My name is Edgar. I’m 24, and I plan to live until I’m at least 100. Unfortunately, due to some unforeseen circumstances that I have yet to fully understand, I might have to meet those triple digits behind bars. It hasn’t even been an hour since I became Sister Agatha’s sworn enemy – an entirely one-sided decision on her part – and she stormed off with Michael. The rest of us are trying to wrap things up at the vault when the air is filled with the roar of a powerful engine. We look up and, sure enough, we spot an airplane zooming away and dozens of parachutes pop open in its wake.
“Fuck! I didn’t think they’d sent paratroopers!”
I agree with Mark, though I should’ve known better. I apparently reawakened a holy war titan, and the sister had to apparently vaporize it. I use that word because I wasn’t exactly around to see it, but with the second crater and the hole in the clouds right in front of my eyes I can’t just brush off what my buddies told me as a bad prank. I’m not sad to have missed the show – I don’t need any more nightmare fuel, thank-you-very-much – but I can only assume it was extremely flashy. The ‘seen from over the horizon’ type of flashy. The ‘enough to make the provisional government shit its pants’ kind of flashy. The ‘we need to get the hell out of here before they round us up and lock us away’ sort of flashy. The ‘I guess we shouldn’t have tried to get those relics out after all’ variety of flashy.
“I knew this was a bad idea, Edgar!” Harry starts complaining, as per usual.
“Then why didn’t you fuck off when you had the chance, huh?!”
“That’s what I want to know! Argh!”
“Look, we’re all in the shit now. Those dogs already have a bead on us, and you can bet your ass they’ll hunt you down if you start legging it now. If you want to do the smart thing, just go along with everything they do and say and we’ll figure something out later!”
I’m talking out my ass right now. I’m 90% certain we’ll just be executed to sweep this whole thing under the rug, but that’s better than the 99% chance of being gunned down if we try anything. Even from this distance I can tell they’re much better armed than us, and if they’re veterans of the Great War then they’ll sure as hell be crack shots even while paradropping. I can’t tell Harry that. He’ll panic and do something stupid. Let’s try looking for the silver lining. Right, this isn’t entirely a bad thing.
“Also, they should have proper meds and tools with them! You think Hugo, Franz, and Georg will make it without those?!”
Those three had the misfortune of getting caught in the titan’s sporadic artillery barrage while trying to flee. They weren’t hit directly, but ended up buried in rubble when the barely-standing high-rises collapsed around them. Georg was somehow able to dig himself out and send out a signal flare for the rest of us. Thanks to that they’re alive, even if in critical condition. Jerry and Viktor aren’t miracle workers – there’s only so much they can do with field tools and first aid meds. Those three need a proper hospital and the odds of them surviving the trip back to civilization aren’t great. I’m not just reaching for straws here – I’m genuinely hoping those paratroopers have some disaster relief supplies that can stabilize them.
“You think they’ll waste their precious drugs on rats like us?!”
“They will! This isn’t the Great War anymore! Even us rats have to be treated fairly now!”
“… Fuck! I knew Junior had the right idea!”
‘Junior’ is what we usually call the other Harry in our unit since he’s the youngest and least experienced. He’s also currently the only one MIA. That kid – barely an adult – was always a coward, so the rest of us assumed he decided to keep running once things got quiet instead of risking a regroup. Or rather, we hope that’s what happened. The only other alternative was that he also got caught in the barrage that buried the others, in which case I can only pray it was quick and painless.
In any event, it seems I was somehow able to convince the lads to welcome the very nice men with their very big guns with open arms raised high in celebration. They soon surround us – for our own protection, of course – and offer to escort us to safety while also being considerate enough to hold onto all of our luggage for us. Naturally, we happily oblige. Well, most of us do. Jerry raises a bit of a fuss because he wants to hold onto his lucky rock. It’s very dear to him, part of a collection and everything, so I understand why he’s reluctant. The nice officer in charge convinces him to relinquish it by distracting him with the butt-end of his rifle. After a bit more friendly banter, we go on a pleasant stroll through historic Kradsgraad until we reach the lovely little village of Eonberg. Here we are each shown to our own private two-by-two-by-two suite, complete with authentic rusty bars and a smell you could cut with a knife.
Ah, no good. That much sarcasm is a bad habit of mine, a sign that I’ve given up and stopped thinking. Or maybe I’m just relieved they didn’t gun us all down on the spot, and they did indeed stabilize the injured trio’s conditions. Jury’s still out on whether any of us will see daylight again, but I remain hopeful. If they brought us back, that means someone important wants to talk to us. Or rather, to me. Officially, I’m the one responsible for our little expedition so if mine’s the only head that rolls, that’ll be a win. Of course, I’d rather it not come to that, but I’m trying to be optimistic, not delusional.
