Chapter Text
I. Wait for Me
“By the way, did you notice? What you just said was your answer.”
“If she’s going forward, there needs to be something for her to see down the path she follows. She follows the path that you create. So what is your destination? You just found the answer yourself, didn’t you?”
His crimson eyes widened in disbelief.
“Frederica…”
“I may be your junior in age, but that doesn’t mean I can’t impart my own advice,” she smiled softly, letting the charred Edelfalter in her hand plummet to the ground. “I am sure she and your many comrades you carry with you would agree with me.”
“Maybe one day we can see the fireworks together.”
“They told me not to forget.”
The kind Major’s words rang in his ears as he slashed through the safety belts tethering him to the Reginleif’s seat.
He couldn’t understand why she had burdened herself with that promise, and he wasn’t sure if he ever would. The world was cruel and filled to the brim with selfish monsters. Of that much he was certain. Even if the heavens were to shove him into the most beautiful thing in the world, he doubted he would be able to see what he was meant to see.
From the corner of his eye, Shin saw the Juggernaut chipping upon which he had engraved his brother’s name slip out of view. He chose not to worry about that at that moment. Frederica’s words pushed him to imagine a place that was not another battlefield, so he willed his eyes to absorb the sights surrounding Undertaker.
Perhaps his eyes were playing tricks on him, but Shin sensed that the scenery was much brighter than it had been laying Kiriya to rest. Colorful plumes of smoke continued to spew out of the Morpho’s ruins, painting the bright blue sky with pastel colors. The sea of spider lilies swayed to and fro, as if celebrating his failure to die at his desired final destination. High above them, where heaven and earth met, General Altner’s escort soared, taking its special guests back towards the Gran Mur.
Watching the helicopter fade into the distant horizon filled him with a sense of longing, but Shin didn’t have any regrets. They both had their own obligations to fulfill, but they would meet again. It was a promise, no, a vow, they had made together.
“Oi, asshole, not sure if you heard the warnings while you were busy rushing off to die, but there’s a second wave of Legion coming in. I don’t know about you, but a dinner date with them wasn’t on my schedule.”
“I’ll meet you guys at the helicopter shortly. I need to get some things first.”
Shin took a final glance at Undertaker and sighed. The Reginleif, while externally largely intact, suffered severe combat damage that rendered it useless. The maintenance crew were going to give him hell for trashing such an expensive vehicle.
“Guess some things don’t change,” he muttered, remembering the earful he got from Aldrecht after every mission. His reminiscing thoughts were cut short by the incessant sound of a young girl rustling through the spider lilies, frantically searching for something.
“Don’t bother. Leave it behind,” Shin waved dismissively behind him, his eyes focused on retrieving the Juggernaut fragment.
“It doesn’t sit right with me,” Frederica pouted. “I feel horrible for breaking it, and now you’ll never be able to give it a proper sendoff.”
True.
There was something bigger and more pressing on his mind, however.
“Frederica…about what happened here today…I’d prefer if you didn’t tell anyone about it.”
“Heehee, you really do care about the Major, eh? Tell that paper-pusher in Sankt Jeder that my ‘big brother’ already gave me a serious smackdown, and we have a deal.”
General Richard Altner scowled as the massive fortification loomed into view through the cockpit’s windshield.
“So this…is the Gran Mur.”
The silver-haired officer accompanying him merely gave a subtle confirmatory nod.
“It is even more terrible than I imagined.”
The Gran Mur, the ‘crown jewel’ of the self-proclaimed egalitarian Republic of San Magnolia, had been constructed through the blood, sweat, and tears of its non-Alba inhabitants, derisively known as the ‘Colorata’ or ‘Eighty-Six.’ For untold many, it would be their graves, and the only evidence that non-Alba had lived and died on Republic soil in the footnotes of San Magnolia’s history books.
Thanks to the reports from the surviving members of the ‘Spearhead Squadron,’ the Giad General Staff was aware of its purpose and history, as well as its fate in the Large-Scale Offensive two months prior. It shouldn’t have been a surprise to him that they were telling the truth. And yet, a part of him was hoping that it was false, that it as well as all the horrific atrocities committed by the self-proclaimed “Bastion of Democracy” were a figment of the children’s imaginations.
The sight before him, a towering wall armed to the teeth with massive Interception Cannons and bristling with numerous mechanized vehicles known as “Juggernauts,” laid to rest any remote possibility that it was a delusion.
Said “Juggernauts” raised their barrels apprehensively at approaching aircraft, uncertain whether they were being met by friends or foes.
The Alba and her aide simultaneously pressed their Para-RAID devices. As much as Richard wanted to respect their privacy, the Onyx general left his own activated.
“Brísingamen Squadron, stand down. Giad sent soldiers to take down the railgun unit, which has been successfully destroyed. They are transporting myself and Captain Iida back to your position.”
“We’re not taking our sights off them, Captain Milizé. If anything were to happen to you we’d never forgive ourselves.”
“I’m alive too, Vice-Captain Aya.”
“Yes. Thank you for your assistance, Captain Iida. Please keep us posted. The Spearhead Squadron and other processors are also on standby in case they are needed.”
General Altner turned towards the co-pilot, who looked back at him bewilderedly. Ever since the 177th Armored Division deployed to retrieve the processors sent to destroy the Morpho Railgun, they had braced for the worst. Every Giad soldier was fully prepared to be met with contemptuous scorn and have every racist insult known to man hurled at them on arrival. It was why (though technically standard protocol) the Giad General Staff anxiously awaited transcripts of the first interaction between the Federacy of Giad and the Republic of San Magnolia. Initial impressions would be pivotal to establishing what sort of relationship the two long-lost neighbors would have with each other.
Nevertheless, the first San Magnolian Officer he had met in nearly a decade had been nothing but kind to him. In a gesture that made even the ‘Eighty-Six’ accompanying the Captain smack her face in disbelief, the Alba had offered to surrender her weapon in return for safe passage for herself and Captain Iida to the front lines. Understandably, he refused it. This was a friendly visit, not an invasion, and he was not about to give ammunition to dissidents back home about Giad’s behavior abroad.
He had thought perhaps, that it had been merely an act put on by Captain Milizé in front of a foreign audience, yet that too was disproven by how ferociously loyal all frontline ‘Colorata’ were to their superior. Their concern sounded not out of fear of reprisal but from genuine respect for their commander, a tone of voice the young general was all-too-familiar with.
“Will you be heading back to Giad afterwards, General Altner? The Legion will be attacking shortly.”
That sweet voice again rang of nothing but concern for their safety, not her own.
“No. It is the wishes of the President that we begin operations to restore the Republic of San Magnolia. Given the aftershocks of the Legion’s offensive, it will likely be a slow, ongoing process. However, the vanguard will be arriving shortly to bolster your defenses. I believe the 433rd under General Helen Kempenfelt will lead the column to this position. Relief supplies and auxiliary support should follow behind her under Colonel Ignatius.”
Captain Milizé nodded in understanding. “We will provide artillery support to General Kempenfelt’s forces on approach.” She paused and looked up at him worriedly.
“Does Colonel Ignatius’s forces have supplies for the Eighty-Six?”
“My Queen, beggars can’t be choosers. Even if they did think for us, you think the white pigs would let filth–”
“ Captain Shiden Iida. Every day, the processors of the Brísingamen Squadron risk their lives and die on my orders, while I, a white pig, get to sleep soundly at night. That is why I am the Bloody Reina. If I can’t acknowledge and accept that, then I am not worthy of them. ”
General Richard Altner stared at the two officers in stunned silence.
Captain Iida quickly took note of this and sighed. “We’ll talk about this on the ground, Your Highness. It’s not good to speak here about this.”
The chirping of Richard’s RAID device interrupted the sour mood overtaking the passengers.
“General Altner, my approach to the designated sector will be delayed. Our forces have encountered a substantial armored corps belonging to the Legion. Löwe and Grauwolf types, but nothing we can’t handle. Colonel Ignatius’s path remains clear, so he should be able to commence relief operations in one hour.”
“Do you know what his supply situation looks like?”
“Ammunition wise? Only enough for a week, but we should have supply trains up and running by then. In terms of aid and food, enough for say… twenty-five thousand to eat three meals for a week.”
“If there is inadequate food, can you make sure additional rations are procured as soon as possible?”
“General Altner, I think you forget Colonel Ignatius’s talents as a logistician. You tell him how many more are needed and he’ll requisition them out of thin air.”
“Tell him to make sure every processor and soldier stationed at this position has dinner tonight and breakfast tomorrow. They helped us in the Morpho Operation; we owe them that much.”
“General Altner,” the co-pilot interrupted, “we’re making the approach to the Gran Mur now. We’ll be landing in 5 minutes.”
“Thank you.” He turned to the young Alba woman, who seemed grateful for his support of her request. “Do you have any final questions for me? I would love to chat once we’re on the ground, but I imagine a long conversation with your superior officers is in order.”
“The Federacy soldier I met in the Lycoris field…what happened to the rest of his unit? Why did he fight alone? Will he be treated kindly on his return?”
For the third time that trip, Richard Altner, a twenty-year veteran of the Giad military, looked at Vladilena Milizé in disbelief. He had been prepared to answer a wide gamut of questions, many pertaining to Giad and San Magnolia, but not this.
“The soldier will be treated by first-rate medics at the nearest Giad base immediately. He was unfortunately separated from his squadron members during the assault, and was forced to attack alone. From what we currently know of that battle, your artillery support proved essential to his survival. Of course, the transcripts and his own report will shed better light on the exact events, but nonetheless, Giad is grateful. As for his treatment by his fellow squadron members, they will be elated at his survival. Many feared him to have died in the attempt. May I ask you, Captain Milizé, why you are so curious in the fate of a soldier, whose allegiance is different from your own?”
The Alba looked away towards the mass of processors anxiously awaiting her arrival.
“I imagined others did not want to be left behind, nor did he want to forget them. He wanted to remember their duty, and get to experience a future with them.”
Just like me.
A massive mansion that he vaguely remembered.
A massive lawn with tall trees that flashed in and out of his few dreams.
A Celena girl, with short hair and an impish grin plastered on her face, waving at him from her front doorstep.
A dog, like Fido yet not, peeping at him happily as it ran laps around his redheaded brother, who was “rescuing” him from the grasps of the Legion.
A brother who looked just as he remembered, but far, far, far more tired.
“Shin,” he panted, dropping his stick sword as he lowered his little brother to the ground. “I, I can’t do this any longer. I can’t go on doing this forever.”
“But…Rei…you’re my brother,” the little boy whimpered, tears forming in his eyes. “You’ll always be my knight.”
“I always will be. But I can’t stay at your side forever.”
“Don’t say that! We’re family, we’ll always be together.”
