Geez, and you thought I was being a bit harsh way back... Anyway, I was just trying to lighten the mood..." Noce defended, backing up a bit. "Apparently, I should have picked Ustinov and Young to take care of that, but... You've been ordered to report to Captain Varrot's office. I was just sent to tell you that."
Peter completely froze. His mind went through all the possible things he could have done wrong. Did he accidentally shoot someone? No, he was sure he didn't... Then, a piece snapped into place, as Peter recalled his most recent activities in the field. His involvement of the battle of Barious, and the incident at Kloden. He deserted at Barious just so he could be with his friends at Squad 3, and because of his so-called "leadership" Peter invoked at the forest firefight in Kloden, Dorothy and Nils were missing, if not dead. Paranoia and doubt swirled around, wondering all the things that could go wrong.
"Hey, c'mon. It can't be that bad, right?" Noce asked.
Peter couldn't come up with a response. He merely sighed and continued eating his breakfast.
Walking through the halls of one of the central buildings of Fort Amatrain, Peter was heading towards Captain Varrot's office, fear and dread as to what his fate might be. Back in his days at Squad 3, Peter became a bit too familiar with these halls. He had almost forgotten what it was like. He knew he had to pay for something. He knew it.
Peter faced the wooden door that lead to the Captain's office. His hand reached for the golden handle, but as he turned it to open the door, his hand trembled slightly. With a frustrated sigh, the Bruhler took another deep breathe before fully opening the door. Staring right at him was none other than Captain Eleanor Varrot herself. Alongside her was Lieutenant Gunther. A familiar wooden chair stood in front of the rather imposing desk Varrot would do her work at. Curious as to why Welkin was here, Peter thought that he was at least an easy-going guy, and might lessen whatever punishment he gets. Nobody said anything as Peter walked across the room, and took his seat. After trying to get as comfortable as he could possibly get, Peter noticed Welkin and Captain Varrot nod at each other.
"Private Rothchild. I suppose you know why you're here?" Varrot asked, sending a shiver down Peter's spine. Her tone hasn't changed a bit, even after all the weeks that have passed.
"I assume that it has to do my performance and actions at Barious and Kloden?" Peter asked, almost thinking he knew the answer.
"Precisely."
Peter face palmed, not exactly sure if he could look the Captain in the eye.
"Several people reported you missing from Squad 7, and an account from several surviving members of Squad 3 report you were with them instead. Is this true?" she pressed on. Some silence ensued, before Peter could stutter an answer.
"Yeah... Back at Barious, I went with Squad 3," he mumbled.
"Desertion is a serious violation, Peter, however there are unique... circumstances regarding your actions," Varrot commented, skimming over some paperwork.
"What do you mean, 'circumstances?'"
"I have some proclamations that you helped save some of the members of the squad during their battle with the large Imperial force. Accounts from several troops claim you assisted them greatly, and saved some of their lives. If so, that is commendable."
Peter couldn't believe what he just heard. Was he not getting in trouble...?
"Um... who exactly accounted for these reports?" Peter asked.
Varrot skimmed across a report and found a list of names. "Sergeant Abel, Corporal Elizabeth Black, Corporal "Rusty", and Private Erlina Alexander were among who others contributed to your case."
Peter smiled slightly at hearing Elizabeth's name. It was good to know she survived this whole ordeal when others didn't, and he knew that she had to have stuck her neck out for him somehow. Peter held it back, but he wanted to smile or even cry knowing that the rest of his old friends at Squad 3 stood up for him, even when he had no real obligation to them anymore, and them to him.
"I see..." Peter merely said, masking whatever emotion or feeling he was getting out of this situation. "But... I deserted Squad 7... I can't help but feel bad for that, and... is that going to be taken into account...?"
"Peter," Welkin piped in. The scout almost forgot he was there. "I realize you ditched the Squad, through it, you did much more than you could staying with us. You helped save lives out there, Peter, and I respect that. I have no qualms about you leaving. I take full responsibility for any negative conflict or impact your actions may have done," Welkin stated. Peter couldn't believe what he just said. Old Lieutenant Drake couldn't give a shit about his problems.
"Ahem. Continuing on, we would also like to discuss your actions at Kloden," Varrot continued working over some paperwork.
Peter braced himself for whatever the captain could throw at him, though he was slightly a bit more at ease.
"Privates Bierlert and Mann both claim that following the artillery bombardment of Kloden, the three of you, in addition to Private Howard and Corporal Daerden, rallied together to find a way to regroup with the rest of the sqaud that had dispersed. They claim that you helped lead them through the forests and you helped keep morale up to find their ways back with the rest of Squad 7-"
"Wait, what?" Peter interrupted. "Pardon me, Captain, but they said that I lead them?"
"Why... yes. Is that hard to comprehend, Private?" Varrot asked, rather quizically.
