Time has a rather bad way of changing things.
Not that the changes themselves are bad…change has to happen after all. Even the most efficient of systems must change and adapt according to new factors and time.
The woman traveling now in the back of a jeep once believed in nothing but utter, perfect efficiency, but with time her strength was lost…her power was lost. Her body did not grow and mature much with age, making her look like a stunted, wrinkled raisin by this time. So off putting was her visage that the soldiers of the Unified States driving her along could barely look at her or the white, thin hair on her hear that barely hid her aging, liver spot ridden scalp.
Once upon a time she had been a propaganda tool, a cute little thing with a fierce attitude and a ruthless streak that became a symbol for the people she served…and now that she knows how history treats her she realizes that those same people have tried to reject her very existence for years. She should have realized from her previous life that the people above will throw you under the bus in order to pass blame…but maybe she figured that she was too important. That she had made a mark for herself that no one could ignore.
She was wrong.
The machine stops. "We're here ma'am, do you need help-"
"Just open the door." She cuts off the soldier, speaking with an aged venom in her voice before grabbing her cane.
Of course they looked at her and saw a frail old woman, age had allowed her to cultivate that sort of image for herself as she stepped out of the jeep. She made sure to give them something of a show as she wobbled on her feet once they hit the pavement until she steadied herself with the cane.
"Welcome to Area 15, Tuha Air Force base." Another soldier, this time being a woman, greets her with a smile. "We have received the package you sent for us…and we thank you for being so cooperative."
The old woman barely listened to the soldier before her. Instead she listened to the sky.
Tell tale booms and the air being cut above strike at her old heart, she looks up and sees figures whizzing about far above her, dots cartwheeling at high speed through the air.
"Ah yes, those are our new model flying suits for mages. Probably a lot more armored compared to the days of the Great War."
"Feh…armor." The old woman spat off to the side. "They're mages, their magic should be enough. I used to fly even faster than they were going without the need for any protective armor."
The soldier looks at her in utter disbelief. "Ma'am, those are brand new models, just conceived last year in 1980, I'm pretty sure they're above anything you flew over fifty years ago."
"If you people had everything better than anyone did fifty years ago I wouldn't have been dragged out here, would I?" A bitter bit of venom escapes her throat again before she decides to try to pin that back a bit, putting on a bit of an old, doddering grandma routine. "Ahh, sorry, just a little cranky is all. That ride was terrible on my hips…be a dearie and lead on."
The old woman routine works somewhat, getting the girl to lead her toward the base proper…all while part of her feels like it should be up in that sky.
She hadn't forgotten the rush of it all, the feel of having her back against the wall in battle. The wind in her hair and the smell of ash and fire. The control she had…the power and the people who listened to her every, hanging word.
All of it was gone now…but a part of her wished she could taste it at least once more before the end. To see the enemy thousands of feet below scurrying away like ants as the cold air rushed around her.
For a moment, for the tiniest sliver of a second, she wonders to herself if it must be how god feels looking down upon people?
The thought repulses her, causing that deep, bitter bile to rise up inside of her once again…but it was okay. Today would end all of it. The game would be over and she would have a revenge more than fifty years in the making.
So, she soldiered on, wearing the skin of an old, wrinkled and tired old woman, the same as she had a little girl back in the great war…and the same as she wore one of a salaryman before that.
Inside it all was a devil, waiting to get its due.
Lieutenant Louis Donnel had never thought to be a soldier when he was a child. He had actually grown up rather afraid of war despite the fact not a single one had touched the shores of his nation even before he was born…but he would always be aware of the wars that happened around the world, even when he was young.
What started out as a fear became a sort of morbid fascination…and that grew in his teenage years to a sort of need to study battle and the art of being a soldier. Once past secondary education he realized that all he really wanted to learn more about was the military and being a soldier so that maybe one day he could be an informed historian about it.
Honestly, there was never a bad time to join the Unified States. They had started fighting small wars all over the pacific for the last fifty years as well as battles in the middle east as well, so the nation was always hurting for more men to help things along.
Not that Donnel was one for battle really, he considered himself a part of administration. Someone who kept the wheels moving and could give good advice based on the history of what had come before. Because of that he actually had something of a good relationship with one of the old generals on the base who would regale him with tales of the other wars and the people who fought them.
It was actually for that reason that the young lieutenant had gone to the general's office, to plead with him to hear a story…though not from the general's lips.
"I just think that her view on all this can be very important."
"And?" The general sighs while looking outside through the blinds, seeing his men fly and the old woman shuffling in.
