Faye glanced up from her notebook, chewing on the end of her pencil. A drip of sweat slid between her shoulder blades. The cheers of the crowd cheered the Berchten public school girls despite the fact that the swim meet was being held at the National Academy. None of the Anitcan girls had been surprised. They were the Lowborn, harbingers of drought and fated to be mastered by the Masters.
"That girl doesn't stand a chance against Stell," Evie commented, her dark eyes intently watching Estella's blurry form under the flickering surface of the pool, "No matter how hard those townies squeal."
"It's so hot in here." Cecilia grumbled in Berchten, brushing back a fuzz of gold that had frizzed from her braid crown.
"That was very good, Cil." Faye complimented with a swift smile in her roommate's direction, "You are getting very good at your Berchten."
"I don't get the chance to speak in Antican often. It was bound to get easier sooner or later." She shrugged, perching her boots on the bleacher in front of her, "If I didn't have all of you here, I'd probably forget how to speak Antican all together."
"That's probably the point." Evie grumbled, arching a sharp, black eyebrow in their direction.
Faye brushed away the horror of that thought. The idea of forgetting her native language was tantamount to forgetting home altogether and there was no way she was going to let that happen.
"Wait here it is!" Evie cried, wiping a dibble of sweat from her tawny forehead.
She stood, hollering with excitement as Estella won her race. Faye jotted down a few quick notes for her Gazette piece and peered towards the pool. Water sloshed over onto the snowy tiles as Estella emerged triumphant. Her coach gave her an encouraging nod. It was the first sign of approval Faye had seen him give any of the Antican girls.
Gladys hadn't won her first trial. Her breaststroke was considerably wanting but she made up for it in the backstroke which she won by a mile. Estella had ground all of her opponents into the dirt every time she got in the pool. The crowd from Tyr was fading from their excitement around Faye and the other girls on the bleachers.
As Estella swaggered down the poolside with a towel draped over her dripping shoulders, Gladys excitedly hooked arms with her. Taking off her swim cap, Estella let out a whoop and a wave in the direction of Evie. Faye shook her head as Stell winked at her.
"You wait until next time!"
Gladys and Estella paused, glancing around at a Berchten swimmer behind them. Her round countenance was bright red. Gladys Albert's pinched face glowered darkly but Estella sported a bemused smirk. Faye rose, her brow furrowing as she clutched her notebook to her chest.
"Clearly there was a mistake made here. There is no way a Lowborn Halfbreed could beat a pure blood Berchten. We are the superior race." The girl screeched dramatically, looking over at the dispersing crowd of Tyric citizens for approval.
"Give it a rest, sugar." Estella droned, "Go get yourself some coffee." With an exaggerated eye roll, Estella grasped Gladys by her rigid arm and turned them both to leave.
"Antican sluts, stealing our men and soiling our children with your weak blood." The girl continued to berate them, following close behind.
Gladys paused. Estella reached out to stop her but it was too late. Gladys took one firm step in the girl's direction and swung. She hit the red faced girl directly on her snub nose, sending her tumbling backwards into the pool. Cecilia, Faye and Evelyn rushed down towards the commotion. The swim coach fought back the crowd.
Another student from the opposing team made a move at Gladys, gripping a handful of her auburn waves. The attacking girl lost her footing on the slippery floor. Gladys pushed her into the pool where the other girl was gasping on the wall, plugging her bloody nose with her fingers.
Grabbing Gladys by her slick upper arm, Faye dragged her towards their locker room with the other girls in tow. The stagnant air was damp in the locker room but thankfully silent compared to the chaos outside.
"Gladys Albert, what the hell were you thinking?" Estella yelled, perching her hands on her narrow hips.
Gladys shot Estella a glare as she threw her swim cap at a metal locker with a sharp thwack.
"I was thinking I've had about enough of this Lowborn shit," she snapped, rolling up her towel and casting it to the ground, "I wasn't born for this. I'm an Albert for God's sake. We own Clare! We go into politics for fun."
"Would you leave your bleeding ego out of this?" Estella stomped over and peered into the shorter girl's face, "This whole thing is so much bigger than your poor little rich girl act!"
