July 20th, 1840
Arendelle
Elsa waited for the coach to arrive, slightly impatient but not too terribly annoyed. After all it was her own fault, sort of. The event was scheduled for a few hours earlier, but had been delayed to allow the Queen a few hours extra sleep after being woken extremely early the day prior. The reality of these sort of things however is that changes to the plan causes things to go awry. As such the coach was over 10 minutes late.
While impatient, Elsa was understanding that such things happen in life. Her sister Anna, not so much.
"For goodness sake, what's taking them so long?!"
"I don't know Anna. Be patient."
"There we go!" Anna pointed towards the stable, where some of Metzger's cavalrymen brought out their horses, preparing to go on patrol. "Why didn't I think of that? Elsa, let's just use horses. It'll be quicker and more enjoyable than a carriage."
Elsa brushed the idea, before looking down into the dirt, embarrassed. "No Anna, I… I can't"
"What do you mean? You're the Queen! If you want to ride, I doubt the carriage coaches are going to be cross at you!"
"No Anna…" Elsa blushed, before mumbling. "I can't ride a horse, I don't know how."
Anna scoffed, before blindly stating the obvious. "How do you not know how to ride? Papa taught us when we turned 10." Far too late, Anna realized the error in her judgement before Elsa shot her an annoyed look.
"Oh."
"Yes, Oh. I couldn't exactly learn horsemanship in my room, now could I?"
"Not even during-"
"Not even during the false dawn."
The two sisters stewed in their thought as the crushing hope of the 'false dawn' resurfaced. Even now that they were reunited, the memory was just two biter to bear. As such they waited in silence until at long last a carriage pulled up, its crew going through the long practiced process of turning over the carriage. The castle was too crowded for an honest carriage garage, especially those meeting the Queen's standards. As such, the city's carriage service provided the Royal family the carriages they needed.
For security reasons however, the Queen could not be expected to blindly climb into a coach that was unaccounted for. As such the civilian crew dismounted as members of the Royal Guard took their place, with five men total. One rode on the back hitch, two on the side struts, and the final two up front. All were armed with at least a sword and revolver, with the man riding next to the driver armed with a Needle Gun. As a few Guardsmen thoroughly inspected the interior and undercarriage of the coach, the man up front loaded a cartridge into his rifle. After a few minutes, the Sergeant commanding the detail gave an all clear, indicating that they were safe to travel.
"Well, Anna. Let us go."
…
It was a fairly short ride, with their wait time being longer than the ride itself, before they pulled up to the destination. It was a military rifle range on the outskirts of town, long used by soldiers to practice firing ability. It wasn't too terrible large, as until recently it was expected that soldiers would engage a singular target as a mass formation, rather than stress a single soldier's marksmanship. It wasn't until her father, who spent his entire career with either Guerillas or the Rifles, who decided that it was important to stress individual shooting ability.
The purpose of the day's visit was the Queen's official inspection and observation of the Army's new service rifle, the Versuch Gewehr Modell 1836. They would obviously adopt their own designation once the Queen approved it for service at the end of the trial period, but for now they used the Prussian designation. But for today, the Prussian designed rifle would be presented to the Queen before she would make a final decision whether or not to adopt the rifle.
As Elsa exited her coach, a number of officers approached, with most bowing. She recognized Marcks as one of the men bowing, the rest being junior Landwehr officers. The two who did not bow where two men wearing blue tunics with red collars, cuffs and piping. With their rigid bearing and air of superiority, Elsa could have identified them as Prussians even if she hadn't been taught uniform recognition from an early age. Rather than bow, all they did offer was a stiff salute. Elsa did not show anger at the men, knowing better than to bite the hand that feeds her.
"Good Morning, Gentlemen." She greeted them all, before turning to the Prussian officers. "I do not believe we have met?"
"Queen Elsa, my name is Hauptman Funke and this is my assistant Leutnant Grunwald. We are the advisors sent to help oversee the adoption of the needle rifle into your army's service."
"Of course, I was informed of your presence some time ago. I was also told you had accompanied the army's campaign into the mountains. What observations can you make of the new rifle based on that?"
"Well, we wrote a full report on the matter, but the issue was the lack of serious or prolonged fighting during the campaign. As such my superiors have advised performing full field trials to put the rifle through serious and rugged tests."
