That evening, in the Carlstadt’s residence…260Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡdL13TCmKZ4
A document lay on a coffee table, unmoved, its surface stained with a smudge of dried blood. There was a red wax seal bearing the emblem of a bear that had already been broken. But it was not the warm hands which formed a hood over the boy’s face that broke it. Sitting on his chair by the fire, he brooded in silence. His shadow flickered like a waning spirit, but he was not alone in this feeling. All his comrades felt no different, surrounding him, each to their own thoughts. Having learnt of what had happened, many could not believe it, but the messengers who came and went one after another confirmed the very same words they could not bear to hear. There was no mood for chatter, and even the youngest of the band knew there was a dark cloud looming over their heads. The fire was their only source of warmth when everything else beyond it was cold, as if the sea had flooded their home. Directionless, they felt as though they were being swept away by the currents of haplessness.
Among the typically energetic individuals, who were as soundless as the snow, a usually less talkative lancer attempted to steer the conversation. “These weren’t random assassinations,” said the boy, having sensed that there was another motive behind the perpetrator’s actions. “They’d planned to behead the military.” Arber considered the more likely possibility.
“Now that both the captain and the mayor are gone, who’s to lead?” Lev leaned forward, never having been so still and serious.
“I think we have bigger problems than that.” Like a chain reaction, it stirred another to speak. “If this was a preemptive strike, then the Feds won’t be waiting around for long.” Colt forecasted the move that their enemy was waiting for, although he did not sound entirely convinced by his desire to stay for battle.
The squad had terrible trouble focusing. Whenever another question was asked of them, they had no general to turn to or higher-ranking officer to seek counsel from, leaving only themselves to fend off the wild. Gripping against the back of a couch, the hands of a brute tensed when he saw their helpless faces. He sighed, almost admonishingly, his eyes flicking between his comrades and the letter on the table that none of them had yet touched. His intent was telling that he had some brilliant, perhaps ingenious, plan, at least by his definition.
Irritated by the downcast look on their faces, Gin marched around the couch and rose to action. “Lemme take a look at dat.” He pointed at the missive. His tone sounded demanding, certain he would be able to solve their ailments.
“Have you finally learnt how to read?” Arber stood up and held Gin back. “Besides, it’s likely to be written in Danner.” He turned to the only one among the ten who could understand the language.
Arber snatched the missive away before Gin could reach it and swiftly handed it into the care of Julien. Gin let out a grunt, but he did not bother fighting him, not even as a joke, for even his mood had grown stale too. Dropping onto the couch behind him, he slumped into his seat and watched as Julien carefully revealed the message from its hide, but when he did so, another page fell out. The squad watched it descend, gliding onto the floor, until it settled on the ground. Arminius brought his hands away from his face, wondering what it was, and reached for it. Curiously, he unfolded the page that had no stamp nor seal, and it was difficult to tell who penned it just from a glance, but as his eyes skimmed down the page, line by line, he was able to catch out a few words that he understood, and that knowledge was enough to tell him of its content.
Letting out a sigh of relief, Arminius handed the page to Julien, who stood beside him tentatively, but as he read through it, his expression became less uneasy. His comrades were anxiously waiting for his translation, and even those who pretended to be uninterested sat forward.
Julien suddenly brought his attention away from the hidden letter and turned to Arminius. “This is a draft of the treaty that he mentioned…” He remembered when Arminius had recounted the late mayor’s plan just moments ago.
“He could’ve just said so.” Arminius felt as though he had been revived as the hope in his eyes returned to him. “But more importantly…” The lieutenant pointed to the other page in Julien’s hand.
Reminded that he had yet to read the original letter, Julien quickly unravelled it and held it under a light. “I have blundered… the state may be no more…” Scanning the letter, the corporal translated it as he read it, skipping some words he deemed less important. “Safeguard the people… war when peace grows cold…?” He slowed down to think of its meaning, frowning as he reached the missive’s end.
Having seen the faces of some of his comrades who had deciphered its intent, to the archer, it sounded impossible to understand. “What does that mean?” Károly did not shy away from asking.
To the archer, the intent of the message sounded impossible to understand after he saw the faces of some of his comrades who had deciphered it. “What does that mean?” Károly did not shy away from asking.
“It means for us to bide our time and strike when the iron’s hot again.” Arms crossed, Arnau figured out, leaning against a pillar.
Surprised by his perceptiveness, Arminius turned to Arnau, who spotted his lieutenant looking at him. Judging that he had rightly deduced its meaning, a smile peeked out of his face, but he hid it by lowering his head.
Sceptical of anything his comrades had come up with, an ally scoffed. “That might work if we were spankin’ the Feds, but thing is, we ain’t.” Colt lectured the squad, reminding them of their position. “How’re we supposed to negotiate with nothin’ to offer?” His tongue was harsh, but it was not unlike what Arminius once thought before the mayor told him otherwise.
Using the same argument he was encouraged with, the lieutenant spelt it out for his friend. “Can you think of any other reason for why Meyer was allowed a seat in the Confederacy?”
Colt glared at Arminius as if he had insulted him, but the thought of what seemed possible kept him at bay. It, however, did not dispel every doubt they had.
Julien set the letters down on the table and asked his companion, hoping that his answer would drive out their unease. “Do you think Kolchakov would agree to this?” He thought that it would be best to plan for another strategy in case the first one did not work.
However, not entirely convinced that there was any other way, the lieutenant did little to reassure him. “He must.” Speaking of hypotheticals, he was trapped in the belief that everything should go their way. “Why waste time conquering an already defeated nation?” He leaned back on his chair, certain of victory.260Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡto2XqDCpR1
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