Victoria (December 4th, 1958)
-four hours before the attack-
Following the aftermath of the great war, the head nations of the world rearranged both the general state of the citizen and the social structure of each state.
The winning states profited a lot because of this while the losing ones ended up fighting for all the scraps they could find around them. The common citizen was the one that ended up suffering in the wake of the war with raids, the pillaging of villages and mass murders that went unaccounted.
The unexpected happened in this period with an unlikely actor that lived atop a 'gold' mine and that with the help of incredible geniuses engineered the use of this new resource.
On a little mountain forgotten both by the people and the statesmen of that country there lived a small assortment of people that enjoyed the presence of a mine that was on day in and day out.
Eventually a local that worked there lost its life to this new resource, but his story went on and on, traveling from town to town and unto the ears of the king who decreed that the mine must be searched and investigated so that the real reason of the death be found.
While investigating the mine a scientist who carried the name of Victor observed an unusual smell in the air where the death occurred but the tests showed no result as to what caused this.
The scientist realized that the reason for his death was found in that substance, one whose very existence proved false, a phantom gas. After trying several tests both of actuality and some invented by himself he lost hope in theoretical study and asked for the permission to excavate a portion of the wall and while wearing protection, a local dug up a section of the west wall of the mine, when by chance... there was nothing there.
So he tried again with the east wall and that is when disaster hit the mine once again. The ground shook like an earthquake and the worker who stood there flew over the room until he hit the opposite wall, but impressive enough he lived.
The worker gazed upon the wall and saw a cloud of thick white smoke rising and spreading all over the room. Something needed to be done because a bigger deposit of this could bring the whole mountain on top of the village next door.
The researcher came up with the idea to build a way to seal away the room and make so that no air could come in or out of the cave. And when the building of that door finished Victor insisted that he went in himself and what he saw would become the discovery of the century or even of this millennia.
When entering the cave he found a strange purple liquid dripping off the walls and the ceiling of the cave and when he went to the eastern wall to investigate he noticed that purple liquid like a vein into the mountain core. It was dripping out of the hole and into the room. He immediately took samples that he brought with him to his personal lab.
The research went quickly and without a doubt, the substance in question was something not found in any report or theory ever. Apparently, the only thing about the substance was that its boiling temperature is very low compared to anything else and that this thing can only happen in the presence of oxygen.
But all the scientists could achieve with this, for now, was tests and statistics and later on a very strong steam engine, but that was pretty much it...at least for now.
The king wanted to keep this information secret until he could find a better use for this. Other than better industry and transport, the new liquid happened to be practically useless as the steam cities of the country prospered economically but because of the secret the country itself was put under a curtain, one that won't last for long as only a few years will pass until a person would find a way to use this substance both in medicine and military.
The possibilities became endless from prosthetic arms and legs, steam machinery that would surpass all imagination. That person became known to the common folk only as The Headmaster...
Our view shifts from this history lesson to the present or the events that led up the attack. We go 4 hours before the assault into the national police department where hundreds of policemen and soldiers are preparing for the attack on the recently acquired location of the rebels.
But the noise of the room is broken by the harsh sound of high heels. A trembling voice shouts 'Attention!' and all the men rise up to make way for this woman who from the distance showed nothing but the figure of a business woman just coming and going.
Her wavy brown hair harmoniously set on her shoulders like the morning waves of a winter sea. The sound of her footsteps inspected the room and all the men in there felt only fear and horror at her sight, the sight of her big brown eyes that dominated the figure of her face. Her round face made it look like she was just a normal person, a wife, a friend but it was clear that she was here to lead the men.
The murmur of one of the soldiers breaks the golden silence of the room:
'What is one of them doing here?' said a smaller more hidden soldier.
'It's obvious, they are hunting one of their own after all.' said his friend next to him.
'What is she? Why are we all standing up for?' said an inpatient policeman, tall and fluffy that stood next to then and listened to their conversation.
'Have you been living under a rock? She is a Hunter, the king's personal assassins and bodyguards.' said the smaller one.
'She's not just any hunter, she's one of the founders, the bearers of the gift of the Headmaster, and the actual Headhunter.' said his friend.
Their conversation was broken by both the sound of hot steam and the clunking of metal bars and components, all turning and twisting, making all the hearts of the soldiers jump, the stories are true.
