The General's War

[Kaiser Martens]

"The problem with such things is that it is like keeping a plane from crashing, no matter how advanced your safety technology is, it will still happen sometimes - and to all countries. We will create new security measures, that will be the Althing's First Project once that the situation is normalized. We were too relaxed, we did not think that we would ever be backstabbed. Neither did Austria. The rest is history...but I assure you that getting our country destroyed is something that we [i]are[/i] interested in preventing."

[Triyun]

Ding relaxed back in his chair, "No we can agree to this. I hope you are right. If the Federation has to return, measures we've had to take in the past to ensure the peace of Europe may be taken again. I have no desire for that either logistically or politically. But for now I will remain optimistic for the future."

[Kaiser Martens]

When at last an arrangement is reached, Tambarskjelve sighed in relief, nearly deflating.

The nightmare was over.

[Centurius]

"Finally I suggest an arrangement between Athens, Vienna and Berlin. A non-aggression pact with economic clauses. As the key to peace is trade we could see the economic advantages of such an arrangement be a deterrent to future war.

I also offer both states to be the first recipients of so called Good Neighbor aid which will be a yearly amount of aid to assist in rebuilding. The only condition is that said aid is not used for the construction or maintenance of military."

[Kaiser Martens]

"Although I do not oppose any of this, I think that it would be best for the ellected, non-interim government to be able to decide, as while we'll invariably be in favor of non-aggression, economic policies may vary immensely."

[Sarah Tintagyl]

After about two weeks of languishing in the Austrian Prison, Martens the Elder would be awoken one morning by the sounds of bars clanking against each other and a lock being turned. His door slowly opened and Director Vogler stepped in carrying a small manila folder kept tightly under his arm. He waved the guard away as the door shut behind him and without waiting for Martens to rise out of bed, Vogler promptly sat down on the metal bench in the room and looked at the prisoner with intense eyes.

"Herr Martens," he said happily, "I believe that you have a trial coming up in a few days and that your defense attorney has been preparing a fairly solid case. However, what I came to talk to you about is the chance that I can let you off without any charges to your name if you would do a simple favor for the Austrian Republic." Without waiting for Martens to reply, the Director of Justice pulled out a picture of Anke Vogel and passed across the room. "This is Director Vogel, of Foreign Affairs, no doubt you know who she is and I am sure you have heard of the crimes she has recently committed against our Republic. She is a murderer of a fellow Director and four government agents, a suspect in election fraud and a religious fanatic. I know you tend to detest Christian Fanatics, but she has taken it too far. Stabbing herself in the form of the stigmata on her hands and feet. The woman is out of her mind and dangerous.

But for the sanctity of the Republic, the Directorate has made it clear she is to be captured alive and brought to justice to stand for her crimes. You are an exemplary warrior and I would assume hunter. If you bring Vogel back to us, consider your charges dropped and you are free to go. The Bureau of Justice will of course provide all the supplies you require.

The question is, do you accept?"

[Kaiser Martens]

Martens puts aside the Austrian legal book he had found, and although he looks rather tired as first, he quickly seems to wake up, almost magically, when hearing Vogler's words, his eyes narrowing, paying much attention. He then seemed to be quite dissapointed. "Oh? No trial..? I was looking forwards to it..." - As if a kid who suddenly had discovered he wouldn't be getting the toy he wanted for christmas. Then he tilts his head, seeming skeptical. He watches the picture...and then he starts laughing. Was he going slightly mad? "You're getting a murderer to hunt another murderer? Good Gods..."

He starts rubbing his chin, his back curving forwards to some degree, thoughtful as if he were a philosopher. After a while he non-chalantly shrugs. "I'd go to trial and then go find her but then my task would be much harder. So I accept. Just give me a beer and give me a briefing, I'll take care of the rest."

He then interrupted before the man talked on, "Wait. You want her alive, don't you?" - That WAS a relevant question. "Oh. Right, I understand. Good. I should be able to do the trick."

