Ivana remembered the day like it was yesterday. It was overcast, slightly chilly, and with the occasional faint beam of sunlight shining through the clouds over her window, where she was busy reading a book. Back then, she had an actual apartment. Of course, not a very big one, like any other student of Tatra High School. But she had an apartment that had an actual bed, an actual bathroom, and an actual dining room. In other words, luxury compared to what she had now.
Things had been going rather well. After testing into the school with flying colours and a full scholarship, Ivana had done exceptionally well in her first year at school, and even joined Tatra's Ressha-do team. She was one of the rising stars of Tatra's Ressha-do team, being one of its most coveted gunners (indeed, she had become one of the main gunners in her very first year, almost unheard of), and she had even been taken under the wing of the team commander, Miroslava. She made a reputation for herself being silent, but deadly. She was one of the main factors leading the Tatra team to win their first competitive Ressha-do match in four years. She'd even made some friends, which would've been absolutely unheard of just a year ago, where she scarcely had more than eight separate interactions with other people.
In a year.
Her second year was also going swimmingly. Her efforts to win Tatra's first competitive match in four years had made her a minor celebrity in the school. She'd been granted command of the front tank car, and had essentially risen to a second-in-command of the team, behind Miroslava. She was still doing very well on her schoolwork, maintained her (still, relatively small) friend group.
It all changed on that overcast and slightly chilly day, with the occasional faint beam of sunlight shining through the clouds over her window. She was ready to finish the book (for all her strengths, taste in literature was not one of them, as she had just finished reading The Da Vinci Code), and started cooking dinner when she heard the black phone on the corner table ring.
It was Mr. Stanislav, a personal acquaintance of Ivana's parents.
"Oh hey, Mr. Stanislav. How are you?"
"I'm fine, thank you." He clearly did not mean it. "Listen, I have some very bad news for you, Ivana. Your parents have perished in a terrible fire."
Silence.
"Perished means killed," Mr. Stanislav added.
"I know what perished means."
"I'm sorry, Ivana," the voice rather coldly said, before hanging up.
Ivana had never cried in her life. Even as a baby, she exited her mother's womb completely silent, without a single scream or cry.
Okay, that may perhaps be a little much, but the idea is that crying was simply never an option for Ivana.
Until now.
Anyone who has ever cried can say that crying usually never comes consciously. One can never will themselves to cry. It is the most natural, pure, and unadulterated emotion. It can come from sadness, fury, or both. In this case, it was both.
And so the waterfall started. And did not stop for a full hour. It was not until she had seemingly exhausted every protein in her larynx, and shed every drop of water in her body, that she finally stopped.
Everything changed after that day. She ate only when it was absolutely vital to her survival. She didn't study. Her grades dropped. She fell back to her familiar middle school habits, never talking to anyone, eating lunch alone, and even playing Mario Kart alone.
There is lonely, there is very lonely, and there is "I play Mario Kart alone" lonely.
She did come to Ressha-do practice, but no longer with anywhere near the same conviction, nowhere near the same energy, and no longer talking to anyone else, to the bemusement of the team. Her performance dropped drastically. Miroslava in particular was especially concerned with Ivana's change of mood, as the first match of the Twenty-First National Ressha-do Championship was mere days away.
Of course, if Ivana thought her parents' death was rock bottom, her Wrong-o-Meter would be going off the rails right about then. Because after what transpired in the competition, she completely collapsed, a chain of crying fits, periods of apathy, and sleepless nights that would eventually lead to her failing her second year exam.
It took more than a year to even begin recovering from said collapse.
"Oh," was all Miroslava said after a lengthy silence following Ivana finally revealing what happened all those years ago.
To Miroslava, it all made sense now. Why Ivana shut off. Why she seemed like an entirely different person.
Why she missed that fateful shot.
"I'm sorry. If only I had known…" Miroslava said.
"It's not your fault, Miro. Neither is it yours, Svetlana. You did all you can to save the team. And you're doing all you can to save the school. As am I."
"I know… we could have done so much more to help."
"Do you even have a proper place to live?" Svetlana asked.
"Yes, I have an apartment, everything's okay," Ivana replied. Of course, she was lying.
"Do you need any sort of assistance?" Svetlana asked. "Because if you do, I probably could do something about it."