“No,” Shourei grimaced, wincing as he held his stomach. “One day, Shinei, I will grow old, and I will die. Then it will be you who will have to be the knight.”
“What about mom and dad?”
“They too, shall pass. What will you do then, Shin? What will you live and fight for?”
The scene shimmered and changed. He heard voices calling for him, thanking him, telling him not to forget them.
“Tch.”
And a voice he would have honestly preferred to never hear again, belonging to one cranky, bloodthirsty Onyx cousin.
“I was hoping you would die with me, but it seems you can’t even do that properly,” he snorted, folding his arms in displeasure. “You must have a Saint or Guardian Angel with that kind of luck.”
Shin stared at the cold, stiff young man sitting beside him in the void. “I could say the same about you.”
Kiriya contorted his face in disgust. “I’m not sure if you have noticed, but I am very much dead. Thanks to you and your friends’ little tricks.”
“Then how are we talking?”
“That would be my fault.” A familiar face loomed into view from beside the fallen knight.
“R-R-Rei?”
“Shin,” the Pyrope-Onyx smiled, tears rolling down his cheeks. “I’m sorry. It’s my fault. I didn’t mean to-I didn’t want to hurt you. You just wanted to know, and I, and I,” he glanced down at his hands bitterly.
“I know.”
Rei flinched as Shin’s arms surrounded him, not with righteous anger, but with love and understanding, as if they were a parent’s consoling a distraught child.
“I forgive you, brother.” He felt his older sibling accept his warm embrace with his own.
“You’ve grown so much, Shinei.”
“Maybe.”
Kiriya smirked. “If your brother’s stories are even remotely grounded in reality, you’ve changed a lot.”
Shin looked away from both of them. “I still don’t have an answer to your question, brother.”
Rei tilted his head, perplexed by his brother’s response. “Which one?”
“When everyone is gone, will I become the knight?”
“I think that question has already been answered,” Kiriya groused. “Everytime someone tries to kill you, we get pelted with long-ranged artillery fire. Seriously, being on fire is painful. And unfair. Like, all I want to do is have a little friendly family sparring, is that too much to ask? Your kinsmen back in Giad used to butt heads with me all the time.”
“At least you didn’t get slapped so hard you started having an existential crisis…Wait a second, you got pelted by long-distance artillery fire too?!”
“Incendiary, long-ranged artillery fire. Not enough to kill, but enough to –” Kiriya shot a murderous glare at Shin.
“So you do have a guardian angel. One with a sweet voice and a dainty ring to it.”
“Yet cold and furious enough to make you shiver,” Rei added.
The two deceased-Nouzens-turned-into-Legion-units glanced at each other.
“Did this same wingwoman help out Shin on two separate, life-and-death occasions?”
It was Shin’s turn to be surprised.
“Wait…the Morpho…was it Major Milizé who provided…?!”
“Major Milizé?” Rei shook his brother eagerly. “Is she Alba, and your age, by any chance?”
“The one and same. She never forgot your compassion, Rei, all those years ago.”
“I can’t believe it, fate can be so kind. I saved her, who reminded me of you, and she went about and saved you, not once, but twice, because she thought of me.”
“And that answers that question, Shinei Nouzen, oh great Báleygr,” Kiriya smiled wistfully, flashing the living a sarcastic grin. “You are not the knight in shining armor, but Princess Augusta, bravely trying to guide her trusty servant home. And there is no shame in that, even if it diverges from the Nouzens’ traditional role. Wherever you go, she will follow, even if it is to the bitter end. So cherish this precious moment. You have a long life ahead of you. Don’t waste it.”
“I’ll try not to.”
“And Shin, one more thing. When you wake up, remember your big brother and kinsman, alright?”
“Wake up?”
“-in!”
A dream?
His bloodred eyes flicked about the helicopter’s cabin lazily. He sensed a moderately-heavy mass slumped over his right shoulder, Frederica by the looks of it, deep in sleep. Across the aisle, the group’s resident long-ranged specialist was being brutally manhandled by her Adularian companion.
“Sorry!” Kurena mumbled through Anju’s vicelike grip.
“Ah, sorry Captain. I simply informed our good friend here that you were making the most curious faces in your sleep, but she proceeded to try and wake you up. Though, I won’t complain. Now that you’re finally awake,” Anju smiled innocently as she clenched her hands into two throbbing fists. “I thought I’d let you know, that makes two beatings you owe us. And that’s being merciful. ”
“She’s damn right,” Raiden scoffed. “What the hell were you thinking, charging in like that and not answering the Para-RAID? Had those damn pigs not provided artillery support, you’d be dead.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You should be,” Theo scowled. “And stop making those smiles while you’re at it. They’re frightening.”
“To put it simply, you look like you’re being possessed by a demon,” Raiden elaborated. “I already told you to stop that after Kreutzbeck City, yet here you are, throwing your life away and still hammering away at it.”
“If she’s going forward, there needs to be something for her to see down the path she follows. She follows the path that you create. So what is your destination? You just found the answer yourself, didn’t you?”
“You have a long life ahead of you. Don’t waste it.”
“I won’t make any promises,” he looked down apologetically. “But I’ll try and work on it.”
Everyone, even Colonel Wenzel, was staring at him incredulously.
“You really mean it, don’t you?” Raiden murmured.
“I guess the thought of us missing you really scared you shitless,” Kurena added in awe. “But I’m glad!”
“Or the thought of the white pigs having their way with your corpse made you reevaluate your choices,” Theo smirked. “What happened down there, honestly? You seem…different.”
“A good different or bad different?”
“It’s like you’re actually listening ,” Anju offered.
“Captain Shinei Nouzen,” Grethe began, “I haven’t been your commanding officer for long, but I agree with what your comrades are saying.” Her cautious expression changed into an inquisitive one. “What happened down there?”
Shin sighed and looked down at Frederica, who continued to dream and remain oblivious to their conversation.
“You probably saw everything that happened.”
“We really didn’t, and your RAID device appeared to be malfunctioning for most of it.” Grethe’s expression softened and she sighed.
“You don’t want to talk about it right now, do you?”
“Not really.”
The Major is alive, and I was being an asshole to her on the communications. Despite this, if Frederica’s reaction is any indication…if they find out, I’m going to wish I died on that battlefield.
But that’s not true either. If I had, then the Major wouldn’t be able to catch up with me.
I’m sure that would make her sad. She might cry even, given her sensibilities.
“Just…let me know your perspective when you can in your after-action report, alright? We’ll be listening to the transmissions your Reginleif uploaded to the cloud and Captain Südamlik will also write out the transcripts for us, but we want to know your thoughts as we– Captain Nouzen?”
Shin sounded like he was choking and looked very, very, very much like he wanted to disappear from the face of the earth.
“I’ll make sure he’s seen by medical staff the moment we land,” Raiden groaned and pinched his nose.
“Does he normally do this after missions?”
“In all the years I’ve known him…I’ve never seen him like this.”
“You look like you’ve seen Death itself,” Shana smirked, giving the captain a hearty slap on the back. “Do you need Her Highness to tuck you into bed tonight?”
“You have no fucking idea, Shana.”
Shiden hadn’t told anyone, not even Her Highness, what she had seen that morning, because there was no easy explanation for how a boy who died two years ago could still be walking. The captain of the Brísingamen Squadron had never met the Reaper of the Eastern Front, but he was a legend across the 86th Sector. The Republic of San Magnolia always deployed the processor to wherever the combat was thickest, where his chances of survival were slim to nonexistent. Despite this, the Undertaker always survived, taking on the duties all Name-Bearers bore and carrying the fallen with him to their final battle.
That had been two years ago, when the squadron’s beloved handler had been a Major in a Republic still in denial of its impending doom. She never went into a lot of detail what exactly happened during her stewardship of the Spearhead Squadron, but everyone knew the Bloody Reina had been in command when the Reaper was assigned to the suicide unit. What was painfully certain was that the condemned processors and Captain Milizé learned a lot about themselves and each other, and a lot of her choices today stemmed from that experience. Between duty and morality, Vladilena had chosen the latter, saving the surviving members while they left her to her fate at the hands of the wrathful Republic.
But those freed ‘Eighty-Six’ had nowhere to run or turn to. Giad, the makers of the Legion, had fallen ten years ago, and from what little Shiden knew about them they had their own problems. The alternative was eeking out a life in Legion territory, which wouldn’t last long given the sheer numbers of Ameise and other scouts eager for fresh blood. The Bloody Reina ignored her new squadron’s insistence to accept they had died, and swore to one day ‘catch up with them.’
If her eyes hadn’t deceived her, however, it appeared the Reaper had caught up with her first. There was no denying the presence of his Personal Mark, even if it no longer emblazoned a juggernaut. The headless skeleton screamed at Cyclops to tell its master of his fate. Being honest with herself, Shiden didn’t blame him. The Bloody Queen had initially come across as an overly-insincere aspiring martyr, but the Brísingamen Squadron quickly warmed up to her. The thoughtfulness and kindness she never ceased to express to the ‘Eighty-Six’ made even the most skeptical amongst them go weak at the knees.
Smirking bitterly at herself, Captain Iida supposed that it made sense that the Reaper had his own liege to whom he was a ‘humble servant’ to. In spite of all the weird sensations she was currently experiencing in her heart, Shiden was happy to know that Lena’s promise to meet them at that final destination could still become reality. As commander of the Brísingamen Squadron, it fell squarely on her to realize her role model’s dreams.
“Funny how you left the Gran Mur as a duo and you returned with an entire army,” Mika griped as helicopters rumbled overhead. “And from a country long-thought to be dead, too.”
“So what do you think, Captain?” Hani asked hesitantly. “Can we trust them? That officer with you guys looked like someone not to be messed with.”
Shiden shook her head and watched the Giad and San Magnolia officers exchange heated words in the distance. “He may have not been prepared to meet Her Highness, but he’s a sack of weasels if you ask me. They’re better than the white pigs though, that’s for sure.”
“I suppose that’s a good start,” Mika grunted. “I bet they’ll be barking out new orders soon enough, though. Have to keep up appearances and all that.”
“Yeah. Apparently they’re hellbent on reestablishing the Republic of San Magnolia while saving us ‘Eighty-Six.’ They told Captain Milizé the groundwork for retaking the First Sector starts now.”
“Saving us and helping the white pigs are two conflicting goals. Which do you think will win in the end?”
“Who knows,” Shana frowned. “And while I’m glad they have plans at stopping the atrocities, I’m not sure I like the sound of ‘saving’ us.”
The Brísingamen Squadron fell silent.
“I hope we didn’t trade the white pigs for something far worse.”
Colonel Grethe Wenzel was no stranger to traumatic experiences. As much as Willem and other higher-ranking officers liked to joke her moniker “the Black Widow” stemmed from her martial prowess, the name stuck thanks to her fiance's untimely death. What should have been a pompous ceremony transformed into a muted wake.