Iron and flame, the machine jumped in the fray near the talking policemen. They gazed upon razor teeth and it's a slim but tall structure, giant claws and the heat of the residual steam. The bladed tail of the creature lumped around its body while the cold yellow eyes of the creature seemed to taste the flesh of every living creature in the room.
'This is Fenrir, also called the Protector or Guardian of the Headmaster. Its claws have the strength to pierce steel. Its teeth can puncture tank armor and on top of that it can run at over 80 km/h, it's the ultimate guarding dog. It's the Young Wolf.'
The soldiers gazed upon the sight of this ungodly creature born of metal and fire, the spawn of evil that listened only to the will of its master. The creature measured all of the warriors and left as quickly as it came.
The huntress who stood before them ordered them around her so she could give a final overview. She wore a pure black trench coat and a white shirt beneath that with the collar of the trench coat reaching her round cheeks colored by a light pink makeup. She ordered them at ease and split the soldiers into 3 groups that will encircle the hidden compound and presented them their leaders, all of the Hunters working under her.
The Leader of the first company is Ogo Shinozuke, former samurai of the personal guard of the Emperor and in charge of the primary assault, whose tall stature and broad shoulders challenged the integrity of all the men in the room while his light voice imposed both respect and modesty. He took a look at his company and with a slight gesture of his hand another creature came out from under his coat.
There was no sound coming out of this one, the slight steam puffing out of his made them realize that again their heart was tested. The slender figure of this machine was primarily shadowed by the golden fangs that came out of its mouth. The great white serpent sees all and tests all of their hearts, he came out of the samurai's right arm sleeve and seemed as if he was endlessly covering the soldier's body. In an instant Ogo said :
'This is Jormungand, the serpent that breaks hearts and swallows pride, its gaze is forever and his poison like the plague itself, fear him and revere him equally for he seeks to swallow this world whole.'
As the words entered the white mechanical serpent went back into its master's long sleeve. The samurai had long black hair that went slick behind its head and it touched the middle of his back.
The thin eyes seemed closed at all times but his gaze was lifeless as the sight a thousand damned souls and his thick wide shoulders hid its neck like two shields in a phalanx. He wore a long traditional long dress under which you could see a thick vest that acted as a shield. The long sleeves hid the presence of the great god serpent. He stood proudly next to his company as the next commander was presented.
Next to him stood a blond tall woman who wore a thick leather jacket left open in a way that we could see her white shirt and red tie that was left intentionally untied.
She wore a pair of military pants and thick long boots that came all the way up her knees. Two object dashed past the soldiers and took out one of the standing soldier's hats that was angled poorly and not in accordance with the laws...
The two objets than slowed down and with a puff of hot steam settled upon the woman's arms – they are a pair of mechanical ravens that are able to breeze around while protecting their master from every angle.
The eyes of the girl seemed to look past the soldiers – looking at something before finally making eye contact with them and letting loose the two birds that started to dash around the halls of this room.
'My name is Lana Dorotov, pleased to make your acquaintance and these two lovelies are Huginn and Muninn – they are the scouts of the Master...' after saying that – all the other commanders looked at Lana with a sort of disapproval. Even their leader seemed to shit one of her brows when hearing that...
Lana quickly retaliates by saying: 'Of course... I meant the king...'
The youngest of the commanders seemed lost in all the commotion as he maintained a calm and quiet attitude towards all the soldiers of the third company, gifted with the support of the other two war parties.
But dawning over the image of their commander was the giant mechanical creature that was as black as the night sky with steam and the sound of clunky gears and bars moving inside it.
The terrifying image was only just made easier by the touch of their commander on the creatures back. The great horse that stood before them, gave them both hope and sorrow as all the real horses were replaced with cars and trains but the terrifying beauty of this machine put a fire in their heart.
'My name is Stefan Petrescu, scout of our small organization and our goal is to both make sure that our vanguard and flanks have enough supplies and to cut off the enemies escape(saying this makes the young warrior cut its breath as it seems he holds the enemy in great sympathy).
Nevertheless, we shall do this quickly and swiftly so that we could all go back to our duties safely. My companion's name is Sleipnir the great horse god that guided our Headmaster forward behind enemy lines and made sure he came back quickly home to his people and to his kin.
He will guide our resolve, do not be afraid of him, his strength is only a reflection of our collective one, he is our ally and dear friend.' Exclaimed the young leader passionately as the giant stallion bowed before the soldiers with respect.