"I think we all need to take a breath." Evelyn calmly interjected, coming between and pushing them towards separate benches, "Gladys, how is your head?"
"Fine." Gladys sniffed, running her hand under her nose.
Faye peeked over at Cecilia. The other girl's porcelain face was twisted with stress. Faye felt a pinch of concern that she would have another panic attack. Cecilia's nerves were always frayed these days.
"Well. This will certainly make for an interesting piece in the Gazette this week." Faye commented in her dry monotone, "I might even make front page."
Evelyn gave a pained scoff as she handed the soaked girls new towels she had found in the corner. Faye sighed, rubbing her hands over her face. The chaos outside had nearly died down.
"I think we have all been a little tense lately. Especially after the zeppelin accident." Faye broke the mildewed silence of the shadowy locker room.
Estella snorted and peered over at her with her muddy hazel gaze, "You still think that was an accident?"
"It's what Headmaster Burns called it, didn't he?" Cecilia's delicate voice trembled in the dank air.
"I don't believe that man would tell the truth to save his life." Estella replied sharply, Cecilia recoiling slightly.
Faye reached out and placed a steadying hand on Cecilia's shoulder. She leveled Estella with a firm stare.
"There is no use in theorizing, Stell," she stated, "We don't have any other evidence."
Estella scoffed, "We don't?"
Faye's mouth went dry as she considered the alternative. Estella gave her a pointed look that made her even more concerned. The last thing she wanted was to get caught up in a pointless rebellion against the Empire. She was there to do what she had to and then get home as soon as possible. Having a potential member of the Resistance as a roommate did not bode well for the plan. Before she could reply, the door slammed open.
Matron Mauntrel had a certain finesse at entering a room abruptly. Her presence was like a storm cloud, drawing in with the threat of lightening. Faye looked over at Gladys. The girl was sitting up straight, her sharp chin raised defiantly and blue eyes narrowed towards the Matron.
"I hear congratulations to our swimmers is in order. You represented yourselves and you adopted country well." The Matron stated without any pleasantries.
"Even with the tussle?" Estella slammed the question into the Matron, clearly impatient to get their punishments over with.
"Tussle?" The Matron furrowed her brow in confusion, "I wasn't aware of such a thing. Your coach didn't mention it."
"Why wouldn't he?" Estella scoffed, glancing over in surprise at Gladys.
"Well, did you win the fight?"
Evelyn snorted.
"You could say that." Gladys rubbed her swelling knuckles, dabbing away watery drops of blood from her fingers with her towel.
"Then perhaps that is why he didn't mention it."
Faye blinked at the Matron. Apparently, violence could be excused as long as the winner was on the Academy's side. She thought of Gustav's look of disgust after winning his boxing match. It suddenly made sense.
"I am here to make arrangements for tomorrow morning with the girls who will be volunteering at the Metropolitan Hospital in Tyr." The Matron continued, "I will be accompanying you into town as your chaperon. It's Albert, Fortune, Winter and Zimmerman who will be coming with me?"
"Yes, Matron." The noted girls hummed in unison. Faye tried not to let the secretive glance between Gladys and Estella bother her. She couldn't knock the nagging feeling that the two of them were up to something.
"I expect you in your common uniform with your appearance presentable by eight o'clock in the courtyard." The Matron paused, wetting her thin lips, "Conditions may be harsher at the hospital after the accident this week. I want you to be prepared."
"Yes, Matron."
"Very well, I will see you first thing tomorrow." The Matron turned to leave, "Just as a reminder, this fight can be overlooked but any more in the future will be met with consequences. We expect you to control yourselves here, despite your Lowborn upbringing."
They arrived at the hospital in Tyr in the back of a open bed transport lorry. A canvas was pinned to the rod iron canopy over their heads as they bounced down the cobblestone streets, ripe with frost heaves. It wasn't snowing for once. Faye could have sworn it had snowed nearly every day for the past two weeks. However, the stone grey clouds overhead did not appear promising.
