OCTOBER 217

ONE OF THE SIDE BRUNSBÜTTEL’S NAVAL YARDS

The harbor is busy, almost jam-packed even. There are so many ships crammed into every possible place, Jung thought, that some of the smaller shuttles were having difficulty navigating in the open spaces without causing collusion. It is definitely a hazard if one of them so much as exploded on impact.

It was half a year ago when Dong Zhui crossed the Rouen corridor into Toscana. Naturally, there was a state of emergency declared by the Cluster governor at Velksland, and naturally, a feeble defense force was scrambled to intercept it… and then nothing happened.

The Toscana governor, whom Jung remembered as Kamon, silently ordered the lacking defense fleet to stand down. Even looking back on it now, Jung thought it was a good political move—had she chosen so, the Zhui fleet would be no more. Hardly a year earlier there was the disastrous battle of Abassi—a battle that in Jung’s mind the fleet never recovered from. The Merican populace was wising up. The Ruthenian task-forces were hot on their tail eager to avenge their fallen brethren.

The move to the Toscana region was a risky gambit. But it was a necessary one—Jung voiced his concern to Simon that it would not work. If they get stranded in the Rouen corridor by Toscana ships it would be all over if the Merican-Ruthenians pursued them any further.

And to Jung’s relief; the gambit worked. But what was even more bizarre was when Kamon handed the keys over to Zhui. Then a few months later, he declares himself the Don of the Year 217 Mafia. News of this seemed to have spread like fire since there was a sudden surge of bandits and similar thugs who pledged their support for the nascent regime. From what Jung observed, many of them were disfranchised marauders escaping the probing Federation and colonial reclamations of their former havens.

And, of course, that scared people. No, Jung shakes his head, it did more than scare people. It terrified the civilians of Side Brunsbüttel. There is such an influx of people leaving that it can only make Jung wonder if it will inevitably result in a brain drain of Toscana. Even as he rode to the harbor, the sight of boarded-up businesses and empty storefronts was all too familiar. It reminds Jung of the economical ruin that the Hunan region faced more than thirty years ago.

And although he has not set foot in the Hunan region for just as long it is likely that the colonies there are faring better than ever. Economic depressions do not last forever, and in some cases, some miracles occur that revitalize prosperity to whole new levels. Brunsbüttel —and perhaps even Toscana—might be undergoing the same thing under different circumstances but there is always a possibility these people will return. Jung can only wonder if most are fleeing to the Frankish Realms or fleeing across the Rouen corridor to the Merican regions. It could also be that most are simply relocating to the other Toscana systems where influence is not as solidified yet. Jung had heard rumors of a rebellion brewing at Ides a month ago but nothing ever came out of it.

In the case of the latter, it could mean most will return someday when the paranoia and frenzy die down. The Don, as he is called now, may be a cruel bastard but he has been particularly benevolent—perhaps that woman, Kamon, has reined him in. Jung can only ponder what she sees in that man, or why she would so easily give up governorship to him. Though Simon has offhandedly remarked she still has her influence in most day-to-day duties.

A tug at his olive-green sleeve, “is someone on your mind, Jung?” It was the voice of Jung’s newlywed wife, Frau Lee—maiden name Moskvina. ‘You look concerned about the business going on.”

“I don’t know if concerned is the right word…” Jung strokes his smooth chin “I was just thinking what a distressing sight it is. It reminds me of my home Side, where people left in droves to seek better opportunities elsewhere—some resorted to serving in the nearby pirate haven at the time—I was one of them. It’s fascinating that most are actually leaving because of us—them, despite the fortunes it may bring…”

“Brunsbüttel… rather, Toscana—it has always been a pitiful place. It’s a bit embarrassing to say this as a native Toscani…” Frau chuckles a bit nervously “people have been saying for years that we are an unremarkable backwater region. It wasn’t until Kamon took office about six years ago that things finally started to turn around… and it did,” Frau says as she walks toward their shuttle which is a dinky little thing reserved for the two of them. On top of that, some of his confidants volunteered to join him in his self-exile to Lübeck’s surface. Luckily, neither Jung nor Frau had much furniture or belongings; they’ll essentially be starting over on a farmstead Jung bought a few weeks ago ahead of time. It was mostly furnished, from what he knew, and moving a lot of furniture would be a pain for his age regardless.