[Sarah Tintagyl]

"The last we've seen of her, she survived a fall from a bridge over the Danube River and is floating either to the west or the east. But our bet is that she, and any accomplices she has with her, will attempt to flee the country. She is presumed armed and dangerous, but I assume that the issue won't be a major one to consider, you've had your fair share of dealing with murderers. A little girl with a degree in International Relations should be a simple catch. But as to a briefing that's all I really have, we have virtually no leads except the Danube and you can have all the beer you want. You're an agent of the Bureau of Justice now, no one will tell you differently." Vogler patted him on the shoulder.

"But she must be brought in alive, being dead is of no use to us. And the trial will resume if she expires from your doing or if you do not reach her in time. But I assume you will carry out your duty with accuracy."

He nodded in the direction of the door as the guard opened it. The Director rose to his feet and extended his hand. "That said Herr Martens, unless you have any questions, I'd like to be the first to say, Happy Hunting."

[Kaiser Martens]

He nods. And starts making more relevant questions.

"Did she fall? Or did she jump off? What was the circumstance and context of this whole thing? Can she swim? Did she remain conscience? I will have to take a look at the bridge, I'll let that be the starting point. Hm...." He chuckles afterwards. A little girl with a degree. An easy catch? He grins. "Last time I went after a little girl with a degree I ended up...nevermind." He remembers being encased in ice, only freed by mercy, or perhaps, indifference? It did not matter. But he [i]had[/i] learned not to underestimate little girls. Audibly, he makes his knuckles emmit a cracking noise and sighs calmly. "Before I go to the bridge actually I would like to visit her home. I need to have some...insight. And maybe being aware of her scent might just do the trick. One way or the other I will find 'er."

These days, he had started to feel a bit more Austrian than German or Germanian.

"I'll just take a bottle to drink on the way there..."

[Sarah Tintagyl]

Vogler accompanied him as they walked through the prison towards the exit. "There was a car chase as she was fleeing from the Votivkirche. It ended up with her crashing along with the car over the bridge on one of our central highways. At first Vogel was presumed dead, but after bringing up the car from the water and checking the surrounding area, there is no sign of her body. She must have gotten away. I'm afraid that after the crash, our agents are in the dark." Upon reaching the exit, the Director shook Martens' hand once more and bowed. "Good luck to you sir, hopefully we'll see you with your prize soon."

---

Martens first stop would be the personal residence of Anke Vogel in downtown Vienna. It was a small flat, but spacious for a single woman. The agents guarding the apartment allowed him entrance after he flashed the badge that the Director gave him and came to face the order and cleanliness of a woman in politics living by herself. A bright hard wood floor covered the entire apartment, making Martens' boots click as he walked in and shut the door. A large black leather couch hugged the far wall, facing a television and mahogany coffee table. A few magazines were spread over, along with a few letters from various Directors. Nothing seeming overly threatening or damning. The kitchen was connected to the living room, a stove, microwave, and cabinets stocked with modern black and white silverware and plates. The refrigerator was stocked and a schedule of Anke's day, filled with diplomatic meetings, dinners, and exercise after one in the morning lined the calender.

In the bedroom, which was off to the right, Martens would find a large queen sized bed with pictures of her family and friends lining shelves, along with a wall filled with books ranging from fiction to diplomatic treatises. The message machine near her bed was blinking however, and upon pressing the receive message button the voice of a frantic woman came on.

-"Anke, it's Jessika, hey, what's going on? I just got a call from Director Nagel saying that I was promoted to your position. Did you resign? What's going on, let me know. Give me a call back as soon as you get this. I tried your cell phone but it was turned off."

<beep>

-Anke! What happened? Where are you? I tried you cell phone! I just heard on the news that the government is hunting you? You killed five people? Please, you have to tell me what's going on! Your father and I are petrified at the moment. There are government agents everywhere, they're asking us questions and we're very scared. They say you've stabbed the stigmata into you, the wounds of Christ? Anke? Please, you have to call us. You have to. We're very scared.

<end of messages>

However nothing else in the house would seem otherworldly to Martens. It was either to the bridge at this point or another route he decided to take.

[Kaiser Martens]

"Very well. Much thanks."

