Chapter Text
“I pray for my heart to stop with every moment I’m still alive… alas…”
-Grand Knight Roswell, Bulwark, 35th “Goldenrod” Battalion. Age unknown, KIA 1926
September 7th, 1928
There’s a golden skull in the dark.
I saw it once, in my sanctuary. It’s a hidden cavern, outside of claimed territory. It’s beautiful. I don’t have any other words to describe it besides that. I’m only saying this now because by the time anyone reads this, I’m likely dead.
If so, hello. I am, at the time of this writing, a Sergeant in the Royal Nation’s 93rd Infantry Regiment. My name is Roger Henry Lee, but if you must refer to me, please do so as Henry. I am the Senior Mortician of our Regiment. At that moment, I was supposed to be at our base.
I do not remember how I got to my sanctuary.
I did not remember the last days.
We had marched out, and then… My mind would not stick to those memories. They slid away, like a bullet through cold fingers. I knew it was trying to protect me. I wish I could study why people acted like they do, because it always fascinated me.
My sanctuary was a stream in a cave. Small things danced in the pool at the end of the slow flowing water. I don’t know what they were, but they were nice to look at. As far as I could tell, it was clean too. Tasted like licking rocks, but no chemicals showed themselves when I tested it.
Every so often, insects wander through it. My theory is that they are around here more when I am not. How they even survive down here is beyond me, but I guess it’s no different from how we do it.
Do not eat them. They do not taste good.
I never made a map or marked the direction to my sanctuary at all. I find it strange when people get turned around and have to rely on compasses or an Officer’s whistle to tell them where to march. I can navigate these tunnels in darkness.
It’s simple, honestly. Every tunnel feels different, even if it’s a new one I can judge approximately how large it is from how the air feels. Noises echo differently in each tunnel too.
I need to focus.
I stored several extra medkits, pickaxes, bullets, and… other things there. Part of Stormtrooper’s helmet, utterly shattered from something I can’t even begin to comprehend. I… don’t remember if I found a body or not. Just the helmet.
They were supposed to be hauled back to base.
I need to focus, dammit.
The skull.
Golden, sharply defined. But that’s all that there was to it. A golden skull missing the lower jaw, floating in unnatural darkness. I just sat there. There was nothing I could do but sit. I knew I could not go for my revolver or helmet in time, let alone struggle on my gasmask.
After a moment, the skull vanished.
I sat there, back against the cool, dry stone, listening to the stream trickle through the rock and wondered what in the Hell was that.
The darkness of the caves had never felt heavy like it did now. I never understood when people complained about the weight of the darkness. Something whispered and my entire body shook. No. It was nothing. My mind was playing tricks on me.
It felt like someone was walking on my grave.
Graves are rare. Well, bodies are. Everyone is burned. From a technical standpoint, we just simply don’t have the faculties to hold the amount of bodies that come in every skirmish. Some people took comfort in it, especially the Imperials.
I’d heard that after a particularly nasty skirmish, they didn’t burn any of our bodies and left them to rot in a side cave. I would have to confirm that for myself. That behavior would track for those Imperials. I know damn well it would.
They’re nasty bastards. They started this war, and now they want us to just lay down and die. Like Hell we will.
I should not hate my fellow man.
…
They’re not all terrible, honestly. Just like we’re not all saints. I won’t wash away my own sins in face of the Imperials and I won’t wash away theirs. So when it comes down to it, I pull them out of the line of fire and stitch their wounds.
People hate me for it. They glare at me, say I’m no better than a tunnel rat Jaeger. Personally, I think that’d be an insult to the Jaeger. They sometimes complain even when I’m keeping their bodies from failing, but they don’t mean it then.
I’m not a hippocratic. I can’t just sit by while people are slaughtered. I know they would not spare me, so when it comes down to it I do not hold my shots. Better me alive than them, honestly. The Imperials were a blight.
I grumbled, standing up. Those thoughts weren’t helpful right now. My legs felt weak, so I sat back down.
Some time passed. My watch was stuck at 3:12. Whether that was in the first half of the day or the second, I don’t know.
I remember the sun.
…
I don’t remember my parents or my sister’s face anymore.
…
Bad thoughts. The thoughts that make people turn their gun on themselves.
I was jolted out of my reverie by a cave cricket crawling over my hand. I swear I heard something scream out there, but it was just my mind playing tricks on me again. My watch was still stuck at 3:12. So it was truly broken then. That was unfortunate.
