The raven-haired Madame takes a step forward with that slight smile. In response, I take a few steps back. No sooner enough do I run out of free space to distance myself with; the cold, unforgiving steel wall cushions me from any more steps. The unrelenting, yet oddly friendly gaze of the Madame pierces through me all the same with each of her subsequent steps. Each step she takes, my chest pounds harder in anticipation of what she’ll do with me.
“My,” she starts, brushing the tip of her finger against her lips “have I frightened you, Miss Happ? You need not worry…” the Madame has stopped directly in front of me—so close that I can see the terrified reflection of a blonde in her eyes. “I do not intend to do any harm to you,” she scoffs with a sly smile, and I must have been imaging a slight wince out of the corner of her eye “if I did so, I would certainly face consequences; and if I faced consequences, then my fleet will finish off yours.”
“W-…what do you want from me?” I sputter without a second thought. It’s as though I find myself shrinking before the very individual I had, from my Academic years up until a few seconds ago, had taken to be a merciless, ruthless genocidal killer. A monster—a demon who takes many shapes and forms as though to deceive the survivors she lets go as warnings.
The Madame extends a hand to me that makes me clench my eyes and fists. When I open my eyes again, she has rescinded her hand. “I merely wish to…” she averts her eyes and furrows her brow in thought. Without another word, the raven Scarface turns her back to me and takes a few steps back towards the door, which gives me a second to take deep breaths and clench my chest. The Scarface turns around—again with that foxy smile of hers. “I wanted to see for myself the person… the junior officer who performed such impressive exploits to outwit me.”
An embarrassing warmth burns through my cheeks at this awkward flattery. “U-um… just so that we’re… on the same page, you are the… er, ‘Madame Scarface’, correct?” I ask without much thought and then wanting to kick myself for always blurting stupid stuff.
Again, there is that wince. The Scarface rubs the side of her disfigured cheek and cuts loose a gentle sigh. She closes her eyes before locking eye contact with me, “as much as I detest that barbaric name—yes, that is indeed me.”
It only makes me wonder… then what were all those rumors of her being different descriptions? Subordinates acting on her behalf, then?
“That does make me beg the question, however…” the Madame Scarface rubs her chin and squints at me “I fear I might’ve jumped to some conclusions, but…” I blink, not realizing her cheeks have gotten a little rosy “this is rather embarrassing to ask now, but… you are the junior officer that I asked for, correct? The Ensign Happ-Schzwatzborg…” she trails off with a quieter voice, her rosy cheeks get a little redder as if knowing she has mispronounced my surname. For someone who I have always mistaken for a borderline serial killer, she is somewhat cute. Not to mention her rather gentle way of speaking eloquently. It’s still hard to take in that this is, in fact, the Madame Scarface herself.
It was my turn to scoff—a scoff that makes me clasp my hand over my mouth to mask a grin and I avert eye contact so I don’t see the Madame’s reaction. I try to quickly suppress the smile before letting my hand drop to my side. “Yes, I am Ensi—” I bite the bottom of my lip “no… sorry, let me start over—yes, I am Victoria Happ-Schwarzenberger.”
She carefully mouths the words with an averted gaze before looking into my eyes once more, “Vee-toria… Happ, Schwarzen… nng… that aside,” with a somewhat smooth recovery, the Madame smiles at me graciously while rubbing the side of her disfigured face “if you are up for it, I would like to continue our discussion over a cup of tea,” she offers gesturing with one hand inside.
“A cup of tea?” I ask as she turns her back to me and heads inside. My gaze drops to my hip where my holstered pistol previously was. Instinctively my hand hovers over where it would be—and I make a balled fist. “…I don’t mind…” I reply dryly, pushing myself away from the wall towards the door.
----------------------------------------
It’s as if I am stepping through a time capsule to—what would now be a day ago, but it feels so much longer than that. The orchid-red adorned-room is almost exactly as it was before; out of style with our military navy-blue uniforms. The only thing missing is…
“—I have heard from your superior…” The soft-spoken voice of the raven-haired Scarface whips me back to attention. She still has her back to me and stands near the oak table that was once the commander’s, “that he, unfortunately, did not survive his mortal wounds…” with one hand, she strokes the surface of the dark-oak table with a flat hand and partially closes her fingers. I do not say anything and a moment of silence fills the uneasy air.