"Look at that." Evie breathed next to her, pointing towards the east side of town with a gloved hand.
Faye's eyes widened. The once proud clock tower of Tyr, one of many the town was known for, had toppled over completely. The stones that were left on the horizon were stained black by the smoke from the explosion. In typical Berchten manner, the mess had been tidied up days earlier. Faye was used to seeing the wreckage of war and the sight itself didn't bother her. It was the sinister implication that the Resistance had something to do with it. She glanced over at Estella. Her freckles were sharp against her pale skin as a flicker of triumph washed over her face. Faye hoped that the Matron hadn't noticed it.
"Do you know the casualty count in the city?" Evelyn whispered to Faye.
"That's enough chit chat." The Matron sparked with a steely glare.
The Metropolitan Hospital in Tyr was a multistory modern building with sandy walls and green shutters on the many windows. The roof peaked towards the heavy sky. After the lorry came to a halt in the back of the hospital where a couple ambulances were parked, the Matron shooed them out of the bed.
"Follow me." She directly firmly, straightening her grey wool uniform jacket and marching towards the door.
Estella mimicked Matron Mauntrel's signature strut as she walked behind her, clasping her hands tightly over her belly and stomping flat foot like a duck. The other girls swallowed their giggles and entered the building. The Matron led them up the back staircase, passing only a couple white clad doctors and nurses with red crosses on their caps.
They emerged onto a hall bright with natural light coming from the many windows facing west. The cotton cream tiles shone like new fallen snow, the walls spotless periwinkle blue. There were several ivory doors on the opposite side of the windows. Nurses quietly pushed bathrobe clad soldiers sitting in wheelchairs while others helped men walk.
Faye was struck by how young they all were, mostly seventeen to nineteen years old. Unlike the reports from the Emperor they were receiving in Antica and the news they got at the school, it seemed Berchta was being bled dry of their young men on the eastern front.
"Fortune and Zimmerman, you two in that ward right there. B45." The Matron pointed to the block lettered label on the door across from them, "The nurses know you are coming. They will tell you what to do. Albert and Winter, if you will follow me."
The Matron strode down the hall, her boots clicking on the tiles. The girls exchanged brief anxious looks before parting ways. Faye and Evelyn inched towards the door to Ward B45. Inhaling deeply, Evie reached out and pulled it open. A rush of cool, dry air tinged faintly with cleaning chemicals hit their faces. Immediately, they were met by an older, petite woman. Gray hair frizzed out around her nurse's cap. She gave them a weary smile.
"Ah yes, the Antican volunteers." She murmured, peering down at her clipboard, "I'm Nurse Petersen and I see you two are Zimmerman and Fortune from your papers we received from the school."
Faye glanced over Nurse Petersen's shoulder down the long, windowless ward. Two neat rows of metal framed beds with thin mattresses and clothed in antiseptic sheets were all filled with men. Faye looked at a nearby bed. The young man's dark eyes were dull, his half shaved head bound tightly with linen. A doctor was unwrapping a bandage on his leg. His wound came into view. A gaping, gory mess with the shredded flesh threatening to turn pale green. She stared harder and realized that the fat, white wriggling creatures on his leg were maggots.
Faye gulped down the bile climbing up her throat. She put a hand to Evelyn's shoulder to help steady herself. Evelyn merely winced and looked at the head nurse quizzically. Nurse Petersen peeked over toward the bed with a sigh.
"When you want to save the poor boy's leg, the doctor's do what they must." She shrugged, pursing her lips, "Don't worry. You won't have a hand with any of them. You'll just be stripping us new bandages in the back. If you'll follow me."
The Head Nurse led them down the mausoleum of broken bodies. It was sobering for Faye to see the enemy they had hated for so long in such a ragged state. The Empire promoted the image of the victorious invading soldier, healthy and handsome with both legs. These men were so far from that image. Faye was surprised to find herself fighting off a wave of tears. Evelyn's syrup brown eyes dilated with compassion.
"Those two were brought in yesterday." Nurse Petersen murmured, pointing towards the last two beds, "Mustard gas."
