Code Orange: A Life of Loyalty

Stage/Turn 20: Legacy

a.t.b. 2010 (The Greater Tokyo Area: command post of Sir Vater Reinblut, Knight of Five and Baron, the morrow following the Battle of Utsunomiya)

The sun had risen to its fullness in the sky by the time their two squadrons returned to the command post. Word must have spread since the arrival of their scout as it seemed all their forces had come to ensure they had a triumphant return from what Sir Kewell had proclaimed the previous night to his fellow knights the 'Battle of Utsunomiya'. The place which served as the battle's namesake did not sit well on many a Britannian tongue, especially loosened as they had been with fine vintages last night. So, in their cups, the knights had squabbled before deciding to christen the skirmish the beginning of 'Evenfall': the end of this land of the rising sun as it was so often proclaimed.

Jeremiah Gottwald could appreciate a certain poetic sensibility to the term but he was in no mood to be celebrating anything as his Glasgow joined the rank and file entering their stronghold. His head still asserted evidence last night of how much champagne he'd drained to slake his comrade thirst for toasting and his own thirst to stop thinking, dwelling on all the negative in his life. But, despite inexperience, he was sure from the tales he'd heard tell of hangovers that he had gotten off rather lightly today. No, his main issue was his inability to remember exactly what had happened before he'd lost consciousness last night. What he did remember whited out with his crying in front of Villetta Nu, who'd seemed to have just set aside old wounds with him when he broke down and she'd had to hold him in comfort.

He could barely suffer to think of how shameful that was for a man, a knight! Not to mention he assumed he may very well have passed out on the lady knight to top it off. Or maybe you...she was awfully close, cradling you. Then she leaned in, or was that me? Or did I just faint? I remember being warm…no, we couldn't have, I'd never-! I'm a gentleman and I've always been loyal: in all things! It seemed inconceivable for him (this was him after all!) but a nagging at the back of his mind stopped him short of ruling it out. And the thought practically horrified him. They'd just become close and after…her…he'd sort of silently resigned himself to never loving again. Nobody and nothing could ever compare to his empress and how he'd felt for her. Anything after would be but a pale imitation of true love. Not to mention he knew he would feel he was betraying her and that was something he could never do. You already have: thrice. You let her die, let her daughter be crippled and then let these barbarians surround them to be used as toys in politics.

Though far from a pleasant one, the thought did distract him from the 'did I or didn't I' fiasco racking his brain. It seemed so trivial a matter in comparison but he could not help but feel shameful for something that may very well not have happened. He was acting the boy and he needed to be as man as he could today; his personal audience with Sir Reinblut was to be his first priority upon disembarking, by the man's order himself. He should just open a channel and ask Villetta about what happened last night…though he worried, irrationally that another pilot might overhear on their channel. It was secured of course, military standard, but their Frames all shared the same IFF system that would register each other as allies and allow them to freely open comm channels with each other. He decided it was too risky but he would make it his own priority to have a conversation with her once the audience was done: he needed the matter settled and off his mind so he could focus on what truly mattered. His prince and princess were still in Kansai…he hoped.

With the impromptu victory parade behind them, the two squadrons brought their Knightmares into storage and set them away to disembark. Jeremiah's feet had just touched ground and turned away from his Frame when he found Sir Kewell waiting right in front of him. "How are you feeling today Marquis? Are you ready to meet with Baron Reinblut? I'd be honoured to escort you in his place, as his second". The young knight (who could not have been more than seventeen at the most, Jeremiah figured, himself only twenty-one but still surprised every time he looked on the commander for how comparatively young he looked) seemed almost nervous or anxious, twiddling his fingers in his hands. "Of course Sir Kewell, please, lead on".

Kewell certainly seemed to know his manners, Jeremiah sympathized as they seem to have been rigorously instilled in him by his mother just as his own had been by his sister, but being so consistently addressed by the title he had given up so recently was uncomfortable. Each time he heard the word it dredged up a bit of the experience in his bedchamber. Yet this morning Sir Kewell seemed a little different from the few times they'd interacted in the past: maybe it was the apparent nerves but he seemed to avoid eye contact (which he usually delivered nigh constantly when they'd spoken). Jeremiah also founds himself instigating the few attempts at small talk as they made their way to Sir Reinblut's quarters. He inquired after the health of Kewell's knights after their drinking, the warmth of the morning sun compared to last night's chill and asked after his sister, who seemed to provoke passion in his voice last night.