------

Martens sat there for a little while, thoughtful. He raised his eyebrow after hearing the message. Funny, if he had heard something about Odin or The Gods, he wouldn't have considered it too unusual. But...the wounds of christ? Perhaps he should start searching the Vatican and not the Bridge, he thought. Maybe the woman simply went insane. Or maybe her life had simply taken a turn towards the unexplained. He looks down at his own ageless hands. If he himself existed as he did, then there was no reason to say that Jesus or the Aesir hadn't truly somehow existed. He rises and looks around until he is able to find something that carried her scent. An old shirt would do, some old laundry, or simply her very bed covers. He was somewhat like a hunting dog in that sense, he might just be able to track her if he ever catches the trail of her scent. He removes the wrapping of a pillow and tucks it in a pocket, so as to be able to remind his brain later.

Then he briefly raids the fridge before moving on...not to the bridge, but to the Votivkirche.

When he approaches the area and enters it, he feels already quite awkward, as if the very building were rejecting his prescence, as if it were some kind of mystic allergy. Indeed, he had his Mjollnir secure and silvery around his neck...he cannot remember last time he's been in an actual church...he was still a regular human, so far away. At least he has the decency to remove his black sunglasses, even if his face is tainted by mild disgust which he tries to suppress.

Maybe she had made a confession...her picture in hand, he begins to look for a priest or somebody else that may have seen or talked to her, boots clickling along. There had to be something...

[Sarah Tintagyl]

Walking into the Votivkirche, Martens would find the church empty except for one of the deacons sweeping up shards of glass near the altar. While everything was serene in the back of the building, the front near the altar had a different feel to it. As if though the statues of Christ and the saints were crying themselves, aside from the chilling emotions written on their faces otherwise. The reflection of broken glass covered the floor and made millions of tiny candle lights as the deacon solemnly swept. When he finally did see Martens at he front of the church, he paused his duties and bowed to the guest.

"Good evening brother, welcome to the Votivkirche. Is there something I can help you with?"

Anke's scent was strong here and if Martens paid close enough attention, there was even the tiniest drop of her blood on the stone steps of the altar, where Conti had possessed her with the Spirit. The entire room screamed of her pain and transformation, as if Martens could still hear her screams, see her thrashing on the floor, listen to the candles break, listen as her world fell apart.

"Brother?"

[Kaiser Martens]

Martens finds himself staring at the glass at first, and then at the statues. There is something in the air that he cannot grasp, nor can he see, but exists unavoidably there. He seems vaguely confused for a moment, and reaches out to the side to then ball his fist, as if he were trying to grasp that - that...undefineable...the undefineable. But it slips right through his fingers.

He hears the "Brother". The man must not know who he is. It is better that way. He hadn't dressed in a fancy uniform which might give it away, just simple black clothing, perhaps the black leather jacket adding a hint of old-time Fascism to the whole look.

He should be more tactful when he asks, "What happened here, Sir?" - And his eyes narrow.

[Captain Enema]

Port Sudan, Dengali National Battlefield Memorial

“Attennnnn-shun!” the grizzled Sargeant Major bellows as eight thousand two hundred and forty hand picked Legionnaires snap to attention in one snapping crisp motion. The tight lines of the Legionnaires show them wearing their Class-B Utility Uniforms and the Red Berets of the African Legion. Before them is a wooden platform, on the platform are three men.

Denard, fresh from a diplomatic mission with the Hansaetic Legion, stands behind a small platform. Facing him is a camera that is televising the memorial of the Legionnaires who fell in Austria as a public broadcast. Part of the ceremony at any rate, as a large part of it is considered private to those who are members of the Legion Armed Forces. Behind Denard are two cloaked men of the African Legion Council.

Their faces are masked, identifying them would be incredibly difficult given the council hasn’t been seen in public in nearly twenty years. Their identity to the Legion even was a bit of a mystery held at the highest level of command. Denard was initially opposed to their presence due to security concerns but the sage words of Raul Sheli of the Council urging him not to take refuge in his fears convinced him otherwise.

“Legionnaires, today is Legion Day. Today we celebrate the passing of exactly 51,439 of our brothers who died in combat to prevent the oppression of our brothers and sisters in Austria. Today we open up one of our most sacred sites and rituals to the eyes of the international community. Specifically, we open our deepest of secrets to Austria.

