War Stories

Chapter 1: Battle of the Home Front

Welkin Gunther crested the hill overlooking his beloved hometown of Bruhl, the smoldering ruins of the great mill contrasting starkly against the horizon that burned in dim glory with the approaching sunset. It was a scene of horror and beauty, the destruction of war superimposed against the indifference of nature. And those conflicting images drove a spike of fear and anxiety through the center of his being as he watched from the distance, the frantic actions of the Imperial soldiers as they moved from house to house, securing the town and setting up fortifications to secure their position.

The town hall, if Welkin had anticipated correctly, would be their base of operations, it being centrally located made the most sense. However, the Gunther manor would most likely serve as the barracks, it being the largest home by far in the modest town. With that knowledge, Welkin made a mental note that once the town was liberated, he would burn every piece of furniture the Imperials would touch...with the exception of his mother's cabinet and his father's desk.

Still, the war had come to Gallia, swiftly, brutally; and he was not sure what feeling he should devote the most attention to at the moment. Anger that these brutes would invade his home and target civilians, fear of what the coming war would mean for him, or apprehension at the uncertainty that he could do what he had to do to survive.

As he watched from his vantage point, he became acutely aware of the tremor in his hands, and as he looked upon his trembling fingers, he slowly felt the adrenaline from the battle drain from his body and leave him feeling weary and empty. Immediately he placed his hands against his pant legs and began rubbing his palms against the course material, trying to steady his nerves while giving his mind something more to occupy itself than what he had just witnessed...what he had just done.

"Hey," Alicia Melchiott said in her calming tenor as he moved to place a hand on his shoulder in a show of support he wasn't sure he deserved. "Are you okay?"

Swallowing hard as he felt the shaking of his hands begin to course the rest of his body, he turned his attention, gray eyes locking upon hazel as he shook his head only slightly. "I've...never killed anyone before...never had to. Never even thought about it until now..."

"I know," she said softly, her eyes turning from his to gaze upon the ruin of their home. "Me too. It's one thing to study war, to prepare for it, to know the inevitability of what that means. It's completely different to act on it." Her words slipped into the silence of the coming night as she just stood there, her own hands numb from the consistent recoil of her her rifle, and for a moment, she was terrified of whether this would become a constant ache, and if it would impact her ability to make her baked goods. The thought was so mundane it nearly brought a smile to her lips, if not for the horror she just witnessed.

In that moment she was eternally grateful he was there. She couldn't stop the parade of images dancing across her mind, the civilians she had sworn to protect, butchered like cattle in streets of her home, nor of the faces of the men she gunned down in the defense of her town. Had she remembered to eat anything for lunch, she was positive her disgust would have purged the contents of her stomach. But rather she was merely left hollow and empty, and above all terrified of what this war would mean, and how it might change her.

But there he was, tall and resolute against the ever darkening sky, her hero, just as scared and uncertain and...human...as she was. Because in that moment, as she turned her attention back to him, she took some solace in knowing that she was not alone.

"What do we do now?" She asked, her voice sounding smaller and more fragile than she wished it had.

"What can we do?" He asked in response, his eyes slowly drifting across the field of battle, a battle that had been a peaceful town but mere hours ago, now a desolate reminder that that peace was stolen from them. "We make our way to the capital, protect the evacuees as best we can. And we fight."

Despite the tremor of his voice, there was an iron to his words, a confidence that neither felt in that hallowed moment, yet prayed it would see them through this horror.

"Yeah," she said, her eyes dropping to the field of grass upon which they stood, hoping in some foolish naivety that this was all a nightmare, that she was really still asleep in her own bed. But as she raised her eyes again, her focus fixing on the burning shell of the bakery where she worked and lived, and in that moment of hopeful denial, she knew this was no dream. Despite her best efforts, she couldn't stop the first tears from falling. She had managed to hold it together this long, but it was only upon seeing her home, her work, her dreams drift upon the wind in a plume of black smoke that she felt the weight of it all crash upon her.

Welkin didn't say anything, he didn't need to, but rather draped his arm over her shoulder and pulled her closer to him in a show of support. Three hours ago, she was a perfect stranger, and yet now, upon the precipice of war, he felt this overwhelming need to protect her, as she had protected him.

"When you put your life in the hands of another and trust that they will see you through the worst of it, you become more than companions...you become family." The words his father had told him years ago echoed in his mind as he considered what those words meant. He still did not have an answer...however, he could not purge the realization that he would soon enough. As he took a shaky breath he tightened his arm holding Alicia ever slightly, partly as a show of support, and partly to draw strength from her as well.

