Sanctuary to the Lost and Damned
Chapter 14: Origin Fantasies
69696969696969696969696969
AN: please review.
69696969696969696969696969
April 1939
Walter lied on his bed in the room which he had been given. Even after two weeks of employment by Arthur Hellsing; he still missed the familiar sounds of home mainly, of the church next door to the priest's house.
He had spent the last two weeks following around Alfred as he attended to Sir Arthur Hellsing. It was not the exciting job opportunity that he had hope that it would be, but it was a start. He hoped that Hellsing would send him on an easy mission, so that he could prove his skills.
He turned on his side. He knew that he was much more skilled than the other soldiers. He had only ever had one chance to truly test his skills; it happened one morning as he went to pray to God. He entered the building to discover a man was stealing some of the ceremonial items, such as the silver plated candle holders and the goblet from which the congregation drank the symbolism of Christ's blood.
Walter had stopped him; but the commotion had attracted the priest's attention as well. During the fight the thief only received a few slices from Walter's wires, though he knew that he could slice through almost anything. He had practiced cutting the dead carcass of a cow outside the town the previous fall with his wires. So He knew that he could have sliced through the man, but the father was there so Walter restrained himself. It was that night almost three years ago that the father discovered Walter's unusual talent.
He was a better fighter than anyone. He knew that he was. He knew that one day everyone would know his name. He knew that the name was perfect for him. The father had told him why the name Walter was chosen, but he had never felt that he could ever be anything close to a saint. But saints were very well known. Walter knew that they were prayed to as a link between heaven and earth. Being a link to the Almighty didn't seem so bad really. But Walter knew that he was not the material needed to make a saint.
He was a fighter, not like many of the saints of the past, who were largely pasivists. Walter's growing fighting ability was clearly mean for the battlefield; not the cloistered walls of a churchman.
In addition to Walter's combat skills; he had developed keen investigative skills. This was mostly born out of his early drive to find his mother; the one who had left him.
Walter did not like to think about his past very often, but it happened more frequently then he would have liked. Sometimes it only took the sight of a mother with her children in a park or while shopping.
He had heard from Father Dornez about the night that he had been found. It had been raining all night. The priest had come in earlier Sunday morning to check if the new roof was leaking. Apparently the men, who did the roof, had vanished very suddenly so the priest was suspicious of the workmanship.
That was when the priest found him on the altar.
The priest had saved everything that was with the baby. Walter had brought everything with him. He still had the basket, the blanket, the garments, and even the letter.
When he was young he would cuddle up the blanket. Sometimes late at night he would sit down and analyze the letter.
He was able to conclude a few things about the letter it was certainly written by someone of high education. It was also written on expensive paper. Such paper was specially made only by order.
The quality of the other items such as the blanket, the garments and even basket, were high, nothing about them led Walter to any new clues.
Like many people, Walter had filled in the holes of evidence with his own fantasy. He sometimes imagined that he was the son of some distant prince or the product of some forbidden love; perhaps between a noblewoman and some powerful warrior knight; a man who would be considered unbeatable on the battlefield. He had concluded that only that would explain his skills.
Walter read a great deal more than his peers. He knew that he had read the bible more times through than the priest who had adopted him. His favorite books were mysteries, though as he aged his mind began to reflect on the old children's tales.
Many stories were told of 'foundlings'(1), children who were discovered as he was. In many tales these children were of royal birth, but reared by lowly peasants. This was probably what sparked Walter's fantasies of having high class parents. Though in many of these stories the mother would leave behind a token would be traced and eventually lead to a reunion of the parent with the child.
Walter sighed. These were children's stories after all. Unless you count the letter, blanket, basket, and garments, which seemed to only be there for the child's safety and comfort, Walter's mother did not leave behind anything traceable.
The fact that she did not leave behind any definite proof of her identity, did not remove his desire to meet his mother.
Walter had always felt that he was of higher birth than his peers. He had always behaved more of a gentleman compared to his peers, except when he encountered people whom he felt were undeserving of much respect; the thief did not deserve any such treatment for example.