She turns to me with heavy eyes averted to the floor before me, “it is rather unfortunate, I would say… and I do no doubt you have deep hatred toward me,” with a deep breath she raises her eyes to mine “I would even say it is regretful that things turned out the way they have.”
“Regretful?” I retort, before biting down a little too hard on my bottom lip. The Scarface clears her throat and leans against the edge of the table, her bangs veil her face as she looks downward.
“…I did not intend to ram your ship—Olg…” she takes a short breath “my faithful subordinate who I hold dear disobeyed a direct order to do anything rash. I believed it posed a risk to my plans and…” the Scarface takes another breath “I was worried she would pose a risk to her and her crew if things had gone differently, and indeed, Miss… Happ, when I heard you announce to your fleet about your plans, I was skeptical.”
The colors drain from my face, “how much… how much did you hear of it, exactly?” I ask, blinking rapidly. The Scarface remains silent. She departs from the oak desk toward the table towards the tray occupied by tea-ware, which I remember in the past Buttermilch helped himself to alcohol. She takes a white porcelain cup and helps herself to a serving of steamy black tea. Then, still, without another word she pours another one and puts both of them on separate coasters. She turns to face me with teas in either hand.
“My Taiga— the Federation battleship that rammed you—which I believe your military still refers to as the Jaguar…” the name alone makes an eyebrow twitch: even shutting my eyes the image of a penetrated, yet calm Buttermilch is burned into my eyelids. “…Is still capable of receiving Federation transmissions,” she holds out one coaster to me with a wincing smile “and if I may add, I believe your transmission to the fleet back then was easily decrypted,” she finishes with a casual grin.
Baffled, I walk towards the gesturing Madame and take the offered coaster from her with a little caution. We both sit down at the nearby sofa across from each other. “I think I get it, but…” I peer into the pitch-black liquid that reflects a frowning blonde before looking back at the Scarface. Interestingly, she makes a scrunched face after taking a sip from hers: does she not like it, I take it? “Why are you telling me this? Should you be telling this since we are… enemies and all?” The young Madame swallows her drink and sets the white cup down on its ceramic coaster. Like me, she peers into her cup momentarily before releasing a sigh.
She raises her head.
“The battle is over, Vee-toria. I think for all intent and purposes, there is no hostility between us, at least not any longer. If I had my way…” although it is subtle I notice she is gripping the teacup a little tighter “there would have been no bloodshed—this could have been all avoided. Your commander would still even be alive. But regardless of obstacles on my part, there could’ve been so much more pointless massacres had Olga obeyed my orders, or even perhaps if you or another officer had done something… equally less rash,” she slides her fingers through the cup’s handle and carefully caresses the cup’s exterior “I found it implausible that you would actually go through with your plan… and I hate to admit it, but it caught me off-guard, Vetoria; I was bested, and yet you did not capitalize on eliminating me—not once, but twice—” our eyes lock contact “you truly did not intend to fight, did you?”
I take a sip from the cup and gulp down the bitter contents: I can see why she would find this repulsive, but if she is bearing through it for the sake of hospitality, then so shall I. I look into the half-filled cup at an intrigued blonde unable to drum up an answer.