Accepting his comfort she turned into his shoulder and allowed herself to purge the emotions that had threatened to drown her. Her inability to protect the town and its people, the shattered ruins of the bakery she treasured working at, the guilt of the lives she had taken, and the realization that if, by some miracle she survived this war, she may never be the same. It all crashed upon her in a tide of emotional exhaustion that threatened to carry her away in its current. If not for Welkin, she felt she might cease to exist at all. Because against the horror of battle, the coming war, he was real.

As her emotions slowly settled within her, she pulled away shyly from the young man, wiping her eyes with the heel of her palm and offered a soft, if not embarrassed smile. "Sorry," she said, turning her gaze to him only to see his own moistened cheeks and red rimmed eyes.

He returned the smile, if only a bit sadly and shook his head to indicate it was alright, unwilling to say anything at the moment, as if not trusting his own voice. She wondered how it was that she could so easily let her guard down in front of him, let herself be vulnerable and weak to this stranger who had supported her in the conflict to defend the town, as if she had known him her whole life.

And maybe she had.

The life she lived in Bruhl, studying to be a baker, hoping to own a shop of her own one day...maybe that life was over and this new reality, one of battle and conflict and death was her new life, and if that was true, Welkin was intricately entwined in her new identity. It was a feeling that had left her once more feeling vacant of hope.

As the two stood in morbid silence, watching the flames and destruction consume much of their home, Isara made her way to the pair, the bundle of new life nestled in her arms as she joined them atop the hill. "Martha's resting," she said with subtle joy, her eyes trailing to follow the pair as she too gazed upon the remnants of Bruhl. "I-I guess that makes me the babysitter."

The words seemed to cut through the fog of despondent grief and anger as Alicia and Welkin turned their attention to the youngest among them, both settling their eyes upon the bundle swaddled in the soft blanket Isara had the foresight to bring.

"Oh," Alicia cooed as she pulled the covering away from the infant's face to gain a better view of the child. "He's adorable."

"I'm just glad there weren't any complications," Welkin said, his eyes softening at the sight of the innocent life cuddled in his sister's arms. "Giving birth in a tank couldn't have been easy."

"From what I can tell, they're both perfectly healthy, though, we'd probably need to get them to a hospital to be checked out just to be safe."

"No kidding," Welkin said, his attention again drawing towards the camp of evacuees who huddled together for warmth and protection.

"Do you...do you think I can hold him?" Alicia asked, not sure if she would granted the privilege when Isara was the designated caretaker, however the soft smile adorning the Darcsen engineer made it perfectly apparent it would be more than acceptable. As she passed the slumbering infant to Alicia, Welkin watched with a warm appreciation of the tenderness the two young women showed to the fragile life in their care. His own eyes softening at the gentle nurturing of Alicia as she snuggled the baby steeled his resolve in a way he never knew he was capable before.

He would protect this little life, he would protect them all. To hell with the war, to hell with the Imperials, his conviction now burned in the need to safeguard those in his care.

"Is, did you confirm the next checkpoint?"

Brought up short by the sudden question, her eyes grew wide at the direction of her brother's inquiry. "Yes Welks, the next camp is about 30 miles down Canyon Fork. We should be able to find medical treatment for Martha and the baby there."

"Alright then," he said, squaring his shoulders as he looked to brunette baker. "Alicia, do you think you can let the evacuees know we'll be leaving in about a half an hour. We'll need to do a forced march but we need to keep ahead of the Imperials. We'll stop long enough for Martha and the baby to be checked out, then will have everyone gather their gear and keep moving to the next camp.

"We'll lead them all to Randgriz, every last one."

"All of them, that's got to be hundreds of people Welkin," Alicia said, her eyes appraising the statement with new admiration for the young man.

"No one gets left behind," he said, dropping his hand upon her shoulder before moving his arm to allow his finger to nuzzle the infant's chubby cheek. "We can do it, we have to," he said, his eyes moving to search Alicia's, hoping she would support his mad declaration. "Every life is important, and we've got to protect them all."

Offering a genuine smile to the young man, she turned and handed the baby back to Isara before facing him once more, her hand resting upon his arm. "I'll go let everyone know, you just ready the tank. We'll make it."

Determination filled her eyes as she offered a brief nod and turned to ready the refugees for the hours long march to the next camp. She didn't know how they would succeed in shepherding everyone to the capital, but she trusted in the determination of her friend. For now, that would be enough.

A/N: So, new series of one-shots following the cast of Valkyria Chronicles. Funny thing about this story, I've never beaten the game, I've played it many times, but after a while it just felt repetitive. But, I have watched the playthroughs and I love the story, specifically the building romance between Welkin and Alicia, it's in my top three all time favorite love stories in all of fiction.

But, I wanted to write a story that focused on the trauma and trials of war as well. So, here is the beginning of this series. As always, if you're kind enough to read, please be kind enough to review, favorite, follow. The VC community is a bit small, would love to see it grow.