In all of this he was met with short, single sentence answers with no attempt to continue the conversation. That seemed very unlike him. He appeared to perk up slightly at the mention of his sister. "She's not even a teenager yet and mother already has her being trained in every sort of lady's art and nuance you could think of. She's being made to work so hard…I won't let her down", the spark the topic had lit in him simmered out with the unexpectedly dire statement. The repeated returns to silence because of what he figured as Sir Kewell's nerves did little to assuage his own and he soon found himself wiping a sheen of sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand.

Seeing that they were still a distance from what seemed their destination, the G-1 fortress, Jeremiah decided to make one last attempt at conversation that would hopefully alleviate his own nervousness and ascertain whether Kewell's was at work: "So, sir, what is Sir Reinblut like?". That seemed to better get his attention, "He is a...noble man, through and through", Kewell said, without eye contact but with slight hesitation. "He's fearless; he speaks his mind. Very proud, and rightly; he has a good mind. That's obvious as far as politics go, it's why he's in charge here and why he aligned himself with my House, but he has a good mind for war too". "I see, yet he doesn't take to a Knightmare himself", Jeremiah had no intent at all to demean the man with the comment (and a great soldier need not be a great fighter) but it did seem odd to have a Round who did not pilot a Knightmare in this day and age. Though, he supposed that, since Sir Reinblut was an older gentleman, his age and the advancement of the Knightmare itself explained this more than adequately.

"No, my lord, he never has. He prefers to spend his time in the G-1: planning and co-ordinating the subjugation. Our main force came from the east, we secured the harbor that you arrived in with the reinforcements in our initial landing: capturing their capital right out of the gate. There's a tale for the ages!". Kewell was still not making his usual amount of eye contact but he seemed to have some matter he'd been waiting to speak of. "Anyway, we also landed detachments in the north and south under two more than capable knights that my father entreated with to lend their aid to Sir Reinblut". "Who, pray tell? And not knights sworn to the service of Sir Reinblut's own household?", Jeremiah asked.

"No, the Baron…well, he didn't exactly have any knights in his service. By no fault of his: I believe House Reinblut has been without sworn men for generation now". This news surprised Jeremiah; any noble of rank would likely have at least a knight or two who'd pledged their life to serve and protect said lord or lady and make their living as such. High lords, such as those who held many a seat in the House of Lords, had hundreds. "As for the generals we delivered him one has only recently had the sword to his shoulders: Sir Luciano of House Bradley, he leads our men who landed in the south. He may be a new-made knight but he earned his knighthood as the hero of latest conflict for Area 10 after the Federation made another move for it. He turned them back though, none of them, not even with their superior numbers, could withstand him".

So the empire was still warring with the Chinese Federation to solidify its hold over Area 10? He'd been removed from the world for too long but what was it about this news that made him feel suddenly slightly uneasy? He doubted it was just his nerves; something else was at work in the back of his mind but he couldn't for the life of him put a finger on it. "Sir Bradley is hungry for more glory, I even wonder if it was my father's gold that really attracted him to aiding us". Jeremiah could hear the empathy in his voice: they were both young and hungry knights, just as he had been…but that was before. "The general in the north, I'm more than proud to say, is none other than the new Knight of Four: Lady Dorothea Ernst. Even my father never thought to bring another Round into this war but the lady approached us and Baron Reinblut and more or less insisted. It's an honour for us: for how far my family has come and how far we are going still".

"Lady Ernst!?", Jeremiah uttered in surprise, "She instructed me at Colchester, she was the Knight of Seven then!". "Ah, I see. Yes, Sir Bismarck Waldstein himself had her raised to Four in honour of her volunteering to lead in the war. My father swore before the House of Lords, in which we will soon have our own seat mind, that he would see her more than well-compensated for a knight of her stature but she refused any pay at all. She said she still grieved for the Empress Marianne and only wanted a way to vent her wroth. Of course, father agreed heartily. Baron Reinblut seemed suspect but he's a wise man and no-one would turn down a Round's aid in battle".

