"This… how sure can we be that it's accurate?" The Rabbi questioned with a shuddering breath, seated across the wooden table with the same two people in the same location as the day before. "Elijah, he… he's not the most honest of souls."
"He isn't," Artoria easily agreed, recalling how he had attempted to rob her with knife in hand in a alley. "But the boy hates the Nazis more than anyone."
"That's exactly my concern. He's never made it a secret about what he thinks should happen."
A valid concern. For all she knew, the boy was telling her lies in an attempt to escalate the conflict. However…
"The boy's a liar. But a poor one," Artoria defended. The worry. The fear. The anger. But most of all, the hatred. The raw emotions that flickered across his eyes as he informed her of what he learned burned with an intensity nigh impossible to emulate.
"Even if he doesn't mean deceit, he's but a boy. A foolish one and immature at that. It wouldn't take much for another to deceive him," the Rabbi insisted.
"Foolish, yes. Immature? Very. But not incompetent," Shaw corrected from the sidelines. "It takes more than just luck to sneak past the blockade and return without anyone noticing."
On that, she easily agreed.
Age was not the determining factor of competence. Stupidity and genius were not mutually exclusive. "The boy's paranoid as he is distrustful. He'd receive a gift and believe it a trap. I don't believe he'd believe the words of any random stranger- no. He would at least verify."
When the boy came to her abode and explained his exploits, she was uncertain whether to praise him for his courage or thrash him for his recklessness. But in the end, she had settled with praise. He had done well after all. And the boy beamed at her acknowledgement.
She could only hope that he did not take her words as encouragement for further exploits.
"Then he must be mistaken," the Rabbi continued with a trembling hand. "There's no way… this…"
"Did you already forget what happened just a month ago?" Sebastian Shaw interrupted at her side. There was a slight sneer plastered across his lips, a sense of condescension of a man who knew something that others did not.
It was unpleasant to witness, but Artoria offered no rebuke.
"Of course I didn't! But this… arresting every person with Jewish descent? Starting a war?"
"Your dear Fuhrer has never made his ambitions a secret."
"Not when his own capital's in chaos! This… this is utter insanity!"
"Of which Hitler has plenty of," Shaw commented with a smirk.
The Rabbi almost snarled. "A hateful man and a monster he may be, but he's no fool. You don't rise to the position of chancellorship by being stupid."
Shaw's smirk grew into a chuckle of bemusement. "Oh, I wish I had your optimism Mr. Benowitz. But history is filled with the retarded that shouldn't have led a flock of sheep, much less a nation."
"That's why we were a democracy! So that people can select the best man for the nation!"
"For themselves," Artoria corrected. "I'd not call the common masses ignorant, but they are short sighted, failing to see beyond their wants and needs. They'll choose anyone, even fiends, if it gave them what they wanted. Even at the cost to everything else."
"Artoria?" The Rabbi gapped at her words.
"Surprisingly scathing. Especially coming from you," Shaw chuckled. "But hardly incorrect."
"It's just human nature," she explained without accusation. Human beings were inherently selfish, prioritizing themselves and loved ones over others. To prioritize others at the cost to themselves… most were not capable of such sacrifice.
That was why she had thrown away her humanity. And as king, she had been in the perfect position to witness the ugliness without bias tainting her thoughts.
The elder sighed as he slumped into his seat, his arms bearing the weight of his head as if his spine had turned to sponge. A pang of pity struck her heart as the man seemed to wither by the second. "… what do we do?" He rasped, a sense of helplessness in his voice.
"We fight," Shaw quickly answered, speaking to the Rabi yet his eyes were fixated on her. "We have no other choice."
"There is always a choice," the Rabbi rebuffed with a glare.
"Yes. I suppose we do," Shaw admitted. "We could always just let the Nazis murder your people while we survive on another's generosity."
"Don't twist my words Mr. Shaw. Only short-sighted fools see only one path and I pray you are wiser. If we must fight, then we will. But not until every avenue for peace has been exhausted."
"Oh? Maybe you have a spine after all. But you seem to forget we've already lost the peace. Ask the Poles."
"What are you proposing, Sebastian?" Artoria intervened before the two could squabble further.
Rabbi Benowitz was typically composed, even in dire circumstances and sorrowful days. But Shaw's every action and words seemed to aggravate the elder to the core.
For several moments, Shaw remained silent. He eyed her, watching her carefully as if pondering for the right words to grace his tongue. "You can end this war." It wasn't a question, but a statement.