Therefore, when she saw the young ‘Eighty-Six’ gaze at his superior as if he had seen a ghost, Grethe made it her utmost priority to get to the root of the problem. Shin had had no qualms throwing himself into danger, so for something to shake him to the marrow worried her. While the other officers at the forward base spent their afternoon recuperating, Grethe made a beeline towards the signal officers’ mess. If anyone would be able to quickly decode the Feldreß’s relays, it would be Captain Elise Südamlik.
Said officer ignored the Colonel’s abrupt entrance into her lair. The goldenrod-haired woman remained glued in her seat, deeply engrossed in the vast library of encrypted files she had to review. Her pale fingers typed furiously, the keyboard beneath them clattering relentlessly from the flurry of activity. Grethe gave her a hearty pat on the shoulders, causing Südamlik to jump and turn quizzingly to the intruder.
“I’m working on the transcripts, hold your hor–, ah, Grethe, you’re alive.” Despite Elise’s composed appearance, her corn blue eyes said everything. “It appears initial reports of your untimely death were erroneous.”
“So it seems.”
“I for one, am glad, and I am sure Willem shares the same sentiment. You should have heard his voice when we lost contact with the Nachzehrer. Poor sod was losing his own mind, and I’m fairly certain he had half a thought of going to its last known position in person. I’m sure he’ll confess to more than a few incriminating worried statements. That said, I doubt that’s why you’re here.” Elise’s eyes narrowed and she glanced at Grethe skeptically. “There must be something bothering you to the point you want to know immediately. ” The Delairean paused, searching for the right words. “The kids all came back, right?”
“They did,” Grethe sighed, “but one of them made contact with the Republic of San Magnolia before the vanguard teams could.”
“And they didn’t handle it well, I take it?” She frowned. “Did the San Magnolian soldiers threaten him?”
“That, we don’t know, which is why I wanted to hear the exchange from the source. We know the field officer stood by him until extraction could be completed, but…what happened between the destruction of the Morpho and our arrival remains unclear. You can decrypt and play back the audio from Undertaker, correct?”
“I was in the middle of charting the events of the Morpho Operation for General Altner and the General Staff,” Elise gestured towards the annotated topographical maps strewn across her desk, “but I’ll make an exception for you. It’s not like you’re the only one dying to know how that sordid affair went. It won’t take me long to have them available in a high-fidelity audio file for classified circulation. In the meantime,” she slipped her headphones over her parted bangs, “I’ll get to work on the transcript. Just because they’re encrypted doesn’t mean communication officers don’t have clearance to listen to them.”
“I’ll be staying here until it’s done.”
“That…could be a while. The operation took over forty-nine hours, and even at ten times speed you could be here well until the evening.”
“Undertaker was downed and grounded when the Republic made contact with the Feldreß. Maybe start around an hour or so before the recording stops. Skip around until you hear multiple voices.”
“I’ll do my best.” Captain Südamlik cocked her head uncertainly as she skipped about the massive recording.
“There’s a young girl’s high-pitched voice shouting in my ears…I assume that’s not the other voice you were looking for?”
Grethe winced. “That’s the mascot…keep going…”
“I presume the same regarding the static-ridden noises repeating the same phrases?”
“Please ignore that. Captain Nouzen’s an Esper, and his abilities mean sometimes what he hears leaks through into the cockpit recordings.”
“What about…there we go.”
“You found it?”
The officer ignored her query. Elise’s faded blue eyes glazed over as she concentrated on the exchange resounding through her headphones.
“Captain Südamlik, is it good news? Was he abused by his rescuers?”
The Delairean raised a halting hand, silencing her. Under normal circumstances Grethe would have taken offense at the curt response, but that directness was precisely why she had sought Captain Südamlik’s assistance. Unlike her expatriate parents, Elise desired a position in Giad’s armed forces over a career in the bureaucracy. While the Federation’s military had a disciplined structure, it had its own fair share of slackers. Captain Südamlik was not one of them.
Colonel Wenzel looked on as Elise paused to replay a segment of the audio, her face speaking volumes at how dumbstruck she was at the unfolding conversation.
“It’s…it’s…”
Grethe leaned forward worriedly as her colleague’s voice wavered.
“It’s so… beautiful ,” she whispered, tears rolling freely down her cheeks. “It brings back memories of the poem my father recited for me when I departed for the military.”
“Are you sure? An exchange that’s causing you to cry and make one of the processors under my command look like they’ve seen a ghost sounds anything but ‘beautiful.’”
“Exactly. See for yourself,” Captain Südamlik waved her headphones before Grethe, giving the colonel a bittersweet smile between sniffles. “Listen.”
“Keep your shoulder in that splint for a few weeks and you should be alright. Don’t try operating your Feldreß or driving any vehicles for that matter,” the doctor wagged a finger warningly. “You’re extremely lucky. I don’t know what height you fell from, but from the sounds of it most people in your situation wouldn’t have survived, let alone with injuries they could ‘walk off’ immediately. If you still can’t move your shoulder to its full normal range by then, let me know. There could be a few other reasons you’re feeling off, but a shoulder sprain sounds most likely. And don’t be afraid to take something for the pain, and use ice.”
“What about his head?”
The doctor turned to Raiden. “Diagnostic imaging showed no damage to his brain nor any ruptured internal vessels, and his cranial nerves seem to be responding appropriately to testing. The injury on his head seems superficial. Personally, while I don’t think he needs a head wrapping, I see you’ve already gone through the trouble to change his dressing.” She paused, then glanced at Shin. “Do you have any questions for me, Captain Nouzen?”
“None. Thank you.”
“Thank you, Doctor.”
As soon as the medical officer was out of sight, Raiden grabbed Shin by the scruff of his neck.
“You heard the doctor, don’t pull any more crazy stunts, alright?”
“Alright.”
The infirmary suddenly echoed as the intercoms resounded throughout the base.
“First Lieutenant Shuga, Second Lieutenants Rikka, Emma, and Kukumila, please report to the mess hall. First Lieutenant Shuga, Second Lieutenants Rikka, Emma, and Kukumila, please report to the mess hall.”
“Odd. They didn’t ask for me.”
Don’t tell me they already found out.
“It’s probably a debriefing meeting. As deputy captain, it’d fall to me to take on your duties while you get some well-deserved rest. Besides, Colonel Wenzel probably wants your written report.”
Shin closed his eyes and remained respectfully silent.
Not much of a point if the cat is out of the bag.
What would the Major do if she were in my situation?
Would she try and claim that the recordings were faulty, and they didn’t tell the full story?
No, she’s not that cowardly.
Knowing her, I’d bet she’d be honest and brave enough to take full responsibility.
“...You alright, Shin? You absolutely seem different, ever since we rescued you.”
“I’m okay.”
The vice-captain let out a reluctant, relieved sigh. “Honestly, we’re all glad you’re back. We’ll be here for you if you need us, alright? We’re counting on you.”
We won’t leave you behind.
So don’t abandon us, idiot.
"Your Highness, the last volley fell a bit over. Tell your Advisor to shorten the range, they're advancing faster than expected!"
"Opening fire. Direction: 314. Distance to target: 13,000. Interception Cannons, firing. Prepare for impact!"
The Brísingamen Squadron watched as the barrage vaporized the silver-chrome wave, the shells and their daughter projectiles shredding through the thin upper works of the Legion's units. The thunderous volley and ensuing destruction didn't faze them for even one second. None of them could count the number of times the familiar sight saved them from the overwhelming forces the Republic intentionally pitted the squadron against.
However, this was the first time the fire support wasn't meant to provide covering fire for an out-of-position processor or a friendly group of fellow 'Eighty-Six,' but for an entire brigade of foreign soldiers. The day had brought many surprises, most of which the Queen's Knights remained undecided as to whether they were blessings or bad omens.
"I hope it was worth it," Mika muttered as the Giad soldiers used the lull to make a frantic dash towards the Gran Mur, the black-clad troopers trampling through the idyllic sea of Lycoris flowers. To young soldiers deployed around a doctrine that exclusively fielded Juggernauts, the idea of slow-moving infantry wearing bulky-suits to support the force's advance seemed like an idiotic concept. They had been told the unit's role pivoted on clearing out anti-personnel mines and Ameise, but all the same it seemed like a lazy excuse for deploying cannon fodder.
"Major von Penrose, how much ammunition for the Interception Cannons remains?"
"Plenty. I'd worry more about the guns misfiring or jamming for overuse."
"We'll have to cycle through the different batteries then. Melusine, the Legion are sending a second wave in your direction. Grauwolf and Ameise, by the looks of it, from how quickly they're approaching. As soon as the last company is evacuated, fall back. Lance Squadron's Third Platoon will cover you."
"Cyclops isn't ready yet."
"I'm in the middle of taking a colossal dump. Hold your britches, Your Highness!"
In actuality, Captain Shiden Iida was in fact not taking a colossal dump but scouting the surroundings where Lena and Shin had unknowingly met that morning. She kept running about the Lycoris plants barefoot, her arms swinging through them like scythes in enthusiastic search of something.
Given Shiden's strange behavior all day, her squadron-mates agreed to cover for her when the towering young woman requested to deploy to the forefront of the support efforts for Giad. It greatly helped their case that the Giad Federacy, unlike the Republic of San Magnolia, actually possessed a competent military core. Although they wouldn't stand a chance against an equivalent force of 'Eighty-Six,' their soldiers knew how to fight, which in turn made the squadron's support duties much easier. Between Captain Milizé's laser-accurate artillery fire and Giad's combined arms tactics, the number of opportunities where their intervention was desperately needed could be counted with one hand. In all of those cases, a single platoon was more than adequate to plug the gap.
"I-I-I'm sorry, Captain Iida! Forgive me! I'll try and cover for you until your done! But please, make it quick!"
"Make sure to get into your Juggernaut too when you're done, Cyclops. I don't want your stench stinking up my cockpit again."
"No worries, Melusine. Besides, I'm pretty good at clearing the mark, if you know what I mean."
Outside, Shiden began jumping up and down, waving to the others as she hastily shoved something into her fatigues. She ran back to her abandoned vehicle, quickly motioning for the others to follow her lead.
"Cyclops has finished her break, Your Highness."
"Ready and awaiting orders, My Queen!"
"I'm in position, Captain Milizé! The Brísingamen Squadron can safely conduct a retreat!"
"Excellent timing. Cyclops, Melusine, I will be sending you coordinates where to fall back to. It should be a slight ridge where any enemy fire should be blunted by the slopes."
A new, calm voice entered the conversation.
"Solid work, 'Eighty-Six!' My forces will provide suppression fire and then fall back in good order. Quickly now! We'll see you on the hill your commander pointed out."
