Xavier watched the pages of a women's shoes and jewelry catalog flutter on the table. Tall grass flowed with a cool lake breeze, painting the landscape a dark green. Shadow slowly filled the open country west of the Cortez Mountains, a storm was gathering. Across the battlefield a redoubt stood amidst billowing black clouds and thundering artillery. The colossal Hill 331 was a few miles away, but Xavier could smell the smoke.
Kaiser Xavier Apollo II sat at a rickety table and watched officers gather at the top of Unity Hill, bringing binoculars and maps with them. One of his senior generals, Sir Travis Rushmore, read a newspaper on his right. On his left was his aide de camp, Sir John Lynch, who fingered through a small copy of the holy text of Phanism, the Kirja.
Xavier’s square face glanced at his pocket watch, it would be another hour and a half before the offensive started. He tapped an impatient rhythm with his cane and stared across the valley, his eyes were bloodshot from exhaustion. He ordered a twenty four hour bombardment of the enemy hill and the noise kept him up through the night. His eyes strained and jaw clenched.
The Kaiser had olive skin, green eyes and dirty blonde hair. His thick beard covered a scar that ran from his chin to his left ear, a souvenir from serving as a cavalry officer in Tricronia. It embarrassed him, but if it weren't for that injury he wouldn't have left the war in Tricronia and he wouldn’t have found himself in politics.
Xavier picked up the catalog. From Colslavia comes to us these lovely mosaic pieces in floral or conventional patterns…
He had broad shoulders, bad posture, and his back pained him at all times. He wore a heavy field coat with a worn out uniform underneath and jackboots planted in the mud. His cap rested on the table, the elk insignia of House Apollo pinned at the front. Xavier took great pride in his house, the family that heralded democracy in the Tykan Empire. A liberal dynasty. Monuments were built for his late aunt Adeline the Great. She fought to end slavery around the globe, expanded the empire, established the Imperial Senate, and brought in an era of stability. A legacy followed her life and she was loved. Xavier hoped the same could be said for him, but he had his doubts. His reign saw a rise in inequality, the empire was receding, the Imperial Senate was in gridlock, and his country struggled under the weight of financial collapse while he fought a war overseas.
The Cortez Mountains and the Great Lakes were crown jewels of the Southern Peninsula. The land was known for its snow-capped peaks, dark pine forests, crystal blue rivers and lakes, powerful geysers, waterfalls, and hot springs. Locals believed that all prayers received an answer at the highest summits of the Cortez, yet most of the peaks were unexplored. Locals, Phanists, scholars, and thrill seekers made attempts to scale the steep, unstable slopes of the Cortez, but all failed. The mountains were cruel, unforgiving, indifferent. Xavier could not afford to be pushed back to the mountains.
Three months ago, Colslav homesteaders lived in quiet communes on the fertile frontier called the Great Lakes region. The hilly grasslands around the Sastivanivich sprawled for miles. Locals used to raise cattle in the valleys that have since become no man’s land. Now, most of the homes were either destroyed or commandeered. Refugees were taken down the Doverheim River by Tykan troops. Xavier pitied the Colslavs. It was a country dependent on its allies, and only the Tykan Empire, Xavier’s empire, was willing to fight on its behalf.
For decades, Countrians (also known as ‘Wherrics’) were subjects of the Tykan Empire. Revolts at the tail end of the great war led by nationalist counts led to Xavier losing the empire's breadbasket colony. The failure caused several of his officers to resign, Xavier vowed to never suffer another humiliation. He could not be pushed back into the mountains. He needed to attack before the Countrians attacked him, he hoped to overwhelm them and break through to the western gravel plains.
The current fighting was on its 97th day. The Tykans reclaimed a third of their allies' lost territory, but the Countrian invaders still occupied the gravel plains and western counties. The Kaiser's army could only repel the invading force as far as Hill 331. It was armed to the teeth with machine guns and small artillery pieces, fashioned with trenches and dugouts. Xavier hoped his artillery would soften the hill before he sent troops to storm it.
Xavier felt through his heavy field coat for a pack of cigarettes, watching mules haul field guns, soldiers in old uniforms saluted him as they passed. As he struck the match, three horses came riding through the crowd.
He tossed the match and pocketed his cigarettes. A man in his thirties rode in the front, followed by Xaviers twenty year old nephew, Tobias, with his thirteen year old son, Kai, trailing behind. “Kai, my boy!” Xavier called out as the riders dismounted. Kai came running to his father. Xavier struggled to kneel, nearly falling when Kai leaped into his arms.
“Did I miss it?” Kai asked. Xavier ruffled his hair.
“No, we have plenty of time,” Xavier said with a smile, “Have you done your homework?”
