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Chapter 2 – Valhalla
2013
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The mansion grounds were a maze of green, green that will stick to clothes and leave pieces of leaves or splinters of wood at best, tearing new holes in your clothes at worst. It was the latter that the boy lamented as he crawled between the foliage, stopping as he got close to the gap between the roots; the fabric on his shoulders had caught onto a particularly snaggy set of thorns that rendered his tunic unusable for greeting guests. Still, he did not stop. He shifted his weight, putting the weight of his body on his chest as he used his hands to push aside the leaves that were in the way of his view.
The particular hedge he had crawled himself into bordered the perimeter of the other courtyard. Mother had told him not to go there because that was the place where they kept the monsters. Indeed, loud sounds that reminded the boy of storms and lighting came from the mysterious courtyard on a regular basis. Sometimes, he would look out the window and see an enormous shadow go past the mansion and land over the hedge. Sometimes there would be the sounds of something large breaking, and he would hear the voices of many women yelling and shouting frantically while he tried to read his Arithmetics quietly.
Questions would run through his mind. Why did his family keep monsters near their house? How come there was always shouting, were they not able to handle them? Why are so many big flying things landing there? He'd been told about the house turrets, the tall metal towers with tube-like protrusions from its semi-spherical tops. He may have never seen them in use, but if it was anything like the movies, they would be blasting out monsters from the sky. But they didn't blast those monsters out of the sky, so he needed to see what the monsters did before they came and ate him.
Which made what he saw all the more confusing.
The hidden courtyard was big, as big as a football field if he had to compare what he saw on TV. In the middle of the field, too far away for him to hear anything coherent, were people divided into two groups, at least two dozens of his steps apart, all women dressed in pretty but dark-colored uniforms. Between them were three women. Two of them faced each other while holding what looked like big axes with long handles. One of them was olive-skinned and had dark red hair tied in a ponytail, the other had blonde hair cut short and had a pale complexion similar to himself. Neither of them moved, at least, not until the third woman shouted something and made it abundantly clear what they were doing in the hidden courtyard.
They were sparring.
Noah had watched fights on TV. Those were for professional sport, with rules and customs and scorings that made what would have been exciting to watch into a mostly boring lecture with occasional action that happened too fast to have been worth seeing. This fight, though, was different. The combatants moved fast, sure, but the actions they made were not in the least the short, minimal movements made by participants of televised sport. They made large sweeping movements with their axes, the blows tearing into the grass and kicking up dirt where they missed their opponent. Their breaths filled the air, their steps broke the earth. Yet the large movements seemed purposeful. Directed. As if they were meant for opponents much larger than themselves. With a start, he realized that these women were the ones fighting the monsters that Mother told him about.
He watched as they fought, no, danced. A mesmerizing dance of power and beauty meant to defend against the monsters. He found himself stuck there lying prone in the dirt even as the women ended their bout with the darker-skinned one's victory and a new pair took their place. He was going to get whipped for this, sure. But the boy thought that getting to see what being a monster hunter was like was something he wouldn't be able to see again a lifetime.
...
Noah awoke far too early in the morning. Even with jet lag, it seemed that his body was too used to waking up at the barest indication of light. It didn't help that the sun would appear much much later than 05:00 back in the Urals, thus he found himself suffering from a headache. The bed may be only large enough to fit one person, but it was softer than anything he'd ever slept on in ten years. With great effort, he pushed past the grogginess, sat up, and rewound his watch.
Exhaustion made his memory of the space he was provided a blur, so he took this chance to observe. His room was small, which was maybe 5 meters in length, though, without the rows upon rows of bunk beds and scattered personal belongings of the others, it felt too big for him instead. He was provided a worktable and chair, an empty wooden bookshelf, a reach-in closet built into the wall, and a small bed table with a lamp. He looked under the bed and sure enough, there was a lockbox that had a four-digit combination lock and its emergency key sitting on the lid. The floor was porcelain at least, so he didn't have to worry about scratching it if he lugged the box around. His trunk lay open at the foot of the bed, his belongings scattered from his rummaging the day before. He picked out a change of clothes—camo pants, the taiga variant, and a black shirt—and went out. The bathroom was right outside, making his morning routine quick.
The rest of the suite was a living room with a kitchenette with a built-in pantry, which fortunately had just enough stuff to make tea. He had a television, a settee with its tea table, a simple dining table, and another bookshelf. On the tea table sat a flat hardcase with a card with his name on it. Noah picked up the card and after raising a brow, opened the case to find that it was a rugged laptop instead.