As the Brísingamen Squadron galloped towards the strategic position, the Lycoris Field erupted in rapid, sharp gunfire. One wave after another, company after company, the brigade they had covered just a few moments earlier emerged out of the grass, fired in the direction they had came from, and scrambled towards the hillside. The brisk snaps of 57mm rifles peppered the few Legion units that survived the onslaught.
Sensing that the worst had past, Shana and the other knights of the Bloody Reina resonated with Shiden.
"Was it worth it, Captain?"
"Absolutely."
Shiden stared at the ruined pistol parts in her right hand and closed her eyes. The broken firearm wasn't undeniable proof, but it basically all but confirmed her suspicions.
"I found it. The signature tool of the Undertaker."
"What?!"
"The Reaper of the Eastern Front...he lives."
"How can you be so sure?"
"This morning, the soldier we rescued...his vehicle...I don't know if it's a coincidence or what, but it reminded me a lot like someone took a Juggernaut and made it fancier. And on that vehicle was his Personal Mark."
"You sure it wasn't like a unit crest or a lookalike?"
"I am positive. Everyone knows the Reaper's ominous crest. A headless skeleton bearing a shovel, painted with blue and yellow colors."
"But...he was alone, wasn't he? What happened to the others that accompanied him following the Queen's choice?"
She wasn't sure if Shana was in denial or being genuinely optimistic, but there was a straightforward, commonsense answer that Shiden desperately wanted yell into the Para-RAID. But if it were true, she couldn't bear the thought that Her Highness would be sad. It didn't help matters that today was an incredibly confusing day to be alive.
Out of all the people on this planet who could be piloting the vehicle that brought the Morpho Gun down, and out of all the people to come and rescue him, the odds of it being Handler One and the Undertaker were effectively zero. Yet she had said the same (repeatedly, one might add) to Captain Milizé for two years about the Spearhead Squadron's fate, only for the Reaper to politely inform her that he was in fact alive, kicking, and quite possibly lovesick. He had some nerve, gatecrashing like that. If the Reaper had truly survived his ordeal, when Lena reunited with him Shiden wanted to be there, if only to beat the ever living shit out of him.
Therefore, until Shiden saw the five long lost processors with her own two eyes, she didn't want to say anything to Lena.
"I'm not sure," she sighed, "and until I am, I'd like for you all to keep my hunch a secret. I won't even show her the gun. The last thing I want to do is give her a sliver of hope only for reality to shatter it to pieces."
The four survivors of the Spearhead Squadron gazed anxiously at their commanding officer. They noticed their aloof reaper was conspicuously absent, while Grethe was staring back at them with a composed, stoic face, as if she was concealing something. This could only mean one thing, and it was not good news.
“Before we begin, I want to ask some questions. How was your time in the Spearhead Squadron, back when you were in the Republic of San Magnolia?”
Reflexively, Theo sneered. “Like hell. Everyone knew assignment there meant certain death. There’s a reason why we all excitedly counted down the number of days left before we would end our lives gloriously.”
“Between synthetic meals that tasted like plastic explosives and a string of handlers that deserved what was coming to them, I think we were mostly happy to leave that place,” Anju offered. Grethe noticed Anju stressed the word “mostly.”
“Their collapse in the largescale offensive…the white pigs deserved it,” Kurena added.
“How about your final days?” Grethe queried.
“Shin should have told you everything you needed to know in his report.”
“Believe me, Lieutenant Shuga, I am well aware of that fact. But I want to hear it from you four. Be honest.”
The quartet exchanged uneasy glances. It was their personal business, after all, and not something the Giad General Staff ought to stick their noses in.
The past two months had changed this fact. They had left someone behind, confident that with time she might get over them and move on. Or maybe, deep down inside, they hoped she’d keep her promise, and catch up to them. That person was likely dead now, her corpse lying in the last ditch in defense of her country.
Raiden swallowed. “It was hell. We lost many members and close friends before the final assault. Some of whom didn’t deserve to die the way they did.” Anju looked at her feet with feigned disinterest.
He paused before continuing. “And yet, we, or at least myself, can’t help but feel grateful for those memories. It wasn’t entirely something we want to forget, or will ever be able to forget, with the collapse of the Republic of San Magnolia.”
“She sent us a whole crate of fireworks, disguised as ‘special ammunition,’” Anju chimed in softly. “The Republic was preparing to celebrate the Revolution, and she didn’t want us to feel left out.”
“We gave everyone who died by that point a proper sendoff, and it felt wonderful for us as well, who knew in a few days we’d all be dead,” Theo added. “None of us liked the idea of a weepy ending, and Haruto always said we should go out with a bang, not a whimper.”
“But she didn’t know that,” Kurena sighed. “You see, the Republic was cruel like that. They gave her assignment to command the Spearhead Squadron, yet didn’t bother to tell her its true purpose. For weeks she kept begging command to send us reinforcements. They never came, because they never intended to. The Spearhead Squadron was where processors were sent to die, and there was nothing she could do to change that.”
“Or so we thought ,” Theo smirked wistfully. The four of them began shaking uncontrollably.
“The Major was a naughty girl that day,” Anju tutted scoldingly, as if Handler One had been her daughter instead of her superior.
“You see, Colonel Wenzel,” Kurena smiled sadly, “the Republic made a terrible miscalculation. For a position where they wanted to assign the most cruel, most vile handler to send undesirables to their deaths, they mistakenly sent the one good officer in the entire military to perform that duty. And so our handler, our handler –”
“Our handler used the RAID device to gain control of my left eye,” Raiden quivered as he pointed at the offending organ, “ and hacked into every available Interception Cannon in the vicinity to provide covering fire. ”
“In other words, –”
“If it wasn’t for the Major –”
“We wouldn’t be here talking with you today.”
Grethe’s eyes widened in shock. The Colonel nearly dropped the tablet she had been clutching before she regained her composure.
“What did the Major mean to Captain Nouzen?”
The four Spearhead members gathered in the room gave a collective, involuntary gasp in shock, their breaths strained by heartbeats clawing at their throats. Up until this point, it was clear that the news being shared was not good news, but where this was exactly going remained unclear. The Colonel’s body language made it all too apparent. The Major would never catch up to them.
“Major, Major Milizé –” Raiden swallowed hard, “she’s dead, isn’t she?”
Wordlessly, Colonel Wenzel unraveled her tablet and opened up the memo from Captain Südamlik.
“The following exchange was recorded by Undertaker’s cockpit. Per protocol, this is normally done in the event of a tragedy. Given your relationship with Captain Nouzen, I thought I would share it with you first.”
No one had the heart to listen to what the previous conversation had all but confirmed, yet they remained rooted to their seats.
<<Alert: Enemy Recognized. Type: Ameise.>>
<<Unable to engage <Ameise>. Ammunition depleted. Propulsion critically damaged. Close quarters combat expected.>>
<<Kill me! I beg you, end it all!>>
There was a faint staticky tingling sound, then silence.
<<Hello?! Is there anybody there?>>
Just as their captain had done earlier that morning, the color drained from the lieutenants’ faces, as if they had heard a voice from beyond the grave.
<<I see you are with the San Magnolia Republic.>>
<<Uptracking Based SRS Enabled. Warning: This Conversation is being recorded. Pilot’s discretion advised.>>
<<Yes. You’re?>>
<<I am with the Giad Federacy 177th Mechanized Infantry Division.>>
<<I was conducting Legion elimination operations to support our defense lines. Thank you for your support.>>
<<No, but…is it only you? Breaking through Legion-held territory by yourself? Why were you sent to this awful battle alone?>>
Theo groaned, unable to restrain himself any further. “You’re alone in enemy territory, presumably without any vehicle to make a quick escape, and the first thing you do when you spot a foreign vehicle is to ask the occupant if they're alright ?”
“Even after all the hell she’s been through, she’s still so kind ,” Anju whispered. “Shin hasn’t given his name at all, yet she’s fussing over him like he’s an old friend.”
<<Sigh.>>
Everyone could sense the resignation and guilt Shin felt. From their perspective, Shin remained MIA, and therefore he was entirely unaware that they had survived. What they were hearing was their captain’s true self, not the aloof fearless persona he always put on, but a shattered shell of a person. Despite being the one who would ultimately carry on their memories, he was just as human as the rest of the Eighty-Six.
<<Thank you for your concern. However, my main unit is behind me, and I will be able to rendezvous with them.>>
<<I see. Good.>>
<<Will you come with me?>>
<<Eh?>>
“Damn Shin, at least take her out to dinner first before trying to pick her up.”
“THEO!” Kurena screeched, her face beetred. “I-I’m sure Shin doesn’t see t-the Major like that.”
Raiden sighed and Anju stifled a laugh. Normally, they would have delivered divine wrath about being strung up like this, but the past few minutes had been truly exhilarating.
Suddenly, Shin’s incredibly suicidal tendencies over the course of the Morpho operation began to make sense. Maybe they were reading too much into this, maybe not even Shin was aware of this yet, but there was a not insignificant possibility that Shin cared far more about the Major than their handler-processor relationship implied.
As a side note, maybe Anju didn’t need to beat up Shin anymore. They could get the Major to do it. Maybe Shin was into that like Daiya.
Of course, neither of them said those thoughts out loud. The first reason was because they felt pity that if this was true, then Kurena’s chances of dating Shin were nonexistent. The second was that if Shin found out they had entertained these thoughts, no one would ever find their bodies.
<<Our main unit is capable of protecting you, if your numbers aren’t too large.>>
<<No. I will stay in this country and continue to fight. I won’t abandon it. Even if I am not strong enough to win…I will continue to fight.>>
Theo wasn’t sure how to feel about that, and it immediately put a damper on his impish thoughts. On one hand, her voice sounded stronger and more resolute, like a church bell warning of impending danger; on the other hand, this suggested the operation had affected her. It was entirely possible the kind, sickeningly-sweet handler they knew was gone, as well as her vow to meet up with them again. Before Shin could very well be a monster hiding behind the princess’s silvery voice.
At that moment, Shin appeared to share the same attitude as the Major, for his response was cold, empty, and quite frankly condescending.
<<Fight? Why? Are you in a hurry to die? Then you would’ve done better to not fight at all.>>
“That’s one hell of an instance where the kettle calls the pot black,” Raiden growled.
There was an awkward silence, which Grethe broke by briefly pausing the audio recording.
“The next part is disproportionately loud. It appears your former officer was wearing a RAID device capable of accessing Giad’s equivalent, so it was effectively amplified. I should add that the SRS cockpit recordings, while they record what happens in and around the Feldreß, are unable to transmit external audio captured to the pilot. In other words, Shin was oblivious to who was before him until this moment.”
To put Grethe’s comment succinctly, if Shin saw or thought about Handler One as more than a superior officer and friendly colleague, then the recordings would reveal it for the world to see.
