Thank God I managed to compose myself before dinner. Elise gave me a startled look when she first saw me -- guess I looked even more depressed than usual, huh? I swear to god sobbing accentuated the bags under my eyes, not that it mattered. I will never be rid of them anyway. I will never be rid of many things, actually: my duties, my family, my gui-

No. Don't think like that. The voice that taunts me from the darkest recesses of my mind has remained blissfully silent sans the outburst when the Count began belittling my family. Let it stay that way, Fredrich. Breathe. Happy thoughts, of when you were prancing around the dandelion fields in Sudland way back when. Before... before everything.

Breathe in. Breathe out. Relax -- nothing is wrong with you. Nothing at all. Maintain that unreadable facade and don that leaden mask that you wear so well. Distance yourself from feeling. Divorce yourself from emotion. Get yourself through today, tomorrow, and the day after.

And every day after that. Walk, Fredrich. Walk, and do not stumble. Walk. One foot in front of the other. Forget everything else -- you have your duties, Fredrich. You mustn't falter. A reliable Minister to the Emperor, an indefatigable protector of the realm. A doting brother, a reliable son, a steady shoulder to lean on when times are tough for your family. You must complete your duties, Fredrich -- you haven't earned the right to forget.

Forget. Live. Forget. Do not feel. Do your duty.

I closed my eyes and let out an exhausted sigh.

"Are you alright, brother?" Elise squeaked. She sounded terrified. One of my hands involuntarily reached out to ruffle her hair. You did not have to worry for me, sister. Live your life. I'm not worth it. "Do you need rest?"

I chuckled. Don't I -- and yet I haven't the time. "I am fine, little spitfire. You needn't concern yourself with me. See?" I flashed her toothy grin -- she flinched back. That was supposed to be reassuring, not frightening -- I don't even... whatever. Just roll with it. Elise opened her mouth to say something but was cut off: Sebastian strolled into the dining hall and announced that food was ready.

Two maids rolled a small cart with our entrees into the room -- they were relaxed, carefree even. House Wilhelm has always treated its servants better than its peers. Why needlessly agitate the ones who prepare your food, draw your baths, and guard you while your sleep? That part never made sense to me. Power was not an excuse to make a person next to you miserable -- within reason.

It was a means to an end. Hypocritical, huh? First that interrogation with Klara -- I rolled that name around my tongue -- not-Klara. Didn't matter -- I'd find her eventually and solve that little puzzle. Then that incident with the Count, a far more egregious breach of my stance on power.

Still, both instances warranted an exercise of it. The first was, though admittedly sparked by a personal whim, potentially of great value to the Empire. Imagine if we discovered a high noble lurking -- one more card against the Lothians, whose purge of the then-nobility was quite thorough. Goddamn NSLD bloodhounds. With the Count, it was to avenge an insult to my family. I will not stand for it. It was my duty to defend House Wilhelm's honor.

I had reasoning. Sound reasonings. Excuses. Alibis. Whatever you deem fit to call them -- but I had something. It was better than nothing.

As the meal went on, I wondered how much of my self-justification was valid -- logical -- and how much of it was to hide my darker feelings on the subject. How much, how little? It didn't matter. I haven't dug any deeper beneath that surface. I fear what lies beneath my skin. At least if I do not dig, I will never know -- I can be convinced of my own righteousness.

Until the day when whatever monstrosity underneath -- that deep, dark, malevolent voice -- claws its way out from within. Until that day comes, but it is far away.

Or is it?

--

Mother was giving me an unreadable stare. I ignored it, thinking it was nothing -- perhaps I shrunk a little. Her looks tend to do that to people. Make them feel smaller, that is. Insignificant is another way to put it. None of the menace in her stare found its way into Elise, however; she was almost always an energetic little bundle of sunshine.

Thank God. I wasn't sure I could face a carbon copy of my mother, even after seventeen years. I couldn't even look her in the eye without flinching, let alone interact meaningfully with her. It was worse with Father -- despite his attempts to bridge the gap. Even now, they did not stop trying.

