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A Castle of Silence and Bones
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009.
the successes of mortality
(death and birth are the only things that will ever signal change)
"How are your troops advancing, Herr Ludwig?" Kiku asks, striking a would-be conversational tone. The two of them have gathered for some mockery of a meal. The rations are low, though morale itself is high, and they stand - teetering - on the cusp of victory. So close, so close; Kiku can smell the blood and taste the gunpowder already.
(Delicious.)
"As planned," is the crisp reply as pale hands (that of the 'master' race) advance pieces across an already-drawn map of the world. "England refuses to capitulate. However, we've taken all of its allies - Russia has been surrounded, from south to north, and there is simply no way for the allies to achieve a victory from this." There is no smile or nod from the absolute victory. It is a sound statement, as if speaking on the weather, or on how many enemy soldiers had been gunned down in the frontlines.
Basic, normal, boring.
"And what of the French?" Kiku presses, "How are they... being dealt with?"
"The French?" Ludwig pauses in his meticulous slicing of a perfect kraut to look at Kiku with something akin to surprise, "They exist no longer." And here, he allows himself a small smile, "All of those that refused to learn German - refused to enlist in the army and wear an honorable uniform and salute the Führer - are gone." And then he resumes his careful cutting.
"Ah," Kiku replies, taking of sip of the military-grade coffee, "Then what of the state?"
"There is no state," Ludwig responds. "There does not exist a person - anymore - that will call themself 'French'," he raises an eyebrow at the dullness of the knife, before chewing of a sausage, "They are men of the military, men of honor, men of truth, men of victory. They are Germans now, Kiku-san."
"Forgive my pressing, Herr Ludwig," Kiku murmurs, taking of bite of his own kraut, "For I am merely curious - seeing as how we have yet to scientificially monitor such incidents, correct?"
"Of course," Ludwig graciously obliges, "Berlin is now the technological marvel of the world."
"What has... what has become of Francis?"
"The state does not exist without its people," Ludwig replies, without missing a beat. "I find it only fair, seeing as how he - they - the Allies completely demolished my Eastern front."
Gilbert; Kiku nods.
"It is..." And for a second, a look of unbearable hatred and disgust overtakes Ludwig's usually placid demeanor. Kiku stiffens, and then forces himsel to relax, as that look fades away, albeit slower than how it had started. "It is sweet and just to die for your country - for victory." Kiku catches the tightening grip about the knife and refuses to shy away.
(They are allies, after all.)
"He rests in peace," Kiku assures, closing his eyes in humility.
"Natürlich," Ludwig replies. They've been allies - Axis Powers, to be correct - for almost two decades. The war is closer to 'over' than ever before; there is only America and England left to take. This is the world and it is beautiful because he has willed it to become so - they have willed it to become so. Kiku is grateful, even while the gears of his mind are whirring and turning, because Ludwig will always proceed first. Will always win first... and lose first.
He - they - are too far gone to be able to 'lose' anymore.
(Or is it any more...?)
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