A man the size of a house stands on a pedestal. His figure is already tall and imposing. The pedestal grants him the luxury to observe the entire town. He holds his head high. A large monarch perches on his ornate helmet. It complements the design well as a ceremonial apparel. He has the standard issue Guards’ combat suit, a lightweight ceramic wear that shelters the user from small-arms fires. Each of them is less armored than the Proxies.
On his right hand is a scepter that’s about his height. And on his left hand is a rapier which he points toward the east. His marble texture is magnificent. It must take a talented sculptor to chisel the otherworldly curve patterns embellished across his armor. The torso, in particular, has a distinct pattern of separated monarch’s wings with leaf-like tendrils flailing in the diagonal direction.
It has been five minutes. Holvmeer can’t describe his fascination. He’s not the one that expresses himself on a daily basis. And he never let a word out other than those he deems necessary. His men are working all around the town, setting up dumps, depot, and fortifications. Yet the commotions they cause are meditative. The statue must be some sort of the town’s guardian, considering how superstitious the empire is. Holvmeer would like to apologize for ruining his town. His slow nod is his resolve for it. He is only doing his duty. Though Holvmeer doesn’t expect him to accept his apology, he thinks that he would accept a drink invitation.
“Sir.” He hears a gentle voice coming from behind.
A maid salutes her.
“Always formal, aren’t you Nabila?” Holvmeer says, returning her salute.
The maid’s posture was tight and sturdy. She loosens it in favor of his words. Holvmeer watches as she gracefully walks past him, her hands are locked in front of her. She jerks her head when she looks back. It points to a collapsed house sitting by the town square. The maid disappears into it. Holvmeer follows her with heavy steps. Something grabs his wrist and pulls him to a concealed corner of the house.
“Let me be this close, then.” The maid says.
Their bodies touch. Nabila clings her hands on Holvmeer’s shoulders. Their faces are less than a hand’s length from each other. Holvmeer gazes down on her eyes, her lustrous ethereal eyes. There are barely any slits around them for snoopers. And with the volume of their voice, no one can hear anything. It’s not like the commissars are going to arrest them for it. Holvmeer believes that no trouble will come out of this. He just needs the privacy.
Her smile adds to the grandeur of her eyes, even though it’s a sour one. Holvmeer gently runs his hand across her cheek.
“You’re mine, Holvmeer. You know that.”
Their faces are so close, Holvmeer can feel her breath puffing against his. A nostalgic feeling. It starts to hit him like the Vindicators’ 203mm guns when she slowly runs her hands from his neck to his cheek.
She is a state’s craft. She doesn’t have the heart that beats. No Android does. But she feels compassion. It never struck him how. He heard that sentient AIs are a thing even before The Annihilation. It never struck him that he’ll be attached to one.
“I’m sorry, Nabila.”
That time is still vivid in his mind. She knows what he is thinking. She was after all, the one that’s more harmed by the event. Every unit have a Maids detachment attached to them on every level. Hers was his ever since he is a lieutenant. She too was a maid lieutenant back then. They had progressed the ranks, faced the horrors of war, and even cheated death all together. Holvmeer still remembers exactly the time when she was tending his wound while being wounded herself. Her smile was so genuine and soothing that his eyes couldn’t look away. His heart was quickly sold thereafter. She was the first woman he kissed.
Then he got depressed once. The news of his mother’s passing was too much. Even more so when he is not there because he had to shore up an assault by the Guards. They broke up at his decision because he couldn’t feel any emotions. He left Nabila to seek mental asylum. When he recovered, he found himself another girl. A human girl, to whom he is then married.
Holvmeer can’t imagine how painful it is for the maid. He still can’t get over it. In the end, his heart still longs for her. He can’t do anything about it. He just let the feelings flow.
“It’s okay.” She widens her smile, trying to convince him that she is okay with that.
But Holvmeer knows that she isn’t. Holvmeer wraps his arms around her and squeeze the maid against him. He tightens her grip, harvesting her softness for himself. Their lips touch, eventually locking. Her tongue is still sweet as ever. Holvmeer was thinking of a quick snatch of the taste. It grows passionate sooner than he expected. The two revel in it. Neither want to let go. They are their light in the darkness of Vindicators’ onslaught, their fragrant amidst the pungent smell of burnt steel and death.
Holvmeer slowly draws his face away. Nabila immediately locks her arms around his neck and pulls him back for a second round. Holvmeer lets her seize what is rightfully hers. She earned it, he thought.
The maid then let go, apparently having enough for the moment. Her chest is pulsating as she gazes up to him. He wishes that he isn’t wearing his armor right now. He wishes that his own chest is pressing against them.
“I assume you’re not here for that.” Holvmeer says.
“Sir Edward is looking for you.”
“What!?” Holvmeer releases his grip.
“Shh…” Nabila puts her index to his lip. “It’s okay. I asked him for an extra minute or two.”
Holvmeer sighs. He finally blesses her with his smile. They both embrace, pressing their bodies against each other with all their strength. They twist as they pat each other’s back. They wish that this morning would last forever.
Nabila then takes Holvmeer to see Sir Edward. The man is mingling with a couple young lieutenants. Holvmeer overhears them as he approaches. The lads are talking about their tactical decisions. Sir Edward’s gaze is upon them the whole time. He is either testing their knowledge, teasing them, or just want to be around the youths. Knowing him, it’s probably all those combined.
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Sir Edward dismisses the lieutenants when he notices Holvmeer approaching. He welcomes him before drawing him to a corner where no-one supposedly can eavesdrop.