If Markov could see me now, he would choke on his Robusto, Noah mused.
He closed the device and stretched. Then his stomach rumbled—Noah hadn't actually eaten much the night before as the airplane meal he took threw off his digestive rhythm. He went back to his room and picked out a few biscuits he'd spared in a previously-opened MRE. No need to make his stomach full before PT.
Now if only I had mint, Noah thought. He did not look forward to when he had to leave. Tea without comrades might be too quiet, but it was better than being around Valkyries. Still, time waits for no one and he had to leave.
He exited the suite and entered an empty hallway. It had been a surprise to learn that Schicksal had a wing for Knights or Einherjar like himself, though even with that, it seemed that he was its only occupant. The residences in the Knight wing were apparently different from that of the Valkyrie wing. The Valkyries had suites that had multiple bunked-bed rooms and a common area much like his living room for the whole squad, which can house up to eight people for the maximum number of people in a Valkyrja squad. In contrast, the design for the Knights' residences made it seem like the designers were fully aware that Einherjar meant "those that fight alone" or "army of one" in Old Norse.
The Knight wing still led to the Valkyrie Commons, however, and the difference in the atmosphere hit with a strong whiplash.
Most Valkyries were already up and about at this time, so the lobby was teeming with sports-dressed women making their way onto the deck. Their attitudes, however, reminded Noah more of a school rather than a military unit with their loitering and animated conversations. It all felt alien to him, that he did not belong. It was a feeling that intensified as he walked out of the shadow of the hallway; many conversations suddenly quieted at his appearance, not to an extreme degree, exactly, but it was hardly unnoticeable.
A familiar form of torture. He took the pain and buried it in the back of his mind.
Noah did not tarry long and made a beeline to the exit. Opening the doors greeted him with a cool breeze bearing a salty tang, a massive change when compared to air that was cold enough to be dry. Perhaps it was because they were in the clouds, but a light fog blanketed the deck, barely opaque enough that faces took an effort to make out. Unlike in the barracks, there were soldiers, men, going around in squads of twelve and having their PT. In contrast, the Valkyries, perhaps still waiting for their turn, loitered around in an aimless manner with perhaps the only consistency of never straying too far from the barracks. Noah did not feel too keen on joining them.
He had just taken a few steps away from the building when his eyes met an energetic pair of eyes.
"Good morning Noah!" Wendy said. She wore a white-sleeved black top and grey shorts, both of which had Saint Freya printed on them.
Noah found the girl's seemingly boundless energy enviable. He nodded at her and continued walking. To his ire, the girl had decided to join him on the walk.
"You'll like Miss Engels," the girl began with a smile, heedless to his desire for silence. "She might be missing an arm and an eye, but she's the best trainer here in Schicksal and also has the best stories." Her face fell. "I was supposed to buy her a Bienenstich yesterday!"
"What is your combat rating?" he asked before she could continue. He did not want more stories.
"A rank."
Noah almost turned to Wendy in surprise and instead shook his head. He should have known that the girl had the same combat rating as himself.
Combat ratings, or Letter Ranks as the Valkyries had come to know, were categorical evaluations of the individual Valkyrie's combat capability. It takes into account physical ability, the level of resistance to Honkai Radiation, proprioception, and training. It was separate from the traditional military ranks, but implicitly granted them much authority. A combat rank of C was, for Valkyries, deemed not much more valuable than a regular soldier and considered "logistical" Valkyries by that community, but all if not most of them could overrule the commands of anyone in the enlisted ranks. Besides, the lowest military rank a Valkyrie could have is a Sergeant.
Climbing up that ladder, rank B signified that the individual reached such a condition. They make up the majority of the fighting force of Schicksal: escorts, scouts, skirmishers, and the like. At this level, the warrior of Schicksal should be able to use their Stigmata to enhance their physical abilities and be able to handle a variety of specialized Schicksal weaponry and equipment.
Achieving the rank of A, meanwhile, required exceptional physical performance, mastery of college-level general education, and excellent results in officer training. In addition, the A-rankers were required to have experience; experience that may at times depend on the number of years in service, and other times, on the number of medals the soldier had under their belt. Noah got his experience by performing well as an adolescent Einherjar in FOB Morozilka, which was based in the Honkai-infested and civil war-torn land of post-2nd Eruption Siberia, in addition to the years that the people there were forced to babysit him since he was ten.