As the last speech reached its end, all the commanders took their positions beside their companies awaiting their leader's order. The woman stood before them holding her hands from trembling and trying to remain calm and composed, this was not her purpose, he was never supposed to leave, this was not meant to happen, not now at least.
She quickly gathered her strength and took a big breath before speaking to the soldiers that stood in front of her.
'Dear comrades, brothers and old friends this operation must not fail... for now, we have time for a story, we must know each other and most of all we must know the enemy, that is the teaching of the Headmaster, and this incursion is nothing but a test that we must pass or we are not worthy of his legacy' a tear quietly strolled on her left cheek but not for long as she wiped it off because he has to be a symbol of strength, of integrity, one worthy of the legacy of the late Headmaster.
'My story is bound to the corrupt hearts of men and the evil that sweeps our country high and low seeking to pray on the people too weak to stand up for themselves.
Honor left our country in those times, my way was always that of others with me being the offspring of their recklessness and their bitter desires.
I am ashamed of my origins but at this moment I must move forward with my thoughts for it will bring the downfall of this operation if I don't. '
The tears of the maiden fell a bit in the utter silence of those who watched her but she quickly gathered her last pieces of bravery to relay this to everyone else... a past that not even her colleagues knew off...
(September 28th, 1920)
The stormy shores of southern England paint a colored canvass in my memory, as I try to say this story.
The gentle wind remained embedded in my mind when I look back to the way it blew my hair in tandem with the movement of the green cold grass floor that covered black soil of ancient origin.
I remember my childhood white dress dancing in the cold Autumn rain and the grey godly sky that stole away your soul each time you looked upon it and the endless range of hills and small grasslands that went out as far as my big eyes could see.
Their dance was different from that of the winds being more close to that of the sea, swaying hypnotically up and down. This land goes fast under your skin and it becomes part of who you are, part of your very being.
The singing of seagulls and the rolling sound of the wild waves woke me up every morning and of course the smell of the eggs that my mom used to make for me every morning that sat next to a 'healthy' chunk of red sausage that stood quietly in a bed of red beans.
The smell of bread that my father baked outside and the steam from making it littered the morning sky and hills surrounding our small house.
My name back then was only Wylda Ballen, a name that resonated with the nature surrounding me, hearing outside in the rolling winds and surrounded by the waves made me feel like I was part of the calm background that surrounded me.
I came from a Scottish family that used to live off the coast of northern Scotland on an Island named Arran. I was barely 2 or 3 when we had to move south by the order of the majesty, but I can still remember the stony shores of that coast and the darker sky that made you remember every day that you are at the mercy of what is surrounding you.
Apparently, my dad used to be some special agent of the crown and with the ending of the war drawing closer and closer they needed one of their best man close, so for a year we lived in London.
I hated that place, the constant sound of cars, the lack of the wind and not being able to stay outside for too long made me awfully uncomfortable. But it was not too long when dad managed to move us somewhere closer to the coast where we could feel more at home, which eventually became our new home, right outside the city of Folkestone.
I remember when pa' received that land and we waited two days living in a wooden tent we made so that he could perform some ancient ritual of our people, it seemed we were finally settling in somewhere.
Our people endured throughout time and the different changes in our country structure and both drove people out of our lands several times.
The funniest story my dad used to tell me was that long ago a great empire built a wall splitting our country from their part of England; apparently, we were too much to handle for the big folk.
The name of our people probably went by forgotten from other people, but our name grew us proud, strong and in most cases stupid...
We were the picts, ancient tribal people that lived in Scotland, in those ancient hills and forests, fighting with each and anyone that meddled with our peace and quiet but the rest of the time we were bloody savages that just enjoyed the old ways and killed everything in their path... those ways were forgotten and all we have now are some ancient rituals and some funny words.
The day from my childhood that I'm going to relate with you is a stormy morning of September, the strong wind blew bits and pieces of small straw from the roof of our hut.
We were all living in one room dotted with animal skins and carpets, wall covering any kind of landscapes my mom crocheted with wool from our sheep. There is not much to tell about my home just our modest activities that included going out with the sheep, tending to the chickens, the old cow, and two pigs and I must not forget the young goat that just won't stop butting her head against the wall of our home...
I swear I still can't figure out that one, I mean you had one moment time to rest and that was all shadowed by the sound of a dumb goat that kept thinking that the log that came out of your house.. ughh... never mind that.