<<I’m fine. >>
<<If something happens, make a run for it, my Queen! Without any kind of protection, you’re just in the way if there’s a fight!>>
Even though that voice belonged to neither Shin nor the Major, that fact failed to prevent the room from erupting into chaos.
“Queen?! ”
“The Legion must have smacked the white pigs so hard they went back in time 300 years!”
“From Handler One to Queen…must say though, it has a nice ring to it.”
“I mean, she was a princess before, it makes sense that her persona would shift so lordly like.”
“I’m sure the sounds Shin is making are because he’s realizing something else…how much do you want to bet he’s fighting the urge to call her his queen that very second.”
“A-Anju!”
“Well, now I know what my next masterpiece will be. Going to need a lot of silver-white pencils though. Red and black ones too, but mostly white.”
“THEO!”
“There’s more,” Grethe smirked.
Despite Shin’s abnormal, highly-erratic youthful noises, Captain Milizé’s words were crystal clear.
<<No. And we don’t know if something will happen. Even if I’m not strong enough to win, I won’t embarrass myself by giving up and falling to my knees. I’ll keep fighting until the very last moment of my life. I know people who lived that way, and they believed that I could do the same.>>
The Spearhead Squadron.
She believed them. She held them dear in her hearts, even though two years had passed and they were certainly dead.
<<So we, so I , will fight until I reach them, and until I can take them to what lies ahead! I am Captain Vladilena Milizé, the commander of the former Republic’s Defense Forces, and I will never run from this war!>>
Grethe paused the recording again.
“I want you to know, as much as I did this to poke fun at Captain Nouzen, I thought it was essential that you hear this. I know the Republic of San Magnolia is a place you wished would vanish off this world, but you meant as much to her as she did to you. I don’t know how old Captain Vladilena Milizé is, but some generals retire and die before ever coming close to demonstrating her levels of resolve. If you ever have to return to the Republic, if you ever meet her again, I want you to remember these words, and cherish them.”
She resumed the recording. “Now, for some entertaining jokes at Captain Nouzen’s expense. A single word that reveals all.”
<<Major…>>
“About time he realized it, asshole.”
“That absolutely is not the reaction he had when he found out we were alive.”
“I don’t know how or why, but I think one thing is for certain. Handler One absolutely has a handle on the Reaper.”
<<Those people died a long time ago, didn’t they? What duty do you have to the dead?>>
<<They told me not to forget.>>
“Colonel Wenzel, could you please pause the conversation? I’d like to have a little conversation with the others while Shin isn’t here.”
“Of course,” she frowned. “Isn’t this something you all said, though?”
“I never told her not to forget us. I had hoped she would remember us, but left it at that. I assumed the photograph the Squadron took together and left behind would speak for itself. Did you write that down?”
“No. I just told her to take care of the cat.”
“Same!”
“Don’t look at me, the noble pig caricature was my parting words! And the names!”
“But Shin’s parting words were ‘If, one day, you make it to our final destination, would you please leave flowers?’ He never said–”
“He never wrote,” Theo corrected, a maniacal grin spreading across his face as it dawned upon him, “but who’s to say that he never told her to forget? After all, who spent a good portion of their evenings entertaining Handler One whenever she checked in?”
Kurena hesitated, realizing that her dreams were shattering before her. “If he did hypothetically say that, then that means –”
“Shin has a soft side to him,” Anju giggled. “Who among us would have thought he would say such words to anyone, let alone to a girl he’s never met?”
“We could be wrong though,” Raiden chuckled, his voice betraying the fact he didn’t believe himself for a second, “maybe we should ask hi-”
“Here is my report.”
Speak of the devil.
At the doorway to the mess hall stood none other than the Reaper himself, frozen in place at the knowing faces before him. The tables had turned, and everyone could sense the severe embarrassment radiating from the normally-stoic young Nouzen.
Grethe flashed the tablet knowingly at him before resuming the audio. He had been caught redhanded with irrefutable evidence. Shin had made his bed, now he would lie in it.
<<They told me not to forget. They told me about what would happen. About the Legion’s large-scale assault. And that’s how I survived. They wanted me to survive. They told me they wanted to see me again.>>
The furious eyebrow wiggling between squadron members made it abundantly clear “they” had not told her anything of that caliber. This was entirely on Shin, and Shin alone.
His face confirmed the story. It was uncharacteristically permanently stuck in an empty frown, while his bloodred eyes danced and wavered, as if overjoyed to hear that voice resonate in his ears once more.
<<And that’s why I can still fight. So I want to be who they thought I could be. They are gone now, but I want to get to where they are. To catch up to them, and this time, fight with them. Because I want to take them beyond the battlefield. And you…you are the same. You fought to the end. You survived. That’s why you are here now.>>
Grethe’s hand wavered about the pause button, but she willed herself to continue. Captain Milizé’s words rang true for everyone who fought in the neverending war against the Legion, even if he would never meet her again in this life.
It was also essential that Shin, who had been so desperate to throw his life away, be embarrassed by and take to heart her kind words, so that he could truly enjoy this moment. She could see the others beginning to digest the significance of what Captain Milizé had said, though the joy of the compromising moment meant it would hit them much later.
Not that it bothered her; everyone deserved to laugh and smile a bit.
<<I think that’s something you should be more proud of.>>
As she smirked at him and pried the incredibly-terse report out of his unmoving hands, Colonel Wenzel took those words to heart.
To the beleaguered denizens of the Gran Mur and its protected territory, the arrival of Colonel Peder Ignatius’s relief force was nothing less than a spectacular cavalcade worthy of being the liberators of democracy. For a brief moment, the Republic of San Magnolia forgot that many soldiers responsible for their salvation were ‘undesirable Colorata.’ White-haired children pranced about the columns of disciplined troops, hopeful onlookers blew kisses and sung praises of the officers and their ‘noble lineage.’ Some even waited in an orderly line for food beside the ‘Eighty-Six’ without muttering a single word, pretending they unquestionably stood with solidarity in the face of catastrophe.
For General Altner as well as the Eighty-Six and their Alba allies, the hard part was about to begin.
“General Kempenfelt has been delayed. The 226th Armored Division encountered stiff resistance en route to the Gran Mur, so General Kempenfelt will be relieving them. Heavy casualties were reported. We don’t know how severe yet, but the operation to retake the 1st Sector has not been jeopardized. She should be here by nightfall.”
The gathered Alba murmured nervously at this news and glanced at each other.
“Is the President aware of this yet?” A portly, older-aged Celena gentleman asked, fiddling with the buttons on his jacket nervously. “If the government finds out, the Knights will have a field day. It could ruin chances for the coalition to maintain the ship of state.”
“There are greater problems at hand, Deputy de Lôme,” the Onyx general frowned, “and as far as the international community is concerned, if the rumors of large-scale genocide are true, then the San Magnolian government is already done for.”
“Then who will take charge?” A thin, lanky Alabaster officer scowled. “You haven’t been here for even an entire afternoon, yet you’ve already seen through the tomfoolery the lot of us put up with day and night. If you think what’s about to happen is bad, wait until the Knights take control and play musical chairs. It’s already intolerable that Maurice gets to keep his damn cushy job as a Lieutenant Colonel because he has friends in high places, while bloody Vladilena is only a Captain. Maurice isn’t even here for gods’ sake.”
“There’s also the question of who and which units will be sent to retake Liberté et Égalité,” a Celena major frowned. “I can’t speak for everyone of course, but many fear that the government will refuse to allow Eighty-Six inside the First Sector under any circumstances. If that happens, not only will it cause a rift in our command structure, but the assault will be severely hamstrung.”
“The concern is mutual, Major Berthier,” the Giad general replied, giving his foreign counterpart a stiff nod. “Colonel Ignatius’s Feldreß are all of the Vánagandr type. While it is the bread-and-butter of Giad mechanized doctrine, it is known to be relatively slow, especially when compared to your Juggernauts. Unfortunately, time will be of the essence in this operation. The next two months will feature freezing conditions and heavy snowfall, giving the Legion time to entrench themselves in the capital. There’s no telling what we could find there come springtime.”
“What about the…the Feldreß I saw earlier this morning?” Lena piped up. “They seemed superior to the Juggernaut in every way, and just as nimble too.”
“Ah, yes, the Reginleif. It is an experimental model engineered by Colonel Wenzel. Wonderfully designed, but highly demanding. Only select elite members of the 177th Mechanized Infantry Division, the Nordlicht Squadron, are capable of using it to its fullest potential. Unfortunately, the Nordlicht Squadron, as you may recall from your conversation with the downed pilot earlier this morning, was at the forefront of the Morpho Operation and thus getting some desperately needed recuperation.”
Don’t worry Captain, he’s also getting well-needed rest.
“I am glad Giad honors their promises,” she smiled politely. “If I am able to get clearance from my superior, the Brísingamen Squadron will gladly participate in the operation on the Republic’s behalf.”
“Fat chance in hell Maurice will move his lard ass,” the Alabaster grunted. “He’s probably busy pretending he’s a fellow Eighty-Six at the moment to gain brownie points with Giad.”
General Altner ignored his jibes.
“Your devotion to duty is admirable, Captain Milizé,” Richard cracked a reciprocal smile. “I wish the Federacy had more officers with your panache.”
Beep. Beep.
“General Altner, the Giad High Command and the President are on the line. They say it’s urgent.”
“One moment please,” he bowed his head apologetically before walking off to a quiet section of the wall.
The moment he turned his back, the Republic’s processors and handlers shared knowing glances.
“If that man doesn’t know what he’s doing, he’ll be in for one hell of a ride. A lot of good troops could die for nothing just because the political diehards would rather be turned into genocidal robots than admit they’re wrong.” The Alabaster furrowed his brows skeptically. “And they’ve already shown they’re more than willing to cut off their own heads to spite the Eighty-Six.”
“Deputy de Lôme, do you think there’s any chance the government will turn the other way if the Eighty-Six march on the capital?”
“First things first Vladilena. I know you are adept at maneuvering through the bureaucracy, but if some populist orator heard that you’d be toast. It’s not a march, it’s an auxiliary support operation. Now, to answer your question, yes. There’s the easy way and the hard way, neither of which bode well for the Republic.”
“And those are?”
“The hard way is that Giad tries to play by the rules and pray they can browbeat the President enough to convince them that cooperation with the ‘Colorata,’ let alone their survival, is essential to the Republic’s future. This will most certainly cost him the election, however. The public can be so fickle, and ever since that nihilist dinosaur of an old geezer got himself killed in the operation, the political influence of the ‘Old Guard’ is laughable at best. The easy way is to simply overthrow the government by arguing for snap elections or invalidating the eligibility of certain demographics to vote. In short, we’d be a puppet state of the Giad Federacy, something they can scapegoat all wrongdoings on while taking all the credit for our own successes.”