The next morning I’m dragged out of my cell and into an interrogation room, where I meet a familiar face.
“Good morning, Mr. Bauer,” Klein welcomes me. “I apologize for the MPs’ use of force while detaining you, but they expected to find terrorists or loyalists, not scavengers.”
‘I apologize’ my ass! Those fucking psychos would’ve broken all our legs to keep us from running away if it wouldn’t have been such a bother to drag us all the way back here. Instead they ‘let us off’ with a solid beating.
“Yeah. No worries. Wasn’t my first lynching.”
Obviously I can’t say that out loud, so I’ll keep cursing you in my heart, you piece of shit.
“… Well, since pleasantries appear to be pointless, I shall cut to the chase.”
He nods to the two guards and they promptly leave the room. I assume someone is still watching us from elsewhere somehow so I stay on my best behavior.
“I’ve heard everything that Michael and Sister Agatha had to tell me about the incident. They’re not the most… reliable of witnesses, but I believe I’ve been able to piece together what happened.”
“Good for you. Can I go, then?”
“I’m afraid it’s not that simple.”
I can’t help but scoff. Afraid, he says. According to Mark, Viktor, and Johan, the sister called him ‘Cardinal Klein’ while she was in that weird trance or whatever. And now he’s the new government’s lapdog. I’ve never heard of this guy before Michael ‘introduced’ us and I haven’t seen him since, but I can tell he’s never had a hard day in his life. I wager the only thing he’s ever been scared of is not having enough milk and sugar for his coffee.
“It appears you consider me an enemy,” he says with a sigh. “This won’t do. I wish to come to an understanding with you, so allow me to dispel some of these ideas of yours.”
Frankly, I’m surprised this silver-spoon-up-the-ass motherfucker can tell what I’m thinking. Guess he’s not as out of touch with people as I thought. Should I have actually tried to keep my thoughts from showing on my face? Nah, no way I’d be able to do that. Even though my life and freedom are on the line here, I can’t just bring myself to play nice with these so-called ‘nobles.’ Or so I thought, but I get the feeling he’s not mad at me despite my unspoken disrespect. Maybe it’s not lip service after all. I’ll give him a chance, but the instant he goes full ‘holier than thou’ I’m gonna headbutt him for getting my hopes up.
“Alright,” I sit up straight. “I’m listening.”
“Due to certain circumstances, there are things I cannot just come out and say, but I can make it abundantly clear for you that I do not, will not, and never have served Ovha.”
“… Okay?”
“Does that not strike you as odd?”
“Not really.”
They say there’s like twenty or so gods split between Heaven and the Underworld. Some favor humanity, some like the other races, and most are treated as either minor or major deities, but only two of them are recognized as ‘Supreme Gods.’ It’s only natural that the Washein Empire would think themselves superior when they had Ovha’s backing. Actually no, that’s not quite right. It’s more like the Empire figured out how to weaponize holy power and nearly conquered the world with it. I’m not sure exactly how they achieved that or why Ovha would allow it, but there’s no denying that Agatha von Kocher was the one who made it possible. Her key involvement can’t be denied when the post-war committees named the Agatha Accords after her. It’s a huge worldwide agreement that forbids many of the practices and experiments that allowed mortals to harness the gods’ power in such a brutal fashion. Even if the Washein Empire is just a twitching corpse, there are other nations and faiths that might think they could do it better. Maybe not now – nobody who’s lived through the Great War wants to see a sequel – but in a generation or two, who knows?
The point of that mental tangent was that I’m not all that surprised that a follower of some other god is involved in the provisional government.
If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.
“Then, pray tell, how do you suppose Sister Agatha knows who I used to be before?”
“I dunno. Maybe you met on a battlefield or someth–”
The words get stuck in my throat. Now that he mentions it, how did she know he’s a Cardinal if he’s not part of the same faith? They say the Supreme Butcher’s only interaction with followers of other faiths was to wipe them out without remorse, mercy, or consideration. The most infamous example of this was an incident from the start of the Great War that went down in history as the White-Gold Purge. It’s when Agatha von Kocher personally demolished the Temple of the Many in Kradsgraad, slaughtering over a hundred priests and nuns in the process. They say it was her way of sending a message, that Ovha is the only deity the world needs.