Despite that, she gave some good milk that made a fine cheese. Incredibly so, the only moments the goat stood still was when it was milked and I'll let the jokes to you because mine are just to bland...
That day started off just like any other day of an only child that lived in the countryside, I took breakfast, washed myself and just went on with my chores, you know the usual bits and ends of a country lifestyle.
The difference was that dad was missing for a day, apparently, he was called by the king, another urgent problem that came in via a letter from a rather shady fellow that looked more like a hobo than an agent of the crown.
Nevertheless pa' was missing for a day already which means today's work would be that much harder, mom was entrusted to go out to fish in the morning and then go to the market to sell what we caught in the lines dad set yesterday while I was left with the rest, the animals, the garden and the cleaning and making of food.
The day went on very odd, light fog started to sweep in from the sea without any wind to guide it and the grey sky gave off a few tears of rain every now and then, even the animals seemed weird that day, the goat stood still, the cow would not want to move out of the barn, the chick was restless the whole morning, it felt like something was not right, something was definitely not right, and the ancestors just kept warning us each second.
The morning passed slowly when just a small calm wind touched my skin and our boat docked down below in the sand, I could see mom making her way up the hill to our house carrying with her a big basket of fish that we caught in the lines.
When she came there was a weird look on her face like she had seen something odd, just like me, we were picts after all and nature was our second nature.
She told me that the sea was too calm, the wind practically inexistent and that light fog moving was just too much of a bad omen.
The sound of machines broke the silence of the hills and sea and before it arrived, two crows landed on the roof of our car, I wished dad was there, he would have known what to make out of all this.
As the rumbling sound of the car's engine grew closer and closer to our hut, no road could come all the way up to our hut so it stopped at the bottom of the hill, and out of it came my pa' whose clothes made it look like he just came out of a meeting.
His dark suit and white shirt was nothing in comparison to the red skin and the dripping sweat that came down crashing in the ground as he made his way up the hill.
From a distance, he made a sign with his hand to mother and in an instant, she grabbed my hand and took me inside the house without uttering a single word to me.
I saw ma' grabbing anything she could find, rope, food, water, knife and flint, thick clothes for each of us and put them in a large woolsack that she took out from under the bed, she then opened a hidden cache that happened to be just under the table and took out, from what I can still remember, a rifle and a pistol.
She looked at me worried and alarmed the instant she grabbed them and holstered them to her side. My eyes were searching for an answer for all the commotion that was taking place, my heart danced inside my ribs as I could feel her beating like a hammer.
My body was shaking like grain caught in a tornado, dancing left and right, not knowing when it will break down, I remember I kept calling her again and again, I knew I was not ignored but I needed her to be with me in those moments.
Eventually, I went to her side and grabbed her by the dress, told her to stop and look at me already, but she just stopped for a second, looked at me, grabbed my hand in panic, she looked me deep in the eyes while raising her eyebrows in regret and kneeled down to me.
She took me in her arms for just a second, I could feel one tiny tear falling on my shoulder and mom's arms wrapping hard around me. Then, not a second too late, she let go and said to me:
' I'm sorry, I wished things were different my star, I wished you could have another life, we both love you Wylda, never forget that it does not matter what the outcome of this will be, be strong for we will forever be by your side keeping watch.'
At that moment dad burst through the door and looked at us, his hands and feet mudded and dripping in his sweat.
His head turned for me for a second almost like making sure I was fine and ready, there was regret in his eyes too but he did not give me any second to say me anything, he just said:
'We must leave now; we must be ready for whatever comes.'
His voice was trembling as he uttered those few words and while grabbing the big sack of supplies and the riffle, mom was left with the pistol and with me.
He took out the door at that moment as mom grabbed me again and followed him in the rain. The skies roared as I left and I was hit by the giant rainfall that hid the path that led to the boat, dad knew the path by heart so he did not need his eyes for this and so did mother, I was the only dead weight back then.
The wind was howling our house as bits and pieces fell out of the roof and the two crows that stood watch flew over us and headed towards the boat and towards the sea and vanishing in the fog that grew thicker and bigger.
The waves were dancing up and down like a ritual in the wind and the hay from our home ran like needles towards the sea carried by the harsh brutal wind.
The path towards the boat went on and on ahead of us as it seemed it never ended and the grass to our sides leaned in all directions but almost always they ended facing our direction like they were following us.
Our boat was dancing with the waves almost flipping over while the dock itself seemed it would fall down if we stepped on it but we had no other way.