"You overestimate me," Artoria quickly denied.
"No… no… no… I don't think I am."
She frowned. Had she met this man in the past? He seemed oddly certain despite having never witnessed her in battle. She searched her memories, but she recalled nothing. "I am one person. I cannot defeat a nation of millions."
At least, not while protecting thousands.
"But you're not alone. Even Chamberlin won't let this stand. Neither will France. Poland won't last another week. But I'm willing to bet Germany will fall even faster if you spearhead the western armies."
"Perhaps. Or perhaps not," Artoria softly said. "Either way, you'll die."
The moment she was sighted in Germany's western border, the Nazis would know that the only obstacle preventing their acts of wanton slaughter wasn't here to stay their hand.
If he was daunted by his possible death, Shaw showed no sign. Instead, he shrugged as if there was not a care in the world. "Thousands against millions. The math isn't hard."
A flicker of surprise flashed through her mind. Sebastian Shaw, despite his capabilities, was not a kind man, much less a good one. He attempted to hide it from her, but the sheer disdain and disregard for others leaked through his mask of pleasantries.
For a man like that to be so casual about his wellbeing for the sake of others… had she been wrong about him? It wouldn't have been the first time.
"Since when was life so trivial that it could be measured with arithmetic?" The Rabbi chastised with a frown.
"Still so attached to life at your age?" Shaw smirked mockingly
"It is not mine that I worry and fear for. But thousands that call this wretched place a home."
"Maybe you should extend your generosity to your own people. You know, the folks that're being dragged into prison camps."
"I pray for them every day and night, American," the Rabbi spat the last words as if they were a curse. "But we can't abandon the settlement to be butchered. Not when they rely on us."
"Her," Shaw corrected. "They rely on her," he repeated.
"You know what I meant."
"No. Rabbi Benowitz is correct," Artoria stated, her expression a hardened mask.
"You don't need to be humble," Shaw said with a knowing grin.
But she didn't return his smile. "I am not. I do not speak with humility nor am I offering praise. Having to split my attention would have ended in disaster. It is yours and the work of so many others, that so many still draw breath."
"All of which will become ash if we follow your plan, Mr. Shaw," the Rabbi commented with a satisfied smile.
Sebastian Shaw frowned as a flicker of irritation crossed his eyes. "The only way to save the most people and to stop this war is to defeat Germany. Once the French and British occupy this country, they can liberate those in the prison camps. You can end this insanity. I know it's hard. But sometimes, sacrifices are nee—"
"What do you know about sacrifice?" Artoria softly asked, but the warning in her voice was unmistakable.
"… Artoria?" The American started, suddenly hesitant.
"What do you know of me to presume I require such a lesson?" She asked again, anger rising with her words.
"I—," Shaw started with an undertone of anger, but he quickly quashed whatever resentment he bore. "I apologize. I didn't mean to assume. But my point is still no less valid. Think about it this way. If millions die when you had the power to prevent it, can you live with yourself Artoria?"
"I can," she answered without hesitation even as she hated the words she spoke. She would regret it. She would hate herself for the past decisions she made. But she had gotten enough practice.
In the years she travelled the world, she had killed many and saved even more. She had granted salvation to those she could see, but ignored those she could not, willfully pretending that they didn't exist.
It was what she promised to the TVA.
Never once had she interfered in the actions of a governing state, no matter what she believed. It wasn't her place. She was but a specter from a bygone era that had no place in this new world. It was not her duty, nor her purpose.
But most of all, it was doubt.
Doubt whether her actions would truly help those she saved. Despite following and committing to what she believed necessary, her rule had ended in catastrophic failure. Who was to say her aid would not result in the same disaster to those she saved?
Would she have saved the Jews if she had known that the riot was ordered by the state? Once in the past, the answer would have been obvious. Now, she didn't know.
"… disappointing," Shaw mused. "I thought you'd be more responsible."
While her face remained impassive, the word struck her deeper than any munition that the Nazi's had shot.
"This war isn't my responsibility," Artoria heatedly defended.
"Oh, but it is. How can it be not yours when it was your actions that started it?" Shaw accused. "In saving the Jews in Berlin, you may as well have condemned millions to die. You'll save the thousands, but not the millions. What is that if not hypocrisy."
"Do you believe me a daft fool? Some girl inexperienced in war?" Artoria angrily growled. "To prepare the logistics to house hundreds of thousands of prisoners and an invasion are a work of months, if not years. That the Nazis had done both so quickly means that they had prepared for it all along. My actions, at best, merely triggered it. But they are not the cause."