It sounded odd to Jeremiah too but he could sympathize with Lady Ernst's claim: the Empress had spoken of her often and anyone could see how they would have befriended each other; each being Rounds and instructors at Colchester both. The two reached the G-1 base, into which the guard quickly admitted them. As they ascended to the command room, Kewell seemed to remember the original question, "The Baron can intimidate, that's for sure; he's no coward as some dare to slander him. When we arrived he led us against the initial, strongest resistance in the field. He showed these scum why a G-1 is called a mobile fortress. Since then, as we've spread out and let Lady Ernst and Sir Bradley move into position, he's held here with the greatest part of our strength. Sending us to cut the heart of the land from the Japanese why he readies the hammer blow that'll finish them for good. A wise man, in all things".

It was just as Sir Kewell mad this assertion that they reached the door to the command room and a guard slipped inside to announce their presence to the Knight of Five. Before the guard could even make it through the door, back to them, they heard the deep and solid voice of Sir Reinblut projected out from within, "Soresi, you're dismissed. Gottwald, come in. Alone".

A look passed between him and Kewell at the Baron's words. Jeremiah knew his eyes would be full of uncertainty where Kewell's showed something that was not quite surprise and not quite displeasure but seemed close to both. After a brief he managed the briefest of nods. Jeremiah returned the gesture in a more pronounced, friendly matter and then stepped through from where the knight had just come. The room could only have served as the bridge: so full of screens and chairs, so wide and open and showing everything that lay before, around or behind the G-1. Few men and women manned the equipment but Sir Reinblut nonetheless beckoned to him from where he stood hunched over a walltop with a map display projected on top, "Not here Gottwald: my chambers. Come". And he strode away without even a look.

Jeremiah had to quicken his measured pace to not lose sight of Sir Reinblut as he swept up to what must have been his personal chambers above the bridge, somewhere. It was more sparsely decorated than Jeremiah would have thought to house such a man: even despite being housed in a veritable war machine. Jeremiah stepped inside hesitantly as Sir Reinblut again leant his weight, with bow arms stretched out before him, on a table in the room's center. Whereas the bridge's had been metal housing very modern technology this one was wood, its exquisite carving obvious to even his eyes and gave the air of being many, many years old despite the nigh pristine condition of it. It stood out, heads and shoulders, over everything else in the room. "Do you know who I am and why that means I've brought you are here Gottwald?", his voice was short and to the point and it seemed to test his patience to ask the questions: as if their answers should be obvious and he was itching to finish their conversation. He sounded so short in tone that Jeremiah figured he was running some manner of tight schedule and had urgent business that need to be dealt with immediately afterward. "Sir, you are the Knight of Five, sir, and I a knight under your command…".

A beat had yet to pass before the Baron gave a throaty, indignant noise of displeasure and Jeremiah squirmed to provide something more to his answer, "I fought in the battle at Uchinomiya, sir, perhaps you summoned me for a personal report?". The hard gaze he was fixed with told him immediately that he was wrong and he could feel himself withering under them as the Baron's voiced cracked like a whip a round his throat, "I've had that from Kewell. It's not why I summoned you. And I doubt you really know of me: I must explain for you to understand but know that this wastes precious time: I will be brief". His words are short but they seem just long enough to be hanged on. Just listen and keep your mouth shut. He did not often pay his thoughts much heed lately but now it seemed wise to.

"You don't know of the Reinbluts, boy?", Jeremiah shook his head and was met with a stern sniff, "Fair enough: the name's infamous and not mentioned in polite conversation". He returned his eyes to the table below and almost reluctantly released his explanation, "The founder of my house was Georg Reinblut. But George was not born Reinblut. He was a bastard. But he was the firstborn, and a son at that, to a king: one of the many that's since united into that pretentious 'Euro Universe': clinging together in their weakness". Jeremiah found it off when mention of the EU, who killed his parents, elicited to pang of hatred in his gut as it had ever since their death. Because hate needs fuel for the fire: passion. And you lost all that when you failed. Now you can only feel so alive when you dance with death: the chance of an end to your painful, guilt-ridden existence. He went right on back to blocking the thoughts out: he couldn't afford listening to them now.

