OR1-EPXA: Peace at last!
Adalbert Herzog turned off his bedside alarm clock and half-sleepily rose from his bed, picking up his shirt that had fallen on the floor and haphazardly pulling it over his body. He glanced at his watch, the hands were pointing to seven in the morning and it looked like there was still time. The young officer dressed fully, pulled on a duffle coat of an old-fashioned style, and walked out of the room and into the corridor of the hotel. Several tourists were chatting away as they made plans to visit museums and monuments in Paris, and these friendly outsiders politely moved out of the way when they saw Adalbert.
He stepped out into the lobby of the hotel's first floor, the cell phone in his coat pocket vibrating at an inopportune time, which irritated the young man who had just recently woken up a bit. He took a few steps back and came into a corridor, pulling his cell phone out of his coat pocket and seeing the familiar phone number on it. The only person who would be calling him at this hour would be his elderly father, who was far away in South Africa. Jacob Herzog's term as Governor-general was coming to an end, and in order to find out about the current situation in Europe, he had managed to send his only son back to the mainland.
"Greetings, may I ask what Your Excellency wishes to command?"
Governor-general Herzog was not offended when Adalbert spoke to his father in such a formulaic and official manner. The old man on the other end of the phone said gently, "Not a command ... I mean, it's only fair that we all plan for our next phase. I'm going back to Europe soon, and we're going to need all the legal means we can get in order to bring more people over to our side ..."
Adalbert sighed, he loathed nothing more than meaningless banquets of all kinds that were nothing but a waste of time. He hadn't been in Paris for long, but had been forced by his father to meet many young women his age. Adalbert understood the Governor-general's intention, marriage is the norm between the big families, not to mention that even if the Herzog family is sparse, it is far from being able to use the word downtrodden to describe it, and they have a huge attraction to the grass-roots elites who have recently become social celebrities. Marriage was a symbol of a community of interest in this kind of game, and the resources behind both parties were more important than the will of the parties involved, which was what Adalbert himself thought. That said, his parents were already considered a model of amicable relations in a marriage of interest: one in politics in South Africa, the other in business in Europe, non-interfering and supportive of each other, much better than couples who had to end up as enemies.
"I understand."
"Hey, I know, I know." The Governor-general coughed a few times, and he seemed to be asking his secretary to get him some water, "Of course, I do respect your personal opinion ... very much, but as important as personal ability and character are, the resources and backgrounds that can be utilized are what we should prioritize. I've looked for a few more suitable candidates for you, and I'll talk to you in detail when you go to Berlin next week. If you need help from anyone else, just call your mom directly."
"Actually, that's not the main problem." Adalbert wanted his father to understand what he was really thinking, "I mean, there's always a time when relationships of interest with no emotional basis break down-"
However, the Governor-general didn't seem to want to discuss this with him. After a few token words of comfort, the Governor-general hung up the phone hastily. Adalbert helplessly walked out of the restroom, threw the phone back into his coat pocket, walked out of the hotel's front door, and stopped a cab. Paris had become much quieter in the winter, the streets busy with the purchases of hurried pedestrians who were still celebrating a holiday that had legally disappeared but could not be eradicated culturally. December 24th of the A.T.B., according to this old calendar, Christmas is almost here. Some conservative religious people condemn these unscrupulous merchants for just making money instead of tapping into its cultural connotations, which is certainly hilarious and laughable in Adalbert's opinion. The Republican Calendar didn't recognize any religious holidays, and it was already extra-legal to not announce again that it would be abolished in the official sense, and these unaware people dared to interfere with merchants who intended to take advantage of the holiday to do business, simply asking for trouble.
"Aller à cette adresse." Adalbert handed the driver a slip of paper.
The car left the hotel in a huff and headed for the west side of town. Adalbert Herzog leaned back in the back seat, his mind drifting back to the past year or so. He was a hero, at least in the EU propaganda. Many had paid with their lives to quell the Rhodesian Rebellion, and those heroes who had survived had become media stars touted by the EU as pioneers in the defense of civil liberties and order in the colonies. Because of these credits, and the maneuvering of Governor-General Herzog, Adalbert was soon able to leave Africa and return to duty on the mainland.
That war had been over for more than a year, and the year 1999 of the A.T.B. was not apocalyptic; there were only still restless people and an increasingly tense world situation. After the revelry, the survivors had to continue to face the hard life, and the joy of the aftermath could not help them face the new challenges. Adventure stories only tell of warriors who have defeated the demon king, and readers take for granted that the world must be a happy and peaceful place after good has triumphed over evil. Evil has not been defeated, the Britannian Empire is still watching, and a new round of struggle has just begun. However, those who had already fallen into the ground forever during the Rhodesian Rebellion had no chance - never having the chance to see victory or even enjoy a moment of peace.