“He’s right, Lena,” Major Claudette Berthier sighed, dusting off her double-breasted jacket. “The world is cruel like that. Kindness is a unicorn amongst adults.”
“But it never hurts to try.”
“Deputy de Lôme.”
Everyone’s attention snapped back to attention as General Altner seemingly pranced into the conversation, his tone significantly more jovial than when he had left. The retired officer-turned-politician nodded his head in acknowledgement.
“You seem quite pleased. Some good news, I take it?”
“Possibly. At worst, some inspiring comfort from home.” His expression immediately became stern. “The Federacy of Giad guarantees wartime relief for all survivors of the San Magnolia Republic, be they Alba or ‘Eighty-Six.’ It is the opinion of the President and the General Staff that despite what information we currently have at hand, there are still Alba military officers we can place complete trust in their competence and devotion to duty. Officers who can also be trusted to uphold the virtues your Republic was founded on, and fight and die alongside the ‘Eighty-Six.’”
“And if the government refuses to entrust said officers with this campaign?” the old Celena raised a wary brow.
“Point to your national flag and ask them why it isn’t bleached. After all, its livery serves as pro-‘Colorata’ propaganda. I am sure that will give those Knights something to mull over.”
The Alba burst into warm smiles at that response. Richard could swear that he could hear the ‘Eighty-Six’ processors likewise vocally chanting support for those who made the choice to stand up for them. Unsurprisingly, many of them were in favor of a certain Celena woman who gained Giad’s attention for an entirely different reason.
“Once the 433rd arrives, we will reconvene to discuss the stepping stones for the next operation. It will not be easy, but I have faith it can be done. General Kempenfelt is a skilled commander who delegates duties well. Depending on the casualty rate, her command will form the nucleus of Giad’s advance forces. I would strongly recommend familiarizing yourself with her style.”
“Understood!”
As the assembled officers dispersed, the Onyx's dark eyes tracked a certain Celena. He called out to them.
“One final thing…Deputy de Lôme, the President respects your opinion, correct?”
The old gentleman strummed his fingers. “Enough that he isn’t a pawn of the Knights.”
“What about Captain Milizé’s superiors? Lieutenant Colonel Maurice, I believe?”
“His name isn’t Maurice. Captain Kerjulien likes to call him that for Magnolia-knows-what. I wouldn’t worry about him, though. Where there is opportunity for self-advancement and unmerited applause, he will follow.”
“So if Giad were to sing the highest praises of Captain Milizé’s actions in the Morpho Operation and you were to coincidentally recommend her promotion to the rank of Brevet Major, no one would protest? Equally conveniently, if the good captain were to assume command of multiple squadrons given her experience and reputation for the upcoming campaign, the bigwigs would not oppose such an opportunity-rich environment for them to claim all the credit,?”
“A Celena descending from one of the most noble bloodlines in the Republic, valiantly acting alone to save the world where even the almighty Giad Federacy failed, eh? How could even the most virtuous Knight not recognize the just reward this saint deserves!” The Deputy stroked his chin impishly. “My good man, I was not aware a person such as yourself could be so skilled at political maneuvers.”
“I am an Onyx of the Giad State. Even though I am not fond of it, everyday I encounter enough political intrigue to last me a thousand lifetimes.”
The rest of that afternoon and evening was hell on earth for Captain Shinei Nouzen. Much to his embarrassment, word spread like wildfire about the Undertaker’s parting words to his old commander in the San Magnolia Republic. More than a few officers stopped him in the hallways to offer unsolicited advice about “how to make the ladies swoon,” while others cracked their gruff façade to give suggestions on “how to get lucky.” Even the most insufferable patriotic Giad officers dropped their typical insults in favor of reluctantly acknowledging the fact that Shin was human, and that for the first time in their lives, they understood him.
Unfortunately, neither the Giad General Staff nor the Giad Diplomatic Corps were immune to devolving into romance-starved hyenas. Because the meeting between Captain Milizé and Captain Nouzen was the first interaction between both countries in over a decade, it was widely circulated in confidential circles. By dusk, most generals across the entire Federation were aware of who Shin was, and what he had begged his old officer to promise. Leaked memos from wartime correspondents suggested that it would be “highly likely” that the transcript would make the front pages of the morning newspapers. It was moments like these that Shin really regretted not being tech-savvy enough to figure out how to delete the incriminating records, or that abyss didn't just consume him.
And yet, Shin didn’t regret telling Lena what he had said one bit. Knowing that the Major was alive and that she didn’t have any intention of leaving him behind made him hopeful. He knew hope was a dangerous thing, but the Undertaker wondered if maybe , just maybe, the same rang true for the people he fought alongside with. Death itself had the perfect opportunity to send them to hell that day, yet chose not to take it. Inevitably, the other members of the Spearhead Squadron would eventually leave him behind, but they had no plans to hurry towards that destination. Of that much, Shin was certain.
Maybe Kiriya was right. Their lives had been strikingly similar, but in the end they had chosen different paths. While the royal guardsman wallowed in sorrow and grief over the fact he had nothing left to live for, the Undertaker had found a goal. Admittedly, he wasn’t sure what exactly that entailed, but now he had some vague inkling guiding him.
The sound of someone scaling the tree Shin had nestled himself in interrupted his musings.
“Shinei, you shouldn’t hide from everyone and brood like this,” A young girl wagged her finger reproachfully as she scooted beside him. “I know you’re a boy with a lot on your mind, but you have a lot of people looking out for you now.”
Shin knew better than to ask what she had seen; he had been burned by her Esper talents once already today. Besides…
“I could say the same for you,” he replied softly. “There are plenty of people overjoyed that you survived, and yet you chose to look for me.”
Frederica’s eyes shimmered as if they were a mirror image of his own inner turmoil. “I knew what had to be done today, but…it still hurts. Kiriya may have had rigid morals, but he was a kind person at heart. My big brother was to me what the Major is to you, but whereas you and her reunited, we both said our farewells. It’s not easy, Shinei, saying goodbye.”
“No, it’s not.”
“Did it ever get easier for you?”
He tried his best to give the correct answer, but the Empress could see through how emotionally torn he was answering her.
“I try my best to remember them, and take them with me. Everyone I’ve ever met, I try to take them on my journey to that final place.”
“Is that why you engraved your brother’s name on that metal fragment?”
Shin gave a subtle nod. “It’s my way of remembering their sacrifice. Ernst said Giad intends to construct a monument to properly commemorate every last one of them. When it’s completed…I’ll lay them to rest there. So that a piece of them can see what lies there at that promised destination.”
So that they can see a place that isn’t a battlefield.
“Even though your duties as a name bearer do not command you to?”
“It wouldn’t sit right with me to do otherwise.”
Frederica smiled at him shakily. “You truly are a kind soul, Shinei. One day, I’d like to follow in your footsteps.”
He jolted as a thought came to him.
“Would you like, perhaps, to do the same for Kiriya?”
Her bloodred eyes widened in surprise as her adoptive brother fished about his fatigues. Shin quickly revealed a blackened shard of metal, followed by a knife, both of which he held out in offering.
“If I knew what vehicle Kiriya piloted, I would have given it to you instead, but…when I was giving Undertaker a look I noticed this embedded in the fuselage. I think it’s a fragment of the Morpho from when he was trying to prevent me from engaging him in close quarters combat. I know you don’t want to remember him as what he turned into at the end,” he added hastily as Frederica sat stonily beside him, “but it’s still a part of him. And even though Kiriya lost himself, even in that form, he found meaning again in his final moments. That’s why you’re here.”
That’s why you survived.
Her beckoning hands silenced him. Wordlessly, Shin dropped the two items into her cupped palms.
“Shinei…” she sniffled, “thank you.”
“Thank the gods you kept the cannons firing. It’s so damn dark and foggy out there you can barely see the Feldreß in front of you. Then the Eintagsfliege started jamming our navigation systems, so it was quite an ordeal to reach this position.”
“That would be the work of Captain Milizé here and her allies,” General Altner beamed. “Although it has proven quite… testing communicating with our colleagues in the Republic’s command structure, I can fully attest that the officers and soldiers on and around the Gran Mur can be trusted.”
The towering Pyrope turned an emotionless side eye towards the Alba before her. “That artillery fire was quite some work. A lot of your shots fell dead-on target. I’d say more than a few of our pilots owe their lives to you. Damn straight shooting, that was.”
“I cannot take credit for the actions of my subordinates,” Lena replied with a modest salute. “I also received assistance managing the fire control systems through Major von Penrose’s technical expertise.”
General Kempenfelt raised an eyebrow before shifting her focus to the topographical map before them. “You live up to your reports, Captain Milizé. I thought the initial transcripts had taken some…liberties, with your capabilities, but I was mistaken. My apologies. But enough chitchat,” she rapped on the Gran Mur circled in red.
“My mind may still be alert, but my troops are not. Although casualties seem to be lower than initially reported, all units under my command are spent. They’ll likely require the next few days to recuperate before pressing the advance.”
“I’m not sure if we have that sort of time at hand,” Deputy de Lôme protested. “The Legion may be in retreat, but their production facilities remain intact. General Altner has already shared with us his own concerns about the disadvantages our two countries face.”
Helen glanced at Richard, who merely nodded in approval.
“You would be correct. We may need rest, but the Legion does not. Making matters worse is the fact I believe General Altner’s estimated maximal timeframe for the operation is still too generous. He envisioned the retaking of Liberté et Égalité by the Holy Birthday, which would not only look great in the papers but preempt the early January whiteouts. In actuality, I think we have barely over a month to recapture the capital.”
She ignored the incredulous murmurs and wide-eyed stares. “If this map is any indication, the direct route to the capital following the high-speed railway lines is unavailable. Not only were significant connections between stations destroyed as a denial tactic during your retreat, but the Legion will certainly use the power stations for the trains to deploy Weisel-type units. In short, to cross from our position here to the outskirts of the First Sector, we will have to take the most indirect path possible.”
“Is there no way we could buy more time?”
“Had the pesky Legion unit type known as the Eintagsfliege not existed, then General Altner’s original estimate would have sufficed. However, according to incoming reports from the United Kingdom of Roa Gracia, it appears that congregating significant quantities of Eintagsfliege in a single area are capable of inflicting harsh, long blizzards. I would rather not leave that up to chance, especially since we are waging a lightning war, or blitzkrieg, if you will, against an enemy with unlimited reserves at its disposal.”
The dissent and dismay permeating the air reached a critical point, and the meeting collapsed into panicked and angry shouting.
“I am not finished yet ,” General Kempenfelt barked, silencing the nervous Giad officers into uneasily pulling at their collars. Amongst the Alba commanders in attendance, sharp glances from Captain Milizé, Captain Kerjulien, Major von Penrose, and Major Berthier promptly shut down doomsayers amongst the ranks.