"He was named after his ancestor, as was custom, though it wasn't his father's name: he'd never succeed him, never rule. But you wouldn't have known it to see him. They say he was a genius: master at everything a man, and a ruler, should know. The sheer number of the claims makes even I inclined to believe what is normally flattery and drivel. But his birth forever sullied him in the eyes of his father, monarchs and other prideful nobles. Yet he won many allies still; from the lowest to the highest of the powerful men of the kingdom. Especially in the military with his skill at arms and mind for strategy. None could have looked on his brother, Wilhelm, and said he should be heir over Georg for any reason bar Wilhelm being born in wedlock: given his father's name, tradition. Rubbish, all of it: and I say this not for love of my ancestor: I respect the man, not his name. I say that because it's truth. You remember that, Gottwald".

Jeremiah hastily nodded, not daring to even let his voice peep out for fear of interrupting. He feared this man, in no small part for the fact that he still had no clue what he wanted with him. "You would know Napoleon Bonaparte I hope. I refuse to do more explaining if not. Yes, he's the Bonaparte your thinking of: the ambitious dwarf who cut out his own empire and laid the groundwork for the union that still frustrates us today. The ancestor of the man who's plot killed you parents. Heh, that damned name will keep the medals pinned to his heir's chest until the day we kill the bastards once and for all". Somehow, thinking of a single culprit behind their deaths inspired some anger in him, which came practically as a shock. He'd never been able to do the same with his empress…maybe that meant he wasn't so far gone just yet.

"That's right, I saw a lick of fire in you there. Well, save it boy! You'll have targets to turn it for as soon as I can manage. So old Bonaparte sweeps over the land and comes for their kingdom. King Wilhelm's been a cautious neutral ever since Bonaparte started to draw the hate and fear of half the kings around him. Georg though, he saw the man's genius and ambition: easy to see in another when you have them yourself. He reasoned, petitioned and threatened his father to make the alliances and preparations he advised. To meet and face Bonaparte before it was too late but his father was a coward. He sat on his backside until Bonaparte trampled his men underfoot. Then he tucked his tail between his legs and ran to a coalition against the man, dishonoured, disempowered and dispossessed".

"After Bonaparte drew first blood from their kingdom, as Georg always said he would, he'd had enough. Your read history, boy? There's a reason they call it the Age of Revolution, many, and this is one. Georg declared the royal house unfit to rule and named himself Reinblut. In the tongue of their lands it meant 'pure blood'. His father'd tainted the throne but he was pure, of royal blood, fit and ready to rule. So he led his own revolution: their kingdom was doomed to defeat and dissolution under his father's foolish playing at war, he told his loyalists. They would cut their way from the failed king, his doomed coalition and Bonaparte himself to find another means for victory. 'The victory you all deserve', he said, 'and the nation you all deserve: greater than has ever been seen by man' ".

He gave a brief, gruff chuckle to himself, "Confident man. He led them to the ancestral isles of Britannia: not Area 1 but the true homeland of the empire, claimed by us but held by the EU. Where the first barbarian kings to take the name Britannia also took their crowns. Yet the Brtiannians wore none then: they knelt to the Tudor kings, the last of whom had withstood the chaos of the mainland. But he hadn't withstood death when Bonaparte broke the coalition against him and brought his invasion across the sea. So a woman, an inexperienced woman, inherited a throne she had to flee from as it and her capital were taken from her in the same battle that took her father".

Jeremiah swallowed, this man thought him a fool and he doubted he wanted that impression to stick with whatever business he soon had with him. He had to stop from crossing his fingers as he hoped he'd listened to Lilicia: like you always should have. "Yes, my lord, forgive my intrusion: I'm aware of the tale afterward. The new Queen, Elizabeth III, fled the homelands with our first emperor, Ricardo von: the Duke of Britannia. He was her uncle, I believe it would be: his grandfather, Duke Carl, was said to have been her great-grandfather. Duke Carl is reputed to have been the most likely father of King Henry IX, her grandfather, as a consort of her great-grandmother, the woman they call the virgin Queen Elizabeth I. The Dukes of Britannia enjoyed even more favour than usual at court as King Henry came of age, so…".

