A document was laying 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 were not the warm hands which shadowed it that broke it as they formed a hood over the boy’s face. Sitting on his chair by the mild flames, he brooded in silence. His shade flickered like the waning spirit that was in his heart but he was not alone in feeling this way. All his comrades felt no different, surrounding him on their couches or standing, each to their own thoughts. Having learned of the happening from the witness, many wished not to believe it, but the messengers who came and went one after another confirmed those 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 and kept silent. The fire was their only source of warmth when everything else beyond it was cold as if the sea had flooded their home. Directionless, their minds were being swept away by the currents of haplessness.
Among the typically energetic who were as soundless as the snow, a less talkative lancer attempted to drive their conversation onward. “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..
It seemed that his entry into the discussion had fueled his comrade’s want to say his part. “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.
With much on their mind, the squad had terrible trouble focusing. Whenever another question was asked of them, without their general to turn to or a higher-ranking officer to seek counsel from, all that was left were 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 own definition. Sitting before him was Arber who felt his daring aura expanding that kept him on guard, ready to step in before he could wreak havoc.
Irritated by their clouded expressions, Gin marched around the couch and rose to action. “Lemme take a look at dat.” He pointed at the missive, his tone sounded demanding, also sure that he would be able to solve their ailments.
“Have you finally learnt how to read?” Arber stood and held Gin back. “Besides, it’s likely written in Danner.” He turned to the one among the ten who could understand the language.
Arber snatched the missive 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 in Arber’s place, he slumped into his seat and watched as Julien carefully revealed the message from its hide but as 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 contents. Letting out a sigh of relief, Arminius handed the page to Julien who stood beside him, tentative, but as he read through it, his expression became less uneasy. Only his comrades who waited for his translation remained anxious and even those who pretended to be uninterested in its words sat forward.
Julien suddenly whipped his attention away from the hidden letter and turned to Arminius. “This is a draft of the treaty that he mentioned…” He remembered to 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. “But more importantly…” The lieutenant pointed to the other page in Julien’s hand.
Reminded that he had yet to read the original missive, Julien quickly unraveled it and held it under a light so his comrades need not wait long to hear its lines.
Scanning through the letter, the corporal translated it as he read. “I have blundered…the state may be no more…” Julien skipped some words and repeated sentences that he deemed more informative. “Safeguard the people…war when peace grows cold…?” He slowed and quietened to think of its meaning, frowning as he met 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 decode. “What does that mean?” Károly did not shy to ask.
As if they were were in class, even those who were confident about their answers were too afraid to mistake their interpretation and an unlikely soldier responded in their stead.
“It means for us to bide our time and strike when the iron’s hot again.” Arms crossed, Arnau figured, 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 having lowered his head.
Skeptical 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 had 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 silenced. It, however, did not dispel every doubt that they had.
Julien set the missive and draft on the coffee table and sought an answer out of his companion to drive out their unease. “Do you think Kolchakov would agree to this?” He thought it would be best to plan for another strategy in case the first did not work.
However, not entirely convinced that there was any other way, the lieutenant did little to assure him. “He must.” Speaking of hypotheticals, he was trapped by the belief that everything should go there way. “Why waste time conquering an already defeated nation?” He leaned back on his chair, certain of victory.14Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡeeP1cjSQVw