Kai hesitated to reply, “No…” he admitted, “But Alion said I could come.”
Xavier frowned, “Alright, go on. Make sure you have a good view,” he said. Kai obeyed his father and followed his cousin to the table, and Xavier pushed himself to his feet. He saw that Rodolfo Alion was hitching the horses. Alion came from a career in the senate with a brief attendance in the academy. After losing reelection in 1936, he committed himself to the military. Xavier’s wife, Olivia, had served Rodolfo’s father in the senate before they met, and Olivia took pity on the young Alion. She suggested Xavier take him to Colslavia to watch over their son. Xavier gave him a job, but still thought he was better suited in government, “Why has my son not done his homework? Where is his tutor?” Xavier asked.
“She wanted to visit family in Sconza. I told her that was fine,” Alion said, a concerned look on his face.
“And you let her go?”
“You asked me to bring him here early, and his classes would not have started until half an hour ago. I let him and Tobias go riding instead,” he explained. Xavier bit his tongue, suddenly out of things to say. Alion reached into his coat and pulled an envelope, “This is from our allies. The courier said it's about the salient on the Isthmus. It’s urgent.”
Xavier put the envelope in his coat pocket, “It can’t be more urgent than this offensive. I’ll do one thing at a time. And don’t let the tutor leave next time. The Queen is paying her to work, not travel.” He turned away from Alion and glanced back at Kai, who perched on Unity Hill with wide-eyed wonder. The Kaiser put on a prideful smile.
“Your majesty,” Alion said, “From what I gathered, Torrent is asking us to spare some manpower and advisors. I was thinking that you could send me over. I think I can be helpful.”
“What makes you think that?”
“I graduated at the top of my class in the academy. I’ve been observing how things have worked here for a few months. I’ve been learning Colslavic. I think I’m ready to take on some more demanding tasks.”
“And who is going to watch my son?”
There was a lull in the conversation, and Alion decided to let it go. They returned to the table. Xavier noticed that the older General spoke with the telecommunications officer. They whispered a heated exchange. Xaviers nephew ate cheese while watching the bombardment of Hill 331, “Uncle Xavier, where is your whiskey? I think it's only right that we have a drink. The war will be over soon.”
“I would indulge you, but some of the people at this table insist that I be kept sober.”
“You’re the Kaiser. What good is that if you can’t have a drink when you want it?” he said with a smile.
“I believe, Your Majesty, you requested that I keep you away from the liquor,” Lynch said.
“Then that makes me a damned fool,” Xavier said with a laugh. He slumped into a chair and reached again for his cigarettes, “We’ll have many drinks tonight when this is over.”
The generals were syncing their watches and preparing to go off to their posts, and the telecommunications officer stepped away from the table. The older General Rushmore turned to Xavier, “Your majesty, Major General Wilkens is on the phone line.”
“Wilkens? What's the old fox saying now?”
“He’s insisting that the barbed wire in No Man’s Land is still intact, that the bombardment hasn’t made a dent… He says that we’ll be sending our men into a trap.”
“Is that true?” Tobias asked, and Kai looked to his father for an answer.
Xavier’s jaw tightened. Wilkens had always been a gadfly to him, “Has he sent anyone to verify this?”
Rushmore nodded, “There was a small reconnaissance team sent an hour ago, but he suspects counter-artillery killed them. I don’t think we’ll be able to confirm anything. Wilkens is asking that we delay the offensive.”
“Have you heard any other, similar reports?”
“No, your majesty.”
Xavier tapped his ring on the table, “We continue as planned. I won’t let unfounded claims disrupt our timetable.”
“Good, that’s what I told him. The show will go on,” Rushmore smiled. The rest of the generals started to disperse, returning down the hill and saluting Xavier as they passed him. The Kaiser returned the gesture while smoking a cigarette. Rushmore picked up the newspaper left on the table, a copy of the Emerald Gazette, “For the first time in years, everything seems to be running smoothly. Soon this will be over, and our senate seems to finally be getting along, wouldn’t you agree, Senator Alion?”
The table looked to Alion, who shifted uncomfortably in his seat, “Don’t prod at me, General.”
“What do you mean?” Rushmore asked, “I think we’re all in a celebratory mood, isn’t that right, Your Majesty?”
Xavier noticed Alion’s fist bound tight at his side. The Prime Minister was heralding a new, conservative bill to combat the ongoing financial crisis. Since the end of the Tykan Civil War, the Apollo’s had supported liberal politics. This did not stop Xavier from cooperating with his government, “The Prime Minister fixes problems at home. I fix them abroad,” Xavier said before dragging on the cigarette, “Politics are a bore, and they dampen spirits. Let’s talk about something else.”