I was grateful. Grateful for whatever scraps of affection they threw my way. After all-

'You deserve none of it, Fredrich. You know that, don't you.'

Silence, shadow. Why must you return now? I clenched my jaw, my teeth grinding silently against each other. Why can you not leave me alone?

'My, my, so assertive.' the voice teased slowly, 'Making up for your pathetic display earlier this afternoon? Aw, how adorable.'

Allow me my gratitude, no matter how unworthy its expressions may be. Let me have this-

The shadow laughed. Not gracefully, mind you -- it sounded of steel grinding against steel. A cacophony of bitter destruction. 'Does the little boy want to make up for the happiness he's stolen away?' it drawled as if it were speaking with an adolescent child. 'You can't do it. At least, unless you find a way to reattach your father's arm? Repair your mother's stomach? Spare them from their fucking nightmares because their simpleton of a son couldn't do jack shit right? Please.'

Even so, I can try. I must. An attempt must be made -- I must be the one to do it. I was the one who wronged them. I simply haven't found the opportunity.

'Uh-huh. You do you; I'll watch from back here.'

The voice faded; the shadow receded. Did that make me a vampire? I surveyed the table. Mother still gave me a stare. Elise was oblivious, as per usual, staring off into space while chewing happily on her stewed vegetables. Perhaps it did: I have so much to say, and will never say it. I wish to sing a beautiful song but am mute of my own volition.

So much of myself will never see the light of the day. Those parts will grow pale in the shallow grave I dug for them, buried beneath a thin layer of dirt. Maybe one day I will unbury them if only to say sorry.

That day is not today.

--

After dinner concluded, Mother pulled me aside.

"Son, are you alright?"

"I am fine, mother. Do you require assistance with anything?" The reply was even, emotionless -- automatic. There was no reason for her to worry for me other than a leftover sense of obligation from my adolescent days. "I was thinking of showering and retiring early tonight."

"Don't bullshit me, Fredrich. Cut the crap." She retorted angrily. "I can see through you. I am your mother."

"I apologize if my response was not to your satisfaction."

"You are my son, Fredrich." My mother started softly, a gleam in her eye. "So why?"

"Pardon?" I asked hesitantly. "I do not understand your question."

"Why are you so cold towards Father and I?" That question struck me hard -- a gunshot wound to the abdomen. It derailed my train of thought. I- w-

'Why are you so cold, Fredrich? Have you ever thought about that? Oh, don't pretend Fredrich. You hate it when others do that.

You fucking bastard. Shut up! Silence! There is no pretense here. My God, what must I do for you to leave me?

'There is no pretense here. There is only weakness.'

"I-"

I couldn't offer a coherent reply, only awkward stammers.

"Is it us? Did we do something wrong?" She added with tears in her eyes. "Please, Fredrich. Seventeen years. We've tried everything. Why? Where is that cheerful little boy who used to run in the dandelion fields of Sudland with me? Who loved to imitate his father?"

'Oh yes, what did you do with him? I wonder?'

My mouth was dry -- it felt like ash. I tasted bile gathering at the back of my throat. It was bitter. My heart thundered against my ribcage and shattered against the bone. My mind felt muddled, but I only knew one answer to her question. I could only give one answer.

"He is dead, Mother."

'Because you killed him'

No. Not now. I-

My thoughts were brought back to the present.

"He is not! He can't be!" She enveloped me in a tight hug, crying into my shoulder. I leaned forward to reciprocate her embrace. "I see him every time I look at you, my son. We'll search for him together. Please, do not give up. Please. Father and I do not want to lose you. By the Gods, no. You are lying."

"I-"

"You are hurting, Fredrich. We can see that -- Sebastian, Elise, everyone who knows you. Talk with us. Please -- I'll give anything."

"You do not have to give anything to me, Mother. I am thankful for what I have." I sniffled, struggling to beat back my own deluge of tears. "Do not apologize. Please. You have nothing to apologize for. I-"

The word's 'I'm sorry' died on my lips. I couldn't bring myself to say it. Why? Why not now? I bit my tongue so hard it almost bled. Then the voice returned -- enraged. Violent. I couldn't blame it.