Jeremiah tapered off when he saw how Sir Reinblut was staring at him, studying him intently with those hard eyes, "Don't think you impress me just by prating of history, Gottwald. I don't live in the past, it's just necessary to explain and it's gone on long enough". Something that may have been half a smile curled onto his lips, "But it's a relief to see you've got a spine to go with your skill". The half-smile vanished as he appeared to dredge up the will to finish telling the story, "You're right. But what you don't know is that Ricardo and Georg were old friends. Ricardo's mother was the progeny of a branch in the royal family Georg was born to; she also descended from nobility in a kingdom further west and heavily influenced Carl's son after marrying him. She has Ricardo studied in this western kingdom in his youth where he met Georg who was serving as an ambassador for his father at the time over some matter of little consequence he was wasted on. The historians say Ricardo would have been the cornerstone of the pre-emptive alliance Georg proposed. The truth is lost to us but you mentioned the Britannian line's influence: I don't doubt Ricardo could have persuaded Tudor, himself neutral until then and therefore having all his strength, to join swords with King Wilhelm".

"Not that any of it matters; Georg brought a fleet and everything else Ricardo needed to get his little queen to Area 1: the place they called the New World at the time. Ricardo had assumed the protection of the homelands' hold on their colonies there some time before". It took all he had to re-exert said spine as Reinblut seemed to enjoy, "Yes sir, he offered Earl Franklin land and title for his loyalty and it was his men who felled the traitor Washington in the Siege of Yorktown". Sir Reinblut, who had until now seemed quite irritable at the length of the tale he needed to tell, gave a quick chuckle and smiled much wider, "Huh, two traitors in one lifetime with only an 'e' to tell them apart. Ricardo must have been thrilled". Jeremiah blinked in surprise, "Your ancestor betrayed Emperor Ricardo, sir? I can't believe it: he seemed such a great man". "Indeed, great enough that many thought he'd take his own throne; even before Elizabeth's deathly illness. Yet he helped the first Britannians build the beginnings of their empire and made no such move. When the queen died he and his followed her dying wish, bent their knees to Ricardo and all became high lords and ladies of the empire: the new, greater land their saviour had promised them. People still sing of Ricardo's champion Sir Hector: first Knight of One and Duke of Britannia, finest knight to ever live. And Sir Colchester: first Knight of Two, the commoner come general who led the peasants to safety in guarding their lieges. Yet none dare sing of Georg Reinblut anymore: first Grand Duke, who Ricardo dubbed would forever pass the title down his line. Without him, more than either of Ricardo's other two, much more famed, there would be no Britannia".

"So, sir, forgive me but, where do I come into this?", Sir Reinblut responded to him with what seemed an uncharacteristic, hearty laugh, "We are of a mind, Gottwald! Now I can be about done with the tale: the traitor was not the Georg who took the name Reinblut but his son, who was passed his father's name as was the royal tradition of their old land. He reached for a crown, was humbled by Ricardo and started an unending decline for all his descendants. Grand Duke remained a hereditary title for one generation; Hector cut down the younger Georg with his own blade and took the title. Ricardo had the whole house wiped out bar its youngest son; he was more than shrewd enough to find an excuse to hold onto the loyalties of all the lords who'd come from the Reinblut's kingdom. This mercy earned him that; it was the early days of empire and he needed them, especially with all the power they'd been given. A couple Reinblut's were able to curry their favour after the house built up many years later and became Grand Dukes but the loyalties of the old houses who'd followed them had withered and changed as they became the Britannian elite, first and foremost".

Reinblut fixed his eyes to Jeremiah's with stern intensity, "The Reinbluts've fallen ever since: our role as forefathers lost deep under the black mark of high treason. Over the years the House of Lords saw what these 'traitors' held compared to their loyalty selves and made it their creed to subvert us at every turn. They did their best to blot out our existence from history while the commons spat with every mention of us: to have everything that comes with being second to the Emperor and still take a knife to his back has made us the vilest men of the empire to them. It would take great men to hold against their collective power and not every generation boasted such: some saw the leadership of buffoons and lack wits. It was inevitable our land, rank and reputation would be steadily whittled away to nigh obscurity. My grandfather joined what it shames me to admit is a lineage of Reinblut lords who sold title in an attempt to keep even our meagre holdings afloat and that struggle to barely retain what little we had consumed my father's entire life". A topic not spoken of in polite noble conversation and history, but known to any who know anything of the commons it seems. No wonder you knew nothing of it, sheltered fool.

