Chapter 1
February 22, AD 2078
American Union, Colorado
"Today marks the Thirty year anniversary of the end of the harrowing conflict that tormented our nation, the Second American Civil war that followed after the end of the global calamity known today as the Third-"
The hands of the old man immediately twisted the battered knob. He never really understood the reason why others talked about conflict with such reverence. They held them with a restless sense of awe and anticipation. It had only been thirty years, but many seemed content with forgetting the fear and tension that circled the globe in the years following those hostilities.
The millions who died.
The millions who suffered.
The millions who cried.
They were already beginning to drift away, slowly dying off from the old to those who were young once. It was a shame, but the man didn't feel too much pity. After all, he himself had almost forgotten the woes of the wars before, and only knew of them because of the peculiarity of his profession. His occupation that ordered death upon the enemies of the homeland.
But he was retired now, old and beaten, flimsy if not weak. The concerns of the wars he used to wage, the battles he was engulfed in, were far too gone. He only wanted to enjoy the rest of his days, the peace that he had earned by being bathed in blood and accompanied by screams that woke him in the dead of night.
The roar of the vintage truck he drove did numbers to lower the stress in his limbs as he enjoyed the drive through the mountains. He would be back home to that small town soon enough, to the confines of his bed which so comfortably urged his swift arrival. But it would be sorely disappointed.
The old man did not even understand what had jumped out before his vehicle. He only knew his movements, near instinctual, which led the truck to immediately swerve.
It was with a harrowing sound that the tires failed to stop at the strain of his foot against the biggest pedal.
A jolt led the head of the man to slam into the wheel, giving his bleary head an understanding that whatever decrepit barriers lay upon the curve of the road he was on didn't hold back the tons of metal attacking it.
The sense of weightlessness was magnified by his weak chest pushing upon the belts before his back made rough contact with the seat, his vision showing him a sight of a rapidly approaching canopy, lined with trees that seemed to make like knives to his vision.
There was no time for the man to scream, nor plead. He had escaped death dozens of times all throughout his life, but never failed to understand that it would one day succeed in its gamble, especially after all he had done.
His life failed to pass before his eyes.
He didn't see his family, nor his friends.
He didn't see his peers, or his subordinates.
Not his enemies, not his country, not his aspirations.
Only a rapidly approaching death, followed by a beat of darkness that would forever declare his death.
Undetermined Period
Unknown Location
Though his eyes still deemed darkness as his new home, he would come to understand that they were simply closed when he heard a voice.
"Curious."
His eyes snapped open in surprise, immediately coming to the vision of a young woman, seemingly glowing in a vast space of pale pallor. There seemed to be pillars that sprouted up with an ancient atmosphere, shards of colored glass and divine idols floating in an unfathomable way.
She, who was robed and neutral in the sense of expression, simply looked down at the old man, who did much of the same as he inclined his head. After a minute of both parties basking in the silence, he had finally decided to break the quiet with a simple question.
"Where am I?"
She answered in monotone.
"Judgement."
"Judgement?" He asked back.
So he was dead. An interesting situation to say the least. Though he had never been particularly religious, it didn't exactly come a shock to him that there was an afterlife such as this. After all, there had to be somewhere from which all humans came from, and Science couldn't explain everything, though it tried its best. So the man continued to speak.
"And who may you be?"
"A Guide."
"And why am I here?"
"You have died."
The two stood in silence once more.
...
The eye of the old man twitched.
"Okay… Don't you have a job to do? Shouldn't you be judging my life?"
"We are."
The man narrowed his eyes as he straightened his back, only just finding the lack of tension that used to pain his body. He stared straight into the borderline vacant eyes of the deity who stood before him.
"Then why am I still here?"
No answer came.
Time passed to the point where the man couldn't count. It may have been minutes, maybe even hours. But finally, life seemed to flicker in the eyes of the being before him.
The shoulders of the woman slightly slumped as they turned entirely to the old man, speaking with a renewed vigor and personality beyond what had been shown before, her brows knitted.
"You have disobeyed the Universal laws. All but the Fourth, Sixth, and Seventh Commandment have been offended. How do you plea."
The man stared for a moment, letting the words sink in as those commandments of Abraham entered his mind, before beginning to speak with a frown.
"You cannot blame me for going against the First, Second, nor Third. Especially so in the Modern world, how am I to believe that there is only one Supreme Lord, that their one name is Holy, or that I should follow that day of which I do not believe in due to the way of which I was raised?" He spoke, genuinely confused as he continued.
"I had to take lives due to my profession as a soldier. I would not call the annexation of land thievery, if that is what you mean by my offense to that ruling, and the speaking of my neighbors boils down from fact. The rest is simply psychologically engrained in the brains of our species. Isn't my goodwill and understanding enough?"
The woman simply stared at him, her eyes blinking before she spoke.