Looking at the buildings that kept flashing by the windows of the car, Adalbert began to remember his life in South Africa. It had been a true retreat, where he had honed his will in the hope that he would always be able to keep his head above water in an increasingly chaotic world. He felt guilty for many people, especially those who had been kind to him ... Perhaps, he would never have the chance to repay their kindness.
The car stopped in front of an apartment building. Adalbert paid the driver, stepped out of the car, breezed to the fifth floor and knocked on the door of one of the rooms. Within a few moments, a young man opened the door, surprised.
"Please don't take this the wrong way, Your Grace." Adalbert saluted first, "I am here to see you by order of His Excellency, the Governor-general of Herzog ... I hope you are enjoying your stay in Paris, Your Grace the Duke of Breisgau."
Bradow von Breisgau sighed and looked at the wrecked house, smiling bitterly as he motioned for Adalbert to sit on a still-new couch off to the side.
"I hope the Malcal family keeps their end of the bargain, or we'll be sleeping rough." The Duke looked bitterly at the cross in place of Adalbert's bowtie, always suspecting that the young man had been sent by Governor-General Herzog to carry out a demonstration and pull his strings. The changes in the Empire of Britannia led by Emperor Charles III had greatly damaged the original backbone of the nobility and had ultimately led to the exile of a large number of nobles who had originally supported the Emperor, which naturally included the Duke and Duchess of Breisgau. Their estates had all been confiscated by the Empire and His Imperial Majesty the Emperor, and they had fled to the EU without a penny to their name.
A few months ago, when the EU's intelligence department learned that Bradow von Breisgau, who was a famous noble of the Britannian Empire and an important aide to Emperor Charles, had decided to defect, they once thought that it was false news. Even if the intelligence department later proved the truth through side conversations, many officials believed that they should use the opportunity to provoke a new internal struggle in the Britannian Empire and plunge the Empire into ongoing civil unrest - which meant that they would have to use Duke Breisgau as bait and sacrifice the other party's life. Though the Intelligence Service's plan was carried out in secret, they came under direct pressure from Governor-General Herzog when they submitted it to the Consul for review. The Governor-general's allies in Europe forced the Intelligence Service to abandon their scheme to utilize the Duke of Breisgau, and they instead offered to take in the Duke's family as a symbol of the EU's enlightenment.
"Livelihood comes second." The former Duke told Adalbert of his woes, "It's just that we don't have a proper job right now. In the EU, it's quite difficult to intervene in all sorts of matters as one pleases like in the Britannian Empire."
"I was never clear on why you decided to leave Britannia." Adalbert seemed to hear the sound of a baby crying from the other room, "The truth is that you would have had a much better future in the Britannian Empire than you do now ... Many people thought you were self-destructive."
"When you stand in the same situation as I do, you will understand the anxiety and confusion ... There is nothing more terrifying than seeing that your chosen path is about to create demons." Bradow von Breisgau stood up and went to gather up the clutter on the side table. Adalbert stopped him and threw the junk into the trash can himself.
"So, it's a fact that ... Emperor Charles is preparing to wage a war of aggression against the outside world."
"As of now, it can't be called a fact." Bradow corrected Adalbert, "However, since the end of last year, I realized that the economic policies he is pursuing are unsustainable, and that there is no measure in the world that can simultaneously enrich the lives of all classes of people ... unless it is the plundering of foreign countries. Besides, military spending is climbing at an alarming rate, and the Britannian Empire is turning into a war machine."
"That's not good." Adalbert looked at Bradow whose expression was slightly embarrassed, "So you decided to defect because you were worried about continuing to help the Emperor wage war? Frankly speaking, if something similar happened in the EU, you would definitely become a traitor in everyone's eyes."
"Lieutenant Colonel Herzog, this kind of war of aggression is pointless. It will drain the last drop of blood from the sons and daughters of Britannia before sending the plundered fruits back to the homeland." Bradow said righteously, "War will not allow the Britannian Empire to rise, since ancient times there has been no kingdom that has relied on war to become a hegemony that has lasted more than a hundred years, and some of them have even crumbled in less than a generation ... This is for the sake of Britannia, I have no choice. "
The two discussed a few more small, unrelated matters. Adalbert carefully analyzed Bradow's current situation, and he told the Duke that the most cost-effective business left was to go into politics. In any case, the main business of nobles in the Britannian Empire was still politics, and running industries and managing territories were incidental obligations. If a nobleman would not fight for his own favorable position in the chaotic political situation, sooner or later his estate and territory would be someone else's.
