Yesterday's Enemy [AoT]

MEMOIRS OF HAVAS [11]

(SET THREE YEARS BEFORE HAVAS IS BREACHED)

'Young upstart Warren Krüger, intended to wed Lady Lorelai Bervik, inherits the Bervik seat on the Council of Thirteen. In a time of unrest and growing revolutionary vigour, how will the miner's boy fare amongst our nation's longest-ruling leaders?'

-An extract from a Havasian newspaper article detailing current political events.

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MEMOIRS OF HAVAS

11

Wall Maria, North Region, Havas, Central Grimold, Ingreed City

It was announced that afternoon.

Havas had been at a standstill of problems without solutions. Strikes. Riots. Political upheaval. Lorelai's announcement that Warren would be ascending to the Council could not have come at a better time.

Warren was the light in the darkness. The solution. The new Bervik.

It was barely a few months before he became their little country's political messiah. He grew in name and stature; speeches, articles, manifestos, Warren churned out paper after paper until every voter in the nation knew his name. He was the saviour—the extremist prince of the people's hope.

But he was Lorelai's saviour most of all. The horrors of being her father's daughter had disappeared all at once; she was no longer a name without a face. She was free. The burden was gone. Together, they basked in their engagement, the joys of newfound political stability, and the knowledge that the future was bright and waiting for them.

Most happily, Lorelai was able to retire from her position as Commander— the rank that had been given in blood. At last, she began to heal the wounds left salt-stung from years in the public eye. She would never be the woman she once was, but perhaps now, she might find some semblance of peace.

It was a pretty dream.

And, as Lorelai should have come to expect... it was not real.

Havas ran on a game. A game they called survival of the richest. In a nation where land is scarce, the man with the food is king. All it took was a few harsh winters, a few poor harvests, and there became a bottomless pit of mouths to feed. Once more, the people looked to their lords for salvation.

Lorelai was taught a due lesson by the time three months had passed: the burden was not gone, just transferred to Warren.

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It was almost unnoticeable when it had started.

It was little things; Warren would come home, fatigue hanging over his eyes. He would greet her and then collapse right into bed without a further word. In the morning, he would tell her 'work is busy.'

Then it was slightly worse. He started spending long hours at the council building. Allnighters became more frequent, and his time at home more scarce.

And it got even worse. Lorelai might turn on the television to see Warren in a heated political debate. He would shout louder and more adamantly than she'd heard him shout at anyone. When he came home, he'd kiss her, smile, and speak nothing of it.

Then came the anger. Stress had turned Warren from the charismatic, well-intended politician to a vicious man who would stop at nothing to crush his opposition. He went more and more on the offensive. His once reasonable papers became aggressive; they called out deficiencies and made no apologies in their extremism. Sometimes, opponents would disappear from their seats. Some scandal, some controversy, of course. And yet it always benefitted Warren.