Rushmore frowned and tossed the paper back onto the table, “I apologize. I didn’t know that this is still a sore subject,” The general said, “I suppose I ought to get to work, gentlemen. I’ll be celebrating with you all at dinner tonight,” he said. He followed the entourage of officers down Unity Hill.
Alion picked up the newspaper, the Apollo Times, a famed Tykan newspaper. He read some headlines, “RENAISSANCE PARTY CHAIRMAN RELEASED” and “DOCTOR FEARS LOSS OF HOMOGENEITY WILL BRING RUIN” among them. The top story was about the Senate, “MAJOR ECONOMIC REFORM WILL ‘END RECESSION’ PRIME MINISTER SAYS,” so he started scanning its contents. The conservatives took a slim majority of the Senate in 1936. Alion hadn’t forgotten that election night after nearly two years.
The telecommunications officer returned to the table, “Your majesty…”
“What is it now?” Xavier asked, flicking his cigarette into the mud.
“Major General Wilkens has said that he refuses to proceed with the offensive without the order brought to him in writing.”
“Writing? I wrote off on this operation weeks ago. The weather has delayed it enough. To hell with this writing nonsense. Tell that lackey to carry out his orders.”
“Sir, I don’t intend to offend, but I fear that Major General Wilkens is serious,” the officer said.
Xavier grumbled for a moment, “He wants it in writing?” he asked again calmly. The officer nodded, and Xavier clicked his tongue, “Okay, fetch me a pen and paper.” As the officer hurriedly complied, Xavier turned to Lynch, “I have too many senile generals in the high command. Next thing we’ll hear from him is that the writing is too small for him to read, geriatric bastard.”
Lynch laughed with the Kaiser, and the officer brought Xavier his pen and paper. As Xavier wrote out the order, Tobias spoke up, “You should let me bring it down. I can ride the fastest.”
“No, not you,” Xavier said. He finished signing the order and folded it, “Alion will take this to Major General Wilkens.”
“I beg your pardon?” Alion asked.
Xavier passed the order, “You will take it.”
Lynch scoffed, “Alion? He hasn’t even seen the frontline. We have couriers.”
“All they do is run. Alion, you know how to run?” Xavier asked.
Alion nodded, he looked to Lynch, “And I’ve been there once. Wilkens played cards with the soldiers and invited me down.”
“Playing cards?” Xavier scoffed, “Well, you’ve been down there before. That's all that matters. A little artillery never scared anybody,” Xavier said grinning. Alion got up from the table. Lynch sighed and picked up the newspaper. Xavier leaned back in his seat, “You’ve been through law school; you should find the front line charming,” he said. Alion turned down Unity Hill, dizzy with nerves as he unhitched his horse and started for the saps.
***
His horse trotted along intertwined wickerwork, the duckboard path had been weathered into the ground by thousands of boots. Hardy, disgruntled soldiers glared up at him as he passed, surprised to see fresh brass come into the trenches. The path depressed upon entering, and the hill loomed even greater over him. The sound of the artillery guns receded, but the impact of their shells felt heavier. The violence he watched from afar now lay waste before him. The pillars of smoke were like great columns that cascaded over him. Guns, hooves, and boots were the voices that made a choir out of war.
He had never been in the trenches during active combat, and for the first time in a long while, the world felt smaller to him.
Alion dismounted as he came to the saps, hitched his horse on a post, and pushed past soldiers to get to the front. He rushed by motley dugouts and poorly written signs, quickly he lost all sense of direction. He stepped through mud and tried to keep from gagging at the smell of decay.
At an intersection of trenches he found an officer, “Sir!” Alion shouted, “Where is General Wilkens?” he asked. As he spoke, a shell landed above them, Alion ducked, hands over his head and eyes shut tight. His ears rang and the dizzying feeling returned. He felt dirt land on his back, then a hand on his shoulder. The officer stood unflinching, he laughed, “Countrian counter-battery! Pay it no mind, as always it’s light and uncoordinated!”
Alion brushed clay off his uniform, and he took deep breaths as he tried to regain his footing, “I have orders to deliver to General Wilkens, where can I find him?”
The officer patted Alion’s back and pointed, “He’s at the front line, take a left and follow it all the way down!” he shouted in return. Alion nodded and turned left. He walked along the wooden planks, soldiers lined the walls with their weapons, uniforms gray and worn. Some muttered prayers to themselves, others were stone-faced. Alion felt chills as he reached the front line.