Elsa nodded, knowing full well the context of the statement. If you want the Prussians to keep delivering rifles, keep dancing for them. She fully expected something like this to happen, as she always understood that the agreement to be that Arendelle endure the teething pains of fielding the Needle gun. Only when all the kinks have been identified and corrected would the Prussians produce the rifle for itself, putting Prussian soldiers in minimal risk. However, Arendelle would be equipped with the rifles as well, making their equipment cutting edge.
"I see. I will be sure to mention this to my General Staff. Shall we carry on to the demonstration?"
"Of course, Queen Elsa."
The small group was then guided over to the range itself, where a table had been set up. On the table was a number of the new rifles, with a few of each variant. As of now there was a full length model for the infantry with two types of carbines- a medium model for engineers and artillerymen, and the shortest for cavalrymen. Also adorning the table was a large number of cartridges, as well as other accessories. A Grenadier Sergeant stood by, bowing when the official party near.
"Your majesty, good morning. Today I will demonstrate the operation of the Needle rifle, and proceed to assist you, if you choose to."
"Very well, carry on Sergeant."
A sergeant clicked his heels together and bowed his head slightly, before moving to the table. Picking up one of the infantry models, he quickly racked the bolt action back revealing the empty chamber.
"To load the Model 1836 one must first turn the bolt action firmly to the left and proceed to pull it back, as I have done. This exposes the chamber and allows for loading."
The Sergeant proceeded to take one of the cartridges on the table, loading it into the firing chamber of the rifle. As he began to speak again, he mirrored his speech with the corresponding action.
"Upon loading the cartridge, you push the bolt action forward, locking it in place by turning the bolt 45 degrees to the right. At this point you merely have to push the firing pin assembly forward and it is ready to fire. Please cover your ears."
As the gathered crowd did as advised, the Sergeant shoulder the rifle, aiming down range for a brief moment before firing. As expected, the rifle thundered, causing Elsa and Anna to wince as well as the junior officers. Marcks was the only one to stay still.
"And that your majesty is how one loads and discharges the Model 1836 rifle."
There was some scattered applause, with some note taking for the observers as Anna was nearly hopping up and down with excitement as she knew that after Elsa, she would be permitted an opportunity to shoot. And knowing her older sister, she would pass.
The Sergeant cycled the bolt to the open position before setting it down on the table. Drawing a cavalry carbine more suited to a smaller frame, he turned to his Queen.
"Your majesty, would you care to shoot the rifle?"
To the household officers' great surprise, Elsa replied. "Yes Sergeant, I'd like a try."
Elsa slipped on her gloves as a precaution, as she had always done when handling firearms. She had not had many opportunities to do so, but her father had taken her shooting in the courtyard while Anna was traveling more than once. As such she remember the fundamentals. She did her best to ignore the whispers and points of some of the Officers, as well as their smirks and soft laughter. Being cadre Landwehr officers, these men where hardly the model of loyal officers. More like committed mercenaries.
As she took the rifle and loaded a cartridge, it was almost like she could hear her father's word's guiding her aim.
Set the stock firmly against you and lean forward.
She placed her left foot forward in a straddle stance, with her cheek firmly into a stock-weld. Now Elsa wasn't exactly an incredibly strong woman physically, so she struggled to keep her left arm steady and extended. But she dared not disobey her father's teachings.
Get a good sight picture, and relax your body and mind.
She began to take deep breaths in and out as she scanned for an appropriate target. A target was set out at 100 meters, which Elsa focused in on.
Exhale Elsa, and gently squeeze-
Elsa was slightly surprised when the shot rang out, however due to her solid position it had the desired effect. Her father had always told her that it was best to be surprised, as your body would not anticipate the shot and you would not flinch. This did little for the fact that her small frame was not exactly well built for firing a .61 caliber cartridge. Her shoulder felt immediately sore, but Elsa retained her regal posture and expression.
The range's spotter looked through her binoculars, a slight smile forming on his face.
"Good shot, your Majesty. Outer bull's-eye. That could have been a head shot."
The Officer's smiles faded from their lips, causing Elsa to smile herself. One of the Officers was still not impressed.