I shifted, standing up.
My gun wasn’t where I’d left it. It was turned at an angle, pointed at me instead of away. Which was strange enough in and of itself, but what really caught my eye was the still mostly liquid puddle of blood a few feet away. It couldn’t be that old, blood dried quickly.
Maybe I was being haunted. I wouldn’t be surprised by such, but it would be irritating if I became useless in combat.
And a death sentence.
I stuffed my gloves into my belt and picked up my Grace. I checked the ammo. Just as I had left it. Five shots. Good. I slid it into its holster, putting my helmet on and clipping my gas mask to my belt. My gloves slid easily onto my hands, shockingly clean.
The stimulants went on next, the bottle clinking against the glass vials. I gathered up two medkits and my lantern. Canteen was empty, so I refilled it from the stream. Two portions of rations left, enough to survive if I somehow forgot my way back to base.
As I gathered my things, I couldn’t help but dwell on the skull. What was it? My eyes playing tricks on me by picking up the slightest hint of gold and just running with it? Maybe I had been dreaming.
Still, I left a medkit in the brightest spot of the cave. Maybe whatever was out there would take it as a payment and would go and haunt someone else. An Imperial would be good, or maybe a random Bandit.
–
Hurriedly scrawled in the margins:
I appear to have been mistaken.
–
Hah, give them the scare of their life because a lowly Mortician thought of it. That would be funny.
The way back to base was simple. At some points I had to take off my helmet and bag to be able to squeeze through some of the more narrow gaps of the caves. It was easy enough to navigate. Nothing had changed.
I smelled blood somewhere, but I didn’t find the source. It made me feel uneasy. The blood smelled a few days old and very close. I didn’t have any injuries. It was likely a corpse that had slid into a crevasse and been forgotten about.
The only sound as I navigated the caves was the faint dripping of water and the phantom whispers crawling into my ears every now and then. The caves felt more hostile than they had since my first skirmish. I kept checking over my shoulder for anything sneaking up on me, but nothing ever showed.
The caves were shockingly empty as I approached the perimeter of our base. I stopped well outside the lanterns, staring at those on guard duty.
Our base was spread out and wasn’t necessarily the most important part of the Nation’s frontlines. From what I remembered, the last skirmish between the Empire and us had resulted in our total victory and the utter collapse of their lines. I wondered if the frontline would move forward. I don’t think we had the manpower to push forward, but the Empire certainly didn’t either.
Not after that campaign.
God, can you fix my mind? It just doesn’t work right.
The two soldats on duty were Philip and Marie. I liked Philip, he was a good lad even if he had abandoned the Empire for the Royal Nation. I had a feeling he would be stuck as a private first class for a while. Maybe forever. Turncoats had a habit of being distrusted by nearly everyone, just like I was, so we had spent a good amount of time together. He looked up to me.
For better or worse.
I was considering taking him on as a fully fledged assistant now that the other Senior Mortician was dead. I knew nobody would mourn his death. His name I can’t recall at the moment, but I’m… sure it will come back to me.
Marie, on the other hand, despised me. For better or worse, she was very vocal about it. She had been burnt by a Flametrooper a few months ago. Half her face was horribly scarred by the flames and she was permanently scowling. She was a private first class as well.
I stared at them for a long moment. They were talking to each other and for the first time since I had seen Marie she had a smile on her face. Very close to each other too, more than they had any right to be if you ask me.
That was interesting.
I adjusted my helmet and stepped forward into the light. They were too concerned with their conversation to even give me a glance. I stood there for what felt like an hour, waiting for one to notice. Of course, it wasn’t an hour as according to my watch-
Right. It’s broken.
I sighed, stepping into the light. That noise caught Philip’s attention instantly. He jumped up, fumbling his Prince long rifle. Not the most aware but that was better than most. There was a promising career ahead of him.
“Who’s there!” He almost yelped the words, his pale cheeks flushing. “Oh. Ah. It’s you, sir.”
“Jesus,” Marie said, face twisting back to its usual scowl. “That your blood?”
“Hm?” I looked down at my arms. Nothing there, just the dark purple of the Mortician coat. Everything looked fine. Maybe a bit darker than usual, but that was likely the shadows from the lanterns playing tricks on my eyes.
She shivered. “Nevermind, it’s no’ like you’ll tell me fuckin’ anythin’.”
