There was occasional chatter from mindful voices that were not too loud. Laughter occasionally surfaced but was often controlled. Standing around with coffee and teas in hand, snacking on biscuits, they rarely found time for work. Believing that winter was a time of peace, no strife held them captive. Many were free to do as they willed, which amounted to much time to lounge around, except the few who were toiling away in their superiors’ stead, reading through files with twice the number of words that they had to regularly care for.
The former mayor’s office had been turned into a room for the general’s staff. The working environs remained mostly untouched, not much having been changed, although its bookshelves, which once stored simple maps and codes, had been overwhelmed. Desks were stationed everywhere, and in the corner, two couches and a coffee table over an imported carpet served as a rest station beside a functioning refreshment stand that made its users forget their duty.
Julien marched deeper into the room, moving towards the bow of the chamber where the windows were and where higher-ranked soldiers resided. He came by one’s quarter that stood out most.
A sergeant was in a uniform much like the corporal’s. However, his was tattered with parts replaced by informal wear, sitting behind mountains of paper on an already spaceless desk. With his head resting on his hand, he spun his pen as he read through the countless pages that would not cease, making notes that hardly interested him. When Julien delivered yet another file, balancing it on top of the shortest pile, the sergeant paused.
The desk’s resident looked over it and gave the corporal a pained look. “Another one?” Arminius complained, faced with infinite work without a moment to rest. “When’s this gonna stop?” In an excuse to halt his work for even as brief as a second, he stretched his arms, leaning against the spine of his chair.
“Whenever the general thinks he has enough to work with.” Julien softly said.
Unconvinced, Arminius glared at Julien as he pulled the newest addition onto the stack. Its pages thumped atop the one that had drained him of sanity, and he flicked through it quickly. Although there were points that caught his interest, he chose not to be baited that day. Spinning his pen, he felt a yawn coming and covered his mouth, bored by constant words. Arminius closed the file and laid a hand flat atop the document. Tapping its cover, his fingers itched to wield a sword or to pinch onto a cigarette.
Despite his fatigue, Julien leaned over the files with a slight smile. “I would much rather be here under a roof than in the wind.” He attempted to cheer up his companion to no avail, as Arminius ignored him, gazing out the window. It was clear that he would rather be set free in the wild. “Which, speaking of, that report came in from Lev.” The corporal changed the subject because he saw no purpose in continuing his previous strategy.
His friend faced Julien, who righted himself. “They’re back soon.” Arminius commented, slouching over the arm of his chair.
“The rest of them should have returned by now.” Julien held onto his chin, wondering where they had gone and what they had seen in the weeks that they had not been together.
The door swung open and before the guards could catch them, two boys raced into the room. But knowing their place, they slowed down to a brisk walk as they straightened themselves. Fixing his clothing, dry and belonging, the eldest led the youngest towards the desk whose resident’s blonde friend turned around and saw them approach, his face brightening up with a smile as he stood aside, letting them assume an audience with the sergeant. Side by side, they halted in position, and clicked their heels upon their safe return, bringing themselves into their commander’s notice.
“Arnau, Siegfried.” Arminius addressed them by name, not by rank.
Easing his posture, the eldest of the pair responded. “Sergeant, we’d like to report on our mission.” His accent belonged to the country, but his mannerisms were city-like.
Although his stature was unremarkable, his build was unexpectedly lean for a soldier, he effortlessly carried two short swords on his hips, two pistols on his waist, and numerous knives sheathed around his belt. Straps that held his mobile arsenal together crossed over his chest and back, but if that was not hint enough, his hands gave away his inner strength. He had the palms of a blacksmith whose skin was rougher than sandpaper. However, his silhouette and appearance were moving juxtapositions. A few months older than his commander with a comely, boyish face, his deep eyes were sky blue, and his vision believed in will more than fate. Arnau Rieding was from the western countries, although one did not immediately think about how but why he was with the Zhermanner army and was not with the safer, neighbouring Franker. It was difficult to assume one’s character when what he did best was to hide away his broken past.