Faye stopped dead in front of the beds, her face flaring up in horror. One of the young men appeared to be her age. His breathing was ragged as he slept fitfully, a light sheet covering him up to his hips. The entire right half of his body was blackened and crinkled from a chemical burn. The other young man held the hand of the nurse next to him as she marked down a few notes on a clipboard. None of his facial features were discernible, rather a singed bloody mess where a nose and mouth used to be.
"Come on, Faye." Evelyn whispered, grasping her by the upper arms and leading her into the supply room at the end of the ward.
After Nurse Petersen directed them in their responsibilities, Faye tried to gather herself from the scene she had witnessed. With a deep inhale, she stared out the single window onto the snow covered rooftops.
Faye glanced over at Evelyn. She was cutting the linen squares into neat strips as they had been instructed, her tawny brown fingers ripping the end of a particularly stubborn piece. Her springy, black curls in their tight bun caught the yellow gleam of the lamp overhead. Her face was smooth as the night sky, completely at ease despite the horror merely yards away.
"How are you so calm?" Faye stuttered in awe.
Evelyn peeked over at her with a soft smile on her full lips, "I'm used to this kind of atmosphere. Back at home, my grandmother heads up a group of relief workers. Being on the coast, the invasion was particularly brutal in our neck of the woods and I helped in any way I could."
Faye shook her head in awe as she watched the other girl, "I didn't do anything for the war effort at home other than helping our neighbors clean up what was left of their houses after a night raid."
"That's certainly doing something for the war effort."
"Yeah, but it's not patting the damp brows of our wounded boys." Faye tore into a piece of linen.
"It's not as romantic as that, as you can see out there." Evelyn commented quietly, "But I do wish I was able to help with something more than this while I'm here."
"Even if they are Berchtens?"
Evelyn met Faye's eyes directly, her mouth set, "Do you think any of them have any more choice with their lives than we do? We are all victims here as far as I'm concerned. Old men send young men to die doing their will. Those boys out there are no more the enemy than the ones we go to school with."
Faye felt a spark of admiration for her friend, "So you are open to marrying one?"
"I didn't say that now." Evelyn smirked, "I was reluctant to come here because it meant leaving my grandmother. We're all the other has and she's getting older. She needs me. I need to get home."
"Me too. I want out of here as soon as I can." Faye folded a bandage over and tried not to think of her parents in the ruins of Clare.
When she had left, most of their belongings had been bartered on the Black Market for basic necessities. Her father was in the process of reaching an agreement to reopen his factory with the puppet government set up by the Empire. However, proceedings were slow. There was no work to be had and people dropping in the streets from hunger.
Every time they sat down to a meal at the school, Faye fought against a pang of guilt. Her mother's angular face had grown sharp from undernourishment the last time Faye had seen her. Her once lustrous black hair had become dull. She'd worn her fashionable Cloche hat from before the war. Waving with a handkerchief on the train platform, her mother had fought back the tears successfully where she stood at her husband's side.
With a deep sigh, Faye drew her gaze towards the window and looked down into the alley below. She blinked as she watched three figures converge on the corner. Her heart dropped to her stomach as the taller figure turned and she recognized it to be Estella. She wondered how she escaped the Matron's supervision. Subtly, Estella passed a folded parcel to one of the figures. It was a man with a dark brown fedora that shielded his face from Faye's view. The girl next to him nodded to Estella, the wind brushing her loose, ebony hair over her shoulders. As swiftly as they had met, they parted ways.
After such a clandestine meeting, there was no doubt in Faye's mind what Estella was up to in Tyr. She hadn't volunteered out of the goodness of her heart like Evelyn. Estella was unquestionably working in conjunction with the Resistance.
"What is it?" Evelyn asked, noticing how Faye had paused in her work.
Faye turned her eyes hard on the linen in her hands and tore it down the middle without the scissors. She rolled the strips swiftly, attempting to steady her heartbeat. There was nothing that was going to keep her from getting home to her family. Nothing.
"It's nothing." She stated firmly, tossing the bandages in the nearby bin.
ns 15.158.61.51da2