So much of our blood was spilled on Austrian soil to stave off the tide of tyranny that we can’t but help invite our brothers and sisters in arms into our most holy of holies. The Temple of the Fallen, is opened to the Leadership for our allies should they chose to pay tribute. It isn’t expected, it isn’t demanded, but it is there if they feel they need to do so.

This isn’t a day I want to cheapen with an abundance of politics and nor do I want to pay too much homage to that filthy whore called diplomacy. I could say a great many things about current events, but I won’t. Legion will stand by our oath to Austria for better or worst. Legion never has forgotten a promise and we won’t start now.

27 years ago on this very spot I declared the conclusion of the Battle of Dengali. Of the 450 Legionnaires that walked onto the field, 83 survived to walk off it. Today a merely 3 of those men remain behind. It is remarkable to me that after surviving so much they majority of those men stayed on and continued to serve the Legion. They’ve set a legacy of strength and honor in the face of inhuman conditions.

Behind me are the graves of thousands of men and women who are joining their forefathers in eternal peace. The Temple of the Fallen and it’s simple stone pillars and quite benches will keep watch over them for all eternity. The silence the rests on this field will be worn by our departed as a cloak of serenity into their afterlife in which Legionnaires will guard the way for those who are lost. Legion Day can no longer be just be about Dengali.

From this day forward Legion Day will no longer alone commemorate the conclusion of the Battle of Dengali. It will commemorate the conclusion of the War in Austria as well. On this day those of us who can will make their way to this very spot. We will drink, we will feast, some of the more handsome ones might even get lucky, but as the sun falls we’ll gather here and participate in one of the oldest of Legion traditions,” Denard says as he steps away from the podium.

One of the Legion Council members steps forward and holds up a torch. The 8240 Legionnaires in front of him follow suit along with Denard and the other Legion Council member on the platform. A single piper begins to play a mournful lament that harkens back to another oddball African Legion tradition. How the Legion came into the use of bagpipes stems around a motivational technique to get the troops to march faster in order to avoid the awful squalling of the pipes gone wrong.

The Piper, the Sargeant Major of the Legion, stands behind the microphone and plays. The sad soul tearing notes are softly carried across the field and more than one eye gets a bit misty. Denard on the other hand wonders how much trouble he’d get in for shooting the Sargeant Major but decides to behave himself. At the midpoint of the mournful wails the Legion Council Member pulls a tab on his torch, which ignites it.

The camera catches the flickers and ripples of lights of the 8240 torches firing to light as the Legionnaires set theirs ablaze rank by rank from front to back. Denard steps back up to the podium as the mounful piping dies away and says, “Legionnaires, About FACE!”

The Sargeant Major, the two Legion Council Members, Denard, and several still wounded Legionnairs and their assistants make their way to the front of the formation. Legion protocol is to allow the wounded to head the column so that they might march at a comfortable pace. To spare them the walk back to Port Sudan several electric golf carts have been made avaliable. Retired Legionnaires, all veterans and heavily decorated ones at that, man the wheels of the carts as they quietly begin to lead the column back to Port Sudan with their wounded charges in the passenger seats holding their own torches.

The darkness of the Sudanese desert is filled with the sounds of marching men, the lights of the torches, and the sounds of the the ‘March of Cambreath’. Every kilometer or so another few pipers from the crowds of retired Legionnaires begins to join with the Sargeant Major, much to Denard’s agony. Before long the torch holding column grows from the original complement to nearly 24,000 men who are quietly marching the wails of nearly 400 screaming bagpipes and another 50 drummers. The camera crew quietly rolls along in their own golf cart taking its time to get shots of grizzled men with tear streaked faces quietly marching towards Port Sudan.

As the camera plays across the crowd it picks up the sight of more than one man with an empty arm sleeve or an artificial leg. A few men are being helped along with the assistance of their fellow Legionnaires who lend a shoulder to help a crippled veteran make their way back to Port Sudan. An occasional female face is seen in the crowd as the widows of the Legion join ranks with the men as well. They are given an inordinate amount of respect and deference by the men as they are helped along. A particularly poignant shot shows Denard holding the hand of a young boy who has joined him, his son.