"Well, okay…I don't want to wait four to eight months to read what she says in a report once the investigation into all this is over! It's going to be a day or two before the people sent from high command get here to interrogate her, I just want a day to talk to her, just a bit?"
Donnel couldn't see the general's face from where he sat, but probably figured it wouldn't help much. The general had to wear an eyepatch and a face covering from wounds he suffered in a few earlier wars that he didn't wish to speak about. According to what Donnel had heard he had been a tall beast of a man in his young days…but age had cut him down to the bone, making him not much more than an old, boney man in a uniform.
"Do you know who she is, lieutenant?"
"I know she was a soldier that was part of the former Empire, and I know that we've brought her here because of the Strauss she had and what that means."
The general sighs. "She's a dangerous woman, from a dangerous time. You should be very scared of her, even despite her age…but I understand your curiosity. I'll allow you to interview her on two conditions."
Donnel couldn't help but smile like a schoolboy when the recess bell hit, having to readjust his glasses quickly before standing right at attention. "Of course sir! Tell me the conditions and I will follow them to the letter!"
"Firstly, when you're done you report to me…because I'm a tad curious myself about what she's going to say." The general states before clearing his throat. "Secondly, show that woman respect. I know her kind and the type of soldier she is…doesn't respect fools. Understood?"
"Yes sir!"
"Good, dismissed."
The lieutenant salutes the general before marching out of the room and trying to contain his excitement while the older man sighed.
All of this has been much too convenient…and after looking for this woman for years she suddenly just pops up onto their doorstep? She must know she may be tried for war crimes and yet she still came here, allowing herself to essentially be captured and her identity verified…the general couldn't console the facts together, so letting Donnel have a poke at her first may have been a good move.
However, he couldn't shake the fact that he might have put a man in the hands of that little devil.
The old woman had been left in a small meeting room on the corner of the base. It wasn't as lavish as the old school Imperial strategy rooms she had been used to, but time tends to bring things down a bit from such luxurious, gaudy styles to something much more simple. Simple chairs made of plastics and screws rather than the meticulously carved wood. An off the shelf conference table that was no doubt available for civilians to buy…it all spoke to the side of her that she still considered to be pragmatic.
Still…part of her missed those old, overindulgent styles. The Imperial Army of her day spoke and worked in large buildings built in the 1800's meant for aristocracy and housing royalty in some cases. They had fireplaces and tried to serve food meant to be fancy but really was mostly just boiled a bit too much for her taste.
That was at least one thing she could say that got better with the march of time without question. Food back in the days of the war had been terrible wherever one could go save for only a few select items.
Ah, how she craved a good bit of coffee right now. She hadn't hadn't had a decent cup since the great war. Only her first lieutenant back in the war could really make a cup she considered to be excellent…maybe all those years ago she should have asked how the woman had done it? Maybe in all of her years of searching around after the Great War she could have looked for that girl…but thinking about all of that was moot in her mind.
Nothing more than pointless reminiscing.
The door opens, catching her attention as she turns to look upon some young, brown haired lieutenant, closing the door behind him before marching forward and standing at attention.
For a moment, she wonders what he's doing…until she realizes that he's actually waiting for her to allow him to relax himself. "At ease soldier, tell me why you're here? Is there some sort of delay?"
The young man moves his hands behind his back while standing at ease. "No ma'am. I am Lieutenant to the General that runs this base. I like to think of myself as a student of history trying to learn all I can. To that end, he has allowed me to interview you before the high command sends down its own men to investigate your claim."
Well, at very least he was being respectful in a way, it did sort of poke at her old feelings of being in a powerful position over others.
"What is your name Lieutenant?"
"Louis Donnel."
She smiles at him, a dry wry smile that an old witch might give to a man she plans to boil away in a cauldron. "Take a seat Lieutenant Donnel."
The old woman sizes him up as he goes from a position of at ease to take a seat. He was working hard to be formal around her and it was doing it's job to please her…but she had ways of finding out the difference between brown nosers and people who respected her.
"Now tell me, being such a student of history…do you know who I am?"
"Do you mean your name…or who you were in the war?" He asks before trying to look on top of things a little. "I know your name…and your rank, but a lot of info about you has apparently been classified…and really, I'm not looking to learn about you in particular. Besides, all soldiers are equals in God's eyes."
The woman's mouth parted in shock for only the slightest of moments, only to then smile as if she had found something rather special in those few words of his that brought to her a sort of twisted and bitter happiness.
"Oh, are they now?" She states before letting a low, dry laugh escape from her throat, stopping it only before it turns into a cackle as she looks back to the soldier sitting across the table from her. "Tell me boy, how well do you know about the Great War?"
