Traveling in the zeppelin was like dreaming about flying. Smooth as cream, they cut through the sky without a sound. Faye Zimmerman shifted in her corner seat, peering down the slanted windows towards the earth. Damage done to Antican cities on the eastern coast couldn't be seen from this height. It was a welcome relief.
Faye picked up a dainty pair of silver tongs. She dropped another sugar cube in her porcelain coffee cup. That made three. The fair haired girl across from Faye had used four. After years of strict rationing, sugar cubes seemed as mythical as dragons and fairies. Faye hadn't had a chance to ask the blonde's name. The girl sniffed, her red rimmed eyes moistening. Faye's gaze shot away as she fought the lump in her own throat.
A map of the world was painted upon the silken wallpaper of the opposite wall. The forced borders made it more like the world as the Berchten Emperor hoped it would be as soon as the war ended. Since the surrender of the Republic of Antica, it would only be a matter of time till the eastern front fell. The vision of the despot who ruled Berchta with an iron fist would soon come to pass after six years of war.
"Papers?"
Faye jolted from her thoughts and peered into the pockmarked face of the government agent. She tucked her veil of black waves behind her ear as she dug out her permits. It was only routine, but the man's dark uniform with the silver snow leopard emblem on his bicep made her hands tremble. He reviewed the sheets, squinting at her with muddy eyes. With a frown, he returned them.
"Papers?" He snapped to the girl across from Faye.
With a quivering hand, she handed them over. Sensing her nervousness, he tipped her chin up towards him. He made a show of comparing her face to the picture on her travel permit. The girl's bottom lip trembled.
"Why are you traveling to Berchta, Miss Heron?" He snarled, roughly letting go of her chin. The girl's eyes widened. She glanced from him to Faye, her mouth parting, "Well?"
As her eyes welled up, the girl's hesitation dawned on Faye, "She doesn't speak Berchten," Faye stated plainly.
"Says here the girl's parents are both pure