Just at the outskirts of Port Sudan Denard brings the column to a halt. He approaches the camera and says to his son, “Suwi, go stand with your mother while I finish up here.”

“Yes sir,” Suwi replies as he walks a short distance away to join Denard’s ex-wife Shellani who joined the march in memory of some of the men she has known over the years.

“Before I order this camera to shut down, I have one last message for the world. Legion will spend the next two weeks in mourning. We invite any and all who participated in the War in Austria to make their way to our Holiest of Holies to pay homage to the fallen of all nations. Even the Germans, just so long as they leave their Generals and politicians at home,” Denard says as he motions to the Cameramen to pan their camera across the crowd to catch the sight of the torches extinguish themselves.

At first they flicker out one by one. Before long they go dark in the hundreds. Within a few minutes the only light availible to the men and women are the stars above the Sudanese desert. A silent voice is heard next to Denard that says, “Sir, it’s dark.”

“Suwi, you have thousands of Legionnaires beside you, I’d be more worried for whatever is out there and what will happen to them if they try to come at us.”

“Are you coming home to Khartoum sir?”

“Yes, and damn it, stop calling me sir. You can call me Dad or something like that if you want.”

“Yes sir.”

“Sigggghhsss…. Damn kids.”


“Little by little
Light by light
Through war and strife
Legion stands watch in the night”

-Denard’s Retirement Poem

[Sarah Tintagyl]

"The Bishop said it had been a robbery, though it seems rather strange to me as nothing was stolen. However a view things seemed out of the ordinary. The doors to the church catacombs were opened and as you can see, candle sticks broken, glass cracked, a specialist even had to come in and clean up blood on the floor. Everything's been fairly hush-hush so even the Pastor doesn't know the details. Are you a detective?"

[Kaiser Martens]

He decides to speak his language.

"I am. But I am not sure how I ended up here. Do you feel it, in the air? They train you to feel [i]those things[/i], don't they brother? Something that does not belong to the Heavenly Sovereign's been around here. [i]Then he thought - "Other than myself" - before continuing:[/i] Hm. Would you mind if I were to look around the catcombs for a bit? There's something very wrong here. There was a fight, but I am not sure it was just a physical struggle. Do you get what I mean?" He smiled, fearing that he might be seen as a madman. Well, it did not matter. He would search and have his way with the catcombs no matter the man's objections, if he should have any.

[Sarah Tintagyl]

"Of course, I understand, a spiritual crime if you will." The deacon nodded. "It would make sense why everything feels on edge today. Even those who have come to pray cannot stay long without leaving with hurried looks upon their faces. But follow me I will show you the catacombs."

The deacon took Martens down into the basement of the church, where dim torches lead through stone walls. Ancient coffins and ancient bones lined the pathway before finally coming to a series of barred cells. One of which was opened and in this cell, the scent that Martens couldn't quite describe was back. Only this time, instead of the spiritual smell, this had much more of a physical connection. It was when Anke was still human, when she had not been possessed. He could sense her fear, her sorrow, and her confusion of what had happened to her over the course of a few hours.

"This cell was opened, which was rather strange as no one has been down in these catacombs for ages. Honestly, Herr Detective, I don't know what to make of it."

[Kaiser Martens]

Who would have thought that it would work so easily! As he moves along, following the deacon, he tucks his Mjollnir under his shirt, just in case that his jacket may have moved aside to reveal it. He nearly feels as if he were walking into a wall when entering the catacombs, as if he had broken through some type of barrier or were cutting into fog.

"That is exactly what I felt. Hm."

He was mildly confused, if he were to evaluate things by scent and feel alone, it did not seem as if Anke herself had done anything, but as if she had been, basically kidnapped instead. He does not understand well what he is dealing with...he cracks his knucles thoughtfully, examining the cell. At last with a bit of awe and frustration he unceremoniously says, "Something is $%&@ed up alright 'round here. Thank you for your assistance. I somehow know that this will help. If there is anything new..." He hands him a card, with his contact information. "Just let me know. If I were you I'd bathe the place in holy water or something to that effect though...much thanks. You might be saving a life, after all."

He nods respectfully and, looking back at the cell once, starts walking away...

The next stop is the bridge.