“Until…?” Jung asks, wondering if Frau was going to finish. Frau looks back at him puzzled, but only answers with a smile.

“I think most will return one day—people are a little concerned about change is all. Once the… what was he called?” She cocks her head with a scrunched brow “The Donny? The Don? Er… well, anyway, most people are probably not open to the idea of living under a pirate regime, but they’ll come back home in due time… it’ll just take time, and besides…” Frau points behind her with a thumb “it would be like you to say something like ‘it isn’t any of our concern.’”

It isn’t any of our concern. Jung nods silently in agreement, trying and failing to hide a grin. At the end of the day, rather or not if Brunsbüttel or Toscana faces a brain drain or people living in droves—it doesn’t matter to him. He’s going to live out the rest of his life in peace with his wife. He wanted to live a life he was denied. The politics of the Year 217 Mafia and whatever may happen with the Federation in the future doesn’t concern Jung; he just wants a quiet, peaceful life.

And just as Jung takes a few steps toward his new life, a cool masculine voice from behind stops him in his tracks. The curious o- mouth painted on Frau’s face is the only confirmation he needs of who it is; Simon Oliver.

“Oi, Jun, you’re still here?” Simon calls out to him sounding awfully too genuine for what it’s worth. Jung gestures for his wife to continue without him and turns to face the towering poncho-wearing man. “What, not even a hello from an old friend?”

“If you come to persuade me, the answer is no,” Jung says wearily. Simon only shoots him a frown. “What is it you want?” Jung asks as he looks back at Frau. She has moved out of earshot and waits patiently while observing Jung’s underlings haul belongings into the shuttle.

“I didn’t come here for any of that business, Jun,” Simon coldly remarks as he stands next to Jung “I won’t even do any underhanded phrasing to make you change your mind.”

“You sure sound like it,” Jung replies dryly. Jung watches as his old friend slips out a carton of cigarettes and takes out a thin roll of tobacco. “You haven’t quit smoking? I thought when…” Simon clearing his throat interrupts Jung from finishing the sentence.

“It’s a special occasion,” Simon finishes for him “am I not allowed to partake in an old habit as I see a friend off?” Simon finishes glancing over at Jung.

“Well, considering you only ever smoked after dire situations,” Jung states matter of factly “that just makes me a little concerned for your health.” Simon scoffs as he takes one continuous puff from the initial cigarette and flicks it away. He slips out a second one and casually lights it up, “honestly, I’m worried for your health sometimes.”

“It’s just been a cigarette and a half,” Simon retorts after taking a brief huff from his smoke. The two of them spend the next moments in silence amid all the turmoil unfolding around them. The two of them have to take a few steps back to let a car overflowing with passengers pass by. Eventually, traffic forms and Jung loses sight of Frau for the time being.

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

“Jun…” Simon says blowing a hazy puff “are you okay with this? With leaving everything behind—straying from the path that you have walked on for most of your life?” When it is evident his cigarette is burning out, he flicks it off to the side and procures the third one. “When all you know is how to manipulate one man to kill another in the name of seeking fortune, can you really readjust to civilian life and make an honest living?”

“I thought you said you wouldn’t try to get all philosophical on me, Simon,” Jung answers with a brief deflate “that kind of logic won’t work on this old wolf…” Jung cracks a slight grin “I’m not a killing machine anymore, Simon. My days of fanaticism and blind greed are long over,” Jung catches a glimpse of Frau through some of the cars, who looks back in concern over the clogged up traffic jam. There is quite a ruckus as people engage in yelling contests over one another.

“It would be nice if peace would last forever… but this is likely not the end—I think there will be a day when I will be needed… but I believe it will not be necessary.”

“How do you mean?” Simon asks as he tries to light his fourth cigarette but as he lights it Jung reaches out for it and swipes it. Jung then proceeds to examine it for himself.

