level_st_12-01

<i>New red wheat seeds, a burdenbeast saddle</i>

<i>Mill operation unit, looking for previously owned</i>

<i>Spine massager? May need mail order</i>

<i>Two woolen coats, Swinton's tailorshop, dad's needs its hem trimmed short.</i>

<i><The Romance of Ives> (crossed out) (I said, I forgot)</i>

<i>Grab some cheap candy to tide the kids over</i>

<i>Ask George if you can borrow his medal!</i>

Piers.

Yes, Captain!

I heard your leave was approved.

Yes, I suppose it went rather well. It's all thanks to...

It's all thanks to that babyface of yours, lad.

The brass occasionally want to put up a facade of caring about their subordinates. They call it good branding.

Haha, I guess the brass happened to be in a good mood.

The mill back home stopped working and the old carpenter there broke his leg again, so my mother asked me home to help out.

Ten days of leave, minus eight days on the road. A day and a half is more than enough for me to deal with that rickety antique!

I left an extra half-day open, just in case my dad needs help tilling the other part of the field.

Oh right, I should pick up another dozen work gloves. The ones back home are past their prime.

Hmm. Is this... a shopping list?

That's right, Captain. Just so nothing is missing. I don't know when I'm going to get time off again.

Hopefully you've earned yourself a real medal or two by then.

Of course. All for Victoria!

That's the kind of ambition I want to see, lad.

I once knew a bloke named Todd. He and I fought against those Spire Casters out on the frontier, and he earned himself a solid gold medal.

What a beautiful thing that was, glittering as it hung on his chest. It shone so brightly nobody could take their eyes off it.

Our beloved Duke Windermere personally awarded him the medal, which is the highest of honors for any soldier. But, at the celebration banquet later on, old Todd had a bitter look on his face.

Can you guess why?

Because he wasn't satisfied with the merits he earned?

No, no. It's much worse than that.

He couldn't lift his mug to take a swig of beer. His hands got replaced with a pair of wooden prosthetics, hah!

The veteran officer grins, showing a mouthful of yellowed teeth.

The young soldier laughs dryly. He knows this is one of the officer's many poor jokes.

The wind is so strong on the deck that the soldier has to hold on to the brim of his hat, letting out a loud yet harmless sneeze.

No matter the season or weather, standing on the deck of a prancing high-speed battleship always makes one want to wrap himself in his coat.

The young soldier thinks to himself– Wells is in charge today; how many cans of rations did that pudgy, bald man swipe?

But, the creamy vegetable chowder he makes is without equal, and if fortune is on his side, that old bastard might even throw in a healthy serving of fowlbeast into the soup.

He figures that he should leave after the sun sets and he finishes dinner.

The mobile fortress they're stationed in has already reached Londinium's vicinity. When the weather is clear, they can even see the pinnacle of The Shard on the horizon.

After returning to the station, he'd board the logistics squad's transport vehicle and head to the nearest town first, where he'd be able to have a drink or two at the tavern.

In the early morning, there'd be cobblers heading into town to sell their wares. Two boxes of tobacco would let them hitch a ride.

The young soldier recalls those barns from back home, always filled with the fermented smell of composted straw.

Even now, that smell occasionally wafts to him in his dreams, making him want to pinch his nose. But at the same time, it represents a connection with his hometown.

If it only occurs occasionally, then so be it. He furrows his brows quietly, deciding not to continue deluding himself with these sentiments.

Even if it's only occasional, he doesn't want to experience that stench again. He must admit, that is always the biggest impediment every time he returns home.

Ugh, the fog's rising again. I'll never get used to Londinium's bloody weather.

Wasn't much better when we were stationed at Leithanien's outskirts, but at least you could enjoy a little sunshine in the afternoon.

Go. Tell the Captain, we can't see a thing at this weather observation outpost. Something's interfering with the radar too. We should head back.

Caster's forces are obediently maintaining formation, Gododdin moved his men further back. Other than the few familiar faces in the forward team, old Wellington's main force still hasn't shown up.

