The Silver Seer

Chapter 37: Anastasia

The last thing I was expecting to greet me when I arrived in Germany was an ambush. Or, maybe it is more apt to say I did not think such an encounter would happen while traveling from Vaud to Germany. I'm convinced half of the officers and soldiers there agreed to the act because of what happened in Forchheim- but as for how the other half became involved, that's beyond me.

I'm surprised I didn't die. Dying would have been the best-case scenario, as I'm sure it would settle the doubts and grudges officers and soldiers in Berlin (and probably all across Germany) have towards me. But I have a nation to lead, and I came to see if General Everich was alright, so I pushed aside that single thought and focused on my present goal.

Then I saw him. He was cutting down German soldiers without the slightest moment of hesitation, and when we met eyes, he smiled. But it was not a genuine smile from joy. It was a malicious smile, as if he was mocking me for my inability to kill the people I once worked beside. He never held conversations with these soldiers, never took orders from the officers, never trusted them with his life out on the battlefield.

But he never caused the massacre that killed them all. He didn't kill the last remaining superiors out of fury and despair. He didn't receive a Medal of Honor. He didn't put the barrel of his pistol to the side of his head every night, hoping that one night, in the silence and all alone, he could finally take his own life.

He never thought the one person who hated him so much would save him. He would never delight in hugs from the teenager, and smile when he smiled. He never made flower crowns with the boy, or watched as butterflies flew by wildflowers in the spring and summer. He never reunited with his best friend and felt extreme joy and relief in that moment.

He would never reveal his past to the two officers who it hurt the most. He would never turn away a confession of love or try to be seen the way he was before in the eyes of the boy he adored so much, above everything and anything else in the world. He would never keep moving forward for the sake of a nation he loves so much.

We are both the same person and different people, yet we exist at the same time. And it is at that moment I realize why and how he exists.

But the sound of more swords meeting draws my attention away from Rodion. I watch as Reko leaps at any German soldier he sees, while Reyes assists him by attacking those who get too close to the boy before he's satisfied with how much blood has been spilled from one corpse. Leon, thankfully, fights valiantly, any indication of what he may have experienced after I left him absent from his body and expression.

And finally, Thilo, directing his sword at any and all enemies near my location (though I doubt he sees me, as smoke partially obscures my view, so I'm sure it hinders his), and those who get too close to the other three who have come to assist me.

I find myself relaxing, though exhausted, and start walking toward General Everich's office. As usual, a yell from Reko stops me, and I turn just in time to see him leap at Rodion, only to be blown back with ease. Thilo aims his sword at Rodion, and not only do I see him dodge it, but rush towards him and land a fatal wound- pushing his sword straight through the officer's stomach.

And though Thilo tried to strangle me, he's here in Germany, presumably saving my life. So, the least I can do is-

I sprint towards Rodion, and leap at him just as he turns to face me. Whipping the knife out that I know he hides in his left boot- just as I do- I begin to stab him. And I cannot stop a smile from spreading across my lips as I watch his blue eyes become clouded, his stare empty. His warm blood- crimson- soaks my uniform and grants me moments of warmth that I don't find the least bit revolting considering its source.

All I can feel are Thilo's arms around me before I lose track of anything I did afterward. Yet I could occasionally hear Thilo's voice. Though I couldn't understand what he was saying, just listening to the tone of his voice- soft, gentle, and deep- put my mind at ease. The only thing I can remember saying was a request for Thilo to stay with me, yet I have no idea whether he listened to me or not.