Donnel leans forward, hoping to show some level of expertise. "I know how it started, with the assinsation of the Empire's Prince and the former Entente Alliance's reaction to it. I know about plan 315 and the delaying actions across all theaters."
"Good good." Her face brightened if only a little as the wrinkled parts of her face curved ever so slightly. "Then you must know about the war that started with the Grand Duchy of Dacia and the mage battalion sent in to quell them?"
He gives her a bit of an awkward, half smile. "I know of the War with Dacia…but I could not tell you of the specific mage battalion that attacked. I think they were…aerial magest?"
A faded look of calm disappointment began to crawl over her face. She could remember all of that like it was yesterday. How the Dacians hadn't even been ready for a truly mechanized and magical war, how just her battalion had sewn so much chaos and went further inland to destroy an arms foundry…and yet history was keen to forget the specifics.
"Too bad, there was a lot to be said about all that…I was there." She waves it off before changing the subject. "What of the Russy invasion strategy in 1926?"
"Well everyone knows the joke about that, the Russy getting trounced at Trouncenberg. They wanted to annihilate Imperial forces in order to secure their own borders."
"A limited perspective, but not inaccurate." She tuts before going on. "You must have heard of the air combat that went on over the Battle of Tiegenhoff?"
She tries at the very least to hope he would have heard of that and what her battalion managed, but again she could see the awkward look upon his face.
"I know of the battle itself…but I'm not overly familiar with the aerial combat part of it."
The old woman wanted to spit on him. It was such a cruel joke that for everything she did back in those days, history had only rewarded her as being a footnote…but she knew that wasn't the only cruel joke played upon her.
"Ah,I know..." She smiles at him through gritted, white, well maintained teeth. "Vinnie's Ridge."
The young man's face lit up like a light bulb. "Oh I know just about everything about that one. I know the weapons used, the forces there. I've seen just about every single movie about it as well. I mean…what happened there was just crazy, it's still crazy. The weapons used and the people that were there…wait, were you there?"
She smiles at him, beaming back at him as his excitement grows to gigantic heights.
"No."
He blinks at her answer, realizing just how much excitement he had shown before dialing it back just a little.
"I wasn't there…but I do know someone who was." She allows that frown of her's to go upside down as her memories turn to the tall, scarred 'hero' of the Empire. "He's why I'm here after all, you and all your people are just as curious about him as every other country."
Trying to contain his excitement from boiling over again, he clears his throat. "Did you know him? Do you think he's alive?"
The old, fading blonde hair of the woman falls before her face as an old anger mixing with a delightful, giggling happiness boils up inside of her, making her have to turn away to hide the nearly deranged, horrifying look upon her face.
"I knew of him…then I knew him…I knew of his life and his friends…I knew of a woman who loved him…and I was even tasked with assassinating him."
Donnel was intensely shocked by that statement, suddenly realizing the kind of importance this woman could actually hold toward history here.
"What was his name? Like his actual name? All anyone has is that code name of his?"
She turns back to the young man, letting her little moment of anger and joy pass before looking utterly bored at such a mundane question. "So far that I know, it wasn't a code name. That was just his actual name. No last name, just one simple one that nobody really asked about."
The young man was hanging on her every word, and it was no surprise. He wouldn't have been the only one interested in the information he was fishing for here…because if she knew even the smallest bit about what she was talking about now it could lead them to him or the information toward the things he created. Even if it led nowhere it would still be fascinating to know more about the man who could have changed the world entirely if he was ever to have been found.
"Okay…I know a lot about Vinnie's Ridge, but there's no real history to go on before that mentions him at all. So do you know anything about him before that?"
"Feh, all I heard was that he had worked for an apple farmer and that was it before he was a soldier." She states, waving her hand through the air as she waved that unimportant part away. "However, funny that you ask…the first time I had become aware of him was a little story that had spread around the War College back in 1924, involving a nobleman, a duel…and of course, the man himself."
"King!"
Sleep can be said to lift the burdens off of great men…but only when they get enough of it. To those who don't get enough though…the weight of those burdens can add up day after day.
The young man from another world known as King had been quite burdened by work and bad dreams and was therefore unprepared when his superior, Major Hausen, slammed his hand down upon his desk, waking him.
"Oh uh…ugh…" Shaking his head the young man tried to catch his bearings as he looked around his small office and the decorated man before him.
"I swear…I don't know why I even entertained Strauss by taking you in as my assistant. You are nowhere near competent enough for this job, young man!" The posh, older gentlemen huffed at him. "Now take care of your work and organize all of those field reports before we clock out for the day. I do not wish to miss the opera tonight."