"You feel no regret for what you did in conflict."
"Of course I do, but I did what I had to do to survive, to protect my country and my people." He replied, frustrated by the accusation. But the woman gave him no time to continue.
"Sinful to excuse yourself of murder and destruction." She spoke with an even tone, even as she stared down at him with what could be construed as disapproval.
"That was no excuse, but simply rationalism. To judge others with the actions of what was forced upon them by the chaos of a world you have done nothing to calm or curb is nonsensical. I simply did what I could with the cards I was dealt." He spoke up, his grainy voice grating to a stop as the void seemed to come to a standstill.
She stared at him, seemingly stuck in a stupor as her eyes once more flickered into a slump.
Was this their way of communication, with other beings of their kind? The man thought idly, before he felt the slight change in atmosphere. The woman before him narrowed her own eyes.
"The chaos of the world was caused by your own kin. Yet, you have no fear, no regrets, no care. Instead, you blame your creators."
The man was not even allowed a response before she continued.
"Do you feel yourself superior for your hand in the guiding of your nation to victory in its prideful endeavors? Do you feel it is easy to guide a people? Is this why you lack belief?"
The man could not help but finally snap at the constant assertions of this so-called divine being.
"Do you hear yourself? I feel no superiority, but honor, honor for protecting my people from our adversaries. I fear, stress, and worry for the many. I have fought for them; I have nearly died for them. Yet you dare to stand here before me and demand respect and penitence after such an array of insults, heralding faith that you have not earned!"
The old man scoffed, his eyes sharpening as his teeth bared in his glare.
"You are a fool. I have lived my life, so do with me as you wish. But do not expect my repentance or devotion. You have yet to even earn my recognition, and now you never will."
A spit left his mouth, landing at the feet of the idol before him.
...
As it landed at the feet of the woman, a visible emotion finally seemed to appear on the face of the presumed deity. A scowl, thunderous as their irises seemed to flame from the disrespect given to them through the mouth of a mere mortal, a glow arising.
"Unpardonable. I understand why the lords have created us in the advent of the last faithless. Your kind seem to continue to multiply."
The void seemed to twist ever so slightly as the words that left the individuals mouth began to agitate.
"However, the lords are benevolent."
A sneer appeared over the scowl, sending a slight chill down the spine of the older man. He inclined his head slightly as imagery appeared in the void.
War.
It seemed like something out of a fantasy, with people flying throughout the sky of an early 20th century battlefield, though countless advancements seemed to be visible. But there was something within that touched the deepest depths of his soul. The familiar brutality, the unapologetic cruelty of hatred, bringing him down into his memories long locked away.
The cries of soldiers.
The soaring innards of those around him.
The night was bright,
ever so glowing with the frequent glare of fire.
A gulp unknowingly left his mouth as the woman continued to speak, a dry spell overtaking his rapidly swindling saliva as he stared back at the being with newfound anger at its words.
"You are skilled in war, so we shall send you to a world plagued with its pestilence. You shall fall into a nation that will inevitably find its end in the woes of conflict."
A swirl began to appear below him as the void seemed to morph. Faces began to appear around the man, seemingly jeering at the declaration of his end.
He didn't budge.
"Use your expertise. Protect who you can. Strive to save your people, your nation you may adore. Perhaps, once you fail much too many, you will understand that you must pray, that you must believe to find victory."
The man stood silent, feeling the tug that began to pull on his clothes as he declined to engage in a struggle. The sound of a chorus had never felt so devilish in his ears, the eyes of the immortal before him seeming to crinkle in an endless mirth.
"Good luck."
And with a final glower, the man disappeared into the shine of blinding light.
January 13, Unified Year 1882
Posdamnt, Imperial Heartland
Schnantzern Estate
The eyes of a young boy with Brunette hair opened at that very moment, a slight incline in breathing being heard in the empty room. His deep brown eyes seemed to scan the roof, devoid of emotion, before fatigue flickered into the two orbs.
It had been eight years since that fateful day; if one were to even call it that.
Four, really, if he only counted those years where he was completely conscious.
It was a true blue late 19th century world. Not a single ounce of modern technology anywhere to be seen, with rudimentary knowledge being used at every corner. But the boy would not have to deal with the worst of this current era, especially due to the fact that he was reborn into a noble household.
His previous name wasn't anything special, and that became the foundation for his faint sense of embarrassment whenever he heard his full name in this world.
Franz Weitzel Bermanst von Schnantzern.
Thinking of the name, the young face couldn't help but slightly cringe. It sounded like something that would come out of the imagination of those otherworldly novels that he barely remembered, having read them when he was just a young boy.
In his last life, that is.
Of course, despite his birth of noble blood, he understood the reality. Even in this world, because of historical events out of his comprehension due to his lack of access to the tomes of this world, nobility had been reduced to nearly complete symbolic levels.