Walter had told the priest that he had officially given up on finding her and had decided that he need to find a place which would allow his talent and breeding to mix well together. When he learned of the Hellsing organization, he thought that he had found that place. The Priest had believed him. Walter tried to believe that he had as well, but he couldn't. The boy tossed to his other side. He now faced the window.
His hand traced to the small silver cross on his chest, as he wondered if his mother was looking at the moon, at the same time that he was. Was she also thinking about him? Was she wondering about how he was? He wondered if she had given him another name. ; A more suitable name.
He wondered about her. What is her name? What sort of things does she enjoy? What was her favorite color, animal, season? He wondered about a great deal of things about her. Many of these things were random bits of information, but what Walter really wanted to know was how similar he was to his mother.
He wondered what her voice sounded like. Was it soft or stern? What would it sound like if she were to sing him a lullaby?
He wondered what she looked like. His child's mind had constructed his mother to be a very feminine version of him; He had always pictured that she had long dark hair and deep blue eyes. He had always pictured her in a blue and white floral spring dress.
The staff had celebrated the boy turning 9 years-old. It was here that Walter learned about a tradition of making a wish as one blows out the candles on the birthday cake. There was only thing that he wanted above all else. He had asked God for the very same thing.
He had prayed to God almost every year that his mother would come back to him.
Since he was young he had always held a belief that that his mother might return to him on that day. Another birthday...another year had passed and yet she had not appeared.
69696969696969696969696969
Arthur sat across from his best friend from collage, Hugh Islands. The man had also recently inherited a position at the round table after his own father's untimely death. His father had been half of Abraham's age. Island's father had died from cancer. It was sad and a surprise for everyone. But Arthur reasoned that the two young men having the same loss made it slightly easier on them. The two men could seek comfort in each other's words, the same ways that they had when the stress of collage weighed on them.
Arthur took a sip from his glass. "I don't understand."
"huh." said Islands across from him.
"Why am I the only one who sees a problem with this? Germany annexed Austria more than a year ago and no one else cares? Doesn't Prime Minister Neville Chamberlain care? And how can Germany be building up its army. What about the treaty?"
"The Treaty of Versailles?"
"Yes. Does it not say that they are not allowed to build up their military? What reason did they have to do that?"
"Arthur. Unless you have also been ignorant there is a war being fought between China and Japan."
"And what; Does Germany think that Japan is going to invade them too!"(2) remarked Arthur incredulously.
Islands took another sip of his tea. "I imagine that being aware of a war can remind one of how vulnerable they could be. Besides Arthur, telling a country that they can't have a large enough military to defend themselves might be...a little too unfair. Germany has learned its lesson, Arthur."
"I don't know Hugh;" Arthur said looking down at his own reflection in his tea, "this just doesn't feel right to me..."
69696969696969696969696969
END of Ch 14
69696969696969696969696969
AN:
(1) A foundling is an old term used largely before the establishment of orphanages, in which the person who found the child could either choose to adopt the child or to put the child into servitude (slavery).
Although not a story of a foundling, Cinderella, hold the essentials of many of these stories. She was born to noble parents. Following her the death of her parents, her step mother, basically forced the girl to work. Instead of finding a blood relative, as they are all dead, the story has her find a husband in the prince. I do not think of Walter as a Cinderella, this is just a familiar tale to convey what a typical foundling fairytale fate.
(2) - A war began between China and Japan in 1937. It is known as the Sino-Japanese war. It later joined with the conflict in Europe.
Germany annexed Austria in March 1938. To annex a county is basically to walk in to a different country and declare that that county is now part of one's own. There may or may not be a physical fight with this. Anyone watch Family guy on TV. There was a bit of a spoof one episode. Remember Johio, the newest province of Peteroria
69696969696969696969696969
Preview of the next chapter: The Monster Awakens
"Since I am the head of house, how about you just call me Arthur when we are alone, but when there are others you must call me Master. How does that sound. "
69696969696969696969696969