But even as she defended herself, she could not help but feel the seed of doubt bloom within her heart. In many ways, Shaw was correct. And like her kingdom, everything she touched seemed to rot.
"Does it matter?" Shaw questioned, but not pressing against her argument. "It doesn't change what needs to be done. We can't just sit here and do nothing."
"I will do what I can."
"Oh? And what would that be?" Shaw sneered, his voice with a tinge of irritation and mockery.
"I'll seize this city."
Shaw's eyes widened with a flicker of surprise as he straightened his body in his own seat. He leaned forward, a spark of interest dancing in his visage. "Oh?"
"A-Artoria?" The Rabbi gaped. "This.. this is a serious escalation. There's no way the German's won't respond!"
"I see," Shaw mused, the tips of his lips stretching into a curve. "This settlement is vulnerable to aerial bombardment as long as the Nazis are willing to sacrifice part of their capital. But… they won't sacrifice their entire capital. At least, nobody sane will. But Hitler isn't sane."
"I trust his sense for self-preservation," Artoria corrected. "I doubt his generals, or even his men will agree to such an order. But even if they did, Berlin is too large a city and bombings are inherently inaccurate. We should remain relatively unscathed even if the worst comes to worst."
"Their armies— heh. Infantry won't matter, will it?"
"No matter how many they send, it'll end the same," she confirmed.
"You'll be fighting a war in two fronts," the Rabbi warned, but didn't attempt to dissuade her. "Three million souls call this city home and none will be happy about they view as an occupation. Too many will fight tooth and neck, and we don't have the manpower to keep order."
"The city's armory should be abundant. I'd expect that they've been filling it past the brim to deal with us."
"… it'll be a blood bath. Of innocents."
"It will be," Artoria admitted, not even attempting to deceive the Rabbi of reality.
"Is there a point in saving ourselves if even more will die in the process?" The elder asked bitterly. "This… this goes against all our teachings. I… we can't—"
"The blood spilled, the pain caused…. They will all be by my hand. There's no need for you to shoulder such guilt. When asked why, point to me. All the blame will fall on mine."
"Just how selfish do you think I am?" The Rabbi asked, his visage twisted in horror. "You're doing this for us. You… you could have left anytime you wanted! To have you take sole responsibility is—"
"It is human nature to be selfish. And you, are human. There's no need to bare shame."
The Rabbi shook his head, his breath heavy with rasps in between. "… I think I'd rather die."
"I expect you to live," Artoria chastised, her face expressionless. "For all the people here, and the others that will follow."
The elderly man looked up, meeting her by the eyes as realization crossed his face. "You mean to free them? Everyone?"
Artoria nodded. "Mass movements of people shouldn't be difficult to trace."
"Freeing a single batch will be the work of days," Shaw reminded. "Not everybody can move at your speed. And in the time that you're not here, we'll be vulnerable."
"If I exert myself, I can smash through every military base within a hundred miles within hours. With majority of Germany's armies in Poland or gathering in their western border, I'd expect it'll take a considerable amount of time before they can march here. In that respite, I should be able to rescue several camps."
"And the war?" Shaw asked, his gaze focused on hers. "If we do as you say, we'll have enough people to hold this city even without your help. Even untrained rabble can pin down professional armies in this terrain. You'll be free to act."
"I—," Artoria started, her voice hesitant.
War was horrid and inherently unjust, but conflict was as eternal as the stars in the heavens above. Yes, she had confidence to bring a quick end to this war. But was she to do the same for all future conflicts? What would be the limit? Should she seek to end all injustices? Provide sanctuary and food for those without?
Peace and justice were the right of the strongest and the privilege of the king.
And that was one thing she refused to become.
"We'll see," she said instead and made way to stand.
"Artoria, wait!" The Rabbi protested, but his pleas fell on deaf ears.
"Sebastian. Ready the militia. Everyone we can spare, even the reserves. We'll—"
The world fluctuated. Something tingled in her mind like an itch that couldn't be scratch. It was a sensation beyond the five senses, and even the sixth, yet she had learned to recognize it all the same.
With a weary sigh, she closed her eyes.
"Is something wrong?" Shaw asked with a look of confusion.
"Get ready by noon," she ordered instead of answering.
"And you?"
"I'll have to take care of an unwanted guest."
"Friend or enemy?" Shaw asked with a look of concern.
"We'll see."