1906
Old Tricronian Chir Pine trees lined the sides of the old road. Xavier and Graves rode under their looming presence on patrol. The skies were a volcanic orange as the sun was setting. The expedition had begun a week prior and the brass were betting their careers on its success. The war was close to ending, but high officers did not want to listen to Kaiser Delano Scott. Instead, they hoped to win a small yet surprising victory by invading the Tricronians, an ally of Cryta, in order to generate support for a renewal of war permits in the Senate.
Graves was tired. They had been riding for an hour and a half already, surveying empty fields, and looking for Crytin troops which were nowhere to be found. They were headed back to camp, another twenty minutes of riding preceded them. Graves’ canteen was empty, and Xavier had already smoked the last of his cigarettes. Xavier had not said a word for twenty minutes, and Graves could feel his eyelids get heavier. His attention drifted to the dirt trail below their horses.
Xavier stopped abruptly, and he put his hand up to signal Graves to stop. Graves looked up and wiped away at his drowsiness, halting his horse, “What is it?”
Xavier listened to the wind, the sound of trees rustling, and the faint sound of a running stream they had crossed recently. Xavier looked to Graves, “You hear that? Peace and quiet… I’d kill to have this again.”
Graves smiled, “Yeah, and I’d kill for a beer. Why don’t we keep on, eh?” He looked ahead, the path back to camp was past a ridge about a mile ahead, and they only had about an hour of daylight left.
“Well hold on,” Xavier said, he smiled, “I want to sit out here another minute. Take in the clean air… Talk a little bit.”
Graves turned back to Xavier, he shrugged, “About what?”
“You know as well as I do that this war has been a mistake. We’ve been riding for hours each day, and for what? So some men disobeying the Kaisers orders can have a shot at keeping a war going? Fighting for a career boost…”
“You know I don’t like this operation,” Graves said, “But what are you suggesting?”
“Graves… how would you end this war?”
“Well, considering our circumstances, I’d like to keep my life if it’s all the same to you. So I’d rather not think about this,” Graves said as he started to ride past Xavier.
“Wait!” Xavier shouted, “We can’t just keep doing this each day and ignore the fact that hundreds, thousands more men might die. You don’t think we should even try to do something to stop this?”
“Object to your superiors here and you get killed by their henchmen, they shot a colonel in the other corps, you think they won’t hesitate to kill you and say the Crytins did it?” he leaned over to him, “These men play dirty, playing their game is a losing man’s bet.”
“We’ll have to play dirty ourselves then.”
“How so, convince our officers to turn the regiment around and arrest all the generals like your auntie Adeline did all those years ago to the Junta. To ride on in and chop their balls off to make a point?” he stopped himself and looked away, rubbing his nose, “That would be nice to see though.”
Xavier nodded, “Yeah? And then get killed by his clique of jingos.” he looked down, shaking his head before snapping up again while saying, “No! …No dammit, I mean we go back to Yorkshire, we somehow get out of here and make things right.”
“Right, Xavier. The Imperial Hussars should go back down to the camp and cut General Herschels balls off, then he’ll reconsider this expedition.”
“No, I mean we go back to Yorkshire, we somehow get out of here and-”
“You can’t get out of here without getting court martialed, Xavier. The senate isn’t where you need to be.”
Xavier scoffed at Graves, “You don’t think I could pull together the votes? Finch has written to me, snuck letters through. The senate is at a stalemate, it just needs something, someone, to tip the balance. I can do that, I can easily raise enough noise if I was there, in person. I have friends out there, Graves. My name carries weight.”
“No, what you have, Xavier, is money. Money alone doesn’t make power. Why go back to Yorkshire and deal with the politicians and bureaucrats when you can stay here to help protect the men whose lives are at stake? They need a sense of morale, if you walk out on them, what is that going to look like?” Graves shook his head, “You may not have friends out there, but you have brothers here,” Xavier stayed still with a frown on his face, and Graves waited for him for a moment. Though Xavier did not move, and Graves sighed, “You can catch up to me then,” he said before continuing down the path.
“Graves, do you look at me and see another bureacrat? A politician?”
Graves stopped again, “No.”
“Then what do you see?”
