1906
The International Hospital was in Junwell, a southern coastal city of South Jandor Island. It was several stories tall and had balconies which overlooked the harbor. Xavier sat there in a rocking chair high above with stitches across his face. He watched ships sail back and forth. There was a Tykan ship, a large yacht that came to rest at the docks. He studied the vessel with a grimacing eye. “Sir,” a nurse stepped onto the balcony beside him, “A man named Arthur is here to take you home, he says he is your brother?”
Xavier didn’t respond, he lifted his hand to his face and touched the scar. He could feel the stitches, though the gash was still wide and long. From just below his lip and up to his left ear, he traced along the cut with his fingertip. A sudden, sharp pain came, and he pulled his hand away. The nurse stepped back inside the hospital, and Xavier continued rocking the chair. A few minutes passed, and Xavier took in the cool ocean breeze with his eyes closed as he waited for his brother to take him home.
“Xavier?” he heard the voice of his brother, “My god, what did they do to you?” Xavier looked back, and he found Arthur gawking at his scar, “It looks horrible…”
“Thanks,” Xavier said, he watched Arthur pull another rocking chair beside him, “So, you’ve come to take me back?”
“Yes sir,” Arthur sat down, “You really can’t stay out of trouble, can you?”
“It’s more of a problem of staying on the horse thats the issue…” Xavier joked, Arthur laughed with him, “It’s been a while, where have you been?”
Arthur sighed, “Where haven’t I been is the better question,” he took out a carton of cigarettes, handed one to Xavier, “Hunting expeditions and safaris have been good to me. Keep my mind busy…”
“What?” Xavier turned to Arthur, “You’re still broken up about that?”
Arthur lit his cigarette, he held the flame for Xavier, “Why do you say it like that? I was close to Dad.”
“It’s been two fuckin’ years,” Xavier dragged on the cigarette quickly, “You mean to tell me you haven’t done anything beside hunt?”
Arthur frowned, “I don’t see how you can look past his assassination like it’s nothing, I mean, didn’t you love Dad?”
Xavier didn’t answer Arthur, and the two smoked their cigarettes in silence. Together they watched the ocean waves push and pull ships along as a storm formed on the horizon. Xavier thought about their father for a moment, Dakota Apollo II. The man had been the Kaiser for thirteen years before his assassination. He was the first Kaiser to follow the Lady Adeline, the younger brother of Adeline, and thus known as the “Baby Brother Kaiser.” Xavier had heard all of the old jokes about his father in his childhood. The man was not respected, he was unliked, despite his efforts.
Xavier threw his cigarette over the balcony, “I mean doesn’t it piss you off?” he snapped, “Our House has gone through enough shit over the years, we had a chance to bring it back to something to be remembered by, and that was the thanks our Aunt was given? Its fucking pathetic, Arthur…”
Arthur looked to Xavier, surprised, “What? Where is this coming from?”
Xavier gritted his teeth, then felt a shocking pain in his cheek. He bit his knuckle and leaned over the armrest of the chair. Arthur put out his cigarette and stood up, “I think it’s time we get you back home, we don’t need to talk about this anymore.”
He helped his brother up, and Xavier followed Arthur into the hospital room. The nurse had set out his uniform on the hospital bed, and Arthur stepped outside to let him change. Xavier put on his uniform and looked closely at himself in an old mirror in the corner. He took a few deep breaths, and left the hospital room. He followed Arthur out to the ships.
Arthurs yacht was an impressive vessel, Xavier had learned through third parties about many of Arthurs successes in shipbuilding. While Xavier focused his energy on a career in the cavalry, paying for many of his parties and excesses with the family inheritance, Arthur mastered his trade and had made a fortune all of his own. Arthur patted Xavier on the back, “Come on, now…” Arthur stepped onto the boat, and Xavier noticed a name painted onto the vessel: . Xavier stepped onto the boat with a scowl, and they set sail for Tyka.
1938
Atop Unity Hill, Xavier had a plate full of roasted ham and potatoes, and beside it was a leather-bound copy of the “Fair Trade and Labor Relations Act.” His wife had vetoed the bill earlier in the week, Xavier never felt particularly fond of Prime Minister Finch, so it didn’t offend him. He would not miss Finch if he lost in November. The bill imposed heavy tariffs on nearly all the Empire’s trading partners, prohibited a variety of labor strikes, and implemented more anticommunist measures; no surprises to Xavier, the sort of thing Prime Minister Finch had campaigned on.