And the girl could boast of having the same combat rating as he did, not to mention that she was also his squad leader. And then there was Bianka, who was his commanding officer.
"I…see," he replied, though he doubted Wendy heard him. She was muttering to herself before suddenly sighing and grabbing him by the shoulder.
"Come on! Being just a second late will double all of your sets!"
Noah had half a mind to push her off, but that hesitation was enough for her to grab him by the reins. In the end, he was dragged off without protest to the opposite side of the deck.
There were already about two dozen Valkyries when they arrived at a section of grass—fake grass, most likely—and they all turned to look them, or more likely, at him upon their arrival. Seemingly unfazed by the sudden attention, Wendy waved at the group and some of the other Valkyries waved back. Noah recognized Bianka as one of them.
"You brought him," the young Captain said as they approached. "Good."
Noah made to salute, but the girl beat him to it: "At ease. We're here for training, not bootlicking."
Noah did his best not to scowl.
"Anyway. In a bit, we'll be grouped in platoons. Stick with Wendy and you'll get to meet your squad early."
Why don't you just call them? Noah thought though he didn't actually care enough about his new comrades to voice it. Bianka then turned to talk with Rita, confirming Noah's suspicions that she was also a Valkyrie. He turned to his only other companion only to find that Wendy had become surrounded by a few other women. It made sense; the girl was optimistic, social, and talented, after all.
Unfortunately, being effectively left all alone gave Noah few things to focus on other than how the surrounding women regarded him. The first sign was the eyes. A few of them would stare at him from time to time and for every three there was one of them that would roll their eyes, shake their head, or glare when they saw him. He caught maybe two sympathetic souls apart from the people he had already met—already more than he expected.
Thankfully, the wait did not last long. Noah could tell that the instructor was near when the surrounding Valkyries began scrambling into groups of twelve. He supposed it was time to meet his platoon. Four pairs of eyes had threatened to bore holes in him before Bianka coughed into her mouth and called their attention.
"Wendy, if you will?"
The girl grinned. "Alright. Everyone, this is Noah. Noah, these girls are Claire..."
A sporty redhead gave him an informal salute.
"Yoriko..."
A tall Asian woman, no, girl, gave him a more proper salute.
"Juno…"
It was a girl with blue highlights though much more subdued than Wendy's. She nodded quietly at him.
"And Mira."
The last woman gave him a normal salute with a normal smile. Noah could have sworn that he'd seen her somewhere before.
Super rookies, Noah suddenly remembered. Almost everyone here is about as old as I am. Sure, he read their files and memorized their faces that were on them beforehand, but actually seeing them in person was still a different kind of beast.
"Nice to meet you all," Noah said with a nod. Basic common courtesy.
It was then that the ear-piercing shriek of a whistle had the squad scrambling into two coherent lines of six. Noah took this chance to look at their PT instructor.
It was exactly as Wendy said. Miss Engels was indeed missing an arm and an eye. In their places were a rugged prosthetic straight out of sci-fi and an eyepatch, respectively. Beyond that, the woman was tall, easily eclipsing his 187 cm by a good head. In a crowd mostly dominated by women, she stuck out above them by their shoulders.
Beside her was a wheeled crate with "TRAINING" slapped onto its lid. Noah had a feeling that whatever was in there was heavy.
"Alright, everyone! You know the drill! Pick up the jackets and let's get the ball rolling!"
A chorus of groans came from the Valkyries as they moved forward, making Miss Engels chuckle. Noah followed them as they formed two lines retrieving said 'jackets' from the crate. He wasn't surprised to find that they were weights. As an experiment, he lifted one of the weighted vests with one arm.
It weighed at least fifty kilograms. Noah felt himself tipping over before he switched to holding them with both hands and hauled the set away before he could drop it on the grass.
Laughter reached his ears. Noah looked up to find no trace as to where it came from. He was at half a mind to start interrogating the present Valkyries one-by-one. Instead, he simply put on the vest, grimacing as it began crushing his ribcage and began running the Honkai Energy through his body.
It flows like blood. Command it like you would your heart. Command it like you would your fate.
Her words filled his head with the familiar mixture of bitterness and gratitude even as he felt his muscles become charged with vigor. The weights no longer threatened to crush him. The earlier embarrassment was forgotten. He felt alive.