'You pathetic whelp. Christ, your old woman is baring her heart for you to see. Give something back, you worthless imbecile!'

Enough! Enough! Leave me. Leave me! Not now. The voice complied -- I was able to focus on the matter at hand.

"Thank you, Fredrich."

"You have nothing to thank me for, Mother."

"Thank you for holding me, then. I knew a little bit of that boy was still in you. I've seen it today." She offered me a stunning smile -- I didn't match her look. "May I promise you something?"

"Your wish is my command."

"I am your mother, not the Emperor." She giggled softly. "Still, it does feel nice to be treated that way. Thank you again, my son."

"It is my pleasure."

"Anyways, here it is:" She took a deep breath.

"Fredrich Karolus Wilhelm, heir apparent to the Duchy of Sudland and the Ducal House of Wilhelm, I promise to never abandon you, no matter what. I will never give up on you, no matter what. I will find that innocent little boy, that one who used to smile -- that you've shown me today. One day I will succeed, I know it. I promise this as your mother, but I need you to agree to one condition."

That promise was more than I ever deserved, but I could not say that. Instead, I merely continued to hold my Mother as she ruffled my hair affectionately.

"Anything you ask." I croaked, my throat dry. "Anything."

"Promise me you will never give up as well. So we can do this together."

I paused and took a deep breath. Inhale, exhale. Five simple words. I spoke.

"That, I do solemnly swear."

One day, one day.

'But will that time come soon enough?'

--

I sat on my bed with a bottle of alcohol in my hands. It was no fine wine, mind you, but a bitter brew. The kind you drink to forget, even if I am not afforded that right. A little indulgence against the weight of my duties. Every man has his vices.

The moonlight reflected beautifully off the glass bottle. The light rays were soft, pale, welcoming -- a temptress leading guiding my hand to the bottle's cork. I didn't give in -- yet.

'Oh come on, the bottle's half full. You have in the past, obviously.'

I have to attend an inspection tomorrow, shadow. The troops will not be happy if their commanding officer showed up drunk.

Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.

'Really. You know they wouldn't care. Just one sip -- the fire in the brew might just burn your sins away if you drank enough. It is bitter like yourself. Makes me wonder how you weren't born into the same cradle, actually. Are you part spirit?'

Fine enough points. I will give this one to you, shadow. I raised the bottle and set out a glass. Just before I began to pour, I remembered the promise I made a scant few hours earlier. To never give up. I put the drink away. I would not give up. Not today, not ever. Begone, voice. You have no power here.

'Is that what you think?' it whispered menacingly. 'Is that really what you think?'

It is what I believe.

'For now. For now. All in good time, Fredrich. All in good time.'

Try me.

I fell into a deep, dreamless sleep. I did not stir.

--

The inspection was scheduled for early in the morning. A maid woke me before the crack of dawn -- I was ready before either of my family members so much as got out of bed. That was well -- I wasn't sure how I'd face Mother after last night. At least, in a face-to-face conversation.

Still, her promise helped. Her words helped. I held onto them, and the voices stopped. The shadows didn't loom over me. I gripped them harder.

It allowed me to focus on my duties. Focus, repress, but do not forget. Deal with it another time, just not now.

Focus.

Rosenberg arrived to pick me up in an unmarked car, with another two as an escort. It was six in the morning. He was early -- dependable, reliable. I stepped in and we drove. As was custom, he tried to make small-talk. I reciprocated to make the experience more comfortable for us both.

"Why the hell is so cold?"

"Because it is winter, Rosenberg."

"Sir, that's not the point," he chuckled, teeth chattering, "the point is we're in a thrice-damned insulated, armored staff car, with the windows up. Not only that, but I have a greatcoat on, and I'm freezing. This is almost as bad as the one time I was sent to the Eastern Front for Lindenholme. Fucking Lindenholme! Why in the name of God would Brass send me to the front for a holiday!"

I cracked a tired smile. "Well, think of it this way. You must have gotten some very explosive presents."

