Funeral Cake Factory

Chapter 10: Skáktafl

July 28, 1914 I.C. – Neuchwanstein Outpost, Aldebaran [02:36AM]

Prontera had no particular reason to attack any nation despite the rising tensions that involved Geffen and its surrounding territory. But the damage had been done, and the results were irreversible. A month passed since the shots fired during that fateful day in Yssnelf broke the silence of the nations vying for territorial expansion. With the staggering loss of Prontera with the death of her Chancellor in the hands of a Pro-Expansionist Aldebaran citizen, the alliances that existed between its neutral territories changed drastically. A few days after the assassination occurred, Prontera, via its acting Chancellor, immediately delivered an ultimatum to Aldebaran and its allies, and enacted and embargo of essential goods and materials to Aldebaran.

Prontera's demand was simple. Aldebaran would answer for the death of her Chancellor by giving up parts of its territory to Geffen – specifically, the cities and villages located on the foot of the Mjolnir mountain range.

Using her Chancellor's death as pretext for war, Prontera threatened an assault against Aldebaran and its Northern Allies if its demands were not met. Naturally, Aldebaran and her officials refused to answer the ultimatum. It never gave in to Prontera's demands, which had a time limit of a month. Hearing no answer whatsoever from the officials, Prontera declared war with Aldebaran and immediately mobilized its infantry as well as the rest of its army to occupy the Mjolnir mountain range via neutral Geffen.

Leif Moreau immediately returned to Prontera after watching the grim events unfold before his very eyes. The details were still obscure, for most of the necessary information about the identity of the assassin was withheld by the Pronteran Press. Realizing that the assassin's identity would more or less be used by the Pronteran government as an excuse to justify an invasion, Leif saw to it that his closest friends and assets were all accounted for. The wheels of history had turned, and he would never allow himself to be left behind. He had worked hard enough to earn his current position, but in the current state of the country and the possibility of it being overrun by a foreign military power, his influence over several government officials would be considered moot.

After making the necessary preparations, Leif contacted his colleagues and ordered them to stay low. Being prominent during the time of conflict would only cause them trouble.

On the other hand, Albrecht Fleischer had no choice but shut his 'business' down and secure a safe location for him and Anois. Everything was going well for their plans until a letter from the military arrived at Albrecht's residence, requiring him to report to the nearest military base and enlist himself for service.

Damn it. Why now?

"This is a conspiracy, I tell you… a conspiracy!" was the final words that Albrecht heard when he last saw Leif. The young publisher couldn't comprehend the turn of events either. But one thing was for sure. He had to enlist himself with the Armed Forces in order to prove his loyalty to his adopted motherland. Luina's sanctuary will never be tarnished by those Pronteran scum.

It was a difficult decision Albrecht had to make sooner or later. His mentor, Marcus Laine, mysteriously disappeared around the time of the assassination and was never heard off again. Anois had to stay with Leif since she had no one else to rely to as long as Albrecht was in the military.

Albrecht gritted his teeth in defiance. He shouldn't be involved at the situation at all, but he had no other choice but to make sure that those he held dear would likely survive. He even advised Anois and Leif to evacuate the city and head north to El Mes Plateau, and seek refuge in Juno, if possible.

Maybe it was pure idealism on his part. The idea of fighting, protecting someone, and dying in the process of doing so appealed to him. Having hated his country of origin ever since his childhood, Albrecht decided to take up arms and prove to the world that his decision to go to the other side was correct.

If by any chance that he would be proven false, and if by any chance he would die in fighting for his beliefs, then he would simply become a hero or a martyr. Instead of being remembered as Gavril Rochester, a criminal with no future, he would be remembered in history as Albrecht Fleischer… a man who contributed immensely to the Aldebaran cause.

All he needed was a chance. The war was simply a way to a mean.

"If I survive this, I'll have the means to remake myself even further. All I need to do is pull the trigger." Albrecht thought to himself in an effort to rationalize his actions. Instead of choosing to flee the country with Anois and Leif, he decided to be left behind, feeling that a sense of duty for his country was something he never had before. Leif berated him, telling him that it wasn't necessary for him to prove anything, and his actions would more or less guarantee him an early death – something that Anois would never accept.

Albrecht simply smiled after Leif lectured him extensively. He admitted that he had a death wish of sorts.

Anois didn't speak to him during the course of their argument – perhaps unable to handle the situation herself. Albrecht consoled her afterwards, and promised to return.

After packing his things and his 'identification' papers that Leif helped him forge his new identity with, Albrecht left the Lodge and walked quietly towards the nearest military outpost, and asked directions on how to register for the Armed Forces. During this time, training was minimal and the military needed all the soldiers it can have – with or without experience in combat. All that they needed was a rifle, and a finger to pull the trigger.

Albrecht's thinking ceased after he signed and submitted his papers. His decision was irreversible.

Being in the military wasn't so bad. Despite the constant possibility of dying at any moment in or outside the battlefield, Gavril immediately adjusted to his surroundings. The people he met, young and old, shared a sense of nationalistic pride and dignity that he always wanted to see and feel. Aldebaran's citizens were resilient people, and their valor peerless.

At the break of dawn, Albrecht and his entire company was awoken by the sound of emergency sirens echoing throughout the entire base. The enemy had been spotted.

He headed to the supply room as he was instructed, and after a few moments of waiting in line with the other enlisted men, he was finally issued a standard Gewehr 98 service rifle. His ammunitions arrived after a few more inspections, and in a matter of hours, he and several of the men were loaded into military trucks bound for the Mjolnir mountain range.

Their first order was simple: Shoot and stay alive.

Albrecht viewed the scenery as the truck traversed the rocky mountain road that led to the foot of the mountain range. There were several entry points that the Pronteran Army could use to make a frontal assault, and as such, the Aldebaran Army hastily dug out trenches and lined the border with barbed wire and machine guns for the possibility of an infantry charge.

"This is insane." Albrecht murmured to himself as the first batch of enemies were sighted by the scouts.

The sound of machine guns rattled from the valley below, prompting the truck driver to stop and compelling the Company Commander to deploy Albrecht and the rest of his team. The trenches would serve as their cover so that the Mjolnir border would not be breached. The barbed wire will effectively stall any land forces that will attempt to occupy the mainland.

Upon hustling his way towards the trenches with his entire company, Albrecht and several of the newly enlisted personnel began their personal preparations before engaging the advancing Pronteran army.

Some of the soldiers prayed, while some shivered in fear while hastily loading a batch of bullets into their Gewehr 98 service rifles. A few more simply laid their backs against the walls of the trenches and breathed as if everything was going on just fine. There was a general feeling of impending death among the men, for any second could be their last the moment they raise their heads above the ground and fire with all the energy they have.

Without official orders from their Company Commander except to fire at will, the first batch of soldiers in the trenches had to play the waiting game. If they were lucky, the incoming troops would probably not fire until there was an opposition or a considerable target of their interest.

No piece of technology had been invented as of date that would allow the enemy soldiers to easily breach the deadlock of trench warfare. They either have to dig their way through the "no man's land" or risk getting shot while hustling through the battlefield en masse. Fighting at night or at dawn was a favorable tactic, but it was practically suicide the moment anyone decided to cross the line. From that moment on, the music available to everyone was the harmonious dissonance of bullets fired in every direction.