Hundreds of soldiers stood lined up at the parapets, they gripped wooden ladders and waited for the order to climb over the top. Many of them carried wire cutters. The artillery boomed the loudest here, louder than it ever did at the Kaiser's table. The Countrian counterfire cut through the air and closer to him. With each blast, Alion fought the urge to fall to his knees and hide.
He was short of breath. A nearby blast blew clay into his face. He pressed himself up against the wall and tried to catch his breath. In desperation, he recited an old Calvish prayer, “Lord, bring peace down and give me strength…” he repeated the phrase a few times, despite not believing in any of the gods. For some reason, the phrase brought some comfort. He pushed off the wall and continued.
He found a small dugout, hardly distinguishable from the rest of the trench. An old gaslit lamp hung from a post above it, and a single soldier stood guard. Alion approached the crude dugout and the guard paid him no mind. Shells rocked the ground around him, the soldier did not flinch. Alion tried to peer over the guard, “General Wilkens!” he shouted.
The guard didn’t move at first, then mechanically saluted him at the sight of the rank on his uniform. The guard stepped aside, and Alion took one last deep breath, “Thank you,” he said politely before he stumbled into the dugout.
Alion scanned the room, the dugout was scarce; a wobbly table rested with a map, a copy of the Book of Inoculum, and a phone beside the general, who sat slumped in a chair. His staff officers stood over the map. Alion stepped in front of the general, “General Wilkens?”
His eyes peered out from under his cap, “What are you doing here?” the general asked, he got up and looked Alion eye to eye, “You shouldn’t be down here, boy.”
“You said you needed written orders,” Alion said. He handed over the letter.
“Do you know where you are?” Wilkens asked, Alion only stared at the general. Wilkens sighed. Alion noticed a broken periscope on the ground amid scattered documents. The general read the letter, “We still attack at eleven?”
“Uh, yes, sir,” Alion said, “Are you alright?”
Wilkens folded the letter. He slowly rose and stepped outside. He took off his hefty, dull, dirt-crusted coat to reveal an almost pristine olive uniform underneath. An aide approached Wilkens as he took off his cap, they placed a helmet on his head. The general tightened his gloves and straightened a black bow tie meticulously. He was handed his ceremonial officer's sword, which he clasped to his belt with a metallic clang, “I will not order my men to do something I wouldn’t.”
“What are you doing?”
Wilkens looked out to the field, “Boy, the attack goes on. I'd rather we not die cowering in fear. Nothing to do now but endure it. I’ve already voiced my concerns, I won’t bring them up again in vain. It’s best you go back to Unity Hill before it begins.”
Alion looked Wilkens up and down, his stomach turned again, “Are you sure?” he asked, he sounded like a confused child. The general nodded as he grabbed a pair of wire cutters and slung them over his back, “May the Lord Phantom protect us,” he said as he patted Alion on the back. The men drew closer to the parapets, their worn hands hardened their grips around the ladders. The murmuring small talk of the trench was drowned out by the artillery.
Alion shook his head, and the world shook around him with another blast. His stomach rolled over, he fell to his knees and vomited. Wilkens watched him quietly and gestured to his guard. The guard grabbed Alion by the shoulder and helped him up. He led Alion back the way he came, and Alion wiped vomit from his chin. He cursed under his breath, dragging his feet as another soldier helped in carrying him away.
The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.
***
Kai watched the sky open up. Sunlight came through the clouds in great beams. They fell onto the landscape, calling attention to the immense Hill 331. Xavier tapped Kai on the shoulder, handing him a pair of binoculars, “Do you remember why we’re down here, son?” Xavier asked.
Kai nodded, “To stop the Countrians from hurting the Colslavs,” he said. The boy studied the binoculars, they were a small and well made instrument with gold details.
“Not exactly… Do you know what the Colslavs do in their markets?” he asked. Kai shook his head, “Most of them are farmers, busy tending to the land. Instead of paying a lad to watch the money, they leave a basket out. You go in, take your food, and drop a coin in the basket when you leave…” Xavier scoffed, “Can you believe that? Apparently this is a recent idea, before this they had been bartering for centuries out here.”
Kai peered through the binoculars, watching the artillery destroy Countrian trenches. He hadn’t much interest in his fathers stories anymore.
Xavier squeezed Kai’s shoulder, “Look at me, this is important,” he said. Kai looked back at his father, “We aren’t saving the Colslavs from the Countrians. The Colslavs are a weak people, they need saving from themselves. Do you understand?”
“I think so,” Kai said, Xavier patted him on the back.
“Your majesty,” Lynch said, “I believe there is about a minute before it begins.”
Xavier checked his watch, he had somehow lost track of the time, “Good,” he said. They heard footsteps come from behind, and they looked over to see Alion return. “Welcome back, good chief of staff,” Xavier grinned.