“I think… this whole operation into your territory… um…” I twirl some of my golden bangs “I tried to be adamant that this operation would be a disaster… my direct superiors were on board with it, and when the time came…” I take another sip of the bitter liquid and swallow it to clear a stuffy throat “I went through so much trouble to get my voice heard… even though I’m only a lowly good for nothing bloody officer, no better than a school cadet… um…
“I put so much faith into my commander—Buttermilch. B-before the plan was put in motion to… um, split the fleet—that’s what I was so against. I was so fearful of you or someone else catching us off-guard, but according to Buttermilch, my… fleet commander made a decision against better… judgment and I got angry at Buttermilch,” I look up at the Madame briefly “I got angry and did some stupid bloody thing, and never got to apologize…
“This was his chance—this was our chance to prevent another disaster from happening—to break the trend of incompetent decision-making. That was Buttermilch’s dream; to rise through the ranks and prevent another Jaguar…” although my vision is getting rather watery, I thought I saw the Madame flinch for a split second before I resume “…and there was nothing we could do about it… there was false hope… that there would be reinforcements from Lübeck!” I lower my head and try to wipe away some beads of tears, “Buttermilch… and all of the others died because I wasn’t more forceful… Buttermilch died before he could accomplish his dream. So many hopes and dreams crushed in a matter of hours…
“There was nothing I could do. There was nothing anyone could do.”
I didn’t have to—or maybe I didn’t want to—look up at the Madame as I heard the squeak of her sofa indicating she had gotten up. The direction of footsteps heading around me tells me she is either leaving the room or—
A creaking sound originates from the seat next to me, and the subsequent heavy weight pressing into the seat tells me the Madame sat down—next to me. My first instinct is to stand up—but a hand wraps around my shoulder and keeps me situated. I raise my head slightly to see the Madame staring ahead with a slightly lowered head, with a smile that masks sadness if anything.
“You must have gone through a lot, Vetoria… ” she says quietly and looks me in the eyes “—but you are also too harsh on yourself” without realizing it the Scarface has pressed me closer to her in a partial hug “there was nothing you could’ve done… but at the same time,” I feel a hand—a rather cold hand—stroke the back of my head “at the end of everything you accomplished what he couldn’t… you avoided a total catastrophe…”
“if you didn’t take the helm, there would be no force left to speak of… and neither of us would be here right now. I’m sure if your commanding officer was still alive, he would think highly of your efforts.” Those words tug at my heart if only a little. “You should feel more confident of your exploits… take confidence in the fact that you managed to—by your own merits—accomplish what almost no officer over the past years have strived to do—all in the selfless name of self-perseverance, rather than… glory-seeking. Some have died, yes, but by your words you were able to allow for many more to survive the ordeal… and hopefully return home safely.”
The Madame stops petting me and releases me from her hold. She gets up and moves to her side of the table to retrieve her tea. She downs the rest with a brief but bitter face. “This… tea, it was prepared by Mazzarelia… I believe his name was. But I didn’t spend much time with him. We spoke very few words—mostly discussing peace terms and very little else. I was more interested in you,” at those words, I couldn’t help but hide my blushing cheeks with locks of hair. To hear that from the Madame from all people is a little…
“It’s good, isn’t it?” She says in a rather unconvincing manner, “if you like, I can pour you some more.” It would make me feel guilty to turn her down after all that, so I nod my head and we both make our way over to the tray to refill on tea. I stand adjacent to her as she proceeds to carefully pour the beverage into our cups. A part of me is still unable to believe I am having a rather somewhat casual conversation with this woman, who practically looks the same age as I do. A thought crosses my mind: she couldn’t possibly be the same age as me, could she?
“Here you go, Victoria,” she says holding the coaster in front of me, which I accept.
“I just realized… you actually pronounced my name right that time,” I remark offhandedly. I look over in time to notice she averts her gaze, cheeks luminescent.
“M-my apologies… was I mispronouncing it wrong this whole time?” She asks coolly. A scoff escapes my lips, and I briefly cover my mouth with a hand in the hopes that the Madame doesn’t notice.
“Um… it’s fine, a lot of people get my surname wrong, so it’s no biggie, really…” the Madame cracks a smile despite a mini wince out of the corner of her mouth. After we finish filling up our cups we make our way back to the sofas, where we again sit across from each other spending the next few moments in silence taking sips from our grossly bitter tea.
“Er… I’ve been kind of curious about what you mean earlier… when you mentioned you didn’t wish to fight. Since you said it doesn’t matter now that the battle is over… er, if it’s not too rude of me to ask, what made you… come to that decision?”
