VI

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  Arc VI Chapter 25

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  Anno Imperii 05.08.1936

  Waltzing across the mansion, Aurora strolled down lonely corridors, the air laden with the pages of history. The soft rays of the afternoon shone through the coloured crystal glass, falling onto the black and white of the polished terrazzo floors to enlighten her path. As usual, the mansion had fallen silent, bereft of life and the presence of people. It was the way she had come to know and appreciate the place she called her home. The calm silence. The quiet peace. The serene grace. The comforting solitude. The air of history. They soothed her mind and calmed her heart, normally. Not today, though.

  Aurora adjusted her frilly skirt, her favourite bow and inspected her cute boots before proceeding, her steps certain. She would lie if she said that she was not disappointed and a little bit annoyed. But she was. Somewhat. Or rather, more than she was supposed to be. She knew that it was rather ... childish of her to behave this way. Father had taught her to retain her countenance and composure under any circumstances. Do not let her judgement be clouded by the volatile nature of emotions and mere sentimentality. Her actions must be dictated by purpose and reason alone. His words certainly held merit and Father’s wisdom was not questioned, nevertheless ...

  Aurora puffed out her cheeks. The fact of the matter remained that she was disappointed and a little bit annoyed. She had given everything. She had put every single ounce of skill, focus, and determination that she could spare to use, and yet ... Nothing. Absolutely nothing. No hug for her. No head pet. Not a single word of praise. All she had got from Father was a mere smile and silence. It might be true that not being scolded was supposed to be praise enough, but still ... Did she not deserve more? Did she not deserve some appreciation and recognition for her marvellous performance? Yes, she did.

  Aurora deserved her hug, and she would get her hug! In time. And thus her way led her feetsies to her Father’s office, whose entrance was left curiously deserted. Usually, the heavy wooden door was guarded by a pair of watchful eyes. Especially, when Father was entertaining guests. Important guests, no less. They had arrived from the capital. Yet the wooden door was left conspicuously unguarded with nobody to be seen far and wide. It was ... unusual, to say the least, not to say suspicious. Was it intentional? As if the door was meant to invite her. Was this one of Father’s infamous tests? Or was this a trap?

  Aurora glanced around, her eyes flicking left and right, hesitation mingling with curiosity. As suspected, nobody was to be seen in the vicinity, nothing detected, nor heard. Her mana gently probed her surroundings as inconspicuously as possible.

  Her search turned out negative. No living signatures were detected. No guards. No servants. No maids. No footsteps echoing down the floors. She was truly ... alone. Surely nobody would suspect her if she eavesdropped a little, right? So maybe ...

  Her lips curved upwards, forming a mischievous grin as Aurora slowly tiptoed forwards. Slow and steady. Slow and steady. Inconspicuous and silent, like a kitten stalking her prey.

  The girl approached the massive wooden door. Not even the thickest of doors kept all secrets. Aurora pressed her right ear against the polished surface, her senses sharpened, enhanced by virtue of her mana. The muffled hum of voices could be heard from inside. The tone was subdued, restrained, and serious, yet also slightly heated with traces of tension. They were discussing a matter of grave importance it would seem.

  “Nnffgh ... ... ... ... ... ... grmmph ... ... ... ... mmff ... ... ... nnnh ... ... ... ... blfmm ... ... ... ... ... ... ... grnnhhk ... ... ... ... ... ... ... shrrggnnf ... ... ... ... mmmhh ... ... ... ghnn ... ... ... ... ... ... ... brrlblghh ... ... ... ... ... shht’s ... ... ... ... ... ... grmmffk ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... whrfff ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... blrrhff ... ... ... ... ... ... nrrmm ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... hrrgmmf.”

  “Wffht ... ... ... Nnffgh ... ... ... ... grmmph ... ... mmff ... ... ... nnnh ... blfmm ... ... ... ... ... ... grnnhhk ... ... shrrggnnf ... ... ... mmmhh ... ghnn ... ... ... brrlblghh ... ... shht’s ... grmmffk ... ... shldn ... hv ... dn ... tht ... ... ... ... blrrhff ... nrrmm ... ... hrrgmmf?”

  “Mmff ... ... brrff ... mrrf ... ... mrrff ... ... sennnffh ... brrghh ... ... drrnnnghhht ... wht’re y’evn shhht ... nnffghhk ... ... wrrrghhhk ... ... ... hrrgmmf ... brrlblghh.”

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  Her heartbeat slowed. Letter by letter, syllable by syllable, word by word, the once muffled voices grew clearer, more intelligible.

  A man spoke, his voice firm but weathered by age, carrying the unmistakable lilt of an Eastern accent. “... I think that ... ... I speak for all of us here ..., August, when I say that ... the girl ... ... is nothing short ... of a monster. ”

  Monster ... Monster ... Her heart tightened. There was it. This word. Again. It was what others said. Ever since her first display of magic. Her mother. Her brothers. The servants in hushed voices. It was what people said and thought. They all thought she would not notice.

  “Are you ... not being a bit harsh here, Walter?” It was Father who came to her defence, his tone jovial yet resolute. “My beloved daughter ... ... certainly has her ... problematic aspects, but a monster? No need ... to exaggerate, old friend.”