"Beginner's luck your Majesty?"
Elsa simply smiled while tilting her head, before immediately turning to the table. Without missing a beat she quickly reloaded the rifle and fired again, pausing only to develop steady aim. And in order to quell all debate, she loaded a third cartridge and fired again before being spotted.
The range spotter waited a brief moment before raising his field glasses to spot. Nodding his head up and down, he lowered them again with a shrug.
"Not bad. I've seen much better groupings, but not bad for an amateur shooter who's standing. No offence, your majesty."
"None taken soldier." She turned to the others, before continuing. "If you'll excuse me, I have a considerable amount of work to attend to. Anna feel free to stay here, I'll be sure to join you for lunch."
Before she could see their reactions, Elsa began to regally stroll away. She wasn't ready to admit it, but she regretted her bravado immensely. Already she was feeling her shoulder swell after firing three shots from a .61 caliber rifle. It had been ages since she last shot and even that was a training carbine. She hoped to escape to her carriage and retire for the day.
Before she could, Anna caught up to her. "Elsa, are you okay? I thought you intended to stay longer?"
"I did, but my shoulder is throbbing right now. And while I did intend to stay an hour, I do actually have work to do. You stay here and enjoy yourself, Anna."
Anna shook her head. "No Elsa. There'll be other opportunities to go shooting. For now let's go home."
"Very well, Anna. You may want to get some rest as well. Tomorrow we finally meet cousin Rapunzel."
As the two sister boarded the carriage, Colonel Marcks silently observed the duo, making mental notes.
Well, she can shoot, and she can mask pain very well. Certainly good qualities in a leader. Let's just hope that when it comes time for it, she can take life.
…
London, England
In one of the many buildings that lined Whitehall, two men met in a dim room. It would normally be hot and stuffy, if this was anywhere in the world but London in the summer. As such one of the gentlemen removed a wet coat and hat, and the other watched the rain streak down the window sill, before rising to meet his acquaintance.
"Mr. Thomas, glad to see you old friend! How's Theodore?"
"Not bad Mr. Atkins. He survived the Pox, so that's no longer looming over our head, thank god."
"That's fantastic. Let's just hope god in heaven is as merciful to all of our children, eh?"
"Indeed. Now, to business."
Now neither man was exactly a public figure, but they weren't nobodies either. Mister Thomas was a senior official in the War Department, while Mister Adkins was in the diplomatic service. What the two had in common was their backgrounds as 'exploring officers' in the Great War. As such they the two had formed a small group in order to promote cross departmental cooperation. A ring of spies basically.
Their goal was simple- promote the interest of the Crown and Country, while answering to the Prime Minister himself. How they did this was generally less than pretty, but that came with the territory. Hence, today's meeting.
"Of course. Queen Elsa of Arendelle."
"Yes, that simply won't do. She has to go."
"I agree. You and I know that one of the thing's holding Europe together is the Royal Navy. She threatens that. At the same time it has to be done indirectly. The PM wants to keep our options open, which blatant aggression would certainly nip."
"Naturally. So we do what we always do in the North Sea."
"Weselton. Last I heard he's terrified of our young Sorceress. Not really reliable."
"I'm certain there's other men in Weselton's employ. Ones who'll display initiative."
"I'll use my lads to find the man you need. I'll need resources however."
"That's already been taken care of. A ship's already on its way to offload that cargo right now."
…
Tryggvason, Northern Arendelle
It had taken longer than promised to gather his collaborators than promised, and that made Ásta twitch. She didn't like being idle, and while she told herself that it only meant more time to meditate and rediscover herself, nothing came to her in the entire day of silence. And as bad as an idle day was, at least it was peaceful.
Now, the corpse stood quietly in the back as Surtrsen began to address the other men in the room. She hardly paid attention to the ramblings of a man whose brain she cooked ages ago. She passed the time by repeating her new found name in her head, as her lips moved to mouth the word.
Ásta. Ásta. Ásta. ÁSTA.
It gave her a warm feeling every time she repeated it, as if she regained a little bit more of herself. She had no fear of discovery, as she still wore the hood and mask as well as gloves to conceal her blue, dead flesh, which helped but still drew stares from the others in the room.