"I'm okay, Miro," Ivana reassured her. This time, she was still lying, but there wasn't any real doubt that her mood had improved over the almost catatonic state she had been after her parents' death and after the Ressha-do championship. "You guys shouldn't even fret about me right now, you should be celebrating the victory with the others."
"Nonsense," Miroslava said. "We'll stay and help you however we can. You've gone through enough.
Svetlana cleared her throat. "Miro, we should start calling them back. The ship is heading out in an hour. We've got to be on the ship by thirty minutes."
"Ivana, if you ever need anything from me, you better give me a call, alright?"
"You don't need to worry about me, Miro."
Janosik spotted her father in the distance, sitting in the fourth row of bleachers in the Tatra section of the spectator area. It was the first time she'd seen him since she boarded the Tatra in the beginning of the year, and it was a relief to see them, especially after such a hard-fought match.
Janosik's parents were rather peculiar people. Her father was a short, stubby man, named Jozep, who also happened to adopt a style of dress straight out of the 1920s. It was no different today, having sported a long black blazer, a waistcoat, and to top it all off, a top hat (pun absolutely intended). Many, including Janosik herself, had theorized on why her father would choose a style of dress like that, as the man never revealed why he made the conscious decision to be stared at like some kind of tramp whenever he went outside. Some inferred that her father had a rather acute case of Napoleon complex, and the entire style of dress was only to justify wearing that top hat, which to be fair, did add a solid twenty centimetres to his height.
Of course, due to his manner of dress, it was very easy for Janosik to spot him among the huddled mass of people, many of whom were also reuniting with Janosik's teammates or celebrating the victory themselves. She walked over to her father.
"Hey, Dad. You look… ridiculous, as usual."
"Oh, look who it is!" Jozep exclaimed. "You could've at least been a little nicer regarding my clothes. I ironed this for hours before getting here."
By now, Janosik was well-familiar to her dad's peculiar mannerisms, spending hours ironing clothes notwithstanding. Her father also absolutely insisted on having some form of potato dish with every meal. Fried potatoes, boiled potatoes, baked potatoes, you name it.
"Where's Mom?"
"Oh, she couldn't be bothered to take the train all the way here," Jozep replied. "She sends her regards, though. Anyways, nice match today. I'm proud of ya. Of course, I don't give a hoot about all the train stuff, or sports for that matter. To tell the truth, I feel asleep halfway through the match. But it seems like you're having fun and making friends, so I'm happy for you, Jan."
"Well…"
"What's wrong?"
Despite the victory, she was still shaken up by her outburst towards her team members during the match. She had her moments where she was furious, but it was never this bad. She was never this unstable. Truth be told, she'd let her team down. She'd let Miroslava down. She'd let Svetlana down. She'd let her team down. If not for Ivana's leadership, she would have lost badly.
The only person that she hadn't let down was her dad. And if he knew about the things she said during the match… she would let him down too.
"Actually, don't worry about it, I'm fine."
"Well," her father said, visibly concerned. But he was never the confrontational type, so he let it slide without any real complaint. "Let me know if you need anything, Jan. You're being fed well?"
"Everything's fine, Dad. I promise." Lies, of course. "You're doing alright, Dad?"
"Yeah… I'm doing fine, thank you."
Turns out, Janosik wasn't the only one lying.
Janosik looked behind and spotted Miroslava down below, gesturing for her.
"Well, guess I'll have to go. Great to catch up with you, Dad."
"Bye, Jan. Call regularly!"
By then, Janosik was already gone.
—-
"Everyone seems to know the score.
They've seen it all before,
They just know, they're so sure.
That St. Glo's gonna throw it away, gonna blow it away.
But I know we can fight, cause I remember
Red blossoms on the shirt,
Glorious cup still gleaming,
Fifteen years of hurt,
Never stopped me dreaming."
HMAT Jellicoe was steaming along the eastern edge of the snow-covered battlefield, her huge 6in and 4.7in naval guns very clearly visible, with her companion, HMAT Churchill, right behind her. The two trains were widely considered to be the best hardware out of any school, armed to the teeth with large amounts of very heavy ordnance. No other school even approached the number of heavy guns present, and St. Gloriana's guns outclassed anything fielded by any other school, outranging most of them by well over five kilometres, at best. In theory, these two trains would have steamrolled anything anyone could throw at them.
There was one small problem, though.