  Beloved ... Daughter ... Her heart rejoiced.

  The other man retorted. Walther was his name. A name known to her. Judging by his accent, it must have been him. Man of noble lineage. Military. High ranking officer. General. “I am hardly exaggerating ..., August. I know ... what I saw. Just today, I saw your ... ‘beloved daughter’ demolishing an entire company on her own ... without lifting so much as a pinky finger. Despite the fact ... that we brought enough firepower to bear on her ... to level entire regiments. I saw your little girl cleaving through heavy steel plate like butter.”

  “I must concur”, another officer commented. His manner of speech betrayed his academic background. “Heavy steel plate. 500mm thickness. Rolled homogeneous steel. High Brinell hardness. High carbon content. Adequate chrome, nickel, and molybdenum content. No fabrication errors. Magically strengthened and alchemically reinforced. Her magic cut straight through the plate, burning straight through the steel ... Perforation occurred by ductile hole growth. Her spells achieved full penetration in 100% of cases. 50 out of 50 times ... In all my life, I have never seen anything like this. Not during the war, nor during my time at the academy. Her speed, her precision, her potency, the sheer lethality of her magic. This degree of perfection. The girl’s capabilities are impressive, to say the least. The use of magic comes exceedingly naturally to her. It is truly as if the girl was born for this.”

  Speed. Precision. Potency. Lethality. Perfection. Born for this ... It was what Father said too, not to mention her instructors.

  The other man took the word again, “And yet you are trying to tell us that the girl is supposed to be normal, August?”

  “...” Father retained his calm. “As you might know, Walther, normality is very much ... a matter of perspective.”

  “A matter of perspective?” The man clicked his tongue, scarcely convinced. “You do not even believe that yourself, do you?”

  “... ... ...” Father answered. “I would say what I believe or not is inconsequential. The fact stands that both you and I have sworn an oath. We have both sworn to defend the Reich to the last breath. I intend to keep my word, Walther, even to the bitter end. We all know that the war will come. And we all know that it will be the last one. Because we will either emerge victorious or perish. Such is the course of history. In the trying times to come, Aurora will be our sword and shield. A shield to protect the Reich. A tempered sword to strike our foes.”

  A shield to protect. A sword to strike. That was what Father always said. It was her destiny. It was her calling. Was it not?

  “... ... ...” The man fell silent, almost pensive. “Invictis victi victuri. To the undefeated,the defeated who shall be victorious. It would be remiss of you to believe that I have forgotten the humiliation, the shame, the infamy, the dishonour that we have suffered 15 years ago. I have not, August. Nor has anyone else.”

  Humiliation. Shame. Infamy. Dishonour. The thirst for vengeance, for revenge, for retribution, for justice. It was what she had been taught all her life. Was it wrong?

  “...” The man resumed his discourse, “Nevertheless, for you to put so much faith in a single girl. It is unlike you, August.”

  “...” Father did not respond. “What should I say, Walther? Times are changing. Whether we like it or not.”

  “They are. They are”, the man admitted. “How old is she? How old is your daughter?”

  “... ... ...” Father paused for a moment, almost as if he hesitated. “Eight. She has recently turned eight.”

  “Eight ... Eight ...” the man considered his choice of words, carefully. “She is young ... Hardly old enough to qualify as a girl ..., much less a soldier. And yet ...”

  Young. Hardly old enough. Much less a soldier.

  “...” Father maintained his stoic facade. “It is how it is. Not that we have much of a choice, Walther.”

  It was how it was. Not much of a choice.

  “Probably ...” the man conceded, sunk in thoughts. “To think, though, that Projekt Gestalt would ever bear fruit, August. Hardly anyone would have expected so. Though I must say that the girl resembles her, does she not? Your daughter even shares her name and probably her blood. Hardly a coincidence, I would say.”

  Projekt Gestalt? Resembles her? Shares her name? What were they talking about?

  ...

  ...

  ...

  “...” Father fell silent. Time passed and seconds turned into minutes. “So you know about it, after all ...”

  “Less than I should, more than I would like to, August”, he responded. “I have no idea which price your late brother and sister were forced to pay in order to create something like her, but maybe that is for the best. The Army Ordnance Office remains quite tight lipped about the entire project, for their part. Schuhmann and Diebner refuse to speak to this day. All I know is that it was a ... rather unsavoury affair. Even by their standards. Projekt Geist in particular. Lots of ‘figures’, lots of ‘units’, lots of ‘subjects’ involved in exchange only for meagre gains. Fortunately, the war provided plenty of ‘suitable material’. Especially in the East. That is what they said.”

  Army Ordnance Office. Tight lipped. Project. Geist. Figures. Units. Meagre gains. Material. What was this supposed to mean? It was an answer she feared.

  “In the end, however, the results speak undoubtedly for themselves. I have to give them that ... Gestalt was a success”, the man continued. “A little girl. An artificial soul encased in an artificial vessel. Absolute perfection given human form. A weapon forged for a single purpose.”

  ...

  ... ...

  ... ... ...

  A little girl ... Artificial soul ... Artificial vessel ... Absolute perfection ... given human form ... A weapon forged ...

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  Btw, image from the last chapter I forgot to post back then. ^^ Will post it here for the moment. WIll be later deleted.