An Eldian's Journal
The Soul of War
Chapter 38: Fiction
"You're jealous of me, Viktor?"
"You wanna know why I'm such a clown, Heinrich?! I'll tell you why. Acting stupid is what makes the time go by for me."
"But, aren't you the one-"
"-That says to embrace the pain? Is that what you were gonna say? Yes, I do embrace it. Every morning, before anyone wakes up in the barracks, I go outside and punch a wall with my hand wraps."
"If I made you jealous, why did you come to the training camp, huh? Why are you here?"
"I came with you since I didn't want you to see the world outside the wall before me!"
I had pulled something out of the fighter that I had not expected. I wanted to know one thing in the beginning, but he served something else altogether with a touch of emotional warfare. The fury rode freely along his square-jaw, and I watched as my friend revealed his truths.
Kurt tilted his head slightly while looking at Viktor. The most rational person in the room acted far from that. "So, Viktor, …all that stuff about using this opportunity to get people to respect us...and rally them up to get out of the walls was a lie?!"
"I didn't lie about that! It's true."
"Kurt, what are you hiding from me?" I walked to the former 'warhammer.' "Viktor hid all that for a month. What are you hiding now?"
"Just because you're suspicious of that wall-keeper about whatever he did to that homeless man, doesn't mean everyone is hiding something from you, ok? I'm an open-book, dammit. I've always been an open-book!" He turned away for a few seconds before turning back around and held a finger at me. "The question is, what else are you hiding from me, Heinrich?"
A random soldier whistled in the entrance of the bathroom. He noticed us arguing, and his tune stopped abruptly before turning back to go out. "I can hold it in."
"I'm done with this," I said while removing my janitor uniform and tossing it into the sink. I walked to the barracks to get my regular uniform, but the boys' followed shortly after as if they wanted to continue the argument.
I walked to the mattress-less bed and picked up my regular uniform and put it on. After putting the pants on, Kurt asked, "Where do you think you're going?"
"I'm going back to training. I just have to find Kaslow first. You guys can clean yourselves." Viktor grabbed my shoulder as if he was trying to hold me back, but I just shoved it off.
Why was it that everyone around me was hiding something? Despite Viktor pouring all his thoughts, he ceased to tell us why he wanted to go into the trench so badly.
I looked around the camp but couldn't find Kaslow and the rest of the cadets. I assumed they would be marching, but it turned out they were eating their nutritional slop in the dining room. Likewise, I kept my head low in the line for the food but, as usual, Kaslow seemed to pick up on me thanks to his 6th sense.
"Steiner! You smell like shit." Kaslow grouped near me with a few more plump officers around him. I saluted them, with which the resident glutton replied, "Oh, so you salute for these two but not me? I'll remember that for when your final tests come around."
"Apologies, Sergeant." I used a formality for the sake of the other officers.
Kaslow looked behind as if he was expecting some rodents to follow me. "Where's the other two?"
"They should be coming from the barracks." Good lie.
"Well, until then, sit down at my table." He pointed one stubbly finger towards a table. "We need to talk about something quickly."
I got my serving of slop as I watched the sergeant waddle back to his bench. The officers left the dining hall and a few other cadets sat at the table near Kaslow.
I sat down at the table next to the cadets, but the pile of rice on my plate jiggled unnaturally as I set it down.
"Thanks for bringing me food, Steiner." He stole my plate and lifted the fork into his mouth. His mouth was large enough that one would assume he was an industrial strength toaster. "Alright, I'm sure it's no surprise to you five that your rifle skills are lacking. The only reason I called you is that you all plan to take a special route after this basic training."
"..."
"I'll cut to the chase. If you don't pass these basic skills, then you can't go to specialized training for those professions on time." He threw a potato into his mouth. "Be prepared to redo training. That is, if you don't sharpen your skills in the next few weeks. Get it?"
"..." The other cadets and I had immersed ourselves so fully in the feeling of failure that we didn't even reply to Kaslow.
"I asked, get it?"
"Yes, sarge!"
"Good. Eat up and we're doing drills afterwards." Kaslow got up from his bench and announced to the rest of the cadets. "Alright, subordinate mutts! Finish up your food, and we're doing drills afterwards. Got it?"
"..."
"Got it?"
"Yes, sarge!"
"That's better."
I got a second plate of sloppy nourishment since Kaslow stole my first; the food felt unusually appetizing since I hadn't eaten breakfast. We all left the dining hall when Kaslow got tired of waiting. During our march to the next drill, we found Viktor and Kurt approaching us looking more dejected than usual.
Kaslow grumbled. "You two are late. I told you all to finish by lunchtime!"
"Sorry, Sarge."
"Whatever. Heinrich can tell you what I told him earlier. We got drills to do."
The boys' stood behind me while trying not to acknowledge my presence. That was hard to do though since Kaslow was expecting me to catch them up on what was going on.
The bully, Milo, chimed in for his ritual taunt from a row ahead of us. "You three seem quieter than usual. The bathroom must have really horrified you guys." He elbowed one of the other cadets as if he was hoping for a laugh from them (which failed, of course.)