Sir Reinblut pointed at himself with his thumb and then extended the neighbouring finger out to Jeremiah, "But I will change this and you will aid me. The one thing I can say for my forbearers is they held the seat in the House with tooth and nail at every turn so the other fools could not simply ignore us. I've used it as a platform to bid for Area 11 and with Soresi's damnable coffers I've bought it. I've no heir, nor will I: I've accepted that it's impossible. The Reinblut name dies with me and that won't be long removed. So why not offer those pestilent, climbing vines what little estate remains to me. My land and wealth is naught to them but for my barony, the last title I've kept a hold of, and the dangling carrot of being named to succeed me as Margrave? Such a drastic rise in fortune hasn't been afforded a man since Colchester", he gave a more characteristic snort of derision, "but I guarantee you these beggars will have neither pride nor humility enough to refuse it like he did, not nearly".

Jeremiah searched frantically for some response: his instinct was to defend Sir Kewell, his military superior if not his social one, but he doubted that would go over well with Sir Reinblut. The next idea to fully form in his mind he projected, unchecked as an awkward silence began to settle in, "But sir, you can have an heir; you could take a ward, as Sir Hector fo Troy did with me". Reinblut nodded, much to his relief, "Indeed, I could. And thereby I would concede on final, great humiliation to the lordly masses: after all else, here came a Reinblut lord who could not produce an heir yet alone fortune to his house". Jeremiah gulped down nerves but he hadn't seemed to have provoked Sir Reinblut's ire, his demeanour remained a cool assuredness, "I would forever stain my legacy by scrapping so to keep my name alive when it stands for the 'pure blood' that no longer runs in the veins of those who would inherit it. No, the name alone means naught to me: it's been but a fate and a burden. All I care for is not becoming the embarrassment that so many before me have, rather, to forge a legacy that all those uppity lords and ladies could not sully. To do deeds and forge ahead to an extent it shames them by comparison. That's why I'm here and that's why you are here now".

Jeremiah's interest was now fully piqued: this was it, "I've taken the first steps in making my mark by assuming this command where none dreamed I could. To do so I've had to deal with these Soresi but damn pride; I do all this so I'll have more than enough on my deathbed, after all. The boy Kewell is a boy still and I presume he'll never be man enough not to sully my name once I'm gone: my name, not my house's. He'll need a better man with him to be trusted not to. Hell, a better woman: even with the Soresi fortune I can't afford to turn away deft hands. Yet many of those deal in pride and repute as much as gold so it was no easy task to cobble together what's assembled here…Nu didn't care for my sullied name but she's the better sort of vine: she's got skills and a mind to climb on. I had no luck on anyone close to as worthwhile as her and she's no Richard Hector. Why do you think I've so few knights!?", he gave another sour, almost menacing laugh.

Then the laughter gave way and it was his expression that soured, "Bar Ernst and Bradley. They weren't my work…old Soresi should've just shut his mouth and kept his purse open: that's all he's good for". Jeremiah made a quick comment as to the boon of being accompanied by two more Rounds and Reinblut's reply was delivered in sarcasm so dry Jeremiah knew it was no attempt at humour, "Of course. I spend my entire life on a battlefield to eke out the accolade in my twilight years and now I've the boon of an up jumped boy with a hand for massacres. Ernst…she's a harder sort, deserving though there's no question why she's been a Round damn near as long as I despite my having thrice her years and then some. But that's what troubles me…that and your apparent eagerness to hear me babble on and escape your own fate Gottwald".

"Sorry sir, what would that fate be?", he grabbed his hands a little tighter behind his back as he stood at parade rest, irrationally fearing they'd start to shake "I know who you are, they all do. And it's been one of my life's curses to keep an ear to all of the House of Lords' drivel, yet ay of it foretell another stab at myself. I know you secluded yourself after the Empress was killed and I know you forfeited your rank to enlist here. You threw status aside for redemption in coming here: to redeem your name. Not Gottwald, Jeremiah". "Yes", he gasped as if it were his dying breath, barely any air in his lungs as he realised he had forgotten to continue his carefully controlled breathing amidst the tension in the air around him. "That's why you're here Gottwald. Because you're like me. To hell with Reinblut. I'm redeeming the legacy of a man named Vater".