It was half past noon, and Xavier was nearly finished with his lunch. He looked to the hills ahead, the weather was beginning to worsen. The flooding season would not be a problem for about two months, but Xavier wanted to be done with the war before then. Lynch leaned back with his cap over his eyes and boots on the wooden table.
In the trenches, soldiers had become increasingly more innovative as Atticus’ project went underway. Though pressure from Countrian mortars and artillery continued to harass the teams at each digsite. Xavier stayed at Unity Hill and watched the valley, reading the reports of sniper fire being the bane of Tykan engineers. The papers were scattered across the table along with the bill. Xavier was getting tired of reading when Graves approached them. Xavier tapped Lynch’s boot with his cane, and the aide de camp made room at the table. Xavier had a bottle of wine from the Crystal Prairie, Graves smiled at the sight of it, “Do you have a spare glass?”
Xavier slid one across the table, and Graves began to pour, “So, have you been sleeping?” Graves asked.
“Not exactly.”
Graves frowned, “I’m in a similar situation,” he said.
“Well how is it, the digging?”
“It’s a work in progress. They’ve run into a couple snags, but I’m sure they will find a way to make it work.”
Xavier nodded and stabbed at his potatoes, “Let’s go see it, then.” “The dig site?” Lynch said, he pushed his hat onto his head, “What did you make of the bill? What about the veto?”
“She made a decision in her own best judgment, and you’ve been keeping an eye on her. I assume she vetoed the bill for a reason. Leave the politicking to the senators, Lynch. I wouldn’t read it if I didn’t have to.”
“People have been acting crazy lately, the senate is losing its mind with this veto, outraged…” Lynch shrugged.
“They always are.”
Graves rested his cap on the table and leaned back in his seat with his wine. They took in the view of Hill 331 in a rare moment of silence. Then they heard footsteps.
Lieutenant General Monet approached the Kaiser’s table and gave a salute. Monet was a wealthy man and his family came from a line of hardworking businessmen, much like General Graves. Monet collected valuable baseball memorabilia in his free time and had high ambitions. He was a tall general with short blonde hair, bright blue eyes, and a dark field green uniform. In order to be of such a rank at such a young age, he had to be intelligent. The Kaiser looked up from his plate slowly and gave the man a haphazard salute, and Monet stopped in front of the table, “What is it?” Xavier grumbled.
“I see that you’re eating, would you like a minute?” Monet said, giving nervous glances toward Graves.
“No, let’s get whatever this is over with,” he said.
“I was more so going to ask for a word in private.”
“We’re all on the same side of this damned war,” Xavier said, “You have bad things to say about one of us?”
Monet stood beside a chair at the table, yet Xavier turned his eyes back to his plate. Graves and Lynch didn’t acknowledge the officer. Xavier cut off a piece of ham and gestured to the bill, “I’ve got to finish reading this by the afternoon, so make it quick.”
Monet nodded, still standing, “In the most respectful terms, your majesty, I have grievances about bringing General Graves into this operation.”
“A bold man…” Lynch said, suddenly interested.
“Why? What do you have against him?” Xavier asked.
Graves faced the Lieutenant General. Monet let out a forceful exhale, a light chuckle, “I will be frank with you. When the Wherrics first revolted there was a complete breakdown of communications, it was total chaos. He resigned from that office for a reason.”
Graves said nothing, only smirked. Monet continued, “We should put our focus back on the open countryside to our south, and again, I’m not the only one who believes this is the best course of action.”
Xavier shook his head, balling up his napkin and tossing it over his plate. He pushed himself up, “Wait!” Monet said.
“What?” he said sternly, “You’re not going to sell this to me.” He pointed to the towering Hill 331, “That’s our target, we take it, we go home.”
Monet sighed, “You should know better than to put someone like him above the chain of command, Your Majesty.”
“What did you say to me?” Xavier turned to him, furious, “What gives you the right?”
“I was there with him, in Wherricland, I saw what he did, the chaos he caused,” Monet scrambled to find the right words, “Can he really be trusted, can he work with others-” Xavier slammed his fist on the table, interrupting Monet for but a moment. Monet pressed on, “You saw what happened with the governor when everything collapsed; don’t make the same mistakes again.”