"Your taunts are just as good as your soldiering skills, Milo." Kaslow retorted.
By the time dinner rolled around, my muscles were wrung clean of energy. Their ache mirrored my mental state: always aching about something. I was like a vehicle in desperate need of an oil change and gear replacements. (I imagine that's how old people feel nowadays just going up and down the stairs.)
Upon arrival in the dining room, the warrior candidates lined the benches eating their dinners quietly. I contemplated what kind of quiet it was, since there's a good kind and a bad kind. This was a good one. It was the kind that showed they trained well and were tired.
Falco stuck out as usual. He was a golden crumb on the tables full of dry and stale breadcrumbs that were the other warriors. One of the breadcrumbs wore a bun and happened to be a female. It was the one who kicked me in the balls months before then.
I found myself a table in the corner of the room and sat down with a cup of water. I rested my forearms on the wooden surface and next my head. I closed my eyes and rested in the dark.
Someone poked my scalp.
"Falco?" I asked, still with my eyes closed. I opened my eyes and lifted my head to see Viktor and Kurt.
Kurt asked, "So, what did Kaslow tell you earlier today?" His eye contact was minimum, as were his interactions with me. He just tried to get information across as efficiently as possible.
"He told me that if our rifle skills and other basic skills are still horrible in a few weeks, we will not be able to move onto the medical training on time."
They gnawed on the rock-like bread while contemplating. "Shit."
"What are we going to do about it?" I asked.
Kurt replied with a whiff of tenacity in his voice, "We are going to get better, obviously. What else were you expecting?"
"I was just asking, damn."
Viktor added unnecessarily, "It's common sense, but of course you don't have much of that."
I stood up from my bench. "What do you guys want from me? Do you want me to pray by your feet for forgiveness or something?"
Viktor added on a petty comment while reaching for some water, with profanity in between of course. "We want you to stop being a little bitch, that's what."
"Says the guy who's supposed to be jealous of me."
Viktor put his cup of water down and stood up as well. Our stare down was interrupted by a mention of my name. "Heinrich?" Past the table was Falco holding a stale cookie while watching intently. He asked Viktor, "Why are you so mean to him?" Viktor looked at me and chuckled. "You have kids saving the day for you now, huh? You're going to tell everything to that little kid, but you won't tell us anything, is that it?"
I knocked Viktor's water cup into his lap and walked away with Falco. Upon reaching the entrance, a voice called from the back. "Falco, where are you going? I thought we were going on a walk together after dinner."
"Maybe later, Colt!" The boy calling happened to be an older derivative of Falco. He looked to be my age and had blonde hair, much like I did.
"And who's that guy?" Colt looked at me.
"I'll tell you later!"
XXX
Falco pulled me out of the dining room. "I have a few napkins and a pen. But where should we sit?" I led Falco to the pile of wooden planks that sat outside my barrack; we sat together, with the light above us doing its evening stretches before a long night of work.
"Heinrich, who were those guys?"
"They're my friends."
"Friends aren't that mean."
"They didn't use to be that mean...until today."
"Why today?"
"Hmm... Well, I got angry at my friend today for not apologizing for what he got us into yesterday. I was also angry about how he was always cracking jokes and not getting angry like regular people should be...but then he said he is angry, every morning in fact, because I make him jealous... I could never tell he was jealous though until he said it." I didn't know how to phrase it to him. "Can you think of anyone that you think is totally fine but one day, without any buildup, they say they're jealous or even dislike you?"
"Yes."
"Who?"
"You, Heinrich."
I leaned away in shock. "What? When did I ever-"
"You called me pathetic on that day when I got accepted as a warrior candidate...but I know why. You were worried about me. It made you sad." He sighed and looked out towards the people grazing by. "And now you're here too...should I call you pathetic too?"
"My friends probably would think I deserve it."
Falco started scribbling on a napkin with a black pen. It took a while for the ink to activate, and the initial strokes were fruitless. "What do you want to tell your parents, Heinrich?"
"I...don't know. That's why I asked for your help."
"Umm." He scratched the back of his head with the butt of the pen. "I don't know anything either. Also, my writing isn't that good."
"Then what am I supposed to send back?" I remembered that papa had put some dirt in the envelope since it is 'the closest way' to walk on the same ground as him. "Maybe I can send Papa some dirt back."
"Dirt?"
"It's a long story."
Falco chewed on the end of the pen. "Hmm...maybe tell them something funny."
"Why? And look where we are. There isn't much funny stuff around here."
"Funny things always make me feel better. They used to have funny stories in the newspapers at home. Maybe one will make your mama and papa happy."
I looked back on the past days of the month and tried to sift through the files of monotony and all its laborious synonyms. There was something good in there, and ironically it was from some moments with the deplorable Kaslow. I remember the time he was asking a partially hungover Viktor questions.
"I do have a funny moment," I told Falco.
"Okay, write it down." He handed me a napkin and pen. I set down the napkin on my thigh with the pen.