"Touche, sir. 105mm shells really leave an impact." He nodded seriously. "Like a three-foot, six-foot-wide impact."

Right as he said that, the car bounced once -- twice. Then it was smooth driving again. Ah, we must be getting closer, judging by the forest beside and the worn dirt road beneath us. Might ask the Chancellory to fix this thing, if they could figure out how to budget for the next fiscal year.

That hasn't happened yet.

"Indeed. Speaking of, drive carefully. We're nearing the inspection site."

"You mean the training camp you stuck in the middle of nowhere?" He quipped lightly. "Sir."

"It's a matter of security."

His response was sarcastic. "Yes, because anyone is going to run into a camp filled with a regiment of heavily armed trainees. And because anyone is going to get past the camp's static garrison." A valid point. No normal person would try anything in such a place. Even trained saboteurs would have a hard time -- there was a half-battalion of troops, equipped with armor and heavy weapons stationed there as well. It'd be suicide. For most, anyway.

"The entire point is to stop people from trying."

"Uh-huh." He picked up the transmitter for the onboard radio and adjusted a few dials, before speaking into it. "This is Convoy 1411-A. Scheduled for Inspection attendance."

There was a pause before the radio crackled to life.

"Imperial Training Centre 034 here. Your ID matches up. Please wait -- we'll be out momentarily for weapon checks. Stay in your cars." The voice beyond said tiredly. "Move, and we will open fire. You were warned."

Rosenberg gave me a look, and I shrugged. It was good that these men did not cut corners, and were every bit as attentive as they normally were, even at such a horrid time. Even if I was the Minister, they should not let me through so easily -- what if I was an impostor? Right as I thought that, the welcome party came out. A platoon, from the looks of it -- armed to the teeth. Two machine guns were set up in heavy cover, providing overlapping fields of fire that enveloped our small convoy. The radioman ducked behind a tree with his escort, constantly transmitting information to base command.

Their professionalism brought a smile to my face.

Soon, a couple of riflemen carefully scanned each car, before nodding to each other and communicating with their support elements via a series of hand signals. Then, they motioned for us to leave our vehicles.

We did so, except Rosenberg. He stayed to man the radio.

They searched us one by one, confiscating our weapons as they came. When their gazes fell upon me, I could see a shadow of recognition flicker in their faces, but they proceeded anyway. Good. They were not intimidated and carried out their orders. After clearing us, they waved to the radioman, who informed base command as much.

We were told to step back into our cars. One by one, my escort and I did so. The radio spoke again in its gravelly, grating little tune.

"Welcome, Minister. We were not expecting you." Running joke between the garrison and my staff at this point. "Your weapons will be returned the moment everyone is back on base. Apologies for the inconvenience."

Rosenberg handed me the transmitter, knowing I would like to respond. I flashed him a polite smile, and he responded with a series of unhappy grumbles. He clearly wasn't a fan of such tight security; his displeasure was noted, and summarily ignored.

"Nonsense, operator. It is good to see that the men are still sharp." I spoke calmly, though with a hint of amusement injected in. "It would be worrying if they caved at the first sign of authority."

"It is an honor to serve."

"So it is, operator."

"Aye, sir. Hope you enjoy your stay."

The gates opened, and we were on our way.

--

The hallways of Training Centre 034 were clean, polished, and orderly. Not a tile was out of place -- as per usual. I'm sure the cleaning staff, the new recruits, or whichever poor bugger was assigned to scrub the floors would be flayed alive if there was. Good times. I still remembered when I had to go through all that, and suppressed a shudder.

That was years ago. Fond memories.

The base commander was there to greet me the moment I stepped into the main assembly area. He was stout, mustachioed, and well built, possessed of a cheery disposition and a... predisposition towards torture -- I mean, an unrivaled enthusiasm when it comes to the education of recruits. Gods, the name of Hermann Schmidt was a haunted one, spoken in hushed whispers to scare children at night. Or the trainees during the day.

One and the same. I'm telling you.