“You had your chance. If you want your troops, you’ll need to talk to Graves,” Xavier said. He pushed the binder to the side and continued eating. Graves lifted his pair of binoculars to his eyes, focused on the trenches. He gestured to the frontlines, “Do you mind if we take a stroll?”
***
The trenches were in a dilapidated state, Graves could hear large rats scampering through puddles along the sides of the trench. He walked beside Xavier, both of them returning salutes to the soldiers who stood there in tattered uniforms and faces crusted over with mud and dried blood. Graves walked with a noticeable limp, yet still held his chest high and exuded confidence. He stopped in front of a young soldier sitting on a wooden carton, an eighteen year old who kept his head down, “Ready to kill more Countrians, son?”
The boy looked up at the general, startled, “Oh, uh, yes sir,” he said before putting his head down again.
Graves watched the boy for a moment, “Do you know who I am?” he asked.
The boy shook his head.
“I’ve been fighting Countrians for a long time now. Those bastards have betrayed our people over and over, they’re animals who kill in the thousands.You’re doing a great service to your nation by defending the Colslavs.”
The soldier nodded, “Yes sir.”
“Good, I’m sure your mother is proud of you,” Graves said, patting the soldier on the shoulder and moving along. Xavier watched Graves stare up at the hill, a grin spelled across the old mans face. He looked to Xavier, “Do you remember being in the mud, fighting?”
Xavier shook his head, “No.”
“That is a shame,” Graves said, “It gives you life, it’s thrilling, Xavier.” A shell landed just ahead of them, they all shuddered and ducked, mud and clay fell onto them all. Xavier pressed himself up, struggling with his cane.
They came across the remnants of an old windmill tower. The stone walls were painted white, but only half of its structure remained, it sat about fifteen meters into no mans land, and around it were chalk craters filled with rainwater. Two blades of the windmill hung low, swaying in the breeze. Graves stepped up the parapets and looked out with his binoculars, “If we dig past the tower, and dig deep enough, we could reach the hill in about two weeks.”
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“Is that a realistic timeline?” Lynch asked.
“It depends,” Graves said, “Xavier, I know you've read the reports. We can't continue to take on this harassment while working, which is why I think we need extra firepower to use at my own discretion.”
“How much?”
Graves smiled, “Well, I’d like access to anything we have.”
“All of the reserves? Those just came in.”
Graves nodded.
“Are you crazy?” Monet said, “To focus all of that firepower out here? What is this?”
“These men will need to be able to dig comfortably, you will understand soon enough…”
Lynch walked beside Graves, but kept his eye on Xavier. Lynch spoke quietly to the general, “Do you think there have been rumors spread among us?” he asked, looking at the soldiers, then back to Xavier. The soldiers looked frightened, though Graves had suddenly realized the true cause of their fear. All eyes were on the Kaiser, and he didn't know why…
Xavier didn't say anything as they finally approached the dig site. Graves stepped through puddles in the trenches around the digsite, rainwater had been splashing into the trenches from an overfilled crater. Countrian mortars and artillery would send water and debris flying into the tunnel site regularly. The dark, maroon water was all over his trousers, but the old man didn’t care, anyway. The soldiers struggled to throw the water over the top, mud spattered in all directions. Graves walked to the entrance of the tunnel, he shook the hand of one of the soldiers, the soldier smiled, “You must be ole Graves? It’s an honor to meet you sir. We’ve been working here since sunrise, I’m managing this crew here.”
Gunshots rang out from the other side of no man’s land, and the group around Graves gathered at the narrow tunnel. The soldier bowed at the sight of Xavier, “Your majesty…”
Lieutenant General Monet inspected the field and the progress on the tunnel. The younger officer turned to Graves, “Sir, the work here is proving too difficult to expect the sort of results we need. Our time is limited, and the dig site is in a hostile zone. We won’t have these tunnels done unless we do something about the pressure coming from the Countrians.”
Xavier looked the boy up and down, the soldier looked startled, “You don’t have to worry,” the Kaiser said, he turned to Graves, “You'll have your shells, but I want flags planted on that hill in two weeks.”