“Command gave me this paper.” Sir Edward says.
Holvmeer’s utilizer flickers. He brings it up and reads the content. He strikes a bewildered look at Sir Edward.
“Discharge?”
“A general one, though.”
Holvmeer reads the document further and finds a sentence that generates an even bigger question mark.
“Recent armor losses?”
“Command is already dissatisfied with your progress. That loss seems to toss the last of their tolerance out of the window.” Sir Edward shrugs. “But who knows? Maybe some blokes are actually setting your arse on fire. It’s possible that they managed to convince the commissars to kick you out.”
“I take it that Feld will be in charge.”
“They decide so.” Sir Edward looks left and right. Seeing that no-one is listening, he gets himself closer to his ear. “Fifteen minutes to pull out. Else those MASCOTs will charge you.” Sir Edward gives one strong pat to his left shoulder and nods. “Best of luck.”
All decisions regarding the army falls to The Primus. He is the apex in the Command chain. Even though Sir Edward is his co-ruler, he doesn’t make nor participate in the making of it. The state’s regulation says that he is entirely detached from that task. Holvmeer appreciates the sympathy that he is giving. The man still wants him around but can’t do anything about it. He recalls how even though he is doing his best, it doesn’t guarantee a satisfying result. It seems like Sir Edward actually commended his efforts.
Sir Edward strides away from the place. Holvmeer walks back to where he came. He catches Nabila standing there looking at him with great worry.
“What happened?” She asks.
It’s surprising that she is still there waiting for him. “Aren’t you supposed to sort out our supplies?”
Nabila frowns and strides closer. “What happened?” She asks again, this time slower and with more emphasis.
“They dismiss me.” Holvmeer sighs before following it up with the reason.
“Holvmeer…” The maid locks her hand in front of her chest. She is stricken by the implication that Holvmeer will leave her again.
He looks back at the document. The losses occur on far southwest of Patih Tread. He doesn’t remember giving order, nor approving one, for his unit to advance deeper. The objective is the D230 highway. As long as they control it, nothing else matters for the moment.
Holvmeer frowns. It must be his doing. “Get me Feld.”
Nabila seeks out the man. She returns with him two minutes later. Holvmeer meets Feld in the eye. His friend does the same. His indifference shows that he has seen this confrontation coming from a mile-away.
Holvmeer approaches him. “You stabbed me…” He says.
“I stabbed you?” Feld squints at him. “You stabbed the state.”
“Excuse me?”
“Every day this town isn’t ours, the men far west die ten times more than us. We have seven days to take it Holvmeer. Seven. And only now we fully take it.”
“I’m saving my men, Feld. Don’t you understand? They got places to be, anywhere than here.”
“And you think those up there don’t? Saving your men by sacrificing a bigger portion of others?” Feld shakes his head. “That’s not the Holvmeer I know.”
Holvmeer clenches his fists. “So you sent out an armor column to die in order to file a case to kick me out?”
“Command is looking down on you with contempt, friend. The commissars were already preparing punishments if it continues. I only made sure that none of them find you. I made sure that they merely dismiss you with no repercussions.”
Holvmeer takes a brief glance at Nabila. She looks agitated and is eager to defend him. But it’s already done. No matter how much he or she babbles on, it won’t change the fact that Command puts him out of duty.
He takes a deep breath. He gives his hand once he got closer.
“Best of luck then, friend.”
Feld shakes it. “Your forces are in good hand. I guarantee.”
Holvmeer marches away. On second thought, it really isn’t a loss for him. He can still acquire some of the benefits that the state offers as a gratitude for his service. Most importantly, he finally gets to go home. To think that he can finally fulfill his promise to his daughter is elating. He doesn’t show it. He just half-smiles at the thought.
Nabila follows him. She grabs his hand. He halts and glances back at her impassively. He isn’t good at expressing himself. But seeing the longing looks on her face, knowing that he has to leave her for the second time and probably won’t return, he feels the urge to do it. So, he pulls her close again.
“Stay here, precious. Take care of these men and women.” He strokes her cheek while smiling.
“Will I ever see you again?”
Holvmeer chuckles. “Probably. If they need me again.”
“They probably would, wouldn’t they?” Nabila asks.
“That remains to be seen.” Holvmeer holds her tighter. “Remember to run away if you sense danger. Save as much as you could. They’ll thank you for that. Live to fight another day.”
Nabila holds Holvmeer’s hands. “I’ll be waiting for you when that day comes.” She smiles.
Holvmeer returns it. The two then warms each other with their embrace. Nabila smears her everlasting yearning to Holvmeer. And he does the same. He’ll do the same gesture with his actual wife back home. But it won’t be as lovely as with her.
They bid farewell. A proper farewell this time. Strangely, she doesn’t feel sad afterwards. When Holvmeer looks at her again, she is looking back at him indifferently. He even notices a hint of a smile on her face. She appears to be more than ready to face whatever tomorrow has for her. Holvmeer is glad if it’s the case. He never thinks that he’ll ever make up entirely for dumping her. But it’s pleasing to see her high-spirited.
He returns to his previous command room. There’s not much left there as the essentials—such as the command table—have been relocated to the new command center at Patih Tread. He packs up his belongings and take a transport to a nearby train station. The Proxies that he comes across salute him. These men know that he isn’t in charge anymore. It’s just tradition to respect the higher ranks as long as they didn’t defile themselves with misconduct. Now he just needs to wait at a nearby encampment for the next train. He sees some Proxies unloading crates from a container. He can read the string of mixed letters and numbers labelling them.
Incendiary shells…