Truce

Twenty // No Drawbridges, No Dragons

Twenty // No Drawbridges, No Dragons

Kaia

Europe would have rocked so much more if I wasn't dead tired when we stepped foot out of Hildegard Airport at around midday Saturday. Jacob was practically dragging me around the airport and through the pathetic attempt at customs the airport had. I could have snuck a bomb into the country and no one would have a damn clue.

That reminded me; I actually had no idea what country we were in. Jacob had said we were going to Europe but that didn't help. Europe was a whole continent and while it was one of the smallest, there were a lot of countries in its borders.

I was thinking Germany, with his German background and all. Besides, it would make sense for him to be fluent in the language if he lived here for so long.

We had made it to a stretch limousine which I was too fatigued to ask about, and slid into the backseat, Jacob conversing with the driver with flawless German that I couldn't understand. I just relaxed back against the leather and reveled in the space and comfort of the vehicle.

Then we were off.

I don't remember much of the journey to where Jacob's father was residing, only that it was very green and very beautiful. I wanted to capture them in a photograph but to do that I would have to take my eyes away and I couldn't bear to do as such. So I watched the beauty whirl past me in a daze for what felt like hours, until the car slowed and my eyes fluttered open.

I must have fallen asleep.

The greenery had thinned to the point of almost evaporation, and in it's place were iron clad gates ten feet tall, with little points at the tips reflecting gray off the cloud cover above.

Adjoined to the gate was a fence, if that's what you could call it. Identical to the gate bar their thickness, they spanned for as far as the eye could see. Or at least as far as my eyes could see out of these windows. I assumed they circled the property, but what kind of property would need fences of these magnitude?

I turned my attention from the window to the boy beside me, the only one familiar in this place, but even he, currently speaking with the driver who relayed his message to the intercom through the open window, seemed different here. I would have thought it was that I hadn't understood a word he'd said since we landed in the unknown country, but I knew it wasn't that. His constant fidgeting had disappeared, replaced by calm eyes and an easy smile. Nothing was forced, and I had to wonder if it was because of this country. He'd spent the last six years of his life here. That would be enough to make it home to him, and maybe that's why he seemed unfamiliar. Maybe maybe.

"Danke schon," he said to the driver as the gates parted, leaning back against the seat with a placid smile. I hated to interrupt his moment of peace but I had to ask.

"Where are we?"

The question brought a new look to his face. His signature raised eyebrow and smirk I'd grown accustomed to. "Europe."

"No way," I deadpanned, which just got him to laugh.

"We're about two hours outside of Germany," he explained, the car coming to a stop. "An island which separated from Germany after the second world war, becoming it's own country."

"You're still not giving me a name," I told him and he just rolled his eyes and the door opened to outside.

"Celti," he said, and then stepped onto the smooth cobblestone road only to wait for me to follow.

I carefully put my foot on the ground and stepped out, still in the clothes I wore yesterday to the cemetery, a time which felt worlds away with what I came face to face with.