So if Klein truly doesn’t follow Ovha – which I’m inclined to believe since he’d never have made it to Cardinal if he could lie about it so easily – then the battlefield’s the only place he could’ve met Agatha. If that’s the case, then how is he still here, with so much as a scar? The Supreme Butcher was undefeated for basically the entirety of her military service, even before the Great War broke out, and she wasn’t in the habit of letting enemy officers or priests live. The first and last time she was bested in combat was what finally allowed the other nations to finally claim victory over the Washein Empire, and yet this guy’s implying he survived going head-to-head against her. If he’s not talking out of his ass, then…
“You’re the one who gave her that scar, weren’t you?”
I can hardly believe my own words even as they speak them aloud, but what other explanation could there be? Indeed, who better to hold that crazy bitch’s leash than the one who put it on her in the first place?
“Hmpf,” he chuckles. “A mind like yours is truly wasted on a no-good squad of deserters-turned-graverobbers.”
I ignore what he knows about my unit’s questionable history as my mind keeps racing. The news said the Supreme Butcher was defeated by an alliance of holy warriors from every faith, but that always seemed like bullshit. That sort of thing didn’t work for 20 years, so why would it suddenly prove effective? In fact, a lot about Agatha von Kocher’s downfall and subsequent trial is mired in mystery. I’ve just never given it much thought since, until recently, it had always been someone else’s problem. Now that I’ve gotten tangled up in it, however, and considering Klein’s reluctance to just ‘come out and say’ things, I feel a nasty hunch bubbling up in my brain. I can’t help but scan the guy’s person, and sure enough, now that I know what I’m looking for, it only takes moments to find it.
His cufflinks. The left is a coiled serpent, and the right resembles a theatrical mask.
“Fuck me…” I rub my scalp in shock. “This shit runs deep, doesn’t it?”
Unther, the Supreme God of Trickery and Chaos, is the chief deity of the Underworld who is both Ovha’s equal and Her opposite. I’m far from an expert on gods and whatnot, but even I know His name and symbols. His sect was notorious as the only faith to not make any moves during the Great War. They said it was because Unther’s followers were cowards that hid and ran just to save their own skin, but what if they simply acted behind the scenes? What if Agatha von Kocher’s one and only defeat was a product of a grand conspiracy that took two decades to bear fruit? I mean, of course they had to resort to unconventional means. Given how powerful she seems now, after her downfall, I can only imagine she was literally invincible at her peak.
And this guy – who I now begin to question if ‘Klein’ is his actual name – was the one to take her down.
“Well, it seems you’ve reached a new set of conclusions,” he spoke smugly, “in which case I hope you will understand my need to resolve this matter quickly and quietly.”
“Ah… I see…”
So we’re all going to get executed anyway. This bastard just wanted to brag before he pulled the trigger. As you’d expect from someone who serves someone as wicked as Unther.
“No, no, no, I’m not going have anyone killed,” he somewhat frantically reassures me. “I swear, what it is with you veterans and your perpetual doom-and-gloom attitude.”
“Wait… Are you reading my mind or something?”
There’s no way some high-and-mighty Cardinal is that insightful.
“Please, do not be absurd.”
He’s right. I shouldn’t assume such outlandish things. Besides, there are worse things in the world. Like what happened three years ago at the battle of Krug’an Lake.
“… I’ll be back shortly.”
Ha! Knew it! The way he runs away covering his mouth – have fun vomiting your tea and biscuit breakfast, you slimy piece of shit! Hope that memory haunts your nightmares as much as it does mine! I mean, I took some psychic damage from it as well, but it’s offset by the confirmation that my trauma can work as a mental shield. Now that I have a few minutes to myself, I somewhat regret what I just did. In the heat of the moment I forgot what kind of position I’m in. Well, he shouldn’t think too badly of me. He serves a god of trickery, after all, so he has no right to complain about being on the receiving end. Unless he’s a hypocrite. Which is highly likely, now that I think about it. Fuck.
He doesn’t seem any more or less angry when he comes back, but I can’t trust what I see now that I know he’s Unther’s minion.
“Apologies, I don’t know what came over me. As I was trying to say, the provisional government doesn’t want you and your friends to spread any rumors that might seed doubt or cause unrest, and I’d rather avoid taking the obvious solution to the problem. To that end, I will have all of you undertake an Oath of Binding.”
“Great. So I get to have my brain scrubbed instead of scrambled by a bullet.”
Admittedly the first one is better, though not by much.
“I am aware the Oath of Binding has a harsh reputation, but it is nowhere near as invasive as people say it is. You can think of it as a form of hypnotism. It won’t work unless you want it to work, and even then it won’t affect your actions or personality unless they would contradict your oath. Even then the most it would do is prevent you from consciously going against your word.”
“So, what? It’s still mind control, but I’m holding my own leash?”
“That’s… one way of putting it I suppose. As for the specifics of the oath I’d like you to pledge, I’ve taken the liberty of outlining them here.”