Alion took a seat at the table, he did not say anything.
“I assume everything is in order…” he looked to Kai, “Pick up those binoculars, boy.”
Kai looked at Alion for a moment. He saw that something had changed in him. Alion looked down, and Kai took up his father's binoculars. He wondered to himself what the men in the trenches must have thought in those moments.
The artillery ceased, a brutal silence filled the valley.
A few moments passed, and Kai could feel the anticipation rise with the smoke, seconds felt like hours that would not relent. Then he heard one whistle, followed by several more, and with a loud cacophony of shouting the offensive began. Kai watched with a giddy smile, “Look!” Kai said, “They’re moving now!”
Men stumbled over sandbags of Tykan trenches with their rifles in hand and lurched into no-mans-land. They advanced in open order through muddy clay, their formations disrupted and scattered by large white boulders of chalk and deep, watery shell craters. The whistles continued to blare as every last man in the wave climbed over the top. Kai watched a man carry the flag of the 35th division, Wilkens’ men. Within seconds, they were beset by machine-gun fire from the Countrian line. Trench mortars landed around the soldiers, and Kai watched the flag bearer collapse as a bullet pierced his throat.
Kai dropped the binoculars and gasped. He looked to his father, “Boy, what are you doing?” Xavier snapped, “Pick those back up, they’re expensive!”
Kai leaned down and picked up the binoculars, he could not look away from the war below. Men were shredded into red mist and their bodies collapsed in contorted poses in the mud. The advance quickly faltered to a crawl as men huddled behind rocks and in craters. The machine guns laced the field with lead, bodies piled onto one another. Kai looked to Alion, who only stared at the ground muttering under his breath. Kai listened to the fields, pops of gunfire and shells were scattered.
He could see the offensive across the entirety of the line, thousands of men dying together, the occasional burst of Countrian artillery threw men into the air. Men started running back to their trenches, they clambered over one another in a desperate escape from no-mans-land. Kai saw a shell land on a man hiding in a crater, and instantaneously the man disappeared. The shock was enough for tears to well up in his eyes.
The whistles had stopped by the time men jumped back into their trenches. Corpses littered the scene once the machine guns had finished their work. The shelling slowed, and the fields were the quietest they had been all morning. Not a soul had even reached halfway.
Alion and Kai looked to Xavier, the Kaiser puffed on his cigar without a word. The phone operator walked up to the table, “Sir, there is no word from Wilkens on the wave…”
Xavier blew a ring of smoke in the air, he looked up to the man, “It is no matter, we send the next wave.”
“Your majesty,” Alion interjected, his eyes wide and fearful. Xavier glared at the chief of staff, “You can’t be serious?”
Xavier only stared at Alion for another moment, “You take me for an unserious person?” he asked, and Alion froze, Xavier turned back to the operator, “What are you standing there for? Get back to your post.”
The officer gave a small curtsy and ran back down the hill. The moments passed again, and with each breath, Kai felt panic overtake him. His heart raced, and he began to feel dizzy. As soon as the whistles signaling the second wave came in, Kai had fallen out of his chair and lost consciousness. Alion jumped from his seat and kneeled over him, “Xavier! Your son!”
Xavier looked down at Kai, he gritted his teeth, “Take him to the infirmary…” Xavier took the binoculars and raised them to his eyes. Alion waited for Xavier, and Xavier sighed, “Go! See to it that he has proper care.”
***
Alion was smoking in the rain outside the field hospital. He stood underneath a small canvas canopy and watched the wounded get carried inside on stretchers. Most of the wounds appeared to come from artillery, large gashes and missing limbs. He could hear the guns fire in a full chorus as the final waves stormed the hill. The hospital was at full occupancy, yet the nurses awaited the arrival of hundreds more wounded men. He thought of Wilkens and wondered what fate he had faced. He felt sick again. Lightning cracked across the sky, the storm had arrived.
The Kaiser came riding down from Unity Hill. He stopped outside the field hospital and Xavier swung off his horse, “How is he?”
“He should be okay,” Alion said, “The doctor said he had a panic attack.”
“Which doctor?” Xavier asked, “Where is Doctor Morgan?”
“She isn’t here yet.”
“She’s my sons fucking doctor, how is she not here?” Xavier said, the mans face was pale white. Alion had never seen the Kaiser afraid until now, “Can I borrow one of those cigarettes?” he asked.
Alion tossed him the whole pack, “They said he should wake up soon, within an hour.”
Xavier tapped his fingers on the pack, “Where is he?”
“They took him to the back.”
“Show me.”