St. Gloriana's crews were notorious for being overconfident fanatics, which often led them to foil some massive advantages. Nearly every year, they have been hyped up (mostly by themselves) as the team inevitably poised to win it all, while indeed showing some flickers of brilliance in the early stages of the championship, but once they face any half-competent enemy, they had a reputation for screwing up the most advantageous positions possible. There was only one instance when they managed to win it all, fifteen years ago, a victory that had now been enshrined in St. Gloriana legend as the school's greatest triumph. Fifteen years later, no St. Gloriana team has repeated that feat.
The crew of both trains, having finished the second verse of what had come to be St. Gloriana's Ressha-do anthem, were, as always, upbeat and absolutely sure of victory.
"Warriors of St. Gloriana!" Saffron called out.
Saffron, the commander of St. Gloriana's Ressha-do team, was the latest hope in their very long list of hopes to finally take the trophy home again. The blonde girl of average height and pale complexion had served exceptionally well in St. Gloriana's Ressha-do team her past years, and all the pressure was on her to finally end the fifteen years of hurt.
"I know that our Ressha-do team has not won… anything in the last 15 years," Saffron continued. "I know we're the laughingstock of this sport, and I know we've underperformed in every single competition in fifteen years. But I have a feeling in my gut, that this year, we will do it! We will beat everyone who stands in our path! This year, we will finally bring the cup home!"
They did not bring the cup home.
But no one knew that yet. And so a violent cheer erupted out of the odd fifty or so crew members of the two trains. And, in typical St. Gloriana fashion, they broke into singing.
"It's coming home,
It's coming home,
It's coming,
Football's comin-"
"Wrong sport, you nincompoops!"
To everyone's surprise, the first match against Anzio was not going badly, for once. They were about to enter into their firing range, where they could pummel Anzio's trains, whom they have already spotted due to their heavy smoke, with a fiery storm of large-caliber rounds.
Although, the interesting thing was, the smoke was not from Anzio's steam locomotives.
Anzio had just finished grilling their Florentina steaks and lamb, boiling the pasta, and pounding the pesto for the picnic. They'd woken up late for the match, and not had time to eat breakfast, but Anzio was not the type to skip a meal like that. Parmesan, Anzio's Ressha-do commander, was personally directing the cooking operations, shouting commands and barking orders.
"Where's the lamb sauce?!" Parmesan shouted.
"Commander, are you sure we shouldn't be watching out for St. Gloriana?" one of Anzio's freshmen asked.
"Oh, don't worry about them, they won't arrive for hours!" Parmesan said. "Go on, enjoy the meal! Plus, they can't even see us, we haven't even started our locomotives! So don't worry."
And then Parmesan turned around to see the burnt Florentina steak on the grill.
"Fools! Fools! Turn the grill off! "How could you waste such a fine cut of beef?! The cow didn't die for you to do this to it! You're cremating it, not cooking it, you fucking donut!"
"Commander…" the aforementioned Anzio crew member pointed to the massive plume of smoke raising from the barbecue, which would be visible for miles.
Including to St. Gloriana.
"Oh shi-"
She was rather rudely interrupted by the deafening noise of a 6in shell's impact.
—-
The team were met with a small crowd of celebrating students the moment they drove into the ship. It had been years since they had anything to celebrate, and many Ressha-do fans hadn't fully recovered from the heartbreak of two years ago, where they were seconds away from a historic victory that would finally send them to the second round for the first time in eight years. Of course, last year, there wasn't even a Ressha-do team to even support. As expected, the mood was absolutely jubilant among the students present.
But beneath the surface, it had seemed like very few students had turned out to celebrate. It just seemed like besides the odd sixty or so students who showed up to greet the victors, the other students seemed to not even care, or had already lost hope, in the team. And indeed, besides the students who greeted them as they drove onto the school ship, the other students were simply minding their own business, as if it were any other day.
As the van drove back to the depot, the mood was surprisingly polarised. On one hand, the younger students were positively exultant over their triumphant victory over Bonple. The party was still ongoing for them, and they seemed as though they were going to party through the night, with endless cycles of dancing, screaming, and hugging, and that was when they hadn't even left the van yet. On the other hand, Janosik, Ivana, Svetlana, and Miroslava were all having major issues weighing on their minds and couldn't engage in the festivities in anywhere near the same level as the others.