"N-no, just... unexpected..."
"Thanks to you, they say, you, Claudia, and Oscar all got home safely," Welkin commented."I'm impressed with your leadership, Peter."
"Yeah... but if I really was a leader, Nils Daerden and Dorothy Howard would've gotten out alive. They trusted me enough to look up to me... and now they're probably rotting somewhere out in the forest..." he mumbled.
This time, Captain Varrot and Welkin gave somewhat concerned glances toward Peter.
"This is war, Private Rothchild. Death is... inevitable. I remember when I was first tasked with a promotion and I lead a detachment of troops..." Captain Varrot said, trailing off. She rambled as if no one else were present.
"It was a night operation... I had ten troops following me... four, including myself, came back alive. The deaths could have been much, much worse, but... it impacted me. But please, Private; don't focus on the deaths of your comrades... focus on how they lived, and contributed to your cause. Operations don't always run smoothly, Rothchild. But leading troops to be all they can be is what being a commander is," the Captain continued, her words rather silent and faint, but loud enough for everyone to hear.
"Which is why, Peter," Welkin said, going up to him. "I'm going to promote you to Corporal."
The blue-capped scout nearly jumped in his seat, almost speechless. The Lieutenant presented him with a new patch, signifying his promoted rank.
"I... I can't... It's too much responsibilty, and I'm probably going to paint a target on my head anyway..." Peter stuttered, starting to sweat a bit.
"Please, Peter. I insist."
"Okay... I ditch Squad 7 to be with my friends back at Barious, I lead people at Kloden, and two of them end up dying and I get promoted for it?" Peter exclaimed, almost trying to defend himself.
"As much as I agree with some of your... logic, I believe that Lieutenant Gunther has better plans for your future, and I think your squad might be able to benefit from it," Captain Varrot said, now being slightly more at ease.
"Alright, Lieutenant. I'll do it," Peter said, now somewhat enthused by the idea. He took the patch from Welkins and looked at the embroidered words, "Corporal Rothchild."
"I'm sure that you'll be able to follow in your father's footsteps, Peter," Welkin congratulated with a smile. However, whatever happiness Peter might have exhibited faded away, at the mention of his father.
"Please, Lieutenant... don't bring my father into this," he sighed, somewhat sadly and forlornly.
"Well, Corporal Rothchild, you are dismissed. Enjoy the rest of your day," Varrot gleamed, with a smile of all things, and the Lieutenant and newly-promoted Corporal took their leave.
However, before he left, Peter wanted to ask something more. "Captain Varrot, one last question. If I may... what became of Squad 3?"
The smile disappeared, as Varrot looked down at her desk, presumably to look at a report, though she seemed to have a problem finding a way for words.
"Squad 3 has been... disbanded. They took too many casualties in Barious, and there aren't enough reserves to replace those lost. As of now, most of those still able to fight have been reassigned to Squad 1, and any others that need more replacements."
"What became of Corporal Elizabeth Black?" Peter asked, wanting to know the fate of his sole-surviving friend.
The captain looked at more papers, searching for a file, until she was able to find what she needed. "Oh my... It appears Private Black is exhibiting symptoms of Post-Traumatic-Stress-Disorder. The battle seems to have impacted her greatly. Has she lost anyone important to her?" Varrot asked.
"Yes, Captain. She and a friend of mine, Daniel Kappelhoff, were in love with each other, or so I assume," Peter said, old wounds opening up a bit.
"I see... She's suffering from insomnia, and when she is actually able to sleep, she claims to have recurring nightmares. She is currently in rehabilitation. If her condition does not improve, she may be dishonorably discharged. If you wish, I will make leave for you to visit her some time."
"Thank you, Captain. I'll go visit her sometime. I hope... she can recover..."
"As do we all, Corporal. Now, if there is nothing else, you are dismissed."
Welkin and Peter nodded and left.
Peter was completely shocked that Elizabeth, probably the strongest girl he knew, was having a mental breakdown. It was... sad. But Peter tried not to focus on it. He'll have to visit her some time later this week. Focusing on the joyous occasion of being promoted, Peter tried thinking all of the good things that could come out of this promotion. While he was reluctant at first, the Captain's vote of confidence seemed to enough to raise his spirits high. The scout was almost proud of himself. As the scout opened the door for his superior and closed it, he noticed Welkin looking at him, a bit concerned. Peter shrugged it off and continued walking off toward Squad 7's block at the fort, though Welkin quickly caught up to him.
"Peter, I just want to congratulate you, once again," Welkin said, offering a hand.
Peter, not knowing how to reply, merely nodded and shook his hand. Without a word, Peter turned his back on his superior, though Welkin was insistent.
"Peter, why were you so quick to dismiss your father?" Welkin curiously asked.
"Because, I'm not him. I'm my own person, and he... he's in the past now. Let's leave it at that."