They went inside the field hospital, trailing a stretcher of a man with bandages around his eyes. they passed several cots where soldiers stared with cloudy eyes at the ceiling. Nobody paid the Kaiser any mind in this place. Alion brought him to a small space that had been curtained off from the rest of the hospital.
Alion held the curtain open for Xavier, and they saw Kai laying on a cot. Xavier approached the cot. He sat beside the cot and ran his hand through his sons hair. He watched the boy quietly, Alion noticed that Xavier had begun to weep. The Kaiser turned away from his son and cradled his head between his palms. The cigarette slipped between his fingers. Alion froze, watching the man crumble before him. His hands curled into fists that pressed against his temples, and he gritted his teeth as his eyes came to level with Alion’s, “He’ll be okay?” He asked.
“I think so,” Alion reassured. Xavier watched his son without a word. They could hear a man scream in pain outside. Doctors shouted orders back and forth. Alion spoke up, “Where is Tobias?”
“I sent him to the farmhouse,” Xavier answered, he opened the pack of cigarettes, “Did Wilkens tell you anything?”
“No, nothing but ‘may the Lord Phantom protect us.’”
Xavier started to smoke and sat upright, “I see… I don’t know how to say it, well, Wilkens is dead. He went over the top with his men. Most of them are dead too.” Alion turned his eyes to the ground, Xavier shrugged, “He was always a zealot, ready to become a martyr at the first chance. Fuck him.”
A nurse came through the tent, “Oh, your majesty. I don’t mean to intrude,” she stepped back.
“Don’t worry,” Xavier said, he leaned over and kissed Kai’s forehead, he wiped a tear from his eye, “I’ll be on my way. Where is Doctor Morgan?”
“She is on her way.”
“Good,” Xavier said, he stood up, “Let's move him to the farmhouse,” he ordered. The Kaiser rose from the chair. Alion could see the fatigue in his eyes, they left the field hospital. Xavier got back on his horse, the rain had grown heavier. Xavier looked down at Alion, “How are you, son?” he asked.
“I’m okay, your majesty,” Alion answered.
“You should head back to the farmhouse too. We’ll be having dinner together tonight. I’ll be up there soon,” Xavier said. He spurred his horse and headed back for Unity Hill.
***
Xavier returned to the top of Unity Hill to find Lynch sitting alone. He was looking out over Hill 331 through binoculars. Xavier took his seat at the table and grabbed the copy of the Emerald Gazette, “It’s been a long day, you should get some rest,” Xavier said.
Lynch pulled down his binoculars and without a word he nodded. Xavier glanced over the newspaper headlines, “KAISER STILL AT WAR” read one. Xavier started to read the article, a frown grew on his face, “‘While men struggle to feed their families at home, Kaiser Xavier demands they send their sons to the front?’ Who wrote this?”
Lynch looked over Xavier’s shoulder, “Amelia Graves, your majesty.”
Xavier tossed the paper on the table, “Damned Graves…” he scoffed, “He wants to put his niece up to writing attacks against me? The nerve…”
“I don’t think you should take it personally, your majesty,” Lynch picked up the paper, “The girl hardly knows you. She’s probably writing whatever she thinks will excite her readers.”
“Yeah, excited to riot against me again, why has nobody brought this to my attention?” Xavier asked.
“I’m not sure, your majesty. Perhaps everyone has assumed you’ve already read it?”
Xavier grunted as he got up from the table, “I don’t want this paper in front of my generals anymore. Atticus knows nothing about whats going on out here yet he still wants to be a critic,” Xavier scoffed, “It’s hogwash.”
“We can instead order The Yorkshire Times,” Lynch folded the paper under his arm and walked down the hill. Xavier stayed at the top of the hill, watching the smoke rise from no mans land. He felt raindrops land on his cap and shoulders and didn’t move.
“John,” Xavier called out.
“Yes sir?”
“What do you make of all this?”
Lynch thought for a second before answering, “I think you did the best you could with what we have, as always.”
Xavier crossed his arms, and Lynch continued to find shelter from the rain. The Kaiser let the rain fall on him as he contemplated. The owner of the Emerald Gazette, Atticus Graves, had bought the paper after leaving Xavier’s high command during the Wherric War of Independence. The war that broke Countria away from the Tykan Empire years ago. Graves was always reminding the people of Xavier’s greatest failures. What if this was the best he could do, if Graves was right? Was this really all he had?
The battlefield was covered in a thick layer of smoke. The great Hill 331 still stood, battered and burning, unconquered. The machine guns flashed along Hill 331, the rain grew heavier, and he wondered what headlines his old adversary would choose to write about that morning. He returned to his quarters for rest after a sleepless night.