The Madame looks up for a few moments at the nearby porthole, and then at me. “Why I didn’t want to fight…” she says under her breath, she takes a few deep breaths and sets her cup down on its coaster. “I have my fair share of incompetent… superiors, you could say. I would even go as far as to say I am fighting enemies in front and at home,” she says with a wince. She grabs the cup for a quick gulp and shakes her head from the bitterness of the taste before she continues, “I believe my fight is an impossible one… it is no miracle that I’ve… won, if you can call it that here…”
The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.
But before she continues, a sudden thought springs to mind: a variable that I once discussed with Buttermilch in this room not even a day ago. The one thing that I figured would make a Mafia relief force unlikely: “Rouen,” I utter, springing to my feet. “There is a Federation fleet at the Rouen corridor, isn’t there?!” The Madame stiffens up, slightly alarmed with eyes that widen before she recollects herself. She opens her mouth to speak, but closes it and looks at me in confusion.
“That is correct… but, I was under the impression…” she tilts her head with furrowed eyebrows. Realizing that I may be coming off as rude, I regain my composure and settle down into my seat.
“Sorry… er, from your point of view, you must’ve figured we were operating in a pincer movement?” She nods her head: on the contrary, I shake my head. “The whole concept of our operation… what my commodore calls Lucky Alphonse, relied on us acting independently from the main Federation fleet… he wanted… fame and glory for himself to deny our admiral the prestige of claiming it for himself,” I can’t help but wince “truth be told… we have no idea where the main Federation armada even was until now. You see… it was on a separate campaign to suppress pirate havens. Our force, er… we were merely sent to the Franks for other reasons. But to think the admiral is at the Rouen corridor as we speak…” I sink more into my seat with a scoff, and bury my face into my hands. This changes everything.
“Victoria… now that you have this knowledge, what will you do with it? Will you inform your superiors and reformulate a plan to invade again?” The Madame inquires. I sit up straight. She has a stern look as if judging me for my future moves “will you strike at me from behind; and exact revenge for your friends?”
I rest my hands on my knees and lean forward in my seat, eyes to the floor. “Revenge, huh…” I remark in a low laconic voice. “Could I really seek revenge on someone who did not wish to fight in the first place?” I return my gaze to lock eyes with the Madame, “neither of us wanted to fight and sought to seek peaceful solutions… and we both failed in our cases,” the raven-haired Scarface nods in agreement. “If I tried to convince my commodore to fight again with this knowledge, it would still cause bloodshed regardless—not just naval combat, I mean, but also subjugating the Sides at Lübeck and the planetary settlements…”
“That is true, my father—the Don, and his wife, have a lot of die-hard supporters that served as a deterrence to me launching a coup…”
“A… coup?” I ask in puzzlement. I guess the Mafia isn’t all rainbow and sunshine, either. The Madame gives a nod.
“I sought to overthrow the Don’s government in our capital Side. But…” she narrows her gaze while swirling the tea in her cup, “there was the prospect of needless bloodshed being spilled… and there is no telling that my coup would even yield any results. I hoped to negotiate peace with whichever Federation fleet arrives first but there is no telling what that may accomplish, if at all. Thus, I was faced with rushing to deal with both Federation armadas with force,” she gulps down the rest of her tea in one long gulp. “If I am to die, then I suppose it would be better to die in battle against the Federation than my own.
“There is no telling that—even if I were to defeat your Federation allies at Rouen, it would be made redundant if word reached the Don’s wife of my attempted coup, and in the words of my mentor… it is only a matter of time before I face the consequences.”
A shiver down my spine and I can’t help but feel sorry for this poor woman. “To think you have it so rough…” I say quietly, staring into the abyssal surface of my tea. “Madame… er, if I may ask…”
“What is it, Miss Victoria?”
“Have you considered… erm… escaping in exile to… say, the Frankish Realms? If by chance you face the risk, it would make the most sense, right? I mean…” I ask a rather puzzled Scarface. After her confusion subsides, she rubs her scarred cheek.