Dad was the first one to step on it and climb on the boat while mom took me up in her arms and followed in his way. The fishing boat interior seemed less of a safe haven and more of a death trap now, as the waves could crush us at any moment.
In a minute from getting on the boat, while dad and mom were busy getting it started, one big wave hit the side of the boat and threw me in the direction of one of the walls, and a great shock splintered one of the nearby wooden panels, one of those hard oak splinters cut deep inside my left cheek, running from my cheekbone all the way to the corner of my lips curbing over the lines of my face.
The thundering pain and the hot almost boiling blood flowed on my hands and body while my screams filled the empty cargo hold. My mom heard me and came rushing down, her face fell into agony when she gazed upon me.
She tore off in an instant a big chunk of her nice dress she made on her wedding day, it was the only memory she had of that day, and wrapped it around my face and pressing hard on it, she said that the wave hit the boat hard and if we would not have hit the dock and crushed it we would have been upside down and deep in the roaring waves.
Those were not the exact words she used, some swear now and then made it look more of a curse than a briefing of what was happening almost like shouting at the gods for this day.
She said that he had some preparing to do before leaving and that she needed to be back out there with pa to make sure we could leave safely.
She did tell me, before leaving, that I must press heard against the wound and that if I feel everything getting hotter and hotter, meaning I was having a fever, I should scream for her, and she will come. After she told me that she went out immediately into the rain to help my father.
The waiting seemed endless; the water dripping down started to form little puddles on the wooden floor and the constant moving of the boat.
My mom always used to tell me that if times are hard and there was no light I should start singing and all the malice would go away, leaving room for our beloved flower to grow and make us happy(and so I did):
...The Hills are bare now,
And autumn leaves
Lie thick and still,
O'er land that is lost now...
I remember all the verses of the Flower of Scotland, our proud national anthem even though we were practically pagans, we loved our homeland, the hills, the winds, and the rain gave us happiness.
While singing I heard the rumbling of the boat's engine and I could feel the boat shake as it started to move, this time dad came down to me to look upon me.
He sat in front of me, not caring that he stood right in a puddle and took his hand to my hurt cheek and I could feel him shaking in shame for not being here to hold me in his arms, to protect me, I took his hand in my smaller ones and told him that it was not his fault and that I'm happy he is here now and that we've missed him.
His eyes grew big and his wrinkled face crashed down on my shoulder while his arms stood still on the ground almost like they were not his anymore.
I started to call him but he would not respond but I could feel his forehead pressed tightly on my shoulder while his hands started to hug me and keeping me close to him.
I knew something was wrong with him, I've never seen him like this before and definitely not so sad. I picked his head up to look upon his face only to be met with the rushing river of tears dripping down on my childhood dress, in that instant he grabbed me tighter and pressed his chin upon my shoulder while saying :
'I am sorry Wylda for all of this, this is all my fault, everything is my fault, all of our travels, I brought this upon you and your mother, I have no right to sit at our table and to look upon you again but I will make this right, I will carry you both to safety even if it costs me my breath and heart.'
He lifted his face at that moment, this time all the sorrow left to make room for dead cold determination, he judged himself and all his tears left, his expression returned to his usual self as he lifted off me and getting up on his feet.
He then put his hand on my head, rubbing gently the lines of my hair and quietly said:
'All of this will come to end, we will finally have peace, hold on for just a moment more.'
As we left our home port I could see the fog keeping watch behind us but what seemed strange was the dark figure standing inside it giving me chill all over our body, his stature, and huge height gave off both brutality and war fervor but kindled with an aura of wisdom and royalty.
After gazing upon it for a few seconds the figure split and disappeared while away from the fog and heading towards us the same two crows came to our ship, one in the front and the other came inside for a second.
He noticed me standing in the corner, looking fearful at his presence but with no hesitation started to move closer towards me stopping just where pa' stayed and looked curiously at me and judging by the length of his stay I can say now that he was definitely looking for something, whether he found it or not is not for me to say for in that instant both crows left and headed off ahead of us into the sea, disappearing at the same time and when I looked through the crack from the dock I could see that the fog vanished just as quickly...
My eyes remained in awe for a couple of minutes, dreaming about the incredible spectacle I just witnessed but nevertheless, I felt a need inside me to find out what happened, I wanted to ask my parents about what I saw and just what it meant, my mother used to be a priestess, I knew she could tell me exactly what it was...