Other than our dear Duke Windermere, the remaining seven dukes are watching on from the sidelines. The patrol's over.

Sir, that Sarkaz...

None of our business. The brass always have their own agenda.

But, I heard that Londinium's...

Piers, I've been a soldier for over a decade. After drinking and playing cards, the most important thing I've picked up from being in the army is–

Those rumors you hear are always bunkum and balderdash. Never pay any heed to them. The officers in the back have their eyes on the map and will take care of everything; ours is but to do and die.

Isn't it our duty... to defend Victoria?

Only they can decide what Victoria is, boy. Our job is simply to follow orders.

Go and head back. Our day of peace is over.

I ought to treat myself to a hot shower. This damn fog's making my bones ache.

Maybe things have been too stressful these days. The young soldier begins to thank himself for taking some time off to unwind.

The battlefield always puts people on edge, even more so when you don't know where the when or where war will break out, or who you can trust.

He thinks to himself, it's a bit clammy.

He lifts his hand to undo the first button of his shirt. Seeing as how his dear officer had just declared the end of the armistice, a little disregard for protocol shouldn't matter.

He thinks of the fireplace back home. A few years ago, he came home wearing a brand-new military outfit, unwilling to undo even a single button despite sweating profusely from the heat of hearth. For that, the young lass Shirley laughed at him for quite some time.

The young soldier curls the corner of his lips.

Heh. That's why I didn't bring you your sappy romance novel. Payback.

Main cannon output is normal. Confirming target destroyed.

Good.

Begin preparations for the next phase. The dukes will react soon.

Your Highness.

Y-Your Highness!

Hmm, a new face?

Y-Yes! Your Highness, I was just promoted from the mercenary unit by the General!

It... It is the greatest honor... You've always been my...

It's an honor to make your acquaintance as well. What is your name?

My name... My name is...

(whispers) I don't have a formal name... They just call me 'Elbow.'

Uhh... Damn, I should've picked a name from a book.

'Elbow'... Why that name?

It's nothing, I just got burnt when I was drinking soup... I mean, it's a stupid story, hardly worth your attention, Your Highness...

You must've been holding your bowl too high.

No! It was 'Plug'! That bastard ran into me! The next time I see him, I swear...

Your Highness.

Oh, I... I'm sorry, General, Your Highness.

You may leave. It seems you still have a lot of work to do.

I heard they're serving creamy vegetable chowder at the airship garrison tonight. Don't miss supper time.

Thank you, Your Highness Theresa.

We...

'When each battle ends, the Sarkaz have a home to return to.'

We'll be able to return to Kazdel soon, right?

Of course.

I prefer to be with them rather than with the aristocrats of the Royal Court.

Each and every moment, the collective souls of the Sarkaz force me to my knees, immersing me in our long and painful history.

But they... these newly-grown children, give me a tangible sense of the future.

And... what should we do with this future? Consign it to another round of wars sweeping across the land?

When scorched earth spreads as far as the eye can see, will these new seedlings sprout as we hope?

Hope is as weighty as ever, Manfred.

Your Highness...

In accordance with the Military Commission's plans, a section of Londinium has been detached. As of right now, it has arrived at the designated location, parked between the main city and the dukes' encirclement.

It will become the cornerstone and launchpad of our next offensive, and this airship will also temporarily dock there.

The Duke of Windermere should soon receive news that her high-speed battleship has been destroyed, but she also cannot ignore the threat this airship poses, which in turn will help the Nachzehrer King's front develop.

In accordance with the Regent's instructions, we must next...

Take a look outside, General.

Manfred turns to look out the window.

He is forced to admit that the carefully-planned flames burning before his eyes are... not as exhilarating as he had imagined.

The firelight is blinding.

Our war has finally broken out.

According to the Military Commission's projections, the dukes will cautiously proceed with military operations within sixteen hours. We have already made our preparations.

No, the war never ended.