Adalbert always wore the medals he had earned around his neck, knowing that they had been paid for with other people's lives, and he needed to be constantly reminded of his fallen comrades. All men pay the price for the same cause, only a few are rewarded, and those who live should not demean and forget those who have died. In any case, they had fought united under the same flag in defense of their home.
"You have advantages and disadvantages." Adalbert analyzed line by line, "Although you once served an emperor, your ideas coincide with those of our Progressive MPs in the EU ... The economic crisis that began a few years ago has left many citizens disgruntled, and we need a strong set of tools to intervene and bring the out the poor people who work hard but remain poor. His Excellency the Governor-general will soon return to Europe, and when he does the situation in the EU will change to a great extent ..."
He cleared his throat and continued:
"... However, at this stage you must keep a low profile. My father has betrayed the Afrikaner Britannians, and now he is betraying the Conservatives, and he has become a thorn in the side of many people. They dare not directly target His Excellency the Governor-general himself, but they can easily eliminate some of the ordinary people beside him who are powerless. Whether it's an attack on public opinion or an assassination, our enemies will surely employ sharper methods against us. If you intend to fight alongside the Malcal family, you had better understand the risks involved."
"That much I am aware of." Bradow said confidently, "Those who are too flamboyant will not live long in your area, and proper compromise is necessary."
"That's good, it will be a good thing for both of us." Adalbert rose from the couch and shook Bradow's hand in farewell, "I have recently taken up a position in the Britannia Affairs Center of the Joint Staff Headquarters, if you need me to do anything for you in Paris, just ask me to help."
In fact, Bradow von Breisgau was not a poor man, he just did not have funds that he could utilize for the time being, when he got in touch with the Malcal family, it was thought that the Malcal family, who had always kept their word, would return the Breisgau family's estate and use it to pull Bradow von Breisgau into their camp. Therefore, Adalbert did not intend to use money to pull the other side, he knew that the amount of money he had seen in his life was probably not as much as the total amount of money that the Duke himself had handled in a year, not to mention the fact that this favor should have been provided by the Malcal family, and he could not steal his ally's limelight in the clearly defined game.
At the thought of the Duchess giving birth to a girl, Adalbert had no reason to worry about the child's future. The Breisgau family had no direct male heirs right now, which probably meant that their family fortune would end up in someone else's hands, their future son-in-law to be exact. Since the Malcal family was so keen on marrying a noble from the Britannian Empire, they would definitely not let this opportunity go.
"Leila von Breisgau, the name is okay." Adalbert muttered to himself.
It was already evening when Lieutenant Colonel Herzog left the Duke's temporary residence. He stopped another cab in front of his apartment, this time destined for the hospital. After Herzog's promotion to Lieutenant Colonel and transfer to the Joint Staff Headquarters in Paris, he was in dire need of a new car, but he couldn't come up with that kind of money right now, not the least of which was the fact that he had taken a significant portion of his salary to subsidize the families of the dead. He had always felt that he owed his dead comrades his life, and since he could not repay that favor, he had to make up for it monetarily in order to have peace of mind.
An Algerian in an Arabian robe stood at the entrance to the hospital, and when he saw Adalbert, he hurried forward and whispered:
"Son état s'est encore aggravé, le médecin a dit qu'il ne tiendrait probablement pas jusqu'à demain ... "
"I know." Adalbert's face did not change, "Est-il conscient maintenant ?"
"Pas conscient, très confus ..."
"Cela suffit. Vous continuez votre contact avec le médecin pendant que je vais me préparer."
Adalbert Herzog rushed into the bathroom with a package, from which he took out a leather jacket and a wig. He then found some makeup tools, and the casual observer feared that he was planning to attend some kind of grandiose reception. Ten minutes later, Adalbert, who had stuffed his original clothes in a large handbag, stepped out of the restroom just in time to meet the Algerian.
"Monsieur McNeil ?" The robed Algerian couldn't help but take a few steps back, "Je pensais que cet homme était revenu à la vie ..."
Adalbert smiled and nodded, and was led by the Algerian to the vicinity of the ward. Two doctors stood in the doorway awaiting their arrival, one of them, an older, sherpa-topped doctor, saw Adalbert and walked up to ask the other man his identity.
"Êtes-vous un membre de la famille du patient ?" The doctor said gravely, a note of reproach in his tone, "Cela fait presque un an qu'il est allongé ici et la femme de ménage s'est occupée de lui à chaque fois..."
" L'homme qui devait être présent en tant que membre de la famille est décédé, et je suis son collègue." Adalbert handed the doctors their papers, "Vous voulez dire qu'il ne restera pas en vie ?"