***
Xavier hunched over the dining table surrounded by officers and family members. Kai rested in his room. His niece, Cordelia, had joined them that night. She stood beside the mantel with Lieutenant General Monet, the superior of the deceased Wilkens. He was helping her set up a new portable record player she had bought from the Colslavic Capital city of Caspor. A Colslavic liaison officer attended the dinner as well, he watched them set up the device, “What records have you got with you?” he asked.
“I’ve brought some of my uncle’s favorites,” Cordelia said. She picked up and old crate with sleeves of records. She picked one up and showed it to the table, “Surely you’ve all heard of Paul Soprano?”
The officers shook their heads, and Cordelia placed the record on the player, as she lowered the needle, Monet adjusted the volume. After a few scratches they could hear a slow song come through the static. A voice beside melodic strings set in, and Paul Soprano sang.
Xavier got up and approached the window. The room was too small for so many people, the air was heavy in early July, foggy windows, and mosquitos trying to get inside. It was hot and boring in that commandeered farmhouse. The Kaiser lit himself a cigarette and sat beside the window.
He glanced over to his niece, she smiled as she showed the liaison the different records she had brought with her. The liaison, a younger man with an unshaven face, admired the records and commented that the next time they meet, he’ll have to bring his own favorites along. Cordelia agreed, then asked him about her fiance, the Prince of Colslavia who was serving as an officer on the Colslavic Front south of them, “He’s doing just fine… Actually, that reminds me,” the officer gestured to Xavier, “Your majesty, Prince Kolar was asking this morning if you had received his correspondence.”
Xavier turned back to the room, “Yes, I have,” he said, “Dinner will be ready in five minutes, you should seat yourselves.”
Monet crossed the room to sit at the table, he sipped from a glass of red wine and kept to himself. Cordelia let the record play and took her seat. The liaison took his seat with the officers. Tobias and Alion appeared to be late. Xavier put out his cigarette as the kitchen staff entered. He returned to his seat and a plate of fish was set before him. His glass was filled with cider, they began to eat, and the room quieted.
Rushmore cleared his throat to speak, “I would like to say, your majesty, that I know our spirits are low tonight. But we’ve had worse challenges, hell, we trained many of those Wherric legionnaires on the hill. But what they lack is the Tykan warrior spirit. Give it a month more and they’ll fold cleanly, like the Feds in the Sara.”
There were a few nods of agreement from some lower rank officers, though Monet spoke up, “I don’t think that now is the time for ignorant optimism, with all due respect.”
“I’m sorry?” Rushmore asked, “My good Monet, I don’t reckon you heard me right if you find me ignorant.”
“We can’t set a date for a month from now and expect to throw forty thousand men instead of thirty thousand with the hope that this time we will reach a near impossible target. We need to make a change.”
“Thousands of men made the ultimate sacrifice, men at your command, and you’ll imply that they died in vain?”
“And we shouldn’t do it again.”
Rushmore continued his argument, “Monet listen, no matter what reservations you might think you have, you have to remember that we all have orders. The Kaiser issues the order and we follow it. End of story.”
“It’s hardly that simple.”
Suddenly, Tobias burst through the door. The boy stumbled over to his seat beside Cordelia. He laughed to himself as he sat down, “Sister! Are you well?”
“What’s so funny?” Xavier asked. Tobias shook his head as he reached over the table for some salt, “Are you drunk? Is there something to celebrate?”
“Huh?” Tobias asked, he stopped smiling, “What do you mean?”
“You come in here looking like that? In front of everyone?”
Tobias looked to Cordelia, “Am I being a nuisance?” he asked.
“That’s enough!” the table shook under Xavier’s fist, “Everyone eats in their own quarters tonight.” Everyone rose from their tables and shuffled out of the room. Xavier gestured to his niece, “Cordelia, wait just a moment, I’d like to have a word with you.”
Cordelia waited behind, and the doors shut. Xavier stepped away from the empty table and over to his liquor cabinet, “How are you feeling?” Xavier asked.
Cordelia sighed, “I’ve felt better, uncle.”
Xavier smiled as he poured a glass of whiskey, “So have I, but we can at least say we have our health.”
Cordelia watched him sip his whiskey, “What is it Uncle?”
“I’d like to ask a favor of you.”
“What favor?”
“I have a question for you about my colleagues… What do you make of them?”
Cordelia scoffed, “What makes you want to know my opinion?”
Xavier put his hand on her shoulder, “Because you’re my blood, and I intend to only consider the council that is worthwhile. Do you think they’re honest men?”
She thought for a minute, “What do I know? I don’t speak to them much anymore.”
“I don’t need your preamble, I trust your judgment, now please just tell me.”
