The Personal Records of a Doctor: A RDNA-verse Tale

4 March 1934
Not going mad. Not crazy. Take it easy. Checked on her early this morning. 2 AM. Several guards were running the motions. Heard rumors of a Red agent on the grounds [1]. None of that was evident in her room. Just silence. She wasn't on the bed. No, she was at the balcony. Appeared otherworldly. Maybe the moonlight or the nightgown. Staring out into the blackness. Then she turned to me.

Her eyes seemed glazed over. Face had a small smile. Looked hollow. Said to me that she was back in Vienna. Told me of its elegance. Then of crowded, panicked streets. Reds, burnings and of screams and pain. Spoke of them as though she was there. Asked me if I recognized them. She was finding it hard to stand. Let alone control herself.

Then I saw him. On the ground below us. Had a rifle. Fired at me. No, she took the shot. At the neck. Fell from the balcony. Couldn't move away. Dead. She died for me.

No. That wasn't what happened. Watched as the bastard approached the body. Saw as she struggled to get up. As she grabbed the gun. Pinned him down with shocking ease. Heard her sneer threats of killing him on the spot. Of doing the same to his comrades. There was a familiar trace of iron. Yet it seemed to channel the anger of so many others. She was losing herself by the time the guards came to restrain them both. Ran back to the quarters. Didn't care who or what I hit.

No one could have survived that shot. Let alone the fall unscathed. She should have been dead. It was then I knew. She wasn't human. They weren't lying. I hope they were. His Majesty may have been right all along. Is she one of them? Those "Nations?" But it can't be! Have to file a report soon. God help me. What am I dealing with here?

[1] Handfuls of Collectivist agents were known to have crossed the Atlantic during the evacuations. Many were exposed either by customs officers or the refugees themselves. Those left made some attempts to subvert the populace. Mainly, however, they sought to assassinate members of the Dynasty and government. The last remaining one, Karl Grubard, was apprehended only in 1938. -Ed.

5 March 1934
Need to calm the nerves. Was on the bed. Glad Bridget was there when I woke up. Some wrinkles and streaked hair, true. But looked just as we first met. Still some of that bright blond left. She held me close. Told me it was midday. Worked myself to sleep it seemed. Thought for a moment how I saw a bit of her in Francesca. Refused to let my mind wander. Needed answers. Quietly I got off the bed. Had to see His Majesty. She insisted on coming with me. Just like her.

Saw several guards and officials along the way. Heard the Red [1] was sent to Frederich Memorial [2] for detainment. Apparently was unable to speak after what he saw last night. Can't blame him. Still astonished of being able to talk at all. Learned as well that His Majesty was expecting this. Must have known all along. We were guided to the audience chamber. Left alone. Found no one else present. But her.

She waited for us at the table. Looked strained, yet sincere. Beckoned us calmly to sit. Had a warm, yet remorseful look on her face. Then she told us the truth. What we wanted to hear anyway. Tried to make it direct and simple. Told us that she's the embodiment of our country. Or rather, that she is it. Kept trying to find the right words to explain. Said her kind have been living among us for countless generations. Not human, but like us in a fashion. Tied to her land. Her people. Our people. The legends, stories, tall tales. They all came back. It finally made sense. At least we hoped so.

Tried holding back surprise. We couldn't speak. I soon found voice to ask why she'd risk telling us all this. It was clear that relatively few people really knew. Not many outside the authorities or Dynasty either way. Doubt we'll ever know the complete story ourselves. She gave a sombre laugh. Said that she trusts us. Sincerely. Apologized for not telling us sooner. Had to be sure, undoubtedly. Held our hands together. Hopes that we'll be able to do something, anything, to help. She was struggling by then. To hold back whatever nightmares were haunting her mind. Yet she kept herself long enough to see us to the quarters. Watched as guards escorted her tired body back to the room.

We thought of asking more about her parents lately. But we already knew the answer. They must have been good folk. Raised a wonderful daughter. Should have seen it coming. I'm sorry for your loss. Our loss. I can only imagine the terror you must be feeling. It really should never have happened.

[1] Identified as Oswald Erickson, an ex-lieutenant in the Workers' Collective Militia from old Denmark. His initial sentence of summary execution was lifted to life imprisonment. Made several escape attempts, only to be placed in solitary detainment in 1943. Died in 1950.

[2] One of the older penitentiaries in the vicinity of Neu Wien. Originally a small outpost during the early Spanish days, it has since become a center for rehabilitation and counter-Collectivist research. As most Red agents are detained here, it need not be said that this is a high-security complex. -Ed.