“What an odd suggestion,” she remarks “but if I were to be discovered, I would in all likelihood suffer the same fate regardless. Although my father has no history to speak of with the Franks, there’s no telling how they may feel towards me—or my men, if they joined me in exile—would they accept me, or would they hand us over to Metropol?” I can’t help but feel a little disheartened that I couldn’t help and the feeling makes me sink back into my seat. The Madame cracks a small grin and joins me on the sofa.
“I do appreciate the thought of you trying to help me out of this predicament, Miss Happ, but you need not worry for me. Although our time together is rather short because of the circumstances we’re in I am happy to have met such an interesting young figure such as yourself… even if you may be perhaps the first and last person to interact with me before I die.”
She’s prepared to die…
“Rouen… so after you’re done here, you will have to march back there and…?” I whisper trailing off. There is a moment of silence and the Madame gets up to walk towards the nearby porthole.
“Does it upset you, that I have to slaughter more of your comrades for a pointless conflict with a resolution that bears no real fruit?” She asks without looking back. I let out a sigh and clench my fists. Does it have to be this way?
I spring up from my seat and step towards her.
“M-Madame…! I think… is there no other way to avoid this? Maybe…maybe you could negotiate a ceasefire of some sort. It’s not too late for that sort of thing. Your father—the Don… he is still at Rouen I take it? Why not let him… face defeat and then assume power yourself at Lübeck? Or even… stand back in the battle and let him get captured or killed, and, and…” I take a few more steps towards her. She remains silent for some time and finally turns to face me.
“If only… it was so easy, Victoria,” she replies with that stoical grin of hers. The raven-haired Scarface turns back to the porthole and heaves an enormous sigh. “Time… if only I had more time!” I look down at her fists, which she has clenched.
“M-Madame…?” She turns to face me with an irritated face, and gradually rubs her scar tissue.
“My apologies, Vitoria, I sincerely wish I could talk with you and become acquainted with you more,” she clenches her teeth and narrows her eyes “but the longer I stay here, the greater the risk of my ruse at Rouen being uncovered—farewell.” Before I can say anything, the Madame rushes towards the door. Before she heads out and disappears from my life forever, however, she stops in the doorway for what seems like forever.
She turns slightly to face me, cheeks slightly luminescent.
“Erm… with that said—could you lead me to your shuttle bay?”
With a sigh, I slap the side of my face and join the Madame.
----------------------------------------
Our departure to the shuttle hanger is mostly spent in silence. The raven-haired Scarface sticks close behind me, not wanting to bring attention to herself from any onlookers. Thankfully, though, there is very little attention to be had as our route is rather devoid of people. What people we do pass usually pay no maid or avert their eyes with tension.
“Uh… I hope the Yilan did not give you too much of a cold-welcoming…” I remark dryly, but the Scarface remains silent “there were a lot of scary-looking marines stomping around earlier… I couldn’t help but think they cause a crisis if one of them, you know…”
“I paid it no mind. It is only natural that I would not be trustworthy, I have no doubt the same situation would unfold if it was the other way around,” the Madame replies “I would say… meeting with you more than made up for it.”
My cheeks flush red with embarrassment. I’m somewhat glad we are mostly alone with her behind me.
When we arrive at the bay, we are greeted by a small contingent of marines and officers that assemble and give the Scarface solemn salutes. Outside of the hub her shuttle, a dark gray vessel mostly smaller than our uniform white ones stands out from the rest. A pure white bridge tube connects it from the outside, and I can make out some astro-engineers outside giving the Madame’s shuttle some space as its engines go through the start-up process.
After some last words with the officers on duty, the Madame makes her way to the bridge tube, and I follow closely behind her to the entrance of it. I watch in silence from behind as she stands looking on ahead.
“Madame…?” I call out, and she looks back.
“Ensign, if you please… would you walk with me to my shuttle?” She asks politely.
“You’re… not going to kidnap me or anything, are you?” I ask in response, and she cuts loose a small, blushing scoff. She starts walking, and I join her soon after. The walk itself is spent in silence, and once we are at least a few meters away from the shuttle’s open shuttle door we both come to a stop.