Monet’s face turned sour, “Your majesty, that's totally—” he was interrupted by two men leaving the tunnel with pick axes wearing nothing but steel helmets. The nude workers passed through the crowd of brass and gave half hearted salutes. Xavier stepped aside. “I am your sovereign, your Kaiser, ” he said to Monet, “This is how it will be, now.”
Monet had nothing to say to that.
“Well, uhm… Would you like to see the progress?” the soldier asked, gesturing to the tunnel entrance. Xavier shook his head and turned around, followed by his sentinels. The rest stayed. Graves followed the soldier into the tunnel with Lynch and Monet. The walls were rough and a deep, dark gray. A cool, almost chalky rock. They could feel the walls shake with each artillery blast. As they entered they could hardly see ahead of them, the lamps were dim and barely functional, the air got heavy, hot, “Are you sure we should let him leave like that?” Lynch asked, Graves shrugged.
“He made the right call,” Graves said, “Simple as that...”
Lynch glanced at Graves, walking parallel to him, he spoke quietly, “With the , should he be left alone?”
“What difference does it make?” Graves raised his voice, “Xavier and I are in agreement, that's all there is to it.”
“Like hell,” Monet scoffed, “How can you say that when there are perfectly capable tank divisions not twenty miles south of us? If its time and efficiency he needs—”
“He wants results,” Graves said, “That is the sole reason I'm here, understand this: I am calling the shots.”
“You’ll micromanage everything, you focus so closely on your schemes. It will only end up costing us valuable time and resources. Which is why…” Monet passed by another miner, he nearly tripped over the uneven ground, “I don't understand why we need to take this hill. It will cost many more lives than a perfectly viable alternative.”
“This strategy worked in the Great War, several times in the Sara where I commanded,” Graves said, “The hill is a keystone for the rest of the Countrian line, if we can disable them here, we will be able to push the whole army back and restore the occupied territory.”
“You seem confident in this,” Lynch said.
“They called me the Miracle Man in the Sara.”
“And in the Wherric Revolt?”
Graves did not respond to the Lieutenant General. The soldier stopped and pointed out the wooden beams the engineers put in place, then he brushed his hand against the wall, “Once you get deeper you see these limestone walls,” he said, as they turned down a steep slope, passing more miners. The sunlight from behind them was gone, and the lamps swung with each passing man. “Some of the team came up with this… thing,” the soldier said, pointing to a rope pulley system, buckets carrying small bits of debris away in a long line, slowly moving up the tunnel. Graves smiled, “This is impressive. Who's idea was this?”
“That would be Private [engineer? Idk a title] Byrd. He works on them skyscrapers back home, when the war is done.”
“Well, he has my commendation,” Graves said. They moved further into the tunnel, having to duck further and further as they descended. Then the tunnel straightened out, level for a few meters. Then, it turned into a slow incline, and steadily the miners worked their way toward the surface. They reached the furthest reach of the tunnel, Graves’ knees were in intense pain, and the air was hard to breathe, thus cutting their tour of the digsite short. Graves tried to wipe the sweat from his face while they climbed back to the surface, he held his hand against the right wall. Lynch put his hand on the generals shoulder, and Graves shook his head. Lynch left him alone, “Lynch, have the other digsites start using those pulleys, it’ll save us a lot of damn time…” Graves panted as they exited the tunnels, blasted by sunlight.
Monet was last to exit, less bothered by the heat and cramped spaces. He pointed behind them, “These are no conditions to be putting our soldiers through, not when we haven't even had time for a proper briefing on the situation. The rate of injuries alone—”
“I’ve studied the maps, I know the history, I know about our Kaiser's previous offensive, and I know this will work, dammit, no buzz off.” Graves said. Monet kept to himself behind the others, quiet.
***
Graves was in an observation post dug near the top of Unity Hill, topped with heavy logs and sandbags; it overlooked the trench filled valley below between the two hills. The old general was bent over an elaborate map of the front ahead of him, with several large red crosses marking potential digsites, and potential lines of attack. It was dry out, and a cool nightly mist was rising across the so-called “Valley of Death” as the soldiers put it. Gunshots rang out occasionally, but overall the front was silent in the night as both sides stubbornly took their rifles to their beds in preparation for more fierce skirmishing tomorrow.