Graves was quiet for a moment, turned back around, “I see an Apollo.”
“No you don’t,” Xavier’s face grimaced, “You don’t see an Apollo, you don’t see a brother, you don’t see anything more out of me than an opportunity,” Graves began to shake his head, but Xavier continued, “You’ve always seen an opportunity in me, in taking a chance on me… A friendship isn't what this was all about. You knew that as soon as you met me in the academy. You knew at some point it was going to pay off. You’ve been loyal to me, and I honor that of you.”
“Xavier, I’ve always valued our friendship… What are you saying?”
Xavier gritted his teeth, which turned into a smile, “I’m asking you if you’re still willing to take that chance. You don’t have to believe I can end this war, but you can at least give me a chance at doing it.”
Graves furrowed his brow, confusion overcame him. He shook his head in disbelief, “Xavier, you know as well as I that no one gets to go home, not from here.”
“Except wounded men, Graves, except wounded men…”
“What are you saying to me?” Graves asked again in a hollowed, hurt tone. He looked out over the fields asway.
“I can end the war.”
“Do you expect some Crytin asshole to wound you without taking you prisoner? You’re nobility, Xavier… You’re-”
“I don’t need a Crytin, just you,” he pointed to Graves, and his finger turned toward his own face, “I want you to hit me, hard.”
“What do you mean? I’m not just going to sock you across the face,” he shook his head, “I… I won’t hurt you. Besides, nobody will believe that,” Xavier glanced down to Graves’ saber, Graves scoffed again, “You can’t be serious.”
Xavier smiled, “Isn’t this what friends are for?” he said, and Graves shook his head. He looked at Xavier, dumbfounded. Xavier rode up to him and put his hand on his shoulder, “Only wounded men are allowed any way out of here. Slash me across the face and I can get both of us out of here.”
Graves nervously adjusted himself on his saddle, “Xavier, are you serious?”
Xavier nodded, “You don’t have to pretend like you don’t like this idea. This is what this partnership is all about, do I need to spell it out to you? There is no risk for you, just hit me once, hit me good, and I promise you that you won’t regret it.”
Graves stared at Xavier silently, and he looked for something to break in Xavier. Looking to see the humor in it, but there was none. Xavier sat with a stone cold disposition. Graves broke the silence, “I won’t regret it?” he asked, and Xavier nodded, “Right… you better be right about this,” he looked outwards to the Crytin inland, and calmly nodded, “We’ll both fire a few shots, just to be safe.”
Xaiver nodded, “Ride around a bit too, make it seem like a struggle.”
The two men nodded, before each drew their pistols and spurred their horses. They rode around the field, shouting, firing their pistols like madmen, yelling out to Crytin lancers and dragoons. The two men then wheeled their horses about and began riding back towards the camps. Xavier tossed his pistol high in the air as he rode up next to Graves and yelled to him, “Graves, do it now!”
He hesitated for a few seconds. Graves looked the man in the eye, and where he thought he saw a friend moments ago, there was instead a man with a title. A man with a title who looked blankly through him. Graves’ knuckles turned white as he gripped his saber, his heart began to pound heavier, and his vision became blurry before drawing his army saber and whipping Xavier across the face with one sword stroke. Xavier recoiled, gritting his teeth as he slipped from his saddle onto the muddied field.
Graves turned about and dismounted his horse. He walked through the grass to find Xavier lying on the ground, his hand pressed against his cheek. The blood gushed from his face, and for a moment Graves only watched him wriggle in the dirt. Graves worked to catch his breath then pulled the staggered Xavier off the ground. He put him on the back of his horse. Xavier continued to press his sleeve against the wound and looked up to Graves, sputtering through blood covered lips, “Shoot my horse, make it convincing…”
Graves looked down at Xavier, then over to the panicked horse. He cursed under his breath as he reached for his pistol, and he quickly shot down the poor and confused animal. It crashed onto the grass to bleed out. Graves watched the animal for a moment, and he looked at Xavier once more. Xavier struggled to keep himself upright, he slowly began to drift into unconsciousness as Graves raced toward the ridge and on to friendly lines.
