Claudia looked at him in shock. The open-mouthed kind of astonishment that didn't occur much with a retired Lieutenant Colonel. "Say that again."
Dietfried ground his teeth, his hands balling into fists as he gathered his will power, gaze focused on the desk before him at the CH Postal Company. "Soon, I am to meet with my superior officers… to resign from my post."
"Why?," Claudia asked, gaping. "You thought that leaving the army after the war was disgraceful! Now, here you are, ready to retire. What made you change your mind?"
Dietfried was silent so long that Claudia began to believe that he would not reply. Then, he answered, his frustration escaping him like smoke from a valve. "I have accepted it…. No matter where I go for the Navy, no matter what lands I see or battles I fight, Gilbert isn't coming back."
Diethard focused on him, his sharp, chartreuse eyes challenging Claudia to comment. "And I have shirked my duties as the Head of Household long enough. My mother needs someone to ensure her quality of life is satisfactory for the remainder of her time. Someone needs to see after the two Bougainvillea estates and our various businesses. And although you have done a wonderful job, you shouldn't be the only man looking after Gilbert's widow."
Claudia couldn't hide the flinch and widening of his eyes at the label Dietfried had inserted for Violet. Another silence stretched between them before Diethard sighed and stepped back. "Anyway…. I just thought you should know." he proclaimed, twisting to march promptly out of Claudia's door.
Claudia didn't need to know that Dietfried had been envious of his imminent retirement after the war was over. He might have duplicated the effort had his services not been required to keep Violet out of the attention of the upper brass. He also didn't need to know about the dread that settled deep within Dietfried's stomach when he thought about what he would do after his time with the Navy was over. Those were troubles for another day.
Or never. Never sounded good too.
…...
"Currently, there's an estimated 12 million guns wrapped up in illicit arms trafficking in Liden alone. However, the vast majority have been ransacked from a variety of manufacturing firms by a gang of anti-peace rioters. They seem to mostly trade sub-machine guns, assault rifles, light machine guns, and some explosives."
The general pointed to their last known location on the map, and Dietfried followed where his finger prodded into the map. "That doesn't sound like terrorism operations to me: this is small time. Why are you involving the navy, when this could easily be a police matter?" He turned suspicious eyes to the general, weighing his dedication. The general foundered a moment, then cleared his throat.
"The police have been involved, mostly without progress. They believe the brigands are utilizing the multiple ports in our area to transport the weapons. They have a limited jurisdiction on the open waters, as you are aware. The House feels that you are the most appropriate response to this issue."
Dietfried sighed. One more week, and he had planned to put in his resignation. Somehow, this project tasted long-term, and he knew just the representative that had likely foreseen his departure in advance enough to put a little excitement into his duties. "Let me be clear: I will assist in this matter, but I have no intention of seeing it through to the full elimination of the contraband. After the conflict surrounding our ports has been seen to, I will assume the police will provide the services which our people pay them for, yes?" He did not wait for a response from the flushed man. He merely strode from the room, his long braid bouncing with his irritation.
As he headed for the exit, someone else called over the crowd of people milling about the halls. "Hey, Dietfried! Leaving so soon? You should join us for a drink after work!"
"Sorry: I've got errands to run." He waved over his shoulder, barely cutting his eyes to the side to see who had invited him. "I'll catch you next time, Griff!" His stride was wide, and he made little time across the room and out of the front door. The sunshine blinded him momentarily compared to the dim rooms behind him, and he took a deep breath of the billowing breeze as his eyes adjusted. The street was lined with people as well, and he found himself frustrated as he danced the familiar bob-and-weave required to make it through the throngs at his preferred pace.
His first destination was a relatively modest home at the end of a grouping of townhouses. He knocked on the door, hearing a woman on the other side scolding one of the children, another child screaming at a sibling, the tinkering of pots and pans…. Dietfried couldn't hide his amusement as his entrance and greeting went unheard beneath the chaos of the home. This was one of his most favorite stops…. The family was genuine, sincere, and so full of life. He dodged a flying paper aircraft, waved to the oldest girl in the corner and greeted her by name, stepped over stopped miniature trucks and cars, and made his way into the kitchen past the two arguing siblings.
It was here that their mother, Elvire, stood on a stool to reach some obscure cooking material from the upper shelves. She shouted over her shoulder scolding her shouting children. Fed up when they did not respond, she twirled too fast around, her face flushed. "If I have to tell you kids one more time -!" She ended her threat with a sharp gasp as her stool teetered, and her balance was thrown off. She threw her arms out as she fell, seeking stability from a counter too far behind her for her to grasp. Then Diefried was there, steadying the stool with a quick movement of his leg, his arms reaching out to grasp her waist and stopped her fall before it had hardly began. The chaos of the kids behind them continued, ignorant of the very near accident of their mother.
His efforts earned him a bright smile, and she gave a relieved, breathy laugh. "Oh, Dietfried, you have quite good timing." She smoothed back the fallen wisps of her auburn hair back toward her haphazard bun. She looked tired, with dark circles under her eyes. It had to be hard to be a single mother of five…. He looked up at the open cabinet above, then pointed for emphasis. "Could I get something for you up there…?" He helped her around the house a bit after this, played some with the children outside to give their mother a moment's peace, then cleaned up some afterward. Just as she was finishing dinner preparations, he pulled out his usual gift for her: a bag containing enough money to cover their living expenses for the upcoming month.
Her green eyes always misted over when she saw the familiar parcel, and she would look at him with an exasperated smile. "You know, you don't have to do this every month, Dietfried…. We'll manage somehow," she says as he places it in her palm with a gentle insistence. He just nods, but doesn't comment on her objection. She always says that.