The other boy, standing beside him with a dejected look and rubbing the back of his head in pain, was not yet in his teens. However, he dared follow the dark path into war. Unlike what many would immediately assume, he was not Arnau’s brother, and in fact, he even lacked a family name. Perhaps his resolve came from an impoverished upbringing. Much of their appearances were similar except for his verdant green eyes that sought for one ambition only Arnau knew of. Bearing a single sword, his attire was confusingly more practical than most, although there was a great possibility that his mother and father had spent all the coin they had to protect their son. But knowing this begged many to wonder where his parents were, if alive, and why this boy had been sent to the frontlines in their stead.
Arminius noticed the youngest’s dispiritedness, a burden he had caused by deploying him beyond the fortress walls. The sergeant stood up and made his way around the table before he held Siegfried, rubbing his back to warm him. Only then did Siegfried pause his restless hand and drop his arm to his side. Although his soothing embrace could not continue on forever, it returned a weak smile onto the scout’s face. Turning to Arnau, Arminius gestured for him to follow on away from the ears of the others. Leaning in beside the sergeant, Arnau relayed his report quietly with a hand covering his mouth and the sergeant’s ear, but it did not take more than two sentences for Arminius’s expression to give away the nature of the report.
Julien noticed that his friend was troubled, giving a doubtful nod before he spun around and marched towards the general’s desk, alone, speaking not another word until he reached his commander. Anticipating Arminius’s interpretation of the matter, a colonel stood ready beside the general, who lifted his head from his nap. His peace had been disturbed, and without care for formalities, he cleared his throat and waved for the sergeant to approach. The colonel stepped aside, allowing Arminius to deliver his message however he wished. Yet, in such a serene hall, their voices could not be heard.
Arnau, Siegfried, and Julien watched on, attempting to read their general’s expression, which was, as always, neutral. But whatever Arminius said moved the general. His mind, like the sergeant’s before, seemed to have frozen. The elder placed his hands on his desk, then lowered them promptly, wiping his palms of sweat. It was clear that whatever concerned their general should concern them too, and the corporal and the two scouts moved closer to catch their talk.
Leaning back as far as his old spine allowed, the elder pulled his beret over his face. “Come spring, we would not even have sufficient forces to battle, let alone withstand a siege.” Warneńczyk grumbled.
With a cigarette clasped in his mouth, a captain struck a match and lit his smoke. Intrigued, the newly promoted Adam looked over his shoulder, but his sense of freedom to do whatever he willed had not disappeared despite his rank.
“If we can convince the God of War, Hannes…” Warneńczyk noted the only suggestion that came to mind. “Then, I believe we should be looking at an offensive for ourselves—”
The windows rattled and the building shook as if its foundations were crumbling. The loose film of paint that the ceiling ever had was littered around like ash. The embers of lamps and candles wavered. Fitting his beret, the general sat upright and spun around on his chair before he stood up to grasp a better understanding of what was happening. His expression was unlike his adjutants, who were only dumbstruck. There was annoyance in Warneńczyk’s. The worst that he feared could happen had come to bite him in the side.
Explosions erupted outside the windows, and in a blink, a rain of shells barraged the city. As houses caved in and their wooden structures ignited in flames, bodies were flung across streets and craters carved new terrain. Realising that his commander was too near danger, Adam tossed his cigarette away and dashed in between the windows and the general. Florian’s instincts were duller, but he leapt to shield Warneńczyk too. The whistle of artillery grew louder, and they all turned away when a shell crashed near the entrance of the town hall. Glass shattered, and the soldiers of the headquarters dropped to the ground. The wilderness broke in and introduced them to the cold wind. Plumes of fire soared, reflected on the faces of Adam and Florian, who rose from the attack of glass shards, glad to see that their general was unharmed. Arminius and his comrades raced over to help, but they were soon taken by an unthinkable sight.331Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡgXjEplX6uL
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