1938
The soldier lay helpless on a stretcher, he had a gash through his upper thigh with amateur stitches that had been wrapped in cloth. Graves watched from the window of his cab, it had been years since he saw a wounded man. It almost thrilled him, in some morbid sense, to be getting back on the field. It was cold and gloomy as the cab came to a stop at a curb. He opened the door and stepped out, handed the driver some cash, and he was left alone. He took a deep breath of the cool Colslavic air and headed to the train station.
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The city station was a great and old stone construction filled with refugees from the west. Families who carried all of their belongings off the train, soldiers waiting to take their place. Outside the station, there was a photographer capturing the scene. Graves watched the photographer work for a moment before a man came toward him. He was a tall gentleman with a thin smile and sunken eyes. He extended his hand as he approached Graves, “General?” he asked. Graves noticed the man’s uniform, “General Graves, yes?”
“That is me,” Graves said, he shook the man’s hand, “And you are?”
“Colonel Lynch, aide-de-camp to the Kaiser himself,” he gestured to his suitcase, “Would you like me to take that from you?” Graves did not answer him, he kept his focus on the photographer. As the camera flashed, he saw a boy with a Tykan army-issued steel helmet walk with his mother. Graves handed Lynch his suitcase and headed toward the child, “General?”
Graves ignored Lynch as he approached the mother, who looked back on Graves with concern, “Excuse me, is that your boy?” he asked. The mother only nodded, Graves spoke calmly, “Might I have a word with him?” He asked. The mother nodded again, afraid of saying no. Graves looked down to the boy and smiled. The boy looked up from under the helmet quietly, “What might your name be?”
“William.”
“Good boy. Can I ask you a question?” the boy nodded, Graves knelt down, “What might be the story of how you got this helmet, William?”
The boy put his hand over his head, feeling the top of the helmet, “I got it from one of the soldiers, he gave it to me. They said it will bring me good luck.”
Graves laughed softly, he patted the boy on the shoulder, “I am sure it will bring you good luck, as its brought thousands of soldiers good luck in the past... You keep it close by. The men out there are working hard to make sure you can go back home… Your family should not be away from home for long, I will make sure of that.”
The boy smiled and Graves could see the flash of a camera from the corner of his eye. He saw the photographer point the camera in their direction, and Graves smiled. He got back to his feet and shook hands with the mother. Lynch waited for Graves outside of the camera frame, and after a moment Graves joined him.
“Sir, I must recommend we board the train and get to the front without any further delay… It’s important that we keep to the schedule which is, might I say, quite restrictive.”
“Xavier has handled things so far, he can wait a minute or two longer,” Graves responded. Lynch scoffed, and Graves did not seem to care. They reached the train and some guards took Graves’ luggage from Lynch. Lynch led Graves aboard the train, and they stepped through the train cars, going past dozens of soldiers huddled together. “Graves, there is a cafe car behind us if you’d like to get something to eat…”
Graves looked back to Lynch, “No, that should be for the soldiers,” he said, he saw a member of the train staff ahead and shouted to them, “Be sure to open the diner car to the troops! There’s no war on an empty stomach!”
Soldiers heard Graves’ announcement and perked their heads up, some got up immediately to head back to the diner car. Lynch followed Graves against the current of soldiers and sighed as they got to their seats.
Lynch took a seat beside Graves, and Graves stared out the window as they waited for the train to leave the station. Lynch took off his cap and placed it neatly on his lap, he looked at Graves. The aide-de-camp’s eyes were glaring, unimpressed, “You know, General,” Lynch said as he watched Graves light a cigarette, “Xavier did not expect you to come, so I must say he will be glad you chose to come out here after all.”
“Right…” Graves blew smoke into the air. He crossed one leg over the other and looked to Lynch, “How long is this ride going to be?”
“It won’t be long,” Lynch said as he leaned back in his seat, closing his eyes. Graves nodded and finished his cigarette. He opened his coat and took out a folded copy of the emerald gazette. He had taken a fresh copy before he had left.
The front page article was written by his niece, Amelia. He was proud of her, proud to see her able to find something she loved and commit to it. It was something he couldn’t say the same of for her brother, however.