But finally, they've arrived at the train depot. The Hurban wasn't there just yet, since it would take about another hour for the support crews to crane the Hurban back to the depot for repairs. It was already late in the afternoon, and on a normal day, most of the girls would be exhausted after a long day of school and work. But it seemed like after the victory, the younger ones at least, had unlimited energy. They all leaped out of the van onto the warehouse.
"Well, girls, we did it!" Miroslava exclaimed. "I'm so, so proud of you. Can you believe it? You've achieved what Tatra couldn't in eight years!"
An immense cheer erupted from the eleven girls.
"But this isn't over yet!" Svetlana added. "Remember, the goal is to win it all! And I believe, no, I know, that you can do it! Isn't that right?"
"YES!" they exclaimed.
Very much easier said than done.
"So, there isn't all too much to be said today, so I better send you home." Janosik said. "Get some rest, and I'll see you tommorow, everyone."
The group trickled out of the depot. The only two left were Miroslava and Janosik.
"I can't do this," Janosik began, after a rather lengthy period of silence.
Miroslava had been gathering up some papers before leaving the warehouse. She glanced up from the table, "Do what?"
"Be commander of the team."
"What? Don't be absurd. You've just won a historic victory!"
"I didn't win it. Ivana won it. She led the team while I was paralyzed by my failure of epic proportions early in the battle. She won the battle, not me."
The dots began to connect for Miroslava. Why the team seemingly did so much better afteemerging out of the tunnel. Why the tactics changed so visibly. Why Tatra won after losing so much in the beginning stages of the battle.
"So let me get this straight," Miroslava switched her tone completely. "You essentially quit halfway through the battle, and let Ivana command the team for you?"
"More or less, yes."
"I can't lie to you, Jan, I'm disappointed," Miroslava sighed.
"I'm sorry I can't be a good commander."
Miroslava didn't even know whether to laugh, or cry, or scream at what Janosik just said. She was just silent for about twenty seconds. She chose none of the three.
"Jan, younger me would have gone full ballistic at what you just said, and you know very well that I can dish out as much as I can take," Miroslava said. "But I would be falling to your level if I did that."
"I'm sorry, Miro. I want to quit, effective immediately."
"You know, Jan, you remind me of myself, in my first few months of commanding the team," Miroslava said. "Brazen, cocky, reckless. Honestly, I was a bit of a dick."
"Ouch."
"No, I'm serious. I get it. I went into the position with the rather childish delusion that I was the king of the world, that I alone could do everything by myself, and everyone can just go fuck their mothers. You know what I was like, Jan. Needless to say, my delusion was proven very wrong, very fast, not least by you, Jan. And I do owe you, a lot, for that. Bringing me back into reality. Jan, you are going through the exact same phase as me right now."
"I guess."
"Your choice is, Jan, whether you throw your hands up and say 'fuck this, I quit', or you keep going on. You start believing in the team. You start believing in your friends. You can't treat this like the commanders at Kuromorimime do. They won't mechanically execute perfectly every single order you tell them, no matter how hard you shout and yell at them. You have to treat them like people, like your friends, Jan. You have to believe in their capabilities and actually nurture them. They won't be magical super-soldiers the moment they join the team. That's not how any of this works."
"Everything I do blows up in my face. And I have to have Ivana, of all people, cleaning up after my mess. I can't do this, Miro! Making me commander was a collosal mistake, and I just ruin everything. I ended up here almost on accident, really."
"There are no accidents, Jan. The only way the team meets its full potential is if you let go of the illusion of control. Whether you ended up her on accident, or it was a 'mistake' to appoint you, it doesn't matter. You think you can't do this? Jan, you're the only one who can do this, whether you like it or not."
"But how? How will I do it?"
"You have to believe, Jan. You have to believe in your team. You have to believe in your friends. You have to let go. You know why? Because I believe in you. Because I know you can do it."
One single tear started making its trek down the path of Janosik's face. "You'll never give up on me, huh?"
Miroslava smiled. "I'm never gonna give you up, Jan. Never."
Janosik left without a word.
—-
Ivana had finished trekking home. On normal days, this would have been just fine, but today, after the very, very long match, it felt five times longer than normal. But she'd made it, and she could just imagine herself collapsing into her bed for a good nights' sleep.
Well, that is, if she had a bed. But collapsing into her hammock for a good night's sleep doesn't sound all that appealing does it?