[Sarah Tintagyl]

Arriving at the bridge about a day after the accident had happened, most of what remained of Anke's plunge into the river was a busted guardrail that street mechanics were attempting to fix. Looking down at the Danube in the coming winter, the river seemed dark and foreboding as it flowed on it's course to the Black Sea, hiding the secrets of ages within its waters. As he looked down, another barge, much like the one which had taken Anke and Geyr to safety was steadily drifting up the river. He could imagine it now, the car flying over the railing, the splash against the water and the assured death that would come after. But they hadn't died, somehow she had lived through such a physically trying event.

Her spirit seemed to flow with the river at least for a time, her physical scent gone, but the spiritual one still very much hanging in the breeze.

The barge continued creeping up the river, the ripples carrying Anke's hands away to the west.

[Kaiser Martens]

He stands by the railing inhaling the clean air and looks around, thoughtfully. Noticing that the river goes east, if she were to fall unconscious she would be floating in that direction. That could not be, she would then be dead. He figures, if she were to have gone east, she would be going right in the lion's den, and even if she went further east, Dalmatian border controls were always strict, and she'd have no chance to get through.

The logical choice was the west. The west, which until recently had remained in near-utter anarchy, it should be something akin to safety. Besides, if she wanted to get away from the Vatican's reach, what better option than the land of the heathens? Much to the surprise of the nearby workers, he climbs onto the rail and jumps off...

...to then land as if he were a small bomb by the river, kicking up a great amount of dust. He felt refreshed to be able to do such things after having been locked up. Then he easily gets himself onto the barge, convinced that he would be following her steps.

The workers would report what they had seen, the government would realize immediately that it had been Martens all along. It was a good sign, at least he didn't shoot off into a random direction.

[Sarah Tintagyl]

For Martens, the search through the Austrian lowlands took him across snow covered roads and quaint villages as fast as his feet could carry him. Which needed to be rather fast considering the speed that Anke and her friends had made after meeting up with Thomas south of the Danube. After leaving the village where they had met Wiesz, Martens continued his trek south, following the spiritual sense that played at his nose. However he would move, that would be up to him, hopefully either by car or by train towards the south, if walking then it would be a miracle if he had enough speed to catch up to the fleeing refugees. Along the way, he would spot the abandoned Yugo on the side of the road, the scent was strong here as was the sight of her blood. The stigmata was growing stronger, she was growing stronger without knowing it and all these things could make things worse for the German hunter as he neared his pray.

Finally as the scent was being lost, somewhere near Arnoldstein, Martens would receive a phone call from the Bureau of Justice.

"We believe that Anke Vogel and her compatriots may have been able to cross the Athenian border near Arnoldstein. The closest Italian city that could successfully grant them easy refuge is either Milan or Venice. Surely you can pick up clues along the way, but make with all possible haste towards Italy."

The horn of the hunt sounded again.

[Kaiser Martens]

[i]"Ridom, ridom, över sanden..."[/i] - Martens recited to himself the ancient song mentally as he neither walked nor drove through Austria, but ran. He ran through the land not at an inhuman speed proper, but what made the difference was the fact that he was able to run at maximum speed without getting tired. Those few who did spot him thought the behavior to be rather unusual. What was the big hurry, after all? He himself wasn't sure.

Eventually, the sigh and scent of the abandoned vehicle draws him to a gradual stop. After examining the car with a great deal of curiosity, and determining of course that the scent was stronger than before, he almost felt as if Anke could be hiding behind a rock or a tree, just around the corner. He narrowed his eyes and glanced about for a moment...then he got the message.

[i]"Or Martenshaven. She'd blend in alright..."[/i] He thinks. Sitting onto the car's bonnet, he rubs his chin and remains thoughtful for a few minutes. Why did they leave? He tried starting the car, it would not work, and then he began to walk off in Italy's direction. He then realizes, feeling the proverbial lightbulb igniting within his brain, if Religion were to be involved, for all he knew, she could be headed to the "epicenter of evil", as he half-jokingly thought, bringing a faint smile to his lips. To Rome - to the Vatican itself. Enough speculation.

He begins to speed up again, follow the chemical and spiritual trail with an odd sense of urgence that compelled him to move even faster.