If the words that left the mouths of maids shortly after he had hardly learned the spoken language were any good from before, he was now the young scion of a Count. An Imperial Count at that. It seemed to be a known military family, however, and there was little to no interaction with the politics of any court present within the current nation.
He was born into The Empire. A red, black, white, and yellow flag with two flaming serpents, or maybe dragons, seemed to be plastered on every wall as far as the eye could see. This nation is obviously a near carbon copy of Germany, or more than likely the German Empire of his previous world.
Or the 'other' Empire, considering the uniform he had seen his father in this world wearing.
Tensions seemed to be high with his nation and another by the name of 'Francois Bastard', though he was positive that is not its actual name, and it seems that a hasty war had just been fought and ended only recently due to some sort of issue in the borders between the two, mediated by another nation known as the 'Commonwealth'.
He was almost certain that they were this worlds version of the French, and what is probably the British. He could only imagine how skewered the names must be of those countries like the Russian, American, Japanese, and Chinese. The city he resided in was named Posdamnt, but even he had enough geographic knowledge to know it would have been the Potsdam of Germany in his last life.
But even with all this knowledge, it didn't really hit him until he was seven, after seven years of near silence, something which seemed to unnerve my caretakers and family alike, that he was no longer home.
He was no longer the man he was before, for he now had a new family, new parents, and a sister who had just been born under a year ago. He would never be able to go back to his previous world and see his friends and otherwise who cared for him as much as he cared for them. This was now his life, his nation, and his people.
He was Franz now.
And he would never confess to the whimpers he let out that night.
He wouldn't make a habit of it though and decided it would be best to steel himself for what was to come.
As a noble scion of a respectable militant household, having years' worth of experience pertaining to that exact profession in droves, he knew what his future path would entail.
If those dastardly lords that never stepped foot in the realms of the mortals wanted him to fight, then he would fight tooth and nail.
Hear the declaration, of this humble mortal.
I will not bend, nor break.
I will not falter, nor hesitate.
And I will never, ever, pray to false idols like you.
...
"Master Franz, are you awake?" An olden voice interrupted his thoughts, bringing him from his stupor of staring at the ornate celling.
He sighed out ever so slightly as a young and pitched voice left his mouth, sounding the beginning of what would most likely be another long day ahead.
"Yes, Johann. Enter."
AN:
I'll be honest.
I forgot I even wrote this until maybe a month ago, and I've just been procrastinating since then because I have gone into the funny little thing called a writer's block.
I had already seen the glaring issues all those months ago, but when I reread it, I just feel like it could be so much better, like I could do so much better.
So I'm very sorry to all of those who were excited at the prospect of the last rendition of this writing, but after looking at it from a wide perspective, I have finally come to the realization that,
ITS FICTION!
I can write what I want, I don't have to follow canon like I'm a pet, and I can go absolutely nuts if I really wanted to.
This was especially made clear when I popped into AOO and took a look at some of the new ffs, (especially after I read the 'Fiction Proposals' of one Participant), and I've just gotta say, my passion for this fandom always finds a way to reignite.
So I got off my ass, and finally started to rehash everything, and after about a dozen tries of rewriting, I think this is it.
New character, new plot, and hopefully, something that is probably not only going to be new and more original, but interesting for everyone.
I have yet to see it in use, so let us have the General reincarnate that will become a leading military officer in the Empire and try his best to lead the growing nation out of a rout that would leave it falling farther than it could have ever anticipated! Will he succeed in his endeavors? Will the plots of unreasonable deities succeed? Will the Empire reign supreme?
I dunno, I haven't written the storyboard that far yet, but what I do know is that I'm gonna have to do so much research for this on military strategy and stuff that its not even going to be funny. If anyone has any sites, sources, or advice, please, PLEASE, PLEASE, comment them. They will be of immense help!
And thank you to all those people who followed and favorited, and for some reason, continue to do so even after months of radio silence. Real big reason for me continuing this out of guilt, so this one's for ya'll. Hope you fellows like it, I'll try to keep a update schedule but I really cant promise anything.
See you guys!
PS: Yes, Being X begrudgingly listened to a certain someone regarding the inefficiency of their system. Too bad he didn't do a revamp on personality. Poor Franz.
Also, because I'm not experienced enough to write a fic like this, and I don't think many have thought of this, I'm just gonna leave it up for grabs:
Everyone always focuses on Aerial mages, but we all seem to forget that they are not the only ones that roam the skies. I've barely seen use of airplanes and fighters, and definitely not as a fiction focus, even in the source material! So why not someone make a fic about a pilot instead of a mage? I think it would be pretty novel and cool to see some actual balls to the wall ruthless air/mage combat, or just air to air dogfights in general over the burning lands of the Rhine. Just an idea though!