Dimmed lanterns hung above him in the cramped hole in the rocky dirt, he retraced the sketch lines of imaginary tunnels that had yet to start again and again. From his initial observations and probes into the trench front, the valley clay seemed workable, and with enough work they should be able dig up the hillside to within almost an arm’s distance of the Countrian redoubt lines… if they could keep it under wraps for long enough. As he pondered on what else to do, the sound of boots came from behind Graves, one of the several orderlies the other corps commanders had been so “happy” to loan to him, “Sir General Graves, the army mail has finally arrived, would you like me to go get your lot?”
Graves shook his head and turned away from the map, “No, you should get some rest, I’ll go myself tonight.”
As the orderly left, Graves dimmed the lanterns in the dugout, and headed up out of the hole and descended down the eastern slope of Unity Hill, following the highly worn army trails to the army group headquarters where the Bison truck was parked outside the army postal service tent. From the countryside Graves could see the farmhouse where the generals have dinners with the Kaiser, yellow light poured from one of the bedroom windows, , Graves thought. The Kaiser stayed up late into the morning most days. The yellow light clashed with the cool blue rock of the farmhouse, the stones glowed under the moonlight from the two great moons of Venturn. Graves walked along the old dirt roads toward the trucks. Thick black letters were printed on the side of the trucks: “Imperial Army Mail”, and the well recognized riders of the Imperial Couriers in their leather jackets and white-green checkerboard insignias, were taking letters and riding out to posts all along the line with letters for officers and generals.
A few men with flashlights were huddled around the truck, pulling out crates of letters and gifts from home. A slim faced, mustached officer of the postal service overlooked a shipping manifest, he stood with an authoritative posture with hands at his waist. He turned about to see Graves approach.
The officer looked towards Graves as the old man’s recognizable face entered the lights of the flashlights. Some of the light glinted off the officer's spectacles as he spoke, “Ah, general, I was just about to send a courier,” before turning around and pulling a letter from the Bison, “It’s a special priority, shame the mud didn’t treat it so.”
Graves took the letter, it was from Elijah Woodward at the Gazette.
A raindrop fell on the envelope, and Graves opened the letter with caution. The officer took off his glasses, wiping them with his sleeve, “Good news, I hope!”
Graves unfolded the letter, he stepped under a canvas tent as rain continued to fall in thin sheets. He sat down at a wooden table and held the letter under an oil lamp. He scanned over the letter, telling him all about the Queen’s affair and outrageous debates in the Senate.
… It is with all due integrity, Sir, that we did not address Her Majesty or her affair, but instead focused attention on the real problems in Tyka. I understand that the Emerald Gazette has a special relationship with the Apollo family, I promise our paper will not disrespect that honor or interfere with your efforts. I hope you understand why this letter is so urgent now, I hope all the best for you and the Kaiser in these unfortunate times…
-Elijah Woodward
“Turn these trucks around, dammit!” Graves heard the voice of John Lynch shout to the trucks behind the Bison. They carried canvas covered loads of newspapers, fresh copies of the Emerald Gazette. Graves got up and watched the Kaiser’s aide-de-camp shout orders at the truck drivers. His voice was shrill and his arms moved quickly with chopping gestures.
Graves approached Lynch, “Is everything alright?” he asked.
Lynch glared at Graves, “I’m sure you’ve heard by now, haven’t ye?”
Graves held up the letter, “I’ve heard the headlines, but you won’t find them in my paper,” he said, “Let these trucks through.”
Lynch pulled down the canvas and looked at the newspapers, “PRIME MINISTER CLAIMS VETO IS TYRANNY!” read the front page. Lynch stared at the paper for a moment before he stepped off the muddied road, and the trucks sputtered along. Lynch followed Graves back to the tent and took out a pack of cigarettes. He gave one to Graves and lit one for himself, “Does he know yet?” Graves asked.
Lynch shook his head, “No.”
“This is the first time I'm hearing any of this… When did you hear it?”
Lynch blew smoke into the rain, “I’ve known for a while,” he said.
“How?” Graves’ eyes widened, “And you haven’t told the Kaiser?”
“Nobody else knew anything, it was private information. What good would telling him have done? You’ve seen how this war is going, would you want to tell him?” Lynch asked… “I thought not.”
“So, what do we do?”