We stood there in awkward silence for a long moment. I spoke first. “Both of you don’t have any wounds that still need treating, right?”
Both of them shook their heads. “No sir, all good.”
I exhaled. Good. They didn’t sound or look like they were lying about that. Good.
I nodded at them and walked into the compound. The exterior of the place was a carefully planned array of tunnels and rooms, structured to let us close passages easily if we were invaded. As one went deeper the rooms got larger and had more important stuff, like the radios and commander’s office, or shock barracks.
I felt that feeling again, like something was staring at me. Not evil, exactly, but certainly… strange. The feeling is hard to describe unless you feel it yourself. I glanced back at the darkness. Nothing stirred except for Philip and Marie going back to their conversation.
Except… was there a figure? Vaguely human shaped, standing there in the darkness.
I squinted. The darkness stayed dark. Nothing was there. Just my mind playing tricks on me. I released my breath. Nothing.
Fuck.
Nothing.
I pushed that feeling out of my mind as I pulled off my gloves, tucking them in at the back of my belt. Several Rooks were working on hauling rocks out of a new room. Looks like they’d even gotten a Lancer to help them. From the cant of his shoulders, he wasn’t happy about this at all.
Can’t have the pretty flagbearers just sitting around all the time throwing axes and taking drugs, y'know.
An Officer sat on a crate with a map in his hands and a notebook on his knee a bit farther down the corridor, a cigarette clamped in his mouth. Light stubble covered his cheeks. His beret was almost falling off his head. He placed the notebook down, carefully taking the cigarette in his fingers and exhaling in a plume of smoke.
I frowned. “Don’t do that too much here until the engineers install the ventilation.”
He jumped, beret falling off his head. “The fuck did you come from?”
“The caves.” I stared at him in complete seriousness. What was the man’s name again? Something with a J. James? Maybe.
“Oh I know that dammit,” he grumbled, putting his cigarette back in his mouth and leaning down to grab his beret off the floor. “Chief wants you, by the way.”
I sighed. Unexpected but also not at the same time. It made sense that I likely had to be promoted to senior mortician more or less officially. Fairly certain a battlefield promotion was good enough, but who knows.
What in the Lord’s name did I fucking do in the battle to get a promotion? Why can’t I remember?
“Roger that, I’ll be heading over there.” I ran my thumb over the vials of chemicals in my belt. Wax seals still on two of them. Haloperidol and Bicardine. When did I resupply them?
Skirmish.
And now I’m talking with myself. Wonderful.
“When’s the train getting here?”
The Officer snorted. “Delayed, again.”
I groaned, annoyed. Dammit, that was the second time. What were they dealing with? We needed reinforcements and supplies. Although the Empire base would supply us for a few weeks or longer if we didn’t skirmish again, it wouldn’t last.
“As far as we can tell, the rails are good, so it’s likely something with the train.” The Officer continued, taking another drag from his cigarette. “Fuck if I know what’s up.”
“Well, thank you for the information,” I said, even if I didn’t feel very grateful for it.
“Aye mate, no problem.”
I gave him a final nod and hurried off, making for the center now with all speed short of running.
The tunnels were strangely deserted. At the time, I passed it off as nothing, but now that I think about it, that was likely due to how many we lost. I don’t want to think about how the other bases are faring… Maybe better but likely just as bad as us or worse.
The switch to concrete and electric lighting was rather sudden. The use of the concrete kept the ceiling from collapsing, letting us build in more open spaces than the Empire. Ventilation ensured that the air circulated so nobody would asphyxiate, hopefully.
Unless they were being stupid like that smoking Officer. I can’t say I blame him much for smoking, God knows I want one from time to time, but there is a time and a place for it. Smoking somewhere unventilated isn’t smart.
My ears picked up the radio chatter before I saw the buildings that held the maps, radios, and the commanding officers. I found that to be rather strange as usually they’re much quieter unless someone is holding the door open. As I rounded the corner, I saw the reason for the noise.
Someone had removed the glass from the window of the building for whatever reason. I will admit that surprised me more than anything else I had seen for a while. What purpose did removing the window serve?
Whatever the reason, it wasn’t my issue.
I walked up to the door and quickly checked my appearance in the reflection of my broken watch. I looked presentable enough. Although I barely recognized the pale, exhausted looking person in the tiny reflection, I knew it was me.
I shook myself and entered the office.