“I believe you and the young one—Li—are more than capable of protecting the Mafia. My days of being hazardous and making bold initiative are over, Simon. The Rouen corridor might be a favorable defensive position, but in the hands of a capable commander, it can be a killing field,” Jung flicks the cigarette into the air and turns to face the appalled Simon eying the wasted cigarette. “I am no longer that Wulf der Ruthenia as they have called me… Abassi should’ve made that clear,” Jung finishes with a grimace.

“You always did lament that it was your greatest failure,” Simon remarks with distraught as he produces his fifth cigarette for a light “But it’s because of you that we managed to slip away to fight another day, you focus too much on the negative, Jun, If it weren’t for you…”

“No,” Jung objects “I willingly let many men die in vain—losses that we couldn’t afford to lose, and for no gain… Li was the only one who salvaged the victory—” Jung grits his teeth and clenches his fists “If it were not for her, I…” Jung trails off as he looks up to Frau, who is still distracted by the traffic that has somewhat cleared now.

“Do you resent Li, for stealing the fame from you?” Simon asks, and Jung shakes his head. “…It’s thanks to Li that I found purpose in my life again—that I found someone who appreciates me for what I am—despite my bloodied history of severing other people’s lives. I’ve lived my life thinking it would be impossible to find love again… Simon…”

“Jun?” Simon asks as he prepares to light his sixth or seventh cigarette. His little lighter must be out of substance as he has difficulty trying to light the roll of tobacco.

“If…” Jung clears his throat, perhaps hesitant to speak “…if Fa was still alive, do you think… if by chance things turned out the way they did, she would still reciprocate our feelings? After everything is said and done—after all the killings and unspeakable crimes we’ve committed? Would she still love us for the monsters we turned out to be?”

Simon ceases trying to flick the lighter and remains silent. After a while, he slides the lighter into a pocket and rests the unlit cigarette in his mouth. Simon clears his throats a couple of times but doesn’t say a word. The roll of tobacco bobbles up and down slightly between his dry lips.

“That’s playing a bit dirty, Jun,” Simon replies softly “that’s hitting below the belt.” Simon takes the cigarette out of his mouth and spins it slowly in his fingers. “Back then… I fooled myself into believing Fa…” Simon stops to clear his throat “she… knew what she was getting into. She knew what associating with us meant,” Simon continues in a low voice ”she stuck through with it for you…” a click of the tongue “or perhaps, both of us.

“I was young and stupid and wanted to see her. Should I have turned her away?” Simon huffs through his nose “should I have ensured her safety before we overthrew the captain? Over and over… I languished over my errors—I indulged in despair for many years…”

“You smoked a lot after her death, I think you have yet to break that record,” Jung interjects with a muse “in a way, I’m sort of envious of you.”

“Envious?” Simon retorts with a scoff “you were envious of my suffering that I’ve endured for god knows how long?!”

“I’m envious that you stumbled upon Li,” Jung adds, eyes drawn to the number of discarded cigarettes, “Li filled a hole in your bleeding heart, did she not?” Simon does not answer right away but does stop twirling the unlit cigarette. “She was the light at the end of your tunnel; a child that gave you a new purpose in life, am I wrong?” Simon brings the cigarette to his mouth again and pokes it against his lips. Like Jung, his eyes are focused on the mess of tobacco lying before them.

“Meeting Li… filled me with newfound guilt… and painful memories of Fa,” Simon mutters, his eyes shifting from the scattered cigarettes to the mostly-cleared traffic jam. Frau is looking back at the duo but does not move from her place. “If I arrived a second late, no…” Simon winces “if I didn’t order the ship to be boarded—if I had just reined in Karwoski a little bit more…” Jung notices the grip on the cigarette is tightening and cracks of tobacco were slipping through the crushed paper “…Li would not have suffered. And she would not have grown up in this nightmarish, hellish underworld.