"There's a bit extra in there this time…. I know there are a couple of birthdays coming up…."
She covered her mouth in surprise, then she sniffs. "Won't you join us for dinner, at least?"
"I've got other stops to make tonight," he says, then waves and walks quietly off the porch. The kids shout good night at him as he goes. There are many reasons that they are his favorite stop.
There were a few other places he paused briefly at, but his next big stop was for Madame Gilford. She had aged gracefully, and retained her graceful posture, but rheumatoid arthritis had taken its toll on her. As a result, she struggled to move around much. Diethard always did her grocery shopping for her, so he didn't even have to ask what she needed. He'd memorized the list she always provided: she never added one single item. He had his arms full of brown grocery bags as he knocked on her elegant front door. Her help always opened the door: an aging butler who was balding at the top, but had a pleasant face and polite smile. Dietfried nodded at him, and stepped through the entry way to put the items down in the kitchen. He and the butler had them put away promptly.
"Is that my young gentleman in there?," Madame Gilford called from the sitting area where she took her evening decaf latte. Dietfried rounded the corner and she opened her arms wide, smiling and happy to see him. "That time of the month again? Thank you, dear…." He embraced her, careful to not to hurt her aching bones. They exchanged some small talk, and he gave her news about the area and from nearby nations. She invited him to drink with her, since she always followed her latte with a sophisticated whiskey on the rocks, but he politely declined and bid her a good evening.
It was the final stop of the night that he dreaded.
This house held the most sorrow. The loss here was most fresh, and made harder by the lack of acceptance from its resident…. The resulting hostility was always expected, but never something Dietfried looked forward to, no matter how much he deserved it. His heart was heavy with both the dread that normally came, and also the thoughts of the soldier who left this one a widower. She had been an amazing asset to the Navy. No one could withstand her rapier. She fought with ferocity, her mind always whirling with arcane subjects that brought light to her eyes, and she had a biting wit that was outclassed by nothing and no one. Dietfried had admired her, and had fought with her at his back many times. She had been affectionately called "Zilly", but her full name fit the powerhouse personality: Zillipheradora Von Weber….
He'd been there, when that powerhouse had fallen. She took one hundred and fifty enemy soldiers with her, when she took her ship -and herself- to destruction. It had been an amazingly heroic blaze of glory for her, but in the ashes left behind was her devastated lover. He could feel those blazing golden eyes on him as he approached the yard, and knew they'd be framed by cold silver locks, chopped short in a face shaped like an almond, with a sharp chin and broad forehead. He always tucked the money into the mailbox before he decided to meet that gaze, and was never disappointed by the hostility he'd expect to find there.
"I thought I told you not to bring your dirty money around here anymore," she snapped. She always met him with this stance: legs parted shoulder-width apart, arms folded over her breasts, shoulders and jaw set with stubbornness. The last rays of the sunset began to fade away, leaving her bathed in the first shadows of the oncoming night.
"Good evening, Leela," he said, watching her cautiously. He never knew how much of a fight he'd be in for…. "I told you that it was up to you if you took it, or left it for the mailman to steal. I also told you I'd put it in your mailbox so that you wouldn't have to see my face if you didn't want to…. You must want to, though," he teased, pleased when her whole body tensed with the force of her reaction, "since you always meet me out here." She spluttered her outrage, and he couldn't help but smile a bit. She was so easy to mess with. However, this time she surprised him by flushing, then charging close to the white picket fence that surrounded her yard. The fence was only about waist high, so she was able to slam her hands onto it and lean over to menace him.
"Money doesn't replace her!," she shouted, and Dietfried was sad to see tears fall, despite obvious resistance, down her face. "Why do you insist on coming? I've told you that you were not welcome here! You didn't protect my Zilly! You don't deserve to stand here looking all smug while she rots in a watery grave!" She closed her eyes and curled her hands into fists, tears falling freely now. "You couldn't even bring her body back for me to bury…."
Dietfried looked at the ground, guilt eating at his soul. "You're right. I would swap places with her in a heartbeat. Her, or my brother Gilbert. They're both gone, and neither of them even get the burial that they deserve." He raised his eyes up to meet hers, which were wide and surprised at his sympathy. Normally he just listened, then walked away. But this time, he felt she was ready to hear him, as if she needed someone who truly understood her situation, her loneliness. They peered silently at one another a moment, then Dietfried's will broke under the weight of those piercing golden eyes, and he looked away. "When people hear about the Bougainvillea family, and they hear one brother survived, it's never me they expect to darken their doors. They're all hopefully anticipating Gilbert, and find me disappointing. Hell, I find it disappointing. Still, I'm here. And I'm trying to do something about that. The best thing you can do? Live. Live so that Zilly will smile at you.
"...It's been four years, Leela. As long as you look to your past for your satisfaction, it will always taste of ashen disappointment. Of a life that slipped through your fingers. Rather than let it destroy you, use your past as your stepping stone on to a brighter, better future. You are not sentenced to this pitiful life as a shade: you don't have to accept this half-life, but you have to choose not to stay here to get anywhere else." She stared silently at him in reply, mouth softly gaping. "You are still lovable. Even if you are a big pain." He gave a half-lidded smile in mimicry of Zilly's famous lopsided, smoldering tease face as he pitched a line the soldier had used constantly for her beloved back home. Leela said nothing, just gaped at him. He waved, and walked away feeling the lightest he ever had after talking with the widow. He just knew she silently went to the mailbox behind him and took the money. It would be wasteful to just let it be stolen, after all.
It was a happy victory for him.