"Ok."
"What's wrong with you, cadet?"
"I'm Eldian, sarge."
"I mean, what's wrong with you besides that?"
"Nothing is wrong, sarge."
"I don't believe you."
"Why don't you believe me, sarge?"
"Because I don't see fear in your eyes. If you feared me, you'd be telling the truth!"
"The truth is, sarge, you look mighty handsome today. It's making me act up. Did you get a haircut?"
"Umm." He scratched the back of his head with the butt of the pen. "I don't know anything either. Also, my writing isn't that good."
"Then what am I supposed to send back?" I remembered that papa had put some dirt in the envelope since it is 'the closest way' to walk on the same ground as him. "Maybe I can send Papa some dirt back."
"Dirt?"
"It's a long story."
Falco chewed on the end of the pen. "Hmm...maybe tell them something funny."
"Why? And look where we are. There isn't much funny stuff around here."
"Funny things always make me feel better. They used to have funny stories in the newspapers at home. Maybe one will make your mama and papa happy."
I looked back on the past days of the month and tried to sift through the files of monotony and all its laborious synonyms. There was something good in there, and ironically, it was from some moments with the deplorable Kaslow. I remember the time he was asking a partially hungover Viktor questions.
"I do have a funny moment," I told Falco.
"Okay, write it down." He handed me a napkin and pen. I set down the napkin on my thigh with the pen.
"Ok."
"What's wrong with you, cadet?"
"I'm Eldian, sarge."
"I mean, what's wrong with you besides that?"
"Nothing is wrong, sarge."
"I don't believe you."
"Why don't you believe me, sarge?"
"Because I don't see fear in your eyes. If you feared me, you'd be telling the truth!"
"The truth is, sarge, you look mighty handsome today. It's making me act up. Did you get a haircut?"
The golden boy started laughing a bit while flailing his arms around, but when he noticed that I noticed, he grew reserved. "That's kind of funny."
"Yea?"
As I pondered more about what to write, Falco slipped the pen from my grasp and started doodling on another napkin. I didn't think much of it as I got distracted. Ideas of some funny things to write came and went, in and out of my bothered mind. I then remembered something: "I forgot to bring a newspaper. How are we going to do the crossword puzzle?"
Falco looked up from his napkin. "We can do that some other day." I guess he wasn't that interested in it to begin with. Despite this, I got drawn into the scribbles Falco engraved in the cheap napkin in his lap. It poorly resembled a human, for its upper body was a triangle and its legs were toothpicks. I guess visual artistry is a skill only for a select group of Eldians.
"What are you drawing, Falco?"
"This is a hero me and my friends made up while we were in the internment zone. We don't have a name for him yet."
"What is his superpower? Where does he come from?"
"We didn't really think of that, but there is one thing we know. Whenever he eats bread, he gets the power of a titan. And he's supposed to be funny!"
"Oh really?" I couldn't decide between bluntly telling Falco how dumb his hero sounded or giving a smile to keep him happy. I chose the latter.
He continued with his scribbling. "I was thinking today, maybe someone needs to write a humor section for the newspapers. It would make people feel better. More people will take the newspapers, and they won't go to waste."
"That would probably help. Although, a crossword puzzle is enough for me."
"I have an idea." The golden eyes carried a mute shimmer under the yawning light illuminating us. "Maybe I can write a story."
I didn't say anything to allow the statement to properly soak. It was a slightly ambitious idea, especially for a 8-9 year old child.
He continued, but the shimmer in his eyes tamed themselves. He came back to reality, "But I can't write too well. I don't know how to get him out there." He then grasped his napkin and lifted it to my face. "You don't have your music anymore, but you always have words with you. Maybe...maybe...you can write the story...make him real in the soldiers' heads."
"Falco, I can't-"
He lowered the napkin. "It's a dumb idea, isn't it? I just thought it would be fun."
I started wondering about the practicality of it all. I had to deal with my friends and get our skills up to par so that we could progress to our medical training. And the elephant in the room, I wasn't a writer.
I guess I am one now.
I wonder where that began.
"Falco, let's try it. We can write one chapter first. You tell me the ideas. I will transcribe them for you."
"Transbibe?"
"Transcribe."
"What's that?"
"Uhh... I will just write it out for you. I will make it a proper story."
"Ok!" He slid down the planks and stood on the ground with his legs quivering about in excitement. It was as if the idea lit him with a shock of anticipation. "Let's do it! But how?"
"I don't know. I've never written anything creative before."
Oh, the irony.
I wrote this chapter in one day for you guys.
So, to you wonderful strangers out there, happy thanksgiving
The Real Author's Note
Here in the states we have a holiday in November called "Thanksgiving" where we celebrate gratitude and are greatful for many things (and eat lots of food). I don't have a turkey, sweet potato, or anything like that to give.
But I do have something sweeter: this chapter. I wrote it one day. Its a new record.
Today, I am grateful for you internet strangers. Here's too a few more months ***wine glass clinks***
That reminds me, we are coming quite close to the one year anniversary of this story...