“Victoria Happ…” She says breaking the silence, she turns first to face me—then takes a few gentle steps toward me. Before I know it the Scarface stands awfully close to me yet again. Being this close to her again, I can only wonder how she got such a terrible wound. Even still, regardless of her scar tissue it does little to ruin her unkempt beauty.
“Erm, Madame…?” I ask. And yet, she stands there without a word. Her stern expression shifts into such a careful grin that I can only imagine she is trying to avoid arousing stinging pain from that facial scar of hers.
The red-eyed, raven-haired Madame raises her hands. Paralyzed, I watch with bated breath as she reaches for mine and ever gently brushes her hands against mine—and then, holding my hands by my open hands she raises our hands out.
[https://i.imgur.com/QshZndi.png]
Her hands are cold… and yet so soft! There is no way these are the hands stained with the blood of countless victims.
“I… wha?” I stammer in confusion.
“Victoria Happ… Schwarzenberger,” the Madame starts after clearing her throat. She shifts her hands around so that our palms and fingers match. “I hope that one day… be it a year—or perhaps many years from now—we will be able to meet again in better circumstances… I hope that when that day comes, we will meet again as equals,” our fingers interlock with gentleness. The Madame takes one, then another step closer to me. “Until that day comes, Victoria… please; live. Live for the sake of those that couldn’t. Live a good life… live for your Buttermilch, and rise through the ranks to be a capable commander; just as he sought to do before you…
“Farewell, Victoria.”
And with that, the Madame lets go and takes a few steps towards her shuttle door. Goodbyes are always the hardest part—and just when the thought crosses that I made a new friend; they depart from my life. Will I ever see them again? Will she survive the ordeal at Rouen?
“Madame!”
She doesn’t stop, let alone turn around. The Scarface crosses through the shuttle doors and stops only to raise her hand to the keypad to close the doors. Outside, I can faintly hear the roar of engines.
“Madame Scarface!” I shout a little louder. I take a few steps toward the open door that divides us.
With a small sigh, she turns around. I take a few steps closer and clasp her hands with mine. She looks a little started but says nothing.
“Your name—I never got your name. How can I say farewell to someone whose name I don’t know?!”
“You’re being ridiculous,” she mutters, eyes narrow “my name is Madame—”
“Don’t give me that bloody bullshit! Your real name!” I shout maybe a little bit too eager. She continues to avoid my gaze, but after a brief sigh, we lock eyes again.
“My name…” she sighs and then offers a sly grin.
“My name is Li.
“—Li Chou.”
“Li…” I repeat quietly, a simple yet eloquent name I would say “and it’s not ‘farewell’, Li—since that assumes we might never see each other again, right?” Li’s eyes widen for a second before she closes her eyes and scoffs “let’s try that again shall we?”
“I do wonder where I have heard that before, regardless…” Li closes her eyes again and opens them again with a sly grin “goodbye, Victoria Happ-Schwarzenberger—until we meet again.”
“Goodbye Li Li,” I say with a smile, and her face turns a light shade of red “I hope to see you again someday.”
And with that, I release my grip on Li and jolt back my side of the shuttle doors. I turn back to face Li and present her with a textbook-style stern salute. Likewise, she does a salute of her own—a closed fist against her chest.
“Give them hell at Rouen, Li Li!” I shout as the shuttle’s doors moan to a shut. The very last thing I see of Li is her face turning a darker shade of red as she turns away. I take a few more steps back and watch in silence as her shuttle departs to her fleet.
It doesn’t take long for Li’s shuttle to become only a distant blip into the black abyss. Soon after her fleet prepares to leave as one, presumably for Lübeck and then the Rouen corridor. And as the pirate fleet moves further away from the Yilan, I finally slump against the wall and slowly slide to the floor in near-total exhaustion: a million different emotions bombard through me at once.
I take off my garrison cap and caress it around in my hands. It’s over. It’s finally over. I turn my gaze to the ceiling, where I can make out the translucent starry sea.
Between nearing passing out and the million different emotions flowing thro ugh me at once: the one that stands out to me the most is relief.
We finally did it, Buttermilch.