"Yes sir…" King sighs as he rubs his eyes and straightens his uniform while Hausen's uniform jingled and jangled with all the medals pinned to it.
Strauss had told him this would be a cushy job and that Hausen was just a military blowhard, but still…he was at least grateful not to be anywhere close to the front lines. His little job as a corporal and assistant was pretty cushy compared to the hell painted by the reports coming from the front lines.
Hausen tended to ride him pretty hard despite the fact that his job too, was rather cushy. He was something akin to more of someone given an honorary title in the military rather than an actual soldier. He was apparently some minor lord whose family ruled over some small part of the country before it unified. His family was able to keep a decent position in terms of royalty and status but in reality they didn't end up dictating much.
Sure, he could watch far off to the sidelines of battle, give orders and then reward himself with all the medals he wanted, but it didn't end up winning him much respect.
However, King still appreciated his position. It had kept him away from the war for almost a year now. It had allowed him to send money off to Strauss to keep him and Zanah afloat. There was even enough left over after his own expenses to get the girl art supplies and even a private tutor to teach her how to draw.
Apparently she had been making good strides with her new teacher, a mister Schicklgruber. Oddly enough, according to Strauss, his name had been the first full name she had ever been able to pronounce, which was rather surprising, considering it wasn't a simple name to pronounce.
King enjoyed reading the letters he would get from the old man about how things were going. He remembered how resistant he had first been to the idea of him taking his place in the military and sending them back money instead of him going back…but there was no way the young, scarred man was just going to let Zanah go without her grandfather. They were now living close to Berun where there was no chance of the war touching them for the moment.
Meanwhile, King was stuck at Charloburg War College. It was strange to think of the fact that he was thirty years old now and working in what was basically a school. Hausen taught military history, mostly embellishing bits about how old royalty would lead their soldiers and such while also reviewing battlefield reports for high command. The blustering Major liked to be a part of teaching the next generation of leaders while still having his name on documents that high command would see day to day.
In the end though, it left King with a fair bit of work as his assistant. He had to look over just about every single page of work the man did for errors…as well as write up some himself when the aristocrat couldn't be bothered to do so. The job at least had its perks. He was granted a small apartment for himself and access to the library of the college, which included more than enough books for him to read in an effort to try to entertain himself…though honestly, he really missed manga and video games.
"Alright…that should do it." Once he had knuckled down on the reports, he finished what was left within the hour and informed Hausen who in turn almost stormed out to catch the opera while King sauntered back to his apartment.
He hoped when he opened his door that he might see a letter for him had slipped under it. One of the few interactions he had outside of Hausen was the correspondence he received from Strauss…but in a world of basic technology and the limitations of magic, snail mail was still as slow as the name suggested.
He took off his stuffy uniform and collapsed atop his bed. "Who knows…maybe another 20 years…I could start seeing some more phones around."
Well, he could wait…or there was another option.
One of the problems plaguing his sleep had been terrible dreams that had become more and more pronounced over the span of the last year…all of them taking place in that moment he faced down Ankare and that greater being spoke to him. Each dream had dropped another nugget of what happened during that moment in his brain, like a drip feed of memory night after night…but there was something more to it.
King reached down into his pocket and pulled out the computational jewel the old man had gifted him. The young man had been tested for any magical power but had been rated the absolute lowest scores, meaning that any use of a jewel would produce minimal results…but that didn't stop him from trying out some things.
Mostly it had been small tests. Creating fire, manipulating certain objects…he came to realize that the reason a lot of magic was complex was more a matter of what they worked with than the spells themselves.
Fire, for example, wasn't anything too complex. At his level of strength he could create a tiny flame that hovered in front of his palm. True, it could barely light a candle…but it was progress.
Moving a pencil however became an even greater challenge. From what he understood from books on the subject, mages basically moved things by creating a magical grip on objects. Usually this either extended to some sort of item they could ride on or attach themselves to, like a harness or ski's made of one single bit of material. In fact he even realized that this was how they created shields to a degree as well, by making the magic itself grip the air and form a structure before them…but the reason they were doing this was because moving even a simple pencil was extremely complicated.
Magic can't usually just touch one part of an object…it pulls at all of it, and if one can't account for all the parts of a pencil such as the wood, the lead and even the eraser…it's like trying to pull something toward you with a string made out of water. It might roll a bit but a full grip is nearly impossible with just simple magic.
So…King tried to go back to the drawing board, figuring out more about what was possible to do with a computational jewel rather than what he couldn't do at the moment. What started peaking his interest over the last few days had been the aspect of coding in magic.
