Colt turned towards the corvette with hesitation, looking over his shoulder once more before he became committed. He travelled further onto the upper deck as his back was being watched by Arminius, whose mind had drowned out the conversation that was happening just a dozen paces away.
There stood Lady Ingrid, but she was not dressed in her regular attire. She donned the garb of an official that resembled the late mayor’s, standing before a commodore whose frame was twice hers. His uniform was going to rip if he were to flex his muscles even once. He often brushed his well-combed moustache and pointed beard, and in his other hand was his cap hanging off his black cane whose handle was shaped like the hilt of a curved sabre.
Although they have known each other since childhood, the lady appeared tense. “Was nummerisk tiwilisk ewakujered breræds? (How many have we evacuated so far?)” Ingrid nervously asked, her legs pushed together.
“Fast hundrediskdausendne. (Just under a hundred thousand.)” The commodore answered, though he was unsure of the exact numbers. “Alle tiwilisk kan ewakujerer witen wjer jarne, dades eb de Rusisk wremudednej en ding. (All our civilians should be evacuated in four years’ time. That is, if the Rus have not suspected a thing.)” Gazing out to the sea, he pronounced each of his words with weight.
The lady followed his gaze to the mouth of the harbour, where another ship had set sail. Ripping through the currents, it was propelled forth by an engine of steam funnelled out of an exhaust chimney, bound for the commodore’s fleet in the far.
“Jeg tugeben, jeges seret wundered su skafed das… sdradegje. (I must say, I was quite impressed that you managed to devise this… strategy.)” He suddenly praised her, despite knowing that she was not one to accept embarrassing words of glorification.
However, the lady giggled behind her hand, finding it amusing having heard it come from a friend. “Frants, danker jegisk rermang, de kœnig, und de hundrednæskdausendnjed soldadne auf das sdad bewor kommer danker jeg. (Franz, thank my husband, the king, and the hundreds of thousands of soldiers in this city before you are to thank me.)” Ingrid reminded him that she deserved nothing.
Realising he was spouting nonsense, the commodore gently smiled. “Sues tuet beskædet, jegisk fræfrau. (You are too modest, my lady.)” He bowed with a hand over his chest.
“Hu auk mœjss kengen dad etes de lednened der hen schpæked wrenunfd end jeg aufnæmed Paulisk amd. (You should also know that it was the lieutenant over there who convinced me to take Paul’s seat.)” The lady waved her hand, telling him to right himself, and gestured for him to take his praise elsewhere. “Jeg angsden eb himnej und hins kameradne, wer wille kapiduladed. (I fear if not for him and his comrades, we would have long surrendered.)” She expressed her gratitude to others who deserved it more.
Since no one else of that rank was nearby, the commodore assumed it was the boy standing beside the corvette. Surprised that it was this lieutenant who had managed to convince her to take up her husband’s vacant seat, he lowered his eyes in complete humility. “Jeg wresdæn. (I see.)” These were the only words he could find as a glint of joy surfaced in his eyes, glad that there was a new generation of able-minded soldiers capable of succeeding the old order. “Aben ingen, jeg muss gæn, jegisk fræfrau. (Well now, I must attend to my duties, my lady.)” Deciding that they have had enough pleasantries for one day, the man reminded himself that work awaited him.
Lifting his cane, he bowed with a hand over his heart. As he wore his cap, the commodore pivoted around on his heel and marched towards his ship that had been waiting for him. Once he set foot safely onto its deck, its gangway was retrieved, and the ropes around the bollards on the pier were unwound and released by a dockworker. The sailors signalled the bridge for departure, while the engineers below deck started feeding their Eifers into the ship’s heart. The machinery whirred and pumped, and the propellers spun, churning the water at the stern. Slowly, the corvette began to move, leaving a trail of foam behind.
Standing behind the guardrails, his hands holding tightly onto them, Colt stared at the pier where Arminius stood looking on. They were both partially veiled by the steam of the vessel’s exhaust, but they did not break from position until they were too far from each other that the features of their faces could hardly be made out.
As they began to make their way out of the harbour, the waves grew larger and the ship began to sway. Alexandria appeared around the corner of a door and called for Colt, who only then brought himself away from the open deck and withdrew into the cabins. Only the gods knew how many years it would have to be before they met again, but it certainly was not soon.
Arminius let off a soft sigh and turned around, seeming afflicted, before joining the lady who accompanied him away from the pier.
Despite noticing his face of dismay, she said nothing about it, knowing that it probably would have worsened his bitterness. “It might be selfish of me to ask of you a favour, but Kommodore Jarlsberg reminded me of something.” Ingrid changed the subject, hoping that it would distract him. “May I?” She kindly asked for his permission even if it was unneeded.
“Bite sager. (Of course.)” Said Arminius.
It was out of her character to speak so suddenly, and it made her hesitate. “I would like for you to tutor my son.” The lady revealed. “I had not asked that of you because jegangsded that none of us would have the time.” She gave her reason for her conservativeness.
