The noise was the first thing he noticed. It was mild with occasional chatter from mindful voices which were not too loud. Laughter occasionally surfaced but was kept at a minimum. Standing about at ease with coffee and teas in hand, snacking on biscuits, they rarely found time for their reports whose words bored them. Believing that winter was often a time of peace, no strife held them captive. Many were free to do as they willed which amounted to little work and 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 reminding of work, and so in the corner, two couches and a coffee table over an imported carpet served as a rest beside a functioning refreshment stand that made its users forget their supposed duty.
Julien marched deeper into the room, past the guards who recognized him on his return. 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 uniform much like the corporal’s, however his was tattered with parts replaced by informal wear, sat behind mountains of paper on an already spaceless desk. With his head resting on a hand, he spun a pen as he read through the countless pages that would not cease its black ink, making notes that hardly interested him. When Julien delivered yet another file, balancing it on top of the shortest pile, it paused the soldier.
The desk’s resident looked over it and gave the corporal a pained look. “Another one?” Arminius complained, as if 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, leaning against the spine of his chair.
“Whenever the general thinks he has enough to work with.” Julien responded softly.
Unconvinced, Arminius glared at Julien as he pulled the newest addition off the stack. Its pages thumped atop the one that had drained him of sanity and was flicked through 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, swallowing his boredom. Exhaling a breath of fatigue, 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 a cigarette’s body.
Noticing his restlessness, however tired he was himself too, Julien leaned over the files. “But 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 Hayek.” The corporal changed his subject, seeing no purpose to entertain his previous strategy any further.
His friend returned his focus into the indoors, facing 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 his chin, wondering where they had gone and what they had seen in the weeks that they have not been together.
The door swung open and before the guards could catch them, two boys raced through. But knowing their place, not wanting all eyes swing towards them in disdain for ruining the peace, they slowed down to a brisk walk as they straightened themselves. Fixing his clothing, dry and belonging, the eldest led on and the youngest followed on by his flank. They approached a desk whose resident’s blonde friend tuned around and saw them near, his face brightening with a smile as he stood aside, letting them assume an audience with the sergeant. Side by side, halting in position, the two 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.
His stature was nothing too irregular but his build was the least expected of a soldier, yet somehow, he could bear two short swords on his hips and two pistols on his waist with numberless knives sheathed around his belt effortlessly. Straps that held his mobile arsenal together crossed over his chest and back but if that was not a hint enough, his hands gave away his 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 depthful eyes were a sky blue and his vision believed in will more than fate. Arnau Rieding was from the western countries, although one did not immediately think how but why he was with the Zhermanner army and was not with the safer, neighboring Vrannker. It was difficult to assume one’s character when what he did best was to hide away his broken past.
Standing beside him, with a dejected look, rubbing the back of his head pained by something, the other boy was not of his teens, yet this youth dared followed the lightless path into war so early in his life. Unlike what many would immediately assume, he was not Arnau’s brother, and in fact, he lacked a family name. Perhaps his resolve came from an impoverished upbringing that was Siegfried’s. Much of their appearances were similar except his verdant green eyes that sought for one ambition only that Arnau and no other 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 their coin they had to protect their son. But knowing this begged many to wonder, where his parents were, if alive, that this boy was 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 and made his way around the table before he allowed himself to receive their report, and held Siegfried tight, rubbing his back to warm him which only then did Siegfried pause his restless hand and drop his arm to his side. Although his soothing embrace could not continue forever with Arminius releasing him, offering a last pat on his hand, it returned a weak, childish smile onto the scout’s face. Turning to Arnau, he gestured for him to follow away from the ears of the others. Leaning in beside Arminius’s ear, 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 had been stilled and troubled. Arminius gave 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 report and his interpretation of the matter, a colonel stood ready beside the general who lifted his head from a nap. His peace had been disturbed and without a 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, attempting to read their general’s expression who as always, implied nothing. But whatever Arminius decided to say to mark his last word moved the general. His mind, like the sergeant’s before, seemed to have froze. Contemplating, the elder raised his hands onto his desk, then lowered it promptly, wiping his palms of sweat. It was clear whatever concerned their general should concern themselves 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, his only suggestion that came to mind. “Then, I believe we should be looking at an offensive 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 to grasp a better understanding on what unfolded before his eyes. His expression was unlike his adjutants who were only dumbstruck, his face carried an annoyed frown. 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 its wooden structures ignited in flames, bodies were flung across the street and craters were carved into new terrain. Realizing 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, detonating when it struck the ground. Glass shattered and the soldiers of the headquarters dropped to the ground. The wilderness advanced through the opening and introduced their breaths to the piercingly cold wind. Plumes of fire soared, reflected on the faces of Adam and Florian who rose from an attack by glass shards, glad to see that their general went unharmed. Arminius and his comrades raced over to help but they were soon captured by an unthinkable sight.11Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡmkxTJ08tA7
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