Now, he was no programming genius…but even cursory knowledge of video games and electronics of his world could allow him to start paring down the entire idea of magic into a sort of binary code.
Of course…the coding itself was damn near useless at the moment, the amount of commands he would have to do to move a pencil through the use of such a basic jewel would be gargantuan…perhaps if he looked at a more advanced model he could see if there were any new kinds of magical code implemented? Maybe they had created shortcuts to the things King had been trying to learn so far.
Those thoughts would have to wait. He plugged the blue jewel back into his pocket before he reached over the side of his bed, grabbing at the pencil he had been trying to move for almost a week now as well as some paper.
King tended to write slowly because he wanted to really make sure he didn't have to cross anything out or make any corrections to what he wrote to Strauss and Zanah. He may have been something of a slacker at his job for Hausen…but he wasn't going to half ass it when it came to the people he had grown attached to.
Soon he would have to light a candle with a little flame he created through magic to keep enough light to continue. He wanted Strauss to know everything was going fine, but that the war itself worried him. Everyday new casualty reports would come in and despite Hausen and commands indifference the amount of people dying shocked him…but he didn't dwell on it as the old man would just tend to tell him that it was just how war is.
He really wished he could see Zanah, and hoped that maybe she could part with a drawing of hers that he could see. In an earlier letter he said the little one had grown an inch or two since he left and the old man figured he might have to look up to her someday if she grows at the same rate as she has over the last year or so.
The candle continues to burn as King lays back and stares at the letter, reading it over again and again and again with pencil in hand. Maybe he should change a few words…maybe even write more…but he can feel his eyes tired as his need to sleep creeps up on him again.
King gets a new paper, putting pencil to it near the top, trying to wrangle his mind together to rewrite the letter but it's no use…he falls asleep with pencil in hand.
It's not all too long before the dreams start again…and always at the same spot. Zanah screaming, wailing for god as in the dream it feels like a storm of fire is trying to consume them all. The man in the armor is full of hatred, eyes glowing red as he aims to kill everyone there after the old man.
God does not intervene like how he did, no…instead a series of golden runs flow around King, obscuring his vision as his mind cannot help but read them. Words like control and corruption flow through his mind, expressed in a dozen different ways through the combination of the runes as the metal beast of a man approaches.
The dream will go as always, it will continue on repeating the screaming, the fighting and death marching toward him again and again, it getting closer each time as King tries to grasp the runes he knows will save him.
Meanwhile…in the real world, his hand starts to move pencil over paper.
"How dare you sir!"
The morning had been terrible for King. He had slept through the morning church bells again and had to rush to awaken himself and dash out the door, forgetting to mail the letter he wrote last night.
When he did get to work, Hausen had him working on a flurry of assignments, berating him for his tardiness before going into the beauty of the opera he had seen last night, speaking or Ragner and the great pieces he had contributed to the Fatherland while the young man was just trying to catch up with work.
However, passing by was another professor at the War College, another man of royalty that the army tried to shuffle away to a teaching position…though he was from a family that seemed to have a history with the Hausen. He stepped into the conversation and they both started an argument right in front of King's desk about music, operas and the history of the land before unification that seemed to just be a way to get bad blood out.
"How is Ragner overrated?!" Hausen nearly screamed. "His classics will be sung again and again over the ages!"
"Oh yes, over the ages and ages…because that's what they are, aged!" The other noblemen fired back. "Nobody wants to hear the stories about petty gods anymore, they want modern stories, opera's about people, love and even wars we fight, but it's not surprising that someone of the Hausen line is stuck in the past."
On top of being tired, the fighting before him was giving him quite the headache. King never considered himself a guy to get overagitated but along with losing sleep and the frustration over not being able to send the letter, coupled with a growing headache pushed the tall man over his boiling point.
So…he slammed his fist down upon his desk, catching the attention of the snarling royals and bringing it to him.
"For God's sake…I hate to say but you two are acting like children, not people of any kind of high class. How about you solve this like royals and just leave me to do my work, okay?"
At first, the two men were ready to turn their anger on the common soldier who dared to interrupt the conversation…until the man who had been arguing with Hauser hatched an interesting little idea. "You know, I think your boy is right there. We are scrabbling like common children…when we should be doing this the way our great forefathers have done."
Hauser suddenly grew a wicked smile upon his face. "Ah…I see what you are saying, yes…that does sound like the way it should be done."
The other man turns toward King. "Will you have the boy speak for you tomorrow then?"
Before Hauser could answer the young man waved it off, a bit of annoyance in his voice. "Yes yes, I'll speak for him tomorrow, now if you would please sir, Major Hauser is rather busy."