He slides forward a document, and I give it a quick read. It’s a whole lot of flowery spiritual nonsense that ultimately boils down to me swearing not to talk about Sister Agatha’s true identity or the crater incident unless someone tells me a specific code phrase. After the religious stuff is something that reads more like an official contract. I see, I’ll need to sign this as well as undergoing the ceremony or whatever, and I’m promised a full pardon for any crater-related wrongdoings plus… payment for services rendered? I raise an eyebrow at Klein and tap that part of the document. Just in case I picture that time Jerry did an accidental cartwheel after he slipped on his own vomit when we were out drinking last year, but he doesn’t even crack a smile. I refuse to believe any human can see that and not burst out laughing, so I’m satisfied he’s stopped rooting around in my thoughts.
“The relics you’ve recovered, as well as those destroyed,” he explains. “We’re still assessing their value, but it’s taking some time so we don’t have an exact figure yet. I can only promise you the reward will be very generous.”
I hope I’m reading ‘hush money’ between the lines correctly.
“Honestly, just leaving my skull unventilated is enough for me,” I admit. “If you’re going to give me money on top of that, I’ll gladly jump through whatever hoops you want. So long as the sister isn’t the one taking my Oath.”
“Ah, yes, the… alleged harassment,” he adjusts his glasses.
“It ain’t alleged! No wait, I mean it wasn’t harassment! Actually, it was, but I’m the victim!”
“Calm down, Mr. Bauer. I’ve smoothed things over with her already. Think of it as me cleaning up after my own mess.”
“… What?”
“I suppose I can tell you since you’ll be undertaking your own Oath of Binding. Sister Agatha has undergone the ritual herself. Several times, in fact.”
“Ah. So that’s what that weird trance was about?”
“Not quite. To be precise, that was how she used to be. The nun you met, the one Michael keeps calling a disaster in many ways. That’s who she wanted to be after she was confronted with the countless terrible things she’d done during the Great War. But, 20 years of indoctrination and bloodshed are impossible to overcome, so it was decided to have her undertake multiple Oaths of Binding to suppress her more…”
He pauses, no doubt to think of a way to sugar coat her true nature.
“War-crime-y habits?” I butt in.
“Let’s go with that, yes.”
“Isn’t that something you people forced on her because you couldn’t execute her even if you wanted to?”
“That’s… partially true. While there’s no denying that no mortal weapon can strike her down unless she allows it, the Oath of Binding will have no effect if the person taking it is even slightly against it. Though I know it probably doesn’t mean much coming from me, but please believe me – her remorse and desire to repent are genuine.”
Surprisingly, I can kind of see that happening. I imagine Klein’s grand scheme was aimed at making the Supreme Butcher doubt her own cause and convictions, make her think ‘Are we the baddies?’ and strike her down in that moment of hesitation. That was probably a major wake-up call. I know everyone calls her a heartless monster, but she’s still human, and people can change for the better. Of course, that’s all conjecture and wishful thinking that doesn’t change the cold, hard facts.
“Well, unless she can un-murder half the world, I guess she’ll be at it for a while.”
“Quite so. Now, if you’re fine with the deal I’ve brought before you, please sign the document. I’ll need to have this conversation another 17 times and I’d rather get those done today, if I can.”
That number’s one short, which means…
“I guess the MPs didn’t find the other Harry?”
“… They did. My condolences.”
“… I see.”
Forget talking about it, I’d rather not even think about that day. So much of it was my idea, and a young man no longer has a future because of it. I didn’t need another reason to drink, but at least I won’t have to worry about bankrolling my bad habits for a while.
“Out of curiosity,” Klein pipes up while I’m signing, “what will you and your comrades do now?”
“Probably go back to our homes. Pick up the pieces. Try to settle down.”
A lot of villages were too small and remote for the Great War to pay them a visit, but some got trampled like ants underfoot. The places my unit and I came from are fifty-fifty in that regard.
“I don’t suppose I could convince you to stay here?”
“And why would I do something like that?”
I look him dead in the eye. Does he honestly believe that, after all the crazy shit that just happened, I’d want to be anywhere near this city-sized hellhole? Unexploded bombs and violent gangs are one thing, but war titans is where I draw the line. That’s not even considering the sister. Whether she’s trying to make amends or not, she’s still a disaster in many ways. Once we get our money, I can’t imagine a single reason that would keep me here. I’m sure this Klein bastard doesn’t need to be a mind-reader to tell what I’m thinking, yet he just smiles at me. Come to think of it, it’s the first time I’ve seen him do that.
“I just think Michael would miss you terribly.”
“… Whatever.”
I’m definitely not staying, but visiting once in a while might not be bad.