"Oui." The doctor coldly stated the status quo, "Exactement..."
Ignoring their latter comment, Adalbert pushed open the door to the room and made his way to the hospital bed, led by a couple of nurses. The shaven-headed Jake Land lay quietly on the bed, looking as if he were asleep, and only the ticking instruments beside him indicated how bad his condition was.
Adalbert had never expected him to be involved with the old man who sold newspapers. After McNeil had disappeared during the Rhodesian Rebellion, he had assumed the other man was dead and had worked with other comrades to deal with the aftermath, accidentally discovering information relating to Jake Land. The old man was lucky enough to win a jackpot on a lottery ticket, and MacNeil sent him to Paris to retire and hired an Algerian butler for him. At the time, Jake Sr. was hospitalized for treatment of brain cancer, which was detected during a physical examination. In the spirit of fulfilling his comrade's wish, Adalbert intended to step in and take care of the matter.
"That's what you should do." Surprisingly, Governor-general Herzog didn't object to his son's idea, "His only son, who used to be my attendant military officer, was killed in an assassination. Sadly, I can't bring the dead back to life even if I'm the consul of the EU. McNeil wanted to honor that widow and orphan, and now that he's dead, you'll do it for him."
McNeil told little stories to Lt. Col. Herzog in jest-such as the time he and Old Jake accidentally ran into a group of robbers on a trip to Angola and he lied to the robbers' consciences by claiming that Old Jake was a sick man who had brain cancer and wasn't going to live much longer. No one could have predicted that Old Jake actually had brain cancer, and the disease progressed rapidly, and soon there was no cure. However, Adalbert has been unable to leave South Africa, he had to contact the Algerian housekeeper from time to time. The housekeeper was afraid to tell the old man that McNeil had disappeared (in fact, everyone thought he was dead), so he lied that McNeil was out of town working and was too busy to come back.
Adalbert holds the old man's hand, and he sees his eyes open weakly. According to the butler's earlier statement, the old man had lost almost all of his sight, and even if something had broken in Adalbert, old Jake probably wouldn't have been able to see it.
"I'm back." The long speech Adalbert had brewed up in advance was all forgotten. He saw a lot of unnamable emotions in those godless eyes, and it was actual actions, not identity labels and names, that really shaped the relationship between two isolated individuals. McNeil was just a hobo, and Old Jake was just an old man selling newspapers. He has done nothing more for McNeil than provide a roof over his head, and McNeil then decides to repay him in this way ... So how does Adalbert respond to the expectations of his benefactors?
"I know you've been busy ..." said old Jake feebly, a word that had to be broken up into several syllables before he could pronounce it, "... where have you been? We agreed before that you'd come back once the war was over ..."
"I'm sorry." Adalbert drew a hand over his face. He had witnessed countless deaths, but when he saw an old man holding on to his last breath barely surviving only by virtue of his attachment to his only remaining family member, all those grandiose blueprints that had once echoed in his mind collapsed. Whether it was the EU or the Britannian Empire, it was the living, breathing people that made up the country, not the numbers that came out of the mouths of emperors and senators. He thought of his father, Governor-general Herzog, who had also passed sixty and was approaching the end of his life. The Governor-general still had his career to distract from the fear of loneliness and death, whereas these plain, ordinary people had nothing, and their entire old age was spent in despair as they went to their deaths.
Fireworks bloomed in the distant sky as the younger generation of citizens celebrated the arrival of another Christmas.
"I'm sorry, really ..."
The old man reached out a bony hand and pointed to the curtain next to him. Adalbert hastily pulled back the curtains to reveal a night sky steeped in joy. He turned off the lights in the ward so that the old man could see the light outside more clearly.
"Christmas is here." He said as if to himself, "It doesn't matter, I'm coming to Paris to work now, later ..."
Adalbert saw that the instrument next to him was only a straight line, and he finally realized that the old man would never hear what he had just said. Lt. Col. Herzog stood still for a long time before bringing the old man's hands, which were draped over the sides of the hospital bed, back to his chest. The old man looked like he had simply fallen asleep and gone in prayer to meet the gods who had not done his life justice.
A nurse came into the hospital room and turned on the light.
" Il est mort, les gars..."
" Verschwinden Sie!"
Adalbert snarled and shooed the overwhelmed nurse out of the ward, turning off the lights in the process. In the darkness, he dropped his wig on the floor, took off his leather top and covered the old man's remains.
"Goodbye, McNeil. Goodbye."
Epilogue A (1/5) END
Chapter Notes：
It may not be fortunate for the EU that the crisis has not worsened further.
The war machine of the Britannian Empire has still not shown its true colors.