Surprising, the man left with little commotion, leaving King in relative peace for a few moments. However, he began to realize in those quiet seconds that Hauser himself hadn't moved. He looks up to see a stunned look upon his face as he looks down at King.
"Uh…is something wrong?"
He shakes his head. "Far to the contrary my boy…in fact, I feel like I must apologize."
Oh, he was just apologizing for the argument? King could get behind that.
"I mean, I thought you were nothing but a slacker before this, but I can now see why Strauss was quite right to speak of you after witnessing the courage you just displayed."
Wait, what? Had he been courageous? He guessed that poking his head between two nobles was something that took a little courage…but frankly he had mostly been annoyed.
"Thanks Major, I appreciate that."
"Oh my dear boy, I appreciate you know, especially for volunteering yourself, such raw bravery…it really touches my heart."
Wait…volunteering himself?
He suddenly plays back the conversation from just a minute ago in his head and realizes that he did indeed volunteer himself to speak for the major…but for what?
"Uh ya…so tomorrow, right? That's when I speak for you?"
"Yes, though I suspect he will get someone to speak on his behalf as well, do not worry though my boy, I shall procure you a pistol so that your aim will be true so that you may find honor over that fool or find it in death fighting for me!"
King's eyes suddenly went wide.
"WAIT WHAT!?"
Long before the unification of the Fatherland, there were dozens, if not hundreds of old laws and rules that pertained to how gentlemen and royalty would conduct themselves. Disagreements tended to be handled in simple aways…and the most egregious of errors usually led to some kind of war…but somewhere in the middle there addressed a way to deal with an insult to one's status or tastes.
The royals tended to call it a one word debate, though in more practical terms…they were duels to the death.
Of course, for the most part, the royals wouldn't actually duel themselves. They would get men to 'speak' for them, usually soldiers or a marksman who were involved or loyal to a particular family. If your speaker died in a duel it simply meant that you lost the argument…however to the speakers themselves, it meant…death.
Technically speaking, these one word debates were illegal within the unified Empire…the problem was that the royals didn't happen to care, since the law dictated that only the speakers involved could be punished and not the royalty who were setting up the death match in the first place.
This left King in a rather terrible position as one might imagine. Telling anyone the higher ups would get him in trouble and embarrass his boss. Not fighting for his boss would mean Hauser would be left to fight for himself…which while he didn't like the guy, he didn't want him to die…but then again, he didn't want to die either.
Old, terrible gut wrenching fears had been dredged up because of that as King walked back to his apartment. He was only slightly elated when she saw that a letter had been slipped under his door upon entering, but even then he was still being carried forward by an overstressed and terrified mind.
The young man drifted like a ghost the moment he stepped into his apartment. He didn't even end up sitting on his bed to think, opting to nearly collapse before it. He ended up sitting on the floor and laying against the side of the mattress as he pulled up the letter.
He turned the letter to its side, ripped open the packaging…and pulled what was inside out so that he could read it.
Hello there my boy.
I received your last letter, and I'll tell you now you should be getting some more sleep. It does a soldier no good if he's losing time over something so trivial as closing his eyes and resting.
Zanah is doing well. That teacher I hired, Schicklgruber, isn't really much on paper but he's got a passion…even if it's sort of an angry one, but the girl likes him enough and is able to learn from him by trying to copy his strokes and work, not that I really understand any of the art theory he talks about or the reasons he thinks he wasn't allowed into any famous art schools.
She misses you. I can see it in her eyes sometimes. She misses being tied to you and being allowed to float about. I hope that you can come down during the winter to see us if Hauser allows it. If he gives you a hard time do please remind him he still owes me a favor or two from back in the day.
Keep safe, Herr Strauss.
It was hard not for King to curl up in a ball with his face quivering as he got so utterly close to crying. He couldn't even blame this one on his luck as it had been taken away…this one was all on decisions he made. If he had just stayed out of the argument and let those two bark on he wouldn't be in such a mess.
He did have one option at the least…but it wasn't one he really wanted to resort to, but in literal desperate times…some things called for desperate measures.
So…he turned, stood on his knees, put his elbows on the top of the bed…bowed his head…and put his hands together to pray.
"Are you there god? It's me,King, you know…the ungrateful guy?" Ugh, he felt really stupid for this…but knew that somewhere that being must be watching him. "I…sort of forgot to thank you for helping me back in Hellsing, it was an insane situation and…well, I appreciate it much more now, I really do."
He opens his eyes, hoping to see that the world has stopped and maybe the bed will start talking to him in god's voice…but it doesn't. At best it just starts to rain outside his window.