Though Graves didn’t know where Barrett was anymore, he was largely disowned by the Graves family. After Barrett had disgraced himself by getting involved in criminal enterprises, Graves felt he was a disgrace that deserved none of his fortune. Graves had convinced the rest of his family of this, and thus Barrett was effectively under exile from the family. Graves had carried a great deal of influence over the family, for he was the new patriarch of the family after the death of his older brother. It was for the better, Graves tried to convince himself. Barrett Graves was a name he tried his best to never think of, but sometimes he saw him in Amelia, and sometimes he saw himself in Barrett. He scrubbed the memory from his mind as he read Amelia’s article.
Drowsily, he ended up reading the paper front to back, or at least he felt like he had when he woke up. The train had stopped, and Graves woke himself and Lynch up. They gathered their things and stepped off the train. The sky had blackened across the expanse of the battlefield, and Graves could see Hill 331 on the horizon. “Alright, we’ve got another cab waiting for you if you’re ready to get to the field. They’ll pack your bags for you,” Lynch said. Graves watched some soldiers carry his briefcase to the car, and Graves shrugged off his overcoat and handed it to Lynch, “Sir?”
“You can go on, I’ll march with my men.”
“Graves?” Lynch shook his head, “I must implore that you take the cab, these are the Kaiser’s orders.” Graves only smiled as he rolled up his sleeves. Lynch frowned, “You don’t give a damn, do you?” he asked.
Graves looked up, “Not for Xavier, I don’t. You sure you won’t join me?” he asked back at Lynch, he tried to stretch his legs, “I’m sure the soldiers would respect you more if you did.”
Lynch opened the cab door, “Respect of soldiers isn’t something I’m short of, neither are you, Sir Graves…” he looked the General up and down, “The respect of the Kaiser, however, is frail and waning. I’d tread lightly with him.”
Lynch climbed into the cab, leaving without him. Graves shrugged off Lynch’s words. He followed the soldiers into the opera, he began to feel as he did years ago. The beat of marching drums rang out, the soldiers saluted Graves as he passed them, and the man couldn’t help but smile. As the sun set, they marched toward Hill 331.
***
Xavier sat over the dinner table surrounded by commanders of all sorts, seated and drinking his wine. The room was lit by candlelight, and the sun had set moments ago and a Colslavic trio with a violin, piano, and small drumset played traditional music. His generals bickered among themselves. The doors opened and Xavier’s eyes darted up. Kitchen staff marched into the room carrying silver platters. Xavier sighed and leaned back in his seat. One of the generals watched Xavier, “Your majesty, are you alright?”
Xavier grinned with wide eyes, “Yes, I’m just great,” he mused. He picked up a fork and poked around at the food, “What is this bloated thing?”
“Sir, it is stuffed salmon.”
“Stuffed salmon…” Xavier mimicked, he cut the filet open to find pieces of crab and shrimp inside. Xavier played with his food, the music began to move faster, and the generals broke into applause as the three womens drew more dynamic sound from their instruments. The woman at the piano began to sing in Colslavic. Xavier had learned the language and understood the lyrics clearly:
Xavier applauded as the song concluded, holding a sullen expression. He picked up his glass of wine and drank half of it. Across the table from him he noticed another man with a similar expression, Lieutenant General Monet. The man kept his head down and out of the tables conversation. Monet had not yet processed the magnitude of manpower that was slashed in Xavier’s offensive. Xavier’s face turned to a scowl, , he thought.
The music started to quiet, and the older General Rushmore’s voice took up more of the airspace, “I don’t know what to have him say here, but it would probably be something to refer to the women’s ethnicity. ‘I don’t usually listen to this stuff…’ Then he’d probably make a comment about their inferiority.”
“Monet makes a comment, pointing out their recent failure to highlight hypocrisy,” Monet said.
“Don’t underestimate our troops, Monet. We have more fight in us than anyone, we are quite strong.”
“It was the recalcitrance of your subordinates, Monet, that caused a lapse in our offensive. However I still think you’re right, we could be stronger,” Xavier said. The doors opened and John Lynch slipped into the room.
Lynch rounded the table to lean into the Kaiser’s ear, “The General is not far behind me, he insisted on marching with some soldiers,” Lynch said.