“The cat was gonna get out of the bag eventually, we’re lucky to be in the middle of fucking nowhere. We can control what he and anyone else here sees, at least to some extent. I’d like this to all run smoothly, we might not have much time now before he finds out. Who knows what those soldiers will be reading in their letters, we can't stop them all…”
Graves finished his cigarette quickly, “Fuck…” he said as he flicked it into the mud, “I see you’ve made your choice already, to wait for the inevitable… I should be furious with you, to hide sensitive information from the Kaiser like this, but I don’t think we have time.”
***
Travis Rushmore had recently went through a divorce with his wife of fifty seven years, who had an affair with another woman which he refused to name. The specifics didn't matter, not as much as the feeling of .
Graves rode back to the farmhouse with Lynch, following the imperial sentinel on horseback. They found Rushmore smoking on the porch of the farmhouse, a guilty look on his face. , Graves thought. His horse trotted up to the porch, and Graves looked Rushmore at eye level. Neither of them said anything to one another, then Lynch arrived, who quickly slipped off his horse and walked into the house. Graves followed him inside, glaring at Rushmore as he passed. Nobody was inside the home. The lights were still on, it was about seven o'clock, they were supposed to be having dinner.
On the stairs, Graves noticed shards of broken porcelain in the red carpet. He went upstairs, and found more broken plates, turned over chairs, silverware and food scattered. Graves felt his boot squish when he stepped in a puddle of wine on the carpet. They saw Xavier sitting at the back of the room, his study.
Lynch held his breath and stood behind Graves. Graves stepped further into the room, his eyes fixed firmly on the Kaiser. The dark red curtains coveted the room in darkness. He waited for the Kaiser to speak, yet he said nothing. “Your majesty—”
“When were you planning to tell me, Lynch” Xavier said, his words piercing through Graves, “That my wife has been sleeping with another man for months?”
Graves stood awkwardly in the middle. “How long have you known?” Xavier asked him. Graves shrugged.
Lynch stepped out from behind him, “I know it wasn’t ideal for you to find out in this way, whatever it could have been.”
“Rushmore was surprised, that’s for sure…” Xavier said, he cradled his skull in his palm, the stress boiling in his mind. “How the hell am I supposed to trust either of you?” Xavier asked, another valid question to which neither had an answer… “Why did you two come in?”
“I apologize, Xavier,” Graves said, “I meant to tell you, at a time when it wouldn’t cause as much pain… We have a job to do here, you know.”
“Fuck this war,” Xavier said, “You and your I care for none of it,” Xavier stood up, “Well, I don’t have any reason to stay here. Monet has been talking about his plan for a while now… Tanks at the south, cutting through the plains, around this damned hill… He said it would be cheaper… While you keep secrets from me.”
“Xavier, you can’t be making threats like this.”
“Don’t toy with me!” he shouted, the silence that followed fell like a heavy sheet on the room, then Xavier spoke again, “I can make the call, because I call the fucking shots.”
“What do you want us to do, Xavier… Okay?” Lynch pleaded.
“What did you want me to do, when you came in here to tell me you’ve been lying to me for months? This war has got to be over, Graves.”
“I know, we only need two weeks.”
“One.”
Graves laughed, “You’re playing with me, do you understand what you just said?”
“I have other options, Graves,” Xavier said, “I commanded you here and you listened, so why are you doing what you’re doing now? , the key to our partnership here, Graves… Now you’ll conduct your offensive in one week, or I’ll call Monet and make the plans for a southern advance.”
“And you’ll let him take charge?”
“My trust is in the fucking , Graves! Are you going to help me kill those motherfuckers over there in one week or not?”
“I’ll do it, one week!” Graves said, “I’m sorry, that she did this to you.”
“You don’t know the pain that I feel,” Xavier said.
Graves stepped closer, “We’ll take the hill, it’ll all be made right.”
Xavier nodded, and Graves put his hand on the Kaiser’s shoulder… “I didn’t know she felt that way, how long has she felt like this? With that dirty driver? All the good that I’m out here doing, fighting, and she, fuck!” he shouted as he broke into tears, Graves leaned in to give him a hug, he held Xavier tight. “I’m sorry, Xavier,” Graves said, “We’ll take this hill, then we’ll kill whoever we need to when we get home. I’ll make this right to you, I promise.”