"Look…come on. You told me I would be your instrument…how can I do that if I die? How can I bring any of the faithful to you if me having faith just ends tomorrow with me dying?"
Again, no answer…not even the sound of thunder to come along with the light rain.
He spreads his legs, anger and desperation coming over him as something pokes at his knees and he tries to clutch his fingers together harder. "Come on…answer me already!"
Silence is the only answer he gets in the next few moments, that and the pitter patter of rain against his window.
He figures that the being that watched him may have just gotten bored. Maybe in the last year he should have been doing something about what god had wanted…or maybe he never had a good handle on whatever the thing watching him was.
He tried to get up off his knees, but only felt something small dig into his left kneecap. He looks down to the side to see the pencil he had used last night. He had accidentally kneeled upon it and a paper under it.
At first he didn't think much of it, moving off the pencil to grab it and the paper…only to see something strange written on the front of it in his own handwriting.
Deus intelligent?cHe knew the words were in a different language, but even then they still spoke to him. "God…understands?"
In the bare light, he can see much is written on the other side of the paper and turns it to see a number of the same runes from his dreams. How did this happen? Had god left the paper for him…but why would it be in his own hand?
Was it supposed to be what saved him?
Looking back down at the paper, King gulped and decided that it was best to try to figure out how to use this to his advantage.
After all, God apparently helps those who can save their own asses.
There was nothing in this world that Günter Simon loved more than smelling the air in the morning after it had rained…the only close second was firing his weapon, and luckily for him a lord had come his way to grant him such a treat.
To some he was just another soldier at the academy, a corporal that planned to make his way up the ranks…but to others like the lord who brought him in to speak, they knew him for his rather famed youth.
His family consisted of generations of weapons smiths and engineers who made guns long before he was born. Before that they made cannons, and before that they made swords and spears. If there was one thing his family knew, it was weaponry.
He made such a family proud by using the weapons his father would make to win shooting competitions all across the Fatherland. His accuracy and expertise were such that some had considered that he did not fire at all and that god himself had simply struck down his targets.
He was young, cocky, handsome, moving up in the world and had the skills to back it up…so when King and Mauser showed up for the duel in the early morning just outside the city, dear Günter was already making musings of his victory as he looked over the tall, scarred man coming his way.
"Heh, what a tall target you've brought for me sir…I think I should have an easy time hitting him."
His lord was ready to lay down some trash talk as King and the Major approached. "My my, please pardon my Dacian, but your speaker there looks like shit Hauser."
The tall man did look tired, with bags under his eyes and an almost corpse-like walking pace. In the mind of Günter he wondered if shooting such a tired, terrible looking man would be more of a mercy than a murder.
"Enough of your prattling." Hauser states, pulling a pistol from the pocket of his uniform and presenting it to King as the young scarred man's eyes looked over the surrounding area.
"Shouldn't there…uh, be a doctor or something? In case one of us gets hurt?"
Günter and his lord had a good chuckle out of that one. It was easy to see that this was very much his first time speaking for a lord in such a manner.
"No doctors, no referees…we do this by honor, and we do this to the death." Hauser said before pushing his speaker foRward with a loaded pistol in hand.
Günter approached as well, cracking his knuckles before the nervous wreck of a man before him before he pulled his own pistol out. He had oiled it and cleaned it just this morning and made sure it was in tip top condition.
This weapon that his opponent had brought was more of an old dueling pistol, probably some sort of family heirloom…single shot, but accurate in good hands, but not the ones that were held up by quaking legs at this moment.
"Do you know the rules and procedure here?"
""Oh uh…yes…we start back to back, Hauser will count to ten. We take ten steps…turn and fire on ten?"
Günter nodded. "Yes…we draw on ten, if we miss we each then get to take shots at one another…until it ends. Do you understand soldier?"
"I…I understand."
Oh, it almost felt cruel to dear Günter, despite the man's height and scars it looked like he might piss himself like a frightened puppy…not that it would stop him from going through with the duel and all, but still…he might have his family donate a few guns to the war effort to make himself feel better over it once it's over.
"Do you need a moment to pray?"
The young crackshot saw something change in his opposite's eyes for just a moment, a bit of yellow that was gone as quickly as it came, like a flash of gold.
"God already understands that if you fire at me…fire will come upon you."
Furling his brow, the young man was about to say something clever about it when the tall, scarred man turned his back to him. The fear still showed in his demeanor and his shaking legs…so in the end Günter decided not to worry.
He took his place, back to back with King. His hand was steady. The steel in his hands was cold and armed. He wondered if he should aim for the man's heart or his head to make it quick…and decided that he would go for the heart, he was a bit of a romantic after all…and it would make a good story for later.