Xavier nodded, “Monet, you cannot cast doubt on our operations, we won’t tolerate it,” he said, “I think now is a good a time as ever to tell you all what my plans are for the following days. I’ve decided to make a change, I’ll be assigning someone to a special advisory position. A trusted soul tasked with getting our flag on the hill.”
“Well who have you chosen?” Rushmore asked.
Another knock came at the door, guards opened the wooden doors to reveal Atticus Graves in old military dress. He stepped into the dining room, the music stopped, and the generals at the table gasped. Monet eyes wildly focused on the old man, complete surprise overtaking him. Xavier rose, some of the officers looked pleased to see the general, others held faces similar to Monet, “Graves and I have worked together in the past, for many years. I understand that some of you may have concerns with this decision, but I’ll have you all know that Graves will have my full backing and support. We need a change, a fresh set of eyes to take on this challenge.”
“Why have you called on this man in particular?” Monet asked, while it was true that Graves worked with the Kaiser for decades, so too did several other generals.
“In the past we had excellent cooperation, I need to work with someone I can easily communicate with. While there was a period where we did not see eye to eye, I believe our partnership can be just as effective as it was during the Great War.”
Monet looked unconvinced.
Xavier picked up his glass of wine, he dismissed the Lieutenant Generals glare, “Atticus Graves will effectively take command of the Second Army to take Hill 331,” he said.
Instantly, Monet sprung from his seat at the table. He ripped the napkin from his collar and threw it over his plate. He left the room, the door closed with a sudden thud behind him. Seconds after, Monet’s corps staff followed their officer out of the dining room.
Graves took a seat beside Xavier, “I recognize that face…” he said, “Monet, is it?”
“You would be right,” Xavier said, “Don’t be worried by him. Whether he likes it or not he will be a good soldier, his career depends on it.”
“What made you choose to come here?” Rushmore asked.
“I’m a loyal countryman, and I understand these battlefields. I’ve studied the maps, I know these mountains and hills and I know this type of combat. My Kaiser called on me to do my part, and I don’t intend to make him regret that choice,” Graves smiled, “Which is why I’ve come prepared. As I understand it, the ground beneath Hill Three Thirty One is loose chalk and limestone. At the base of the hill there are several small dugouts, they have a height advantage. We’re beseiging the castle walls without the ladders.”
“What’s your plan?” Xavier asked.
“Tunnels, digging tunnels up to the base of the hill. We’ll plant explosives and detonate them moments before we send waves of soldiers, more men would come out of the tunnel craters, we’d overwhelm the Countrians, catch them by surprise, the battle would be over before lunchtime.”
“You sound quite confident,” General Rushmore said, “But who will pay for it?”
The men at the table looked toward Xavier. The Kaiser filled Graves a glass of wine, “I will get Atticus anything he needs to get this over. Now that you’ve all met, you can excuse yourselves. I’ll catch up with my old friend.”
The generals shuffled out of their seats, slowly they filed out of the dining room. Xavier took a swig of his wine, “Look at them, a bunch of sycophants.”
Graves was unsure of what the Kaiser was referring to, he looked incensed, paranoid. Graves sipped his glass of wine, “It’s good to see you again.”
“I’m glad to hear you say that,” Xavier said, “I’ve read your papers, I understand you aren’t your reporters, but sometimes you’d really think you thought otherwise of me.”
Graves didn’t know what to say in response. He took another drink and took out two cigars from his coat pocket, “I’m loyal to my Kaiser and my friends, despite everything you have still remained those things.”
Xavier took one of the cigars then leaned back in the heavy wooden chair, he lit a match off the bottom of his boot and puffed smoke from the cigar, “How fast can you take the hill?”
Graves sat upright, “You said there is a flooding season coming soon?”
“Yes, what about it?”
“How soon?”
“Three weeks.”
Graves thought for a moment, “I think we might be able to take it in that time,” he said.
“I want to take the hill in two weeks,” Xavier said.
“Two?” Graves thought for a moment, “I can make that work, but given the state of the late Wilkens’ men, I’ll need lots more men and resources, even more if we want this to happen in two weeks.”
“Anything you need,” Xavier said.
