In a meeting of her own, there was the lady Ingrid but she was not dressed in her regular womanly attire. Instead, she had chosen to be garbed in the clothes of an official that resembled the late-mayor as she stood before a bearded commodore whose frame was twice the perimeter of hers as if his uniform was going to rip if he was to flex his muscles even once. He would often brush his well-styled and well-combed mustache and pointed beard and in his other hand was his cap hanging off his black cane whose handle was shaped like the hilt of a curved saber. Standing upright, his noble demeanor seemed easy as he spoke to the lady in a manner that was reminiscent of her hometown, as if they were old friends.
Although they have known each other since childhood, the lady still appeared tense. “Was nummerisk tiwilisk ewakujered breræds? (How many have we evacuated so far?)” Ingrid nervously asked, her legs pushed together.
“Fast hundrediskdausendne. (Just under a hundred thousand.)” The commodore answered, though he was unsure of the exact numbers. “Alle tiwilisk kan ewakujerer witen wjer jarne, dades eb de Rusisk wremudednej en ding. (All our civilians should be evacuated in four years time, that is if the Rus have not suspected a thing.)” Gazing out towards the sea, he pronounced each of his words with certain weight.
The lady followed his gaze that landed on the mouth of the harbor where another ship had set sail. Ripping through the currents, its hull was propelled forth by an engine of steam that was funneled out of an exhaust chimney, bound for the commodore’s fleet in the far.
“Jeg tugeben, jeges seret wundered su skafed das…sdradegje. (I must say, I was quite impressed that you managed to devise this,,,strategy.)” He suddenly praised, despite knowing that she was not one to accept embarrassing words of glorification.
However, in that moment, the lady giggled behind her hand, finding it amusing having heard it come from a friend. “Eb hu wille danken jeg, Frenet, danker jegisk rermang, de kœnig, und de hundrednæskdausendnjed soldadne auf das sdad bewor kommer danker jeg. (If you are thank me, Franz, thank my husband, the king, and the hundreds of thousands of soldiers in this city before you are to thank me.)” Ingrid reminded him that she deserved nothing.
Realizing that he was spouting nonsense, the commodore gently smiled. “Sues tuet beskædet, jegisk fræfrau. (You are too modest, my lady.)” He bowed with a hand over his chest.
“Hu auk mœjss kengen dad etes de lednened der hen schpæked wrenunfd end jeg aufnæmed Paulisk amd. (You should also know that it was the lieutenant over there who convinced me to take Paul’s seat.)” The lady waved her hand telling him to right himself and gestured for him to take his praise elsewhere. “Jeg angsden eb himnej und hins kameradne, wer wille kapiduladed. (I fear if not for him and his comrades, we would have long surrendered.)” She gave his thanks to another who deserved it more.
For there was no one else around them with that rank, the commodore assumed that it was the boy who was standing beside the corvette that even the lady hardly believed too.
Surprised that it was this lieutenant who had managed to convince her to take up her husband’s vacant seat, he drew his eyes down in complete humility. “Jeg wresdæn. (I see.)” These were the only words he could respond with as a glint of joy surfaced in his eyes, glad that there was a new generation of able-minded soldiers capable of succeeding the old order. “Aben ingen, jeg muss gæn, jegisk fræfrau. (Well now, I must attend to my duties, my lady.)” Deciding that they have had enough pleasantries for one day, the man reminded himself that work awaited.
Lifting his cane, he bowed with a hand over his heart and the lady lowered her head to return the gesture. As he wore his cap, the commodore pivoted on his heel and marched towards his ship that had been waiting for him who was last to board. Once he set foot safely onto its deck, the gangway was retrieved and wasting no time, the ropes around the bollards on the pier were unwound and released by a dockworker. Ready for departure, the sailors signaled the bridge and the engineers below deck began to feed their eifers into the heart of the ship. The machinery whirred and pumped, and the propellers spun, churning the water at the stern. Slowly, the corvette began to sail, leaving a trail of foam behind and standing behind the guardrails, his hands holding tightly on, Colt stared at the pier where Arminius stood looking on. Their sights were partially veiled by the steam of the vessel’s exhaust but they did not break their stare until they were too far from each other that the features of their faces could hardly be made out. As they began to make their way out of the harbor, the waves grew larger and the ship began to sway. Alexandria appeared around the corner of a door and called for Colt who only then did he bring himself away from the open deck and withdrew into the cabins. Then, he was gone. The gods knew how many years it would have to be before they met again but it certainly was not soon. Arminius let off a soft sigh and turned around, seeming afflicted, before joining the lady who accompanied him away from the pier.
Despite noticing his face of dismay, she said nothing about it knowing that it probably would have worsened his bitterness. “It might be ægensukdet of me to ask of you a favor but Kommodore Jarlsberg had reminded me of something.” Ingrid changed the subject, hoping that it would distract him. “May I?” She kindly asked for his permission even if it was unneeded.
“Bite sager. (Of course.)” said Arminius.
It was out of her character to speak ever so suddenly that made her hesitate. “I would like for you to lærer my son.” The lady revealed. “I had not asked that of you because I angsded that none of us would have the time.” It was hardly needed but she gave her reason regardless.
Her request was not as dramatic as she made it out to be and it seemed to be just a small favor of hers that she had hoped to unburden her chest with. However, she was not overly confident that the lieutenant would accept her ask, yet again, perhaps she was worrying too much.