Her request was not as dramatic as she made it out to be, and it seemed like a small favour for her that she had hoped to unburden her chest with. However, she was not overly confident that the lieutenant would accept it.
Arminius softly smiled, thinking about the best way to phrase his answer. “Suisk wordne es tu genædig, Ingrid Fræfrau. (Your words are too kind, Lady Ingrid.)” He began, not wanting to decline her given the lady’s efforts in fulfilling the mayor’s wishes. However, he believed that there was a better way. “But I do not think I am best suited for this task.” The boy conveyed his doubts.
“How so?” Rather surprised by his response, she did not sound disappointed but rather curious. “You were well-trusted by Paul.” Ingrid recalled if she was not wrong.
“That might have been true, but I have no memories of how I learnt… anything…” In that brief moment, Arminius tried to remember his past, but as it had always been, nothing came to mind until he halted on the edge of the port where the pier met the road and turned to her, having remembered something that might have helped. “I’d suggest Carlstadt or Hayek. They’re probably more knowledgeable than I will ever be.” He gave her two names, trusting the former in his abilities and knowing that the latter was more than capable of the task.
However, her expression grew confused, twirling her hair by her ear, as she looked into the distance. “It’s odd that you’d mention Korporal Carlstadt.” The lady paused and faced Arminius with an unlikely reply, “He said the same thing about his memories…”
Arminius was stumped, his eyes lying in focus on something that was far away, and although he was facing her, his thoughts were not present. He wondered how it could have been possible that Julien said the same thing. It was more than a coincidence.
Choosing not to entertain the thought any longer, Arminius looked away with his arms holding himself as if a chill had run down his spine. “Then, perhaps Hayek.” He was adamant about his solution. “I’ll recall him. He’d probably get along with your son best anyways.” Remembering how the Rus was able to make friends with much of the White Bands, the lieutenant concluded.
Somewhat dispirited by how she was unable to convince the lieutenant, Ingrid peered down to the ground, yet she knew not to force it if that was not his wish. She nodded and accepted his suggestion, believing that it might as well be as good an answer, trusting that not once had Arminius’s ideas ever let her down, but his eyes were not focused on her.
Gazing down the avenue that led towards the town centre, the lady took notice too of the sound of hasty hooves. She turned her attention towards a rider galloping towards the pier at an incredible speed, yelling for people and soldiers to step aside. He rode with urgency and did not reel in his reins until he was just paces away from the lieutenant and the acting mayor. The horse suddenly locked its legs and skidded across the pavement, losing control over itself, but the skilled rider managed to save himself.
Unbinding his feet from the stirrups, the soldier dismounted, his banner fluttering in the growing wind. He led his mount towards his commanders, who had not spotted any message in his hands. Ingrid and Arminius approached him, wondering what it was.
He knelt before the lieutenant and the lady, placing an arm over his knee. “Jegisk fræfrau. Ledn’ed. (My lady. Lieutenant.)” Greeted the volunteer that aided Arminius three months ago. “I bring grave news.”
The lady rushed over and held onto his arms, urging him to stand up. “Was es et? (What is it?)” She spoke with her native accent.
“An army has appeared outside our outer walls.” The soldier informed them, trying to steady his breath. “They carry the banners of the Rus.” He did not provide much detail, but this knowledge alone was enough to scare anyone who had heard it.
“How many?” Maintaining his composure, Arminius questioned him.
His head was in a daze as he stumbled over his words, unclear about the exact number. “Twenty thousand, perhaps.” The messenger estimated.
The number repeated in the lieutenant’s head, certain he had heard it somewhere before. “The ones who landed on the southern coast two weeks ago?” Arminius recalled their odd movements that he has had to study.
Not entirely sure what it implied, the lady turned to Arminius for counsel even if he was just a lieutenant. It was apparent that she trusted his word more than anyone else’s.
“Haraldsen, relay your message to Carlstadt in the Tidadjælle.” Arminius gave his order. “He’ll know what to do.”
The soldier braced up and saluted him and the lady, but before he dismissed himself to his next destination, he passed the reins of his horse to Arminius. He sprinted off along the waterfront towards the citadel on the northern side emerging near the mouth of the harbour.
Having seen his translator to his task, Arminius rushed over to the saddle of his steed, turning around only for the purpose of addressing the lady properly. “Lady Ingrid, I want you to gather as many civilians as you can.” The lieutenant spoke quickly, fearing that time was no more. “If you hear gunfire, signal for the commodore.” He advised without much explanation.
Arminius hurriedly stepped onto the stirrup, swung his leg over the horse’s back, and sat into the saddle, which frightened the creature. He eventually calmed her down with his voice and hand, and before the lady could speak up, the lieutenant lashed his reins and led his steed away. Facing west, where a straight road lay, it would take him to the outer wall. With luck and haste, he could reach it in less than half an hour, but he did not know if those twenty thousand had scaled their walls already. He kicked the creature, who flung itself into a gallop, fleeting down the street as if the wind was chasing the rider.327Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡkgdAKPvy2K
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