"Everyone ready?" Miss Engels asked.
"Ready!"
"Then, let's go! One, two, three, four, hey!~"
"One, two three, four…"
They began a cadence. Noah decided not to join in; he didn't know the song and having a man's voice join in a choir of women was decidedly… not something he wanted to deal with. At the same time, not singing in cadence made him stand out. It was a lose-lose situation and he'd long since decided that ignoring everything was his way of not playing their games. Just like the way they used to.
The procession of twenty-four continued on their run for half an hour. Then they did stretches and exercises. Pushups with the weights, leg tucks with the weights, situps with the weights; it was a little different from what he had to do in Siberia, but if he had to pick which one was more difficult, it would be his training back in the Tundras.
Nothing can beat running through mountainous minefields covered in snow while carrying men at your back.
The sun was high by the time that they stopped with physical training. Bianka waved them all over as soon as everyone in their squad had shrugged off their weights.
"Alright girls—and guy." She grinned at Noah. "See you all in thirty."
Then she was off, walking briskly back towards the barracks with Rita at her heels. Noah understood their haste; he too wanted to take a bath before they began the day's work. And it wasn't like they were the only ones who thought so—the entire ensemble of gathered A-ranks was making their leisurely march towards a shower.
There was a tap on his shoulder.
"I'll wait for you in the lobby in ten," Wendy said, then rushed ahead of him. Noah stared after the girl with a frown. He already knew where the cafeteria was from her tour of the base the day before, so why would she want to walk with him now?
...
Ten minutes later and Noah found Wendy sitting at a couch in the common lounge, eyes engrossed in writing on a small pocket-sized notebook. She was dressed in the same kind of clothes as the day before, confirming his suspicions that the fashionable paramilitary ensemble was her actual field attire. He once again asked himself why he was going along with this, and once again he had no answer. Shrugging, he approached the girl.
Wendy didn't look up when he had paused by the Knight wing's annex. The girl was so engrossed in whatever she was committing to paper that she still wasn't registering him even as he managed to make his way into spitting distance right in front of her.
"Ma'am," Noah said.
The girl yelped, accidentally tossing the notebook into the air. Noah caught it before it could hit the ground and handed it back to her.
"Ah, thanks. Wasn't paying attention." Wendy avoided looking at him as she fixed her bookmark on the notebook—no, journal—before stuffing it back in one of her jacket pockets. She then took a breath before standing up and smiling at him.
"Let's go."
Noah almost frowned. As it turned out, Wendy didn't have any special intention for waiting for him when she meant for them to go together to the mass hall, after all.
The trip was a short trip down to B1 and a left turn, the first door in the hallway, one that was left open during meal times for all to enter. It was a long room with a fairly low ceiling that was filled with rows of long tables and chairs, with the food stalls at the end of the hall. When Noah had visited the place during Wendy's tour, it was during the off-hours. He'd imagined that it would be a noisy place during meal times from the lack of carpets and curtains as well as "soft" furniture. It was one of those times he was not glad to guess correctly.
The mess hall was full of people; more than just Valkyries, but the Valkyries were definitely the noisiest of them, and perhaps the most elitist. The tables had been roughly divided into genders with the women occupying the left side while the men, the right. There were actually more men—all dressed in Schicksal's signature white uniforms—which made it seem doubly strange for the minority of women to dominate the sounds in the room.
A flash of golden hair and a wave brought their attention to the tables that the Immortal Blades had chosen, right in the middle of the Valkyries' side of the room. Wendy waved back for the two of them before dragging the boy all the way to the stalls. A few minutes later and they were at the tables, with Bianka and Rita sitting with five others he didn't recognize, and he sat beside Wendy at the table with the people he had met in PT.
Bianka cleared her throat to bring silence around the two tables and gestured at Noah. "1st Platoon of the Immortal Blades, this is Knight Noah Abrams, coming from the Siberian FOB Morozilka. He got here only yesterday afternoon, which is why you're meeting him only now. He'll be joining Squad 2. Give him a warm welcome."
The surrounding Valkyries clapped, albeit subdued. Even with that, however, Bianka seemed satisfied. "Now back to breakfast." She dug back into her meal, dignity as Captain forgotten. Noah took a glance at Wendy, who waved at him with a sheepish smile upon meeting his gaze, Then he looked around her and found the other five pairs of eyes staring intently.