Arminius softly smiled, thinking about how best he should phrase his answer. “Suisk wordne es tu genædig, Ingrid Fræfrau. (Your words are too kind, Lady Ingrid.)” He began, not wanting to decline her given the lady’s efforts in fulfilling the mayor’s wishes however he believed that there was a better way. “But I do not believe I am best suited for the task.” The boy conveyed his troubles.
“How so?” Rather surprised by his response, she did not sound disappointed. “You were well-trusted by Paul.” Ingrid recalled if she was not wrong.
“That might have been true, but I have no memories of how I came to know…anything...” In that brief moment, Arminius tried to remember his past but as it had always been, nothing came to mind.
They continued their leisurely stroll in the late morning that was calm and sought to take their day easy, to treat it well with rest. The lieutenant halted on the edge of the port where the pier met the road and turned to her having remembered something that might have helped.
Holding onto his chin in thought, Arminius gave two names, “I’d suggest Carlstadt or Hayek.” He trusted the former and he knew the latter was most capable of the task. “They’re probably more knowledgeable than I will ever be.” He set them up for her mission that he was sure they would accept if he simply asked.
However, her expression grew confused, twirling her hair by her ear, as she looked into the distance. “It’s odd that you’d mention Korporal Carlstadt.” The lady paused and faced Arminius with an unlikely reply, “He said the same thing about his memories…”
Arminius was stumped, his eyes laying in focus on something that was far and although he was facing her, his thoughts were not present. He wondered how it could have been that Julien had said the same thing knowing that it was odd enough for him to have said aloud, but for another to repeat his words was beyond strange. It was more than a coincidence.
Choosing not to entertain the thought any longer, Arminius looked away with his arms holding himself as if a chill had run down his spine. “Then, perhaps Hayek.” He was adamant on his solution. “I’ll recall him. He’d probably get along with your son best anyways.” Remembering how the Rus was able to make friends with much of the White Bands, the lieutenant gave his answer.
Somewhat dispirited, Lady Ingrid peered down to the ground, at how she was unable to convince the lieutenant yet she knew not to force it if that was not his wish. She nodded and accepted his suggestion, believing that it might as well be as good an answer, trusting that not once had Arminius’s ideas ever let her down, but he did not see her answer. Gazing down the avenue that led towards the town center of where the cursed fountain was, the lady took notice too of the sound of hasty hooves. She turned her attention towards the commotion and saw a rider galloping towards the pier at an incredible speed, yelling for people and soldiers to step aside. He rode with urgency and did not reel in his reins until he was just paces away from the lieutenant and the acting-mayor. The horse suddenly locked its legs and skidded across the pavement, losing control over its balance, but the skilled rider managed to save his fall. Unbinding his feet from the stirrups, the soldier dismounted, his banner fluttering in the growing wind. He led his mount towards his commanders who had not spotted any message in his hands, and wondering what it was, Ingrid and Arminius approached him also.
Before the lieutenant and the lady, he knelt, placing an arm over his knee. “Jegisk fræfrau. Ledn’ed. (My lady. Lieutenant.)” Greeted the volunteer that aided Arminius three months ago. “I bring grave news.”
The lady rushed over and held onto his arms, urging him to stand. “Was es et? (What is it?)” She spoke with her native accent.
“An army has appeared outside our outer walls.” The soldier informed them, trying to steady his breath. “They carry the banners of the Rus.” Without much detail, he mentioned, but the knowledge alone was enough to scare anyone who heard it.
“How many?” Maintaining his composure, Arminius neared him and questioned.
His head was in a daze as he stumbled over his words, unclear about an exact number. “Twenty thousand perhaps.” The messenger decided upon an estimate.
The number was repeated in the lieutenant’s head who was certain that he had heard it somewhere before. “The ones who landed on the southern coast two weeks ago?” Arminius easily recalled given their odd movements that he has had to study.
Not entirely sure what it implied, the lady turned to Arminius for counsel even if he was just a lieutenant, apparent that she trusted his word more than anyone else’s.
“Haraldsen, relay your message to Carlstadt in the Tidadjælle.” Arminius gave his order. “He’ll know what to do.”
The soldier braced and saluted him and the lady, but before he dismissed himself to his next destination, he passed the reins of his horse to Arminius. Then, sprinting off along the waterfront towards the citadel on the northern side that emerged near the mouth of the harbor, the messenger raced.
Seeing that he had been safely seen to his task, Arminius rushed over to the saddle of his steed, turning around only for the purpose of addressing the lady properly. “Lady Ingrid, I want you to gather as many civilians as you can.” The lieutenant sped his talk, fearing that time was no more. “If you hear gunfire, signal for the commodore.” He advised without much explanation.
Arminius stepped onto the stirrup and swung his leg over the back of the horse and set himself into the saddle in a hurry that frightened the hard-worked creature. He eventually calmed her with his voice and hand, and before the lady could ask or say anything in return, the lieutenant drew his reins and led his steed away. Facing west, where a straight road lay, it would take him to the outer wall that he could not yet see that was ten leagues away, with luck and haste, he could reach it in less than half an hour but he did not know if those twenty thousand would have dared an assault on the walls already. He kicked and the creature flung itself into an immediate gallop, fleeting down the street as if the wind was chasing him.16Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡKLoVYvKZR7