"Alright…" Hausen and the other lord stood back a fair distance, making sure to stay out of the sights of where the guns would be fired during the draw.
Finally, he began to count.
"1! 2! 3! 4! 5-"
Günter swore he could see it now. Even just five paces in, he knew at the end he would turn with speed and grace and deliver a piece of metal to the man's heart as easily as if it had been mailed. The smell of the morning and what the rain had left would only be the cherry on top of it all.
"6! 7! 8! 9! 10! FIRE!"
On the last step, the young crackshot had turned perfectly, pivoting on his heel with such a conservative movement that it truly allowed him to take in the sight of his opponent as he too turned.
The man wasn't even trying to aim his weapon in those first few millionths of a second, instead trying to put his free hand up as if to try to stop Günter from firing. His fear would not save him of course.
The young crackshot took aim for the heart, and pulled the trigger.
With eyes that saw the world as if in slow motion, Günter did not witness the man twenty paces away fall before him after a bullet would strike his chest…no, instead fire erupted from his weapon, breaking the metal of it apart as all the bullets inside of his weapon had gone off in an incredible misfire.
For a few moments, there were no words for him to say. There was so much blood…he couldn't feel his fingers, then the pain hit.
What was left of the weapon fell to the grass as he clutched at his wrist. How was it possible? He had checked his gun this morning, even inspecting the bullets and making sure every single mechanism was cleaned and oiled…and yet it hadn't mattered.
He hears the click of a pistol being cocked before him.
"And…what happened next? You can't just pause like that."
Donnel butt was ready to dig a trench right into his seat as the old woman paused, smiling as she got to see the soldier excited for what she considered to be not much of a payoff.
"And…nothing much really." She sighs, looking a little bored by the ending she was obligated to tell. "A general had gotten wind of what was going to happen and interrupted the duel right after the gun malfunctioned. Both the speakers got in trouble for it and the lords got off with something akin to a royal slap on the wrist."
The young soldier blinked before raising his hand to readjust his glasses and pinch at his nose. "So wait…that's how you heard about him? He was in a duel and some guy accidentally blew his hand off?"
The old woman sighs, licking over her old, dry lips. "Well, it's all a matter of perspective isn't it? The reason I know about it at all was because Günter wouldn't let it go. He would tell the story again and again about how he was such a great gunfighter before his injury, so much so that he became an utter joke, insisting for ages and ages that he had been cheated."
The young soldier looked confusedly at the old woman while a small, self satisfied smile appeared over her face. "Considering what he could do later…it wouldn't be too bazaar to think that he could cause a small bit of fire in the clip of the pistol, igniting all the bullets inside all at once."
Donnel looked like he was about to fall out of his seat. He literally had to stand up and put his hands on the table to steady himself over the implications. "Are you saying…that he was already fooling with Advanced Magical Coding and Range-Increasing Ratios that early on?"
She shrugs before taking each one of her bony fingers and pulls on each one, cracking them individually as she muses on. "It wouldn't be an insane suggestion…besides, you've all seen the Lover and what he did with that later on, making a gun go boom in an idiot's hands would have been child's play compared."
There was still one major part of this Donnel didn't understand, and so he sat down and got to the meat of what he wanted to know.
"Still…that's how you heard of him at first. How do you know more about him? You said you met him but how?"
Huffing a bit, the woman then slapped her bony hand down upon the table. "I've spoken enough for free soldier. Go out and find me some coffee, as well as something to eat."
"Oh of course!" He says, standing up quickly before scratching his chin. "When I come back…can you tell me more about Vinnie's Ridge…and the Lover?"
She waves him off. "Yes yes, I'll give you all the sorted details! Now go go, I don't plan to live forever in this body you know!"
The young soldier quickly marches away, heading out the door as she catches a glimpse of two marshals guarding the entrance.
"Well, at least they know better than to leave me totally unguarded…it won't save them though." She muses as she thinks back to all those years ago.
In honesty, the story of Vinnies Ridge was never hers to tell…she only knew of what had gone on from reports she had read years later…and of course, the stories told to her by Lieutenant Serebryakov.
"Oh Visha." She sighs, speaking to herself with pity for the girl. "You truly enjoyed those stories you heard…of a King…the Lover…and your dear, doomed sister."
Story by Ekroth Ekronicus
Written NOT by me, but by Joe D Mercala, also known by his alias JoeTheMercenary on fanfic. If you like his writing here, go check him out, commision a fic or two and support his activities. His discord is: Joe D. Mercala#8764