However, she was greeted with a rather unpleasant surprise at her front door. Her landlord. A rather gruff old man with graying hair. Ivana positively despised the man, but he was the one who rented her a broom closet for dirt cheap. Between dealing with him and sleeping on the street, the choice was clear.
"Rent!" he shouted.
"Not now," Ivana replied, trying to force her way into her apartment.
"This is a free country, it's not a rent-free country," the man said.
"You'll get your rent when you fix this damn door!"
"Actually, you signed a contract saying that I am not responsible for any repairs on your apartment."
"Leave me alone, will you?!"
"Have it your way, then. I want your apartment vacated in ten days."
"What? You can't do this to me!"
"I want you out. In five days. End of discussion. Or I'll get the police involved. You got it?"
—-
"Alright, everyone!" Miroslava called out. "I hope you had a good night's rest. But, we still have the second match in a week, so let's get to work! "As you can see here," Miroslava pointed to the Hurban, "The train is in quite the dismal state. And, we've also got a new smoke deflector! So we better install that too. So let's get to repairing it, and this time it'll be a team effort, right, Janosik?"
"Right." Janosik said.
The train wasn't in quite the truly pitiful state it had been before the first repair, but it was clear that it needed some minor fixes. So they got to work. True to her word, Janosik kept her hands mostly off everything and simply laid out instructions and trusted the team to carry out their job. When they were done, the train was by no means perfectly restored, but it was adequate for the job. The paint scratches made by the explosive shells were painted over, the locomotive was repaired, the ash was cleared from the boiler, and the water was replaced. The new smoke deflector was also installed.
"Oh wow, great work, everyone!" Miroslava said after they'd finished the repairs. "Let's get to w-"
She was interrupted by the sound of a petrol engine. Specifically, the engine of a T18 Tatra-Skoda armoured trolley. It was a rather peculiar vehicle. About as large as a small car, it had a silhouette vaguely resembling a tank, including a rotating turret with two machine guns.
"What the hell is that thing doing here?" Janosik asked.
To everybody's surprise, Svetlana exited the trolley.
"Hey, girls!" Svetlana said. "Surprised to see me?"
"Yeah," said Janosik. "What are you doing here with that thing?"
"Well, I did a little search in the school to find any equipment that we may have mothballed over the years," Svetlana explained. "Turns out, this is one of them. I got a few friends over to fix this thing up, it seems to be good to go now. And, get this, we have radios now!"
"Oh, wow, that's great!" Miroslava exclaimed. "This might give us a fighting chance in the next match."
Marta, being Marta, immediately recognized the trolley. "A T18, huh? It doesn't pack much firepower, but this bad boy's fast. Can make 80 kph on a straight track. Best thing about it is, it runs on an internal combustion engine, so it'll be essentially invisible to the enemy."
Janosik, however, was a little more hesitant. "This is great, but who will crew this? We are already short on crew."
"I will," volunteered Ivana. "And I think I know someone who will as well."
For all her troubles, Ivana did have one comfort. Her best friend, Vlasta. Vlasta was, to put it lightly, an interesting person. For one, she was big. Very big. So big and tall that she couldn't even stand up inside Tatra's trams, instead of having to bend down awkwardly. Secondly, she was not exactly what one would call a genius. An interesting incident from her first year; instead of taking regular pills that her doctor had prescribed to her, she bought diet pills, thinking that they were "lower-calorie versions of normal pills". Both outcasts, Vlasta and Ivana, found comfort in each other. Vlasta never really understood Ivana's financial problems, but she still tried to comfort Ivana in whatever way she would. But for all the joy and comfort Vlasta brought, Ivana had thought that Vlasta would not save her anytime soon.
Turns out, Ivana was, once again, wrong.
—-
(Two days later)
"Hey girls!" Miroslava greeted them as they entered the depot for another day of practice. "We have a new member of our team today. Please say hello to Vlasta!"
The girls exchanged greetings with the ginormous Vlasta. Seriously, she was twice the size of some of the girls.
"Hi!" Vlasta greeted the rest. "Woah, that's a huge truck you've got there. And you've also got guns and stuff too, it feels like I'm in the army!"
"Uhm," Janosik said. "It's a train, Vlasta."
"Oh, uh, right! So I'm in the train sports team, right?"
"Ressha-do."
"Cool! Now where's my candy?"
"Candy?" Janosik asked.