“Therefore, this operation will require a two-pronged maneuver to complete all objectives: a mobile, rapid-response strike team whose purpose is to relentlessly gain ground, and a slower force that will contain and recapture areas where the Legion’s resistance is stiffest.”
“Cooperation between these two armies will prove key to the operation,” General Altner cleared his throat. “The rapid-response strike team will be unable to advance without reliable access to supplies provided by occupied waystations. Without a more mobile force capable of diverting the Legion’s attention away from the recaptured cities and stations, the campaign will devolve into a bloodbath. Neither country participating in this operation has that kind of resources to expend for such little reward.”
Lena narrowed her argent eyes in distrust. There was something that was heavily implied, yet remained unsaid, about how the forces would be deployed. She didn’t like it one bit, but before Captain Milizé could open her mouth, Captain Kerjulien’s voice roared to life.
“I thought you said you didn’t have forces capable of rapid maneuvers,” the Alabaster remarked acidly. “Where do you expect such soldiers to emerge? You weren’t planning on having the ‘Eighty Six’ lead the charge and conduct the most dangerous missions, were you?”
“There is no other option, Captain Kerjulien,” General Kempenfelt replied curtly. “The Vánagandr model, while it has top speeds comparable to the Juggernaut, does not respond well to dexterous maneuvers. Were the assigned units reversed, I imagine the Legion would be shooting fish in a barrel.”
This did little to appease the assembled “Eighty-Six” captains or their Alba allies in the room.
“General Kempenfelt, the Republic’s juggernaut was not made with the pilot’s safety in mind,” Major Berthier protested, doing her best to modulate her cold voice to conceal its actual fury. “While it does have better handling capabilities than the Giad’s analogous vehicle, it is an aluminum coffin with legs. It can’t handle soft ground or water, let alone provide any protection for the person inside. You send out seasoned processors in those things, they’ll all be dead within a week. Not wounded, not disabled. Dead. ”
“The alternative is we let this operation drag out by methodically taking each town along the way, securing it, and then advancing, one kilometer at a time. Even the most optimistic calculation suggests that it will take six months. We suspect, no, we fear that by then the Legion will exploit the Republic’s industries to produce additional railgun units, to say nothing of acting upon the fate of those killed or captured by the Legion. From what Deputy de Lôme has indicated, the Republic of San Magnolia has lost in excess of several million Alba civilians in the past two months, in addition to the untold ‘Eighty-Six’ whose data were expunged from the census. There is a distinct possibility that a second repeat offensive could occur, and soon. With this in mind,” the Pyrope looked down and grimaced, “we must hope for the best and expect the worst, or humanity will be done for. This isn’t about just Giad or San Magnolia anymore. The Legion’s occupation of such a human country is a disaster of colossal magnitude. Even though we despise your government for creating this mess, we must work together. We must.”
Lena shot a glance at General Altner’s direction, who replied to her glare with a pleading look to understand their perspective.
The Bloody Reina chose to turn a blind eye to his request and leaned over the map of San Magnolia.
“General Kempenfelt, I understand the position of the Federation of Giad. I sincerely do,” she flicked her crimson lock aside, “but I believe that there remains an alternative on the table. Giad prides itself in taking care of its soldiers under its command, and agrees that it would be unethical to abandon others to preserve itself. I have seen you demonstrate this much with the treatment of the downed soldier I found after the Morpho Operation. That is why you prioritized the rescue of myself and Captain Iida over retrieving the Feldreß left behind. Speaking of Feldreß,” Lena cocked her head and gave a knowing smile, “the one piloted by the soldier I met today. Reginleif, I believed it was called. I remarked that it was a model superior to the Juggernaut in every aspect, and General Altner agreed.”
“Yes. I believe Colonel Wenzel, the military-industrialist that she is, made at least a few hundred for the 177th before their steep skill curve became apparent. However, as I am sure General Altner informed you, the Federacy currently has no available pilots with the required expertise to manage such a beast, especially in such quantities.”
“Yes, the Federacy,” the Celena curled her lips, “but the Republic of San Magnolia has plenty.”
General Kempenfelt looked to General Altner for guidance. The Onyx merely stared back at her, speechless. It was so obvious, yet the thought had not once crossed their minds. Had the proposal not given them renewed optimism, they would have let slip their embarrassment.
“The Reginleif’s service and procurement suffered setbacks due to adverse experiences during trials,” the Pyrope cleared her throat. “Many Vánagandr pilots found their training prevented them from using the vehicles to their fullest. Some even had to be hospitalized. Compared to the Vánagandr, it sacrifices far too much protection for mobility. Nevertheless, I will concede it is better armed and designed than the Juggernaut. Colonel Wenzel specifically designed it so that despite the relaxed safeguards, the pilot’s survival was valued.”
“‘Perfect’ is the enemy of ‘great,’” Lena countered. “Every advantage it has over the Juggernaut counts. The ‘Eighty-Six’ are well-versed in the need for dodging and repositioning. Given what little the white pigs like myself offered, it was essential for their survival.”
“The ‘Bloody Reina’ has a point, General Kempenfelt,” Shiden chimed in. “Us ‘Eighty-Six’ are used to be thrown into the face of danger, so we won’t fault you if some of us die in those things. But if you want to prove to us that you are better than the white pigs, you will do everything in your power to make sure as many of us see the end as possible. That is why we respect Captain Milizé. She can’t change the fact some of us may not return after battle, but she damn well assures every step of the way that we receive the best support she can possibly give, be it supplies, artillery fire, or corrected maps.”
“Do you other ‘Eighty-Six’ agree with Captain Iida’s statement?” General Altner asked.
Some chose to refrain from answering, but most of the gathered squadron leaders in the room nodded in approval.
An unnaturally long silence swept over the conference. To Shiden, Her Highness and Giad’s commanders were locked in a telepathic duel challenging the other to blink first. It didn’t last long.
“It’s settled then,” the redhaired giantess remarked emotionlessly. “General Altner, how quickly can Colonel Wenzel ship the Reginleif models to the front lines?”
“For this many ‘Eighty-Six’ Processors? Shouldn’t be more than a week. I can make a convincing argument to the rest of the General Staff should we need to expedite it.”
“Please do. I don’t think procurement will be an issue; I’m sure that the death dealer is beside herself that more of her machines are needed.” General Kempenfelt took one look at the silver-haired woman before her and sighed.
“My sincerest apologies for questioning your proposal. You have my gratitude, Captain Milizé. However, something tells me you also had something else in mind that we had missed. Please, continue.”
“I don’t know how feasible this actually is,” Lena glanced down, “but I think it might be possible to make it to Liberté et Égalité in record time by rail. We’ll still need the Reginleifs to keep pace and scout the vicinity, but we won’t need to skirt around every Legion stronghold.”
The Giad officer stared at her San Magnolian counterpart blankly before rubbing her eyes repeatedly. “Unless I am forgetting something massive, I fail to see how we could brute force a direct path to the capital by rail. Even if our engineering corps work overtime to repair blown bridges and destroyed tracks, we’d have to fight our way through every city. I don’t even want to start thinking about the number of Wiesels that have setup shop along the arteries of the Republic.”
“They are, in fact, massive, General Kempenfelt. The Gran Mur’s Interception Cannons…do you think it’s possible for a train to haul them?”
Shin carefully wrapped the shard labeled “Kiriya” with sheet after sheet of Frederica’s scribbles telling tales of their time together, as if it was a birthday present to the deceased. Making an effort to tiptoe around the sleeping form of the former Empress of Giad, he silently slipped it into her coat pocket before turning off the lights and heading out the door.
Kiriya Nouzen’s passing didn’t truly begin impacting Frederica until bedtime, when she began recreating sketches the two had drawn together in long days past. In attempting to “sanctify” the knight-turned-legion’s remains, she finally began to grieve and accept that that chapter of her life was coming to a close.
Even though Shin only knew of his relative through their brief interactions that morning and in his dreams, he felt like he completely understood her emotions.
Growing up, Frederica made few friends, with Kiriya being some of the few who not only willingly interacted with her but entertained her every whim. For the same reason, Frederica served as Kiriya’s spiritual compass when everyone began leaving him behind. Then the engagement at Rosenfort occurred, condemning them both to be apart, only to meet again on the battlefield as enemies. Until the five of them entered her life, Frederica had been truly alone. Although Ernst described his relationship with the royal heir as “complicated,” to the two of them he could not be more transparent that she was simply a pawn in his political games. He may have tried his utmost to love them like his own children, but his past as a firebrand revolutionary shone brightly even after all those years.
Today, Frederica had been brave. He had been cowardly.
She made the choice to say goodbye and put her hands on the trigger. Shin had simply pulled it, and even then he didn’t have the courage to live when he survived the ensuing blast.
Had the Major been the mastermind behind the Morpho Railgun…would I have done the same?
The very thought made his blood run cold, stopping him in his tracks in the long hallway. He had laid his brother to rest, but he made peace with that, as hard as it was. When he was first drafted as a processor, Shin had made that his life goal. What had guided him forwards – and continued to push him on against his own misgivings – was the belief the Undertaker left someone behind who would ultimately catch up to him.
If the only thing Lena left in this world was her radiant gentle voice echoing inside his head as a shepherd, corrupted by the Legion’s instincts, he probably would have ran away, or simply accepted his fate on the battlefield and let her vaporize him.
No.
No.
NO.
Shin punched himself so hard his vision clouded over with stars.
“You fought to the end. You survived. That’s why you are here now. I think that’s something you should be more proud of.”
Even if her voice screeched at him, swore at him for leaving her behind, it wasn’t what she would have truly wanted. It held true for Rei, it would have been the same for her.
All the same, he looked down at his clenched fist and sighed in relief, it feels good to know that won’t come to pass.
For the past two months, he had been haunted by a repeating nightmare whenever the Legion’s voices relented. The sound of a beautiful voice, the same one that freed them from the 86th Sector, repeating its owner’s last thoughts like a silver bell.
Tonight, he wouldn’t dream such terrible thoughts.
As Shin entered the dormitory he shared with Raiden, a yellow package greeted him from atop his desk. Attached to it was a typed note.
Captain Shinei Nouzen:
I know that you like to read at night before bedtime. I saw this on my bookshelf this afternoon and thought it’d be in better shape in your hands. I’m entrusting it to your care, alright? Please take good care of it.
Don’t worry, it’s nothing embarrassing.
It would mean a lot to me if you looked through it, especially the bookmarked section, even just once.
-COLONEL GRETHE WENZEL
The Undertaker glanced at the package skeptically and opened it slowly, as if there might be a bomb enclosed inside. Normally he’d be delighted at such a gift, but today’s revelations filled him with great dread. What if it was a romance novel, or worse, erotica? Knowing his luck, Raiden would return to their quarters right as he cracked the cover, and he would never let Shin live that down.