"Me first," the redhead, Claire, began. Her words had a lilt to it—Scottish, if Noah had to guess. "Claire Campbell. B-rank. Squad Engineer. Now I have to ask…" She looked at him intently.
"Have ye a girlfriend?"
Noah frowned. Wendy palmed her face. "Oh my gosh, Claire!"
"What? It should be up there in 'Top Ten Questions ye should ask a Schicksal Knight'. I've done no wrong."
Wendy sighed at that, causing the Scot to laugh. Noah looked between the two, at the nonchalance of their bickering, and wondered a bit as to just how Wendy became the squad leader. He didn't plan on giving an answer, of course; doing that would be like sticking a hand into a beehive.
"I've heard of you before." Noah turned to whoever had spoken to him. It was Mira. "You've helped my father for a long time. Thank you."
Noah thought of the people he had worked with Morozilka. "Your name?" he asked.
"Mira. Miroslava Popova."
Noah blinked. "Your father is Mikhail?"
The woman scratched her head. Noah would never have thought that the 27-year-old Colonel of Morozilka would have a daughter this old. Wait, that would mean…
"Adopted!" she quickly added hastily. Noah suddenly let go of a breath he didn't know he'd been holding.
"T-then," the tall Japanese girl began as she bowed her head towards Noah. "Yoriko Matsunoki. Weapons Sergeant with combat evaluation of B. I look forward to working with you."
Noah nodded. The girl still continued with her bow. Someone else had to pat her shoulder and tell her to sit back up: Juno.
Now that he had gotten a good look at her, Juno was actually petite compared to the rest of the girls. She was even narrower than Wendy who seemed young and only her height betrayed her age. The girl looked back at him, and the two quiet souls shared a moment of not speaking—not silence as Claire and Wendy were still bickering in the background—before nodding in muted understanding.
"Juno Vitalis," she said. "Medic. B."
"Noah Abrams," he replied, glancing around to see if everyone was listening. At that point, they were. He thought again of the roles he'd played; there were a lot.
"Infantry."
"Infantry?" Claire, Wendy, and Yoriko asked. The last two did not speak but the question had already been asked for them.
Noah shrugged. "Did many things." He paused. "Built tranches, cleared mines, delivered weapons, trained locals, wrestled Honkai, radio'd artillery, tried to track down the Silver Wolf," he shuddered. "Infantry."
"We've got ourselves a jack-of-all-trades," Claire summarized rather helpfully.
Noah shrugged again. "I can do Decoy."
A very deadly decoy, the kind enemies can't afford to ignore. Noah still remembered a time when his caravan was ambushed; he'd detached the door of the APC to be a makeshift shield and used that to get close enough to lob grenades at the enemy cell's position. It was a stroke of luck that he'd managed to distract them until Markov's artillery was able to get them all at once.
They laughed at that, though Wendy, having sat beside him, put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed.
He resisted the urge to swat it off.
They spent the rest of breakfast in pleasant conversation with banter occurring between Wendy and Claire, Claire and Yoriko, Claire and Juno—banter mostly coming from Claire. They cleaned up when the time came and left the mess hall together right until they parted ways in the lobby. Noah found himself almost grateful for the company; it made him conscious of the gazes in the cafeteria far less than normal. He parted amicably with the rest of his new squad before heading back to his room. He still had a few days of paperwork ahead of him.
...
Ω
End of Chapter 2
...
As you can see, most of the changes happened in this chapter. I dispensed with the premature conflict in favor of actually introducing the cast. There were also changes as to how I organized the troops, so if you were confused, this was how I had arranged it:
Captain Ataegina: Commands the Company Immortal Blades. It is a Valkyrja company: 3-4 platoons, one of which is the Valkyrja Platoon consisting of two squads of 6-8 Valkyries/ Schicksal Knights, the rest being platoons of regular soldiers.
Noah is part of Squad 2 which consists of himself, Claire Campbell, Yoriko Matsunoki, Juno Vitalis, Mira Popova (from how I understand Russian naming conventions, her full name would actually be Miroslava Mikhailovna Popova), and Wendy Anemone, who is the leader of the squad.
Squad 1 is still for later, so why should I spoil it? Well, maybe a little: I actually gave Alvitr a (fictional) real name. Ain't nobody gonna tell me that Alvitr ain't a callsign, though if her real name ever actually gets revealed, it's gonna be a bitch to re-edit it all back in.