"Greetings and salutations, my good Minister!" He gave me a toothy smile, which I returned with a polite nod of my head. "I was not expecting you to come back -- few of my proteges ever do." Schmidt wiped a false tear from his eye. "The little birds fly from their nest never to return."

"You know I make a point of attending every inspection, Commandant."

"Ach! You make my old heart flutter. Anyways, I hope you find the food enjoyable and the men agreeable. It's no luxury restaurant here, that's for sure."

At that, I had to chuckle. Military food, especially on base, wasn't actually that bad -- if a bit bland. I could feel Rosenberg cringe behind me -- had a feeling he'd miss his dumplings already. Soldiers. One and the same, forever and always. Hermann motioned for me to follow him, which I did. We went on a long, winding tour through the facility. Not much had changed.

The vehicle pool remained pristine, though tinged with the omnipresent smell of gasoline. The mess hall was silent -- the men were off getting ready, breakfast already past. Occasional patrols saluted when we passed them by, and we waved back. And the training fields -- the beaten wooden posts, muddy ground, faux houses, and a small patch of forest -- hadn't changed at all. Seeing the faraway look of reminiscence in my eyes, the Commandant bellowed a hearty laugh.

It was good to be back.

Soon enough -- too soon, actually -- the intercom crackled to life. The inspection was starting. By the time we made it over to the main hall, the honor guard, in all its finery, stood stiffly at attention to greet us. I smiled in appreciation -- Hermann was a dedicated man.

"For me, Commandant?" I asked playfully. "You shouldn't have."

"Anything for my prized pupil."

--

Sixteen faceless men stood silently on a raised podium. Their peaked caps hid their eyes. Their neutral expressions hid their thoughts. Their black cloaks hid their bodies. In their midst was a man in a dark suit, right hand extended in salute.

That man was me.

"Regiment, at attention!" Herman's voice echoed through the speakers in the hall. I suppressed a small wince -- those things were loud. Definitely enough to wake you in the morning. Perhaps it's what they were for? These trainees did have to wake up at the crack of dawn -- I suppose extra help in staying awake wouldn't be remiss.

The unified clicks of a thousand bootheels echoed through the otherwise silent room.

"Today, you and your officers have officially graduated from maggots! Congratulations! You are no longer to wallow in self-pity and refuse. Tomorrow, you will receive your first batch of marching orders, direct from the Interior Ministry Headquarters!" He paused for emphasis. "You won't be getting a long speech, my little birds, but before you fly off, I recommend you heed the advice I am about to give."

He cleared his throat, before beginning.

"Some of you might think our duty -- that of the Interior Ministry -- to involve more paper-pushing than shooting. And you would be correct -- until you lie bleeding out in a back alleyway or riddled with bullet holes on the front steps of a house. We will not face blizzards, deserts, or heavy enemy artillery: that is the duty of the army, to face the enemy in front. We will never be given the glamor or glory our peers in their heavy tanks and high-flying planes will be afforded, but we accept that."

He paused for emphasis.

"Because we do not face the enemy at the front. We face the enemy within our own." Hermann pointed toward himself to highlight his point. "The spies, saboteurs, and every flavor of foreign agent on the enemy-of-the-month menu. These are the enemies you cannot see, cannot hear, and cannot smell -- and we are tasked with rooting them out. Our work will be grisly. It will be hard. It will be thankless, but we -- you -- must soldier on."

Hermann took a deep breath, his chest heaving slightly, before loudly sighing.

"There will come a time when you will be asked to look sedition or treason in its ugly face before summarily executing it. There will come a time, perhaps, when that face has attached itself to a close friend's -- hell, even a family member's -- body. And your hand cannot waver. You must see it through. Trust your comrades, the men next to you -- they are the only truth when we kick down a house of lies."

He saluted sharply.

"Good luck, men! It was an honor! To the Emperor, long may he reign!"

A thousand voices echoed out, their right hands returning the gesture.

"To the Emperor, long may he reign!"

"Assemble by battalions on the training field! We have an exercise to complete!" Stepping away from the microphone, Hermann whispered to me. "Want to watch this, Minister?"

"It would be my pleasure," I replied softly. "It would be my pleasure."