Picked as they shared Surtrsen's beliefs and generally his treasonous thoughts, Surtrsen had decided that they would be the ruling council for when he launched his mutiny. For the most part they all seemed to be weak willed like him, though of a much more submissive nature. Surtrsen was submissive to his own ego and delusions of grandeur, while these men flocked to any strong Christian leader. She felt tempted to just kill them where they sat and raise an army of the true faith and lead that force against Elsa.
But that would be sloppy, now wouldn't it? Every moment I exist in the shadows, every step south I march in obscurity, is precious.
She looked back at the gathered men, glad that her steel mask hid her face. Not only could she relax her magic from showing her true form, but she also she didn't have to conceal any feelings of hate and disdain for these hollow men, mere shadows of the Viking ancestors she led in combat. She knew what evil these men would unleash under the cross, what they would do in the name of the carpenter king. It sickened her.
That's what she counted on.
For the people to accept the Gods of their ancestors again, they had to reject the Christ god. And if they could see how the Christians converted people at sword point, how they raped and killed all who stood in the way in the name of God, they would renounce their Jesus Christ. Once they saw that Christianity was a religion of control and slavery, and that the Old ways was a religion of faith and freedom, they would finally understand.
These fools would unleash a wave of death and destruction, forever alienating these people from the Roman sickness. And from the ashes would rise a glorious rebirth of the Old Gods. And with her power, she would lead them south, east and west and stamp out every trace of Christendom. Rome would burn, as would every church, bible, and psalm book. She would do to them what had been done to her people.
As her mind raced with dreams of glorious victory, a fist slamming on the table ripped her out of her pleasant thoughts and immediately put her in a bad mood. The culprit was another officer named Haraldsen, with white hair and sour expression. She had made a mental note of him earlier as he was one of the few with any mental will whatsoever. She figured he would be trouble.
"Surtrsen, you are blind! Do you not see that she is a demon sent from hell to lead us astray!?"
"Preposterous! She appeared to me as an angel, clearly-"
"You are a fool! Was Lucifer not an angel once too? Do you think that the enemy is incapable of taking the forms of angels and leading us astray?"
"We are marching against the sorceress witch! It is clearly god's will!"
"I do not pretend to know God's will, Surtrsen. Nor will I judge Elsa's actions until I know more. After all, one could have called our Lord and Savior's miracles "sorcery", could they not?"
"That is Blasphemy!" Surtrsen cried out as he slammed his fist onto the table, his blood boiling from rage. The corpse decided it was time to act. She emerged from the shadow and before anyone could as much as say a word she drove a dagger into the man's heart, killing him instantly.
Knowing she had to explain this to the sheep surrounding her, she willed magic into her mouth, allowing her to speak in an angelic voice, the voice they'd expect.
"Haraldsen was mistaken, for he did not know the truth. The truth that god has shown me, and I have shown Surtrsen. Queen Elsa IS a sorceress, and she does the devil's work. She must be killed."
The rest of the men dared not counter her argument, for they were cattle. All but one. A young officer sat near where she stood, with blond hair and the seeing glasses on his face. He possessed a frail body and had a skinny face that had yet to grow the facial hair of a man. But this man had free will in him, she didn't doubt it for a second. Behind her mask a grin cracked across her face as she looked at him.
Oh, yes. He will do nicely.
Her thoughts were disrupted by Surtrsen looking for guidance. "Your Holiness, we are then in agreement to rebel. What are we to do next?"
"Surtrsen, I trust that you can eliminate the loyalist officers in my stead. Once this is done, we must raise a force to march south. I trust that the population will give us the forces we need to defeat the Snow Queen?"
"I do. But, what about you?"
"I ride south. It's about time I see this Snow Queen with my own two eyes."
…
Bit o' Notes
Sorry for the long update time, even if these things have sadly become routine. I try to push things out monthly, but well, work's a bitch. Well, that and I hit a pretty bad bit of writer's block half way through. Followed by laziness and procrastination.
Shout out to H. G. Wells for the Whitehall concept, and idea that did drastically change a few things in upcoming events and helping to build a more consistent universe. I don't always act on my reviewers' ideas, but when I do I thank the reviewer. That's all for now, folks.
Deuces,
Dragunov