After a sigh she gave in, “I think they are all very loyal people, but I don’t think they’re always being honest with you.”
Xavier smiled, “I appreciate you coming out here. Are you leaving in the morning?”
Cordelia looked out the window, she watched the sky turn a deep orange as the sun slipped behind the horizon, “I was thinking that I might make a visit to the Colslavic line, a chance to see Tomas.”
“Oh,” Xavier shook his head, “I’m afraid it’s best you stay here or go back to Caspor, it’s a long ride to the Isthmus that I don’t think you’ll be interested in. I’m sure he can take leave soon.”
“He won’t be able to leave for another few months, unless you can promise to end the war soon.”
“That is the idea,” Xavier grumbled. A knock came at the door, “Come in!”
Rodolfo Alion stepped inside, closing the door quietly behind him, “Am I interrupting? Is dinner not happening?”
“No, you’re not interrupting,” Xavier said, “Cordelia is on her way to her room,” he turned her toward the door, “I’ll see what I can do so you can see your fiancé.”
“Thank you Uncle,” she said as she left the room. Xavier sat at his desk and sighed, he waved for Alion to come in. The room was cold on account of a breeze that came in from an open window. Thin red curtains flowed to the side, letting the moonlight of two great Venturnian moons shine on the Kaiser's face. His right hand curled into a fist against his lip, biting his knuckle. The moons and one candle lit the room. Alion stood in the warm glow of the candlelight and waited. There were two tables in the room, one with a map of the battlefields, and the other a desk for the Kaiser himself.
Xavier took out the Colslavic correspondence, “Do you still want this job?” he asked.
“I’m not sure, to be honest,” Alion said frankly, he sat down before the desk.
“I read the report you delivered to me this morning. There is a special appointment I need to fill before the morning. The Countrians have broken a line in the southern end of our front, the Colslavic defense is straining.” Xavier stood up and stepped away from the desk, “The Countrians are being held back, but Torrent isn’t sure that he has the numbers to successfully launch a counteroffensive.”
“The Countrians are breaking through the Isthmus?”
“Not if we can help it.” Xavier said, he walked to the low-lying table with a light brown map sprawled out. It was jotted with the past six months of movements of the war. Covered in red dotted lines, lines of pencil redrawn so many times it seemed etched into the table itself, “The Countrians are using heavy guns bought from Swedia, rebels helping rebels, exactly what we need,” he pointed two fingers to the map, circling with them the isthmus between the lakes of Gazon and Honza, “They say it’s rough down there… Now I know that Torrent won’t give in, but I can’t say the same for his people.”
Alion felt his heart sink, “Are you sure I should be going down there?”
“I am sending the Guards Corps, and that includes my son. I’m giving this job, you’ll help reestablish the line. If you won’t go, then I’ll find someone else with more mettle who’ll take my son there. It is about time that boy has gotten out of the books and into reality, to know what is expected of him as my successor…” Xavier said before falling into a coughing fit. He stumbled across the room. Alion watched him fall into his large cushioned chair, holding his fist to his mouth. After a moment more he slammed his fist down onto his desk, shaking it violently and sending pens and folders onto the floor, and with it, he shouted, “No successor of mine is going to have the pity of anybody, am I understood?”
Alion grabbed a pitcher of water, refilling Xavier's glass of water, “I understand…” he said as he put the glass on his desk. He couldn’t bear to leave Kai with anyone else, for the Queen had asked that he protect the boy if she were to appoint him to the Guards Corps, “I imagine you’ll have me take Tobias as well?”
Xavier nodded, “However I have another request of you, take Cordelia with you so she may see her fiancé.” He coughed again and reached for the glass of water, “We’re right back where we’ve started… My high command sits at the dinner table like dogs, all of them waiting for my next order as if I won’t get them all killed by August. What do you make of that?” he asked.
Alion didn’t have any advice to offer, but he shrugged, “I don’t know what you should do, your majesty.”
“Do you remember Atticus Graves? He was a brutal critic, but he was honest. When these Countrians first attacked us, he wanted to do things his way, I don’t know why I didn’t listen to him.”
“Do you think he could take the hill?” Alion asked.
“Graves? He was always exceptional, but he would never work with me.”
“Maybe you should ask him anyway if you think he could do it. I mean…”
“What?”
Alion stammered, “Well- I just think we should take all the help we can get. Like you said, dogs.”
Xavier opened his drawer and took out a pen and paper. He began to write a letter, though his coughing worsened, and his handwriting turned to scribbles. He threw the pen down and gestured to the typewriter on his desk, “Get over here and type.” Alion pulled a stool over to the desk and the typewriter toward him. Xavier cleared his throat and dictated a letter.