“I robbed Li of her life. It haunted me for a long time. And I thought she would resent me for it…” Simon deflates with a heavy sigh, and pulls out a new lighter from his pocket. “I guess asking you if you were okay with leaving everything behind reminds me of toying with the idea of taking Li and deserting the fleet back then.”

“And you didn’t?” Jung asks. Simon finishes lighting the half-crumpled cigarette and inhales a deep huff of smoke. Most of the ruckus has subsided. Order is somewhat restored as some governmental harbor personnel get things moving.

“No,” Simon answers, “I feared Zhui would hunt me down in some way or form. We swore a blood-oath in our youth—and if something happened to me, Li would be devastated—she might get in harm’s day if she ever sought vengeance on Zhui. Even now, I don’t know what I would do if something happened to her…”

“That reminds me—after Zhui split Li’s face open you were an emotional wreck…” when Jung takes a glance at Simon he notices his eyes narrow and his mouth forms a thin line “you mourned for days by her bedside hoping she would recover… I think that was the first time I’ve seen you so depressed since Fa…” Jung pauses as his old friend crosses his arms and takes more of the usual whiffs of hazy rings from the abused cigarette. Expecting Jung to say more, Simon turns his head to face Jung with a stoic expression.

“Jun?”

“Do you see Fa in Li—or rather…,” Jung averts his eyes from Simon “do you see Li as cope… as a substitute for a love of Fa?” Simon does not reply, and when Jung looks back at the man he has turned his back to him, head upward. As he releases a cloud of nicotine Simon drops the cigarette to the floor and squashes it.

“It looks like your shuttle is ready, Jun. I don’t think it’s polite to keep your wife waiting by her lonesome anymore,” Simon says as he turns back to face Jung, and it’s clear Simon is trying to suppress his emotions. Jung sighs, and walks toward his former comrade. He extends out a hand for a handshake. Simon looks down on it without saying a word before returning Jung’s gaze.

“Are you sure about this, Jun? Going to Lübeck… I mean. If you’re worried about a Federation incursion into Toscana that much… you can always live a quiet life in the Frankish Sides. It’s no secret that many fugitives live among the civs…” Simon cracks a wry smile “I can even nag Kamon to procure some fake identity papers for you… you can take advantage of the refugees sailing out of here and avoid Federation suspicion that way.”

But Jung shakes his head. “It’s what Frau wants…” he cranes his head over to Frau “she told me she always dreamed of living on the surface—of returning to her family roots as a farmer. And who am I to object? It’s the most I can do for her.”

Simon sighs, “suit yourself, then” and reciprocates Jung’s offering hand. The two grip their hands tightly for some time. Jung is the first to release his grip—and Simon follows suit. “I can’t say I ever took you for ever taking up the farmer’s life… but” Simon cracks a slight grin “try not to get mauled to death by those Lübeckian mules, Jun. I hear they’re stubborn and pack a mean wallop.”

“Likewise, I advise you to lay off the tobacco. I don’t want the next time I meet you to be over your gravestone. I’ve never been fond of the tradition of pouring alcohol or dropping a cigarette over your grave,” Jung says half-jokingly. Simon only rolls his eyes.

But as Jung turns to leave, he stops and retraces his steps. “What is it now, Jun?” Simon asks as his smile fades.

“I never tried smoking before—you should let me smoke one as a send-off,” Jung replies. Simon takes out his carton and holds it upside down with a shake. He shakes his head and grins again. It was Jung’s turn to roll eyes.

“The next time we meet again I’ll owe you one or thrice. Until next time, Jun.”

“I hope that the next time we meet—if at all—you will have wisely considered quitting smoking. I imagine the young miss does not appreciate it either,” Jung shrugs his shoulders and sighs.

Jung turns away from Simon and heads for Frau again. His path to a quiet and peaceful life. His ticket to happiness, and a life he has dreamed of for many years. From that moment onward, Jung is going to live out the rest of his life to the fullest regardless of the state of Toscani affairs. So long as he remains by Frau’s side, he cares not for the Federation, or the Don or the Mafia. That trail of destructive youth is behind him: he has reached the finish line and won his reward. The only thing Jung needs is Frau, and nothing more.