"You know, you're showing signs you're becoming him. I've done some studying. Wasn't your father Martin Rothchild?"
"Yeah..." Peter sighed. "Martin Rothchild, former mayor of Bruhl before the first war, and then Lieutenant of Militia Squad 5 in EW1. You don't have to remind me."
"You sound ashamed of that," Welkin stated, quite confused. "Why is that?"
"He... he was a leader, and a brave guy... but stupid. He lead a 'glorious campaign' against the Imps and drove them out at Naggiar. He died at the final battle too. He left my mom, and me when I still in the womb."
"Are you saying that you don't like him... because he abandoned you?"
"In part..." Peter trailed off.
"My dad was mayor of Bruhl, before he became a lieutenant. Only the war veterans and old guys back at Bruhl know my heritage. And even they have turned a blind eye eventually. And quite frankly, I was glad."
"Glad?" Welkin asked.
"Yeah... I wouldn't want some random person to go 'hey, weren't you related to the mayor and war hero of Bruhl?' I mean, since you're a general's son, you probably understand. I want people to know me as Peter, not 'the son of Martin Rothchild,'" Peter explained.
"I think I understand. War was never really my choice, and people always made a big fuss about it..." Welkin muttered, remembering old times in Bruhl.
"Anyway, moving on, Dad joined the militia when attacks on Naggiar began. He wanted drive them out before they could reach the countryside. At the militia, he met my mom for the first time, a city girl from Randgriz. As Dad went through the ranks, he lead his own squad when the old lieutenant got killed. During that time, he and mom were... close... After a while, he became renowned throughout the militia as a great commander."
"I see..."
"Then, the militia was about to drive the Imps out of Naggiar. On the eve of the battle... I assume they 'conceived me.' On the fateful day, Dad sent my mother to the back lines, despite her skills as a soldier. He probably wanted her to be safe. At the very end, my father died during the assault, and my mom lived..." Peter paused before speaking, as if pondering on how to choose his words. "She was heartbroken, and a bit... angry at him. All she had left of him was his dog tags, a couple of his trinkets that I took from Bruhl, and the hat very hat resting on my head. After that, she went to Bruhl to experience the peacefulness there he always talked about. Then, I was born."
"Wow... that's an amazing story, Peter... but that still doesn't explain why you dislike him," Welkin said, quite interested at the background behind him.
"I always kind of wish I had a father to during my childhood, and well, I sorta hated him for dying in the last war. I've grown up in an ordinary life, not wanting to become my father. He might have been skilled, but he was reckless and had lots of responsibility that rested on his shoulders that he took for granted. Or so I'm told," Peter elaborated, his tone getting softer as he continued. "My mom... she hated him for leaving her. He was so confident everything would work out for him in the end, and she wasn't even there to protect him. Since then, Mom's also feared I'd become my father. Maybe it all started when I found the hat. I dunno. She and I were afraid that if I became him, I'd be lost to the wars... I'd leave Bruhl and die a meaningless death. She became something of a devoutly religious woman too, seeking 'redemption' for her actions in the war, and she expected me to do the same. I never really was that religious, and she always told me that if I went to war, I might just lose myself. I've kinda been dreading that."
"So... You're afraid of becoming your father, yet you still wear his hat, you keep some of his things, and are fighting in the Militia? Then why are you here?"
"Because I have to. I'm not going to sit by and let these bastards invade the country. I have family... friends... my town... I fight for them. I might lose myself, as my mother says, but damn it, I'm not going lose anything else!" Peter exclaimed. "Maybe Mom just raised me to hate my father. I kinda hold him in disdain, but I still respected him, and I always will. I guess I'm becoming more like him... It's just natural, or so I think."
Welkin nodded, encouraged that Peter is a strong person, and very respectable for his choices.
"Hell, at least there's one good thing about being a Rothchild since I joined the war... It'll make for a fancy name on a tombstone... Like some important Randgriz noble or something..."
"Don't say those things, Peter. I'm glad to have you along. We'll get out of this, and we're going to save everything. We won't lose those things, I assure you," Welkin proclaimed. The officer saluted, and the scout saluted back.
"Good day, Lieutenant."
"Good day to you too, Corporal."
Peter left the company of his lieutenant to join his friends back at Squad 7's block of the fort. However, Peter noticed just how much he was like his father. He was in the militia, he was keeping several keepsakes on his person, he was becoming more of a leader, and he was still wearing the hat that he wore all the time during the war. Hesitantly, Peter removed the blue felt hunting cap from his head. It didn't hurt to be a little less like his father, if only for the day.
Was that any good? Was the background a tad too generic? Or was it good? Please, give me any feedback that you will, please. Any input will be greatly appreciated. And if you see some errors and about, don't be afraid to point them out, so I can edit this to be the best it can be.
~Mr. Wang