It is not only ranks ripping through other ranks that is worthy of the name of war. Those eyes lurking behind the curtains, those curses whispered in the dead of night, those suppressed cries... are all war.

Those compatriots who perished alone in the barrens, those robes dragged across the ground during the Black Processions, those Kazdel bricks and tiles sealed away in a collector's glass display case... are also all war.

War has always been a part of us. We simply... pushed it out for all to see once again.

Even if the flames of war were ignited in Victoria, Kazdel has always been a part of the battlefield. I've already made many plans with the General about this...

No, Manfred, that's not what I was asking.

I simply observed that beneath our feet, the shadow of this airship covers all indiscriminately.

Put an end to it, General. If this ultimately is proven to be the only way for the Sarkaz...

Then, drown tears with tears, and bury suffering with suffering.

This... is the only way.

I will carry out your will, Your Highness.

You see that?

No mistake about it. Looks like it came straight out of a storybook.

The harbinger of destruction. The prophet of turmoil. Nightmare given form...

So...

You ever see that gloompincer as big as a mountain, lugging along its chest of perfume?

Yup, just like Red-Nosed Humbert talked about.

Nine said before, you're in no condition to be drinking.

I only had a sip! I don't have much time left. Leave me with my last bit of hope!

You still remember that night on the snowfield, right? Everyone was freezing to death, and Red-Nosed Humbert told us about a strange legend from his village–

Sorry... I signed on in Victoria.

Oh really? I thought...

Yeah, Red-Nosed Humbert died back in Ursus. He was a good guy, took at least four of those Patrol Unit bastards with him.

Damn it, you would've appreciated him and his stories. Gotta pour one out for him.

You're drunk again, Romanich. How many times do I have to tell you? Hand over the flagon.

Ma'am, I don't have much longer to live, c'mon...

You've still got a long life ahead of you, if you listen to the doctor.

I, I hate doctors! They're all liars, all of 'em!

I need these fluids... They let me see... (mutters softly)...

He's asleep again.

Toss him a blanket.

We can't be too far from Londinium now.

Yeah. If we're lucky, we'll be able to see those city walls in just over a week. It'd be faster if we could fix that piece-of-junk car.

You don't see Catastrophes too often around Londinium, but given the current situation, it's virtually impossible not to bump into any of the dukes' troops. And none of 'em are gonna welcome us.

Then, throw the Sarkaz on top...

We need to be even more cautious during our subsequent operations.

We need to find our trapped people, whether they still think they're our people or not.

Getting everyone back together is difficult... but, we still feel the same pain and share the same sorrow. Those feelings never stop chasing us, and they force us to keep moving forward.

I'm not saying that just to cope, but... this is the only thing we can do with full peace of mind–

Let those Infected on the verge of despair know that they still have comrades out there, and that their lives aren't disposable.

Stay where you belong.

Talulah.

Nine.

I'm just getting a breath of fresh air.

Fine. I have my eye on you.

Flames are burning... Out there, in the distance.

They've been burning for some time now. Hopefully, it's just a patch of woods struck by lightning.

Our squad will cross over.

Lightning, huh...?

I saw you were making stew back at camp.

I was just helping out the cook. She still had two baskets of potatoes to get through.

I gave it a taste. Wasn't too bad.

Alina... I mean, an old friend once taught me a few things.

I thought I had forgotten it all.

If you're still willing to play a part before facing justice, I won't stop you.

But, you'd best remember who you are, Talulah. We'll be watching you. All of us.

...I know.

Start packing up. It's time to go.

Huh? I fell asleep? Damn it...

C'mon, Nine! Take pity on this old man and let me have another sip! Otherwise, I'm as good as dead today!

Bah! Did you see that? The edge of the sky's blood red! Red-Nosed Humbert said...

He said that's a good omen... A good omen, I tell you!

He said that was... the other shore? Victory? Uhh, I don't exactly remember...

Maybe, maybe...

Maybe it means... Tomorrow will be a good day, my friends.