He took a deep breath and flipped the book over in one fluid motion.
GIAD PRIMER TO NORTHERN COMMONWEALTH LITERATURE
SELECTED READINGS FOR ALL AGES
FOURTH EDITION
He frowned. “A textbook ?” Sensing a trap, Shin ignored the black mass protruding from the book and flipped through the first few yellowed pages.
The Northern Commonwealth is a country located to the northwest of Giad. Its neighbors include the Republic of San Magnolia to the south, the United Kingdom of Roa Gracia to the east, and theocracy of Noiryanaruse to the west. Most of its citizenry are of the Delairean (Aurata subrace) and Albinist (not to be confused with Alba) ethnic groups, and have made a name for themselves through their contributions to the humanities, such as philosophy and literature…
His eyes glazed over before he could read the rest, but it was painfully obvious that it was a textbook. Nothing more, nothing less.
Why would she want me to read a textbook?
Shin immediately flipped to the section that his eyes had been initially drawn to. He wasn’t really prepared for what he saw.
Neatly folded in the book’s binding was a shakily handwritten letter. On its left lay a heavily deformed page, as if something had been pressed against it for ages. On the right, a severely wrinkled, creased page greeted him. And in the book’s folds was a…
“Mourning Band,” he whispered.
Shin had grown up in an age where such clothing was a rare sight, but he became aware of their purpose through the vast amount of literature he consumed during his processor years. When someone dear to their heart passed, a person would tie a black armband on their sleeve to indicate they were actively grieving.
His attention fully piqued, Shin quickly opened the enclosed note.
Captain Shinei Nouzen:
The selected passage enclosed with this note has a long history, longer than any of us have been around. Growing up, I was told that it was a cultural masterpiece that the Northern Commonwealth never let go of. The version imparted in this textbook was an adaptation written by Crown Princess Rowena.
The Northern Commonwealth has been gone for nearly a decade, consumed like many other nations by the Legion. But its narrative story lives on.
Even though it was a foreign publication, Commonwealth literature struck a chord with the Giad population. That sentiment only grew when the Legion gained ground, and everyone, pro-Imperial or not, felt that the world was coming to an end. Many of us lost family, friends, and loved ones. When it was our turn to enter the fray, we would pray that we wouldn’t be next.
To give ourselves the strength to fight on, we used to share this poem back home, with the distant hope that we would make it through the battlefield.
My fiancé sent me this poem when he was deployed.
We never met again.
When I heard what had happened between yourself and your old officer, Captain Südamlik and I immediately thought of this poem.
Many people wait for comrades to greet them back home.
Few actually return home.
What happened today is special, Captain Nouzen. Cherish it.
Shin subconsciously let go of the deep breath he had been holding in. He regretted not reading the passage first before reading the letter, as now it made him feel conflicted. On one hand, it was in fact related to his so-called “confession.” On the other hand, he didn’t know about Colonel Wenzel’s past since he never bothered to ask her. It seemed like she concealed wounds that cut deep, and hearing that conversation (though she wouldn’t admit it) helped close them. He would be incredibly disrespectful disregarding that revelation.
The intrusive thoughts he had mulled over just ten minutes ago struck with full force. Being brutally honest with himself, despite all the motivational moments he shared with others, Shin still wasn’t entirely sure what guided him forwards. Nebulous ideas he could describe in a single sentence didn’t amount to much.
Honorbound yet ever reluctant, Shin’s crimson eyes focused on the tear-soaked page.
WAIT FOR ME
Penned by KONSTANTIN SIMONOV
Reinterpreted by CROWN PRINCESS ROWENA OF HOUSE JOGAILA
Wait for me, and I’ll come back!
Wait with all you’ve got!
Wait, when cheerless yellow rain,
Whispers that you need not.
Wait when the snow swirls fast,
Wait when the sun blazes hot,
Wait when long days have passed,
And others have forgot.
“Wait. Please, please wait…! Don’t leave me behind…”
“We’re off, Major.”
“They told me not to forget. They wanted me to survive. They told me they wanted to see me again.”
For reasons Shin could not explain, his hands broke out into a cool sweat and he felt his breathing grow increasingly ragged. He swallowed hard, then continued.
Wait, when from that distant place,
Word does not arrive.
Wait, when all those you face,
"No one not alive."
Wait for me, and I’ll come back!
Wait for me, don’t fret,
When they tell you there is no doubt,
That it is time to forget.
“She wouldn’t run.”
“You can forget about the Republic.”
“The Major never caught up, did she?”
“I won’t let you die.”
Every time his brain attempted to continue reading the passage, voices would subconsciously call out to him, and memories would flash briefly in his vision. Their call was not voices of the dead, but of an almighty chorus recalling what he no longer remembered.
He could hear his heart pounding in his eardrums, loud enough to the point for the first time in a long time, he couldn’t hear the Legion.
No human being could have written this poem. They couldn’t predict that someone like him would be reading this. Every book and story he had read had given subtle foreshadowing of what was to come.
Coincidences like this one…were unreal.
Even when those dearest to me
Tell you I am gone,
Even when my nearest give up,
Claiming it’s been too long,
“Let’s raise a glass of wine
to the friend who’s passed,”
Wait! Don’t share that drink.
Wait until the last!
“Then, I wanted you to live longer than we did…Goodbye, Major.”
“I won’t forget.”
“I won’t let you die.”
“I’ll keep fighting until the very last moment of my life. I know people who lived that way, and they believed that I could do the same. So we, so I, will fight until I reach them, and until I can take them to what lies ahead.”
THUD.
“The poem…it’s not aimed at me,” he whispered, his mind completely oblivious to the mental anguish etched onto his face. “It’s aimed at her. ”
Shin wanted to stop. He had to stop. His voice and brain couldn’t handle it anymore. The past two years swirled through his vision at neck-breaking speeds, and yet he could hear it, no, him, call out to her through the muffled paper.
Wait for me, and I’ll come back.
Cheating every fate!
‘A nice stroke of luck’ they’ll say,
Those who could not wait.
Only they will never know
How, amidst the strife,
By waiting for me, my dear–
And you saved my life!
But the two of us will know
How you got me home.
Only you knew how to wait–
It was you, alone!
“I was hoping you would die with me, but it seems you can’t even do that properly. You must have a Saint or Guardian Angel with that kind of luck.”
"I can’t believe it, fate can be so kind."
“We’re off, Major.”
“Kill me! I beg you, end it all!”
“They are gone now, but I want to get to where they are. To catch up to them, and this time, fight with them. You fought to the end. You survived. That’s why you are here now. I think that’s something you should be more proud of.”
“I won’t forget.”
“I won’t let you die.”
He slammed the desk repeatedly, releasing the choked sobs he had been holding back.
Shin did his best to dismiss it, but he couldn’t deny it any longer. Even though his present mental state was a far cry from his decrepit condition that morning, Shin knew he had to admit, even if only to himself, that his motivation to pursue the future and survive stemmed entirely from a single root cause.
The Major would wait for him, even when everyone else left him behind. The Spearhead Squadron and Frederica would both look out for him, yes, but they trusted him to be by their side until the bitter end. In contrast, Lena didn’t impose such burdens upon him. Two years had gone by, and yet she devoted herself to tirelessly tending to his selfish promise. Shin felt as if he was a miner who had been left for dead, and someone had come back with a light to find him. The thought made his heart and soul sing. Someone would always come back to greet him, to joke with him, to listen to his worries and care for his well being. With someone like that by his side, he felt less afraid and more hopeful.
The more he thought about the poem, the more he became convinced that the miraculous survival of everyone involved in the Morpho Operation was entirely due to the divine, infinitesimal patience of one Major Vladilena Milizé. There was no better alternative explanation as to how Raiden could survive Kiriya’s parries, how Anju endured the point-blank firefight, how Theo triumphed against a swarm of enemies, how Kurena dodged the Morpho’s shell, or how he could freefall the full height of the railgun to the ground and encounter an Ameise yet come out unscathed. She waited for them, no, she believed in them, her optimism shining like a beacon into the sea of uncertainty. Her voice never wavered once when speaking of that promise.
If someone told him at this very moment that Vladilena Milizé was the goddess of mercy incarnate, he would be very inclined to agree.
And yet… they had not done the same for her. He had not. The moment Shin sensed the Morpho break through the Gran Mur, he heard the emotionless tones of General Altner, and he had witnessed the Squadron’s worried glances before his very eyes, the Undertaker had merely resigned himself that he had yet another name to carry with him.
A pang of guilt surged through his veins as quickly as his feelings of joy had done.
Shin stood up and let out a subhuman tearful scream that echoed throughout the dormitory wing.
He wasn’t worthy.
He didn’t deserve her respect.
No. That wasn’t true.
“She follows the path that you create. So what is your destination? You just found the answer yourself, didn’t you?”
Now he had the true answer .
He wanted their destination to be a place worth waiting for, and for him to be a worthy comrade that the Major actively sought and desired to reunite with.
One day, she would come back. One day, she would be proud of him, not just for surviving, but for believing in her as she had believed in them. One day, he would stand tall beside her.
Shin closed his eyes and smiled. He was grateful for Colonel Wenzel’s insight.
Alarmed, frantic footsteps rapidly closed in on his dormitory’s door, but Shin didn’t care. The only thing on his mind was how deeply the Commonwealth’s poem gazed into his soul. Again and again, the penultimate stanza resounded in his head:
“Only they will never know
How, amidst the strife,
By waiting for me, my dear–
And you saved my life!”
It was only when he had recited it for the third time that a word stuck out to him.
Dear.
Dear.
“D-D-Dear?!” Shin spluttered, flying out of his chair. He began frantically pacing about the room.
Of all the stanzas my brain had chosen to remember, why that one?!
The room became unbearably hot. Shin was sweating bullets faster than an Ameise could fire them.
He absolutely did not see the Major like a wife or lover, not at all. They knew each other largely as colleagues and friends. That was undeniably the case.
Lena awoke to the crackle of her quarters’ military radio playing broadcasts from the Federation of Giad. In an attempt to better learn and process her allies’ etiquette, she devoted her evening and morning times to listening to a wide plethora of “morale-boosting” bulletins.
It seemed that the late-night conference had adversely impacted her sleep schedule, for by the time she peeked through the windows the narrator was already well underway.
“Only you and I will know
How you got me through.
Simply - you knew how to wait -
No one else but you.”
“That’s right,” she smiled as her silver eyes fell upon the scraps of paper pinned to the corkboard. “In a few days, I’ll be embarking on an operation to retake the First Sector. Don’t worry about me, alright? I haven’t forgotten about you one bit. One day, I’ll catch up to where you all are waiting for me.”
Just you see.