Ivana sighed, and then chuckled. "I promised Vlasta candy if she'd come here. Sorry Jan, it was the only way to get her here. Sorry Vlasta, there's no candy here."
"Aw, man," Vlasta groaned. "Will I get candy if we win the game?"
"Yes," Ivana answered, before Janosik could raise her voice. "We'll buy you as much candy as you want if we win."
"Yay!"
"Alright, so back to business," Janosik said. "Ivana, you'll be the radio operator and gunner of the trolley, and Vlasta, you'll be the driver. You got it?"
"I got it, Jan," Ivana said.
"I get to drive the train?!" Vlasta exclaimed. "THIS IS THE BEST DAY EVER!" She started running around in circles, over and over again.
Ivana couldn't help but chuckle. "Well, she's not exactly the most complicated person."
Turned out, Vlasta was one hell of a driver. Without any neglect into any sort of speed limit, she bolted around the training ground. Now, of course, Janosik was still furious at this, and frequently scolded her about following the speed limit. Vlasta did not listen. She cared about one thing, and one thing alone. Going really fast. Some even doubted that she even knew what Ressha-do even was. Now, if this were just a few weeks earlier, Janosik would have completely gone ballistic on Vlasta, but she knew talent when she saw it.
And so the days passed. Vlasta was getting faster and more reckless by the day, the crew had also improved their gunnery, and finally, things were beginning to go smoothly. The victory had given the team a lot of confidence, and they felt as if they could beat anyone.
They weren't wrong.
A few days before the ship would dock in Tokyo for the next match, it was announced that Edelweiss Imperial College had won its first match against Nikolaevsky High School, and would therefore be facing Tatra in the next match.
Edelweiss Imperial College was nearly a household name in all of Japan. Being one of the oldest schools and having risen to a very prestigious position among Japanese high schools, even in the ranks of Kuromorimime and Saunders, it had endured a very long decade of decline. It had faced crippling problems, including various financial, administrative, and disciplinary problems. There had even been rumours that it may break up into a number of smaller schools. Of course, the past few years had seen immense funding cuts from the Edelweiss Ressha-do team, and it had underperformed in recent years. However, in spite of all those difficulties, their Ressha-do team has been, and still is, regarded as a very quality side, still being able to score victories against major schools.
—-
"So, the next team we'll face is Tatra, huh?" Danube said. "Intriguing."
Danube, the commander of Edelweiss' Ressha-do team, sighed. She'd been proudly sporting her solid sky blue uniform for three years now, but she'd been given an impossible task. A task that no commander had fulfilled for Edelweiss in over ten years.
But she had to fulfil her duty. The very existence of her beloved school depended on it.
"Well, well, well. Bring it on, Tatra."
A/N: Welcome back! I do apologize for the delay, this chapter was a little harder to write than the others, and frankly, I procrastinated on this. But, it is here, in all its glory. Unfortunately, do expect more delays in the future. I've been working on a new fic (yay!) but that would mean Girls und Panzerzug would probably be a monthly release from now on. Take that with a grain of salt, though, I write when I feel like it. Chapters are done when they are done.
Anyways, quick overview of the chapter, as usual. We learn some major details about Ivana's past, including the tragic deaths of her parents. Then, we meet Janosik's dad, who will come up a little bit later. Miroslava gives Janosik the pep talk (no, I do not, and never will, regret the rickroll), Ivana gets evicted, and a new team member is recruited to crew a new armoured trolley.
Two new schools introduced today. Well, technically one. The first is St. Gloriana, who are very different from their portrayal in the actual GUP series. I sort of wanted to explore the other side of Englishness, the sort of "drunk football hooligan" personality more than the "fancy tea-drinking royal" that is portrayed in the main series. Oh yeah, and of course, a lot of football (or as the Americans would call it, soccer) references.
The second is Edelweiss. Edelweiss represents the Austro-Hungarian Empire, and of course, is named after the flower popularized by the musical The Sound of Music. Their current state obviously reflects the state of the Austro-Hungarian Empire during the First World War (and to some extent, before as well). Can't spoil too much in the author's note now, so moving on.
Anyways, I did include a lot more pop culture references in this chapter. Don't ask me why, I just wanted to do it.
As always, I am fairly new to fiction writing, so any criticism (or reviews in general, really) would be welcomed and appreciated. Other than that, I shall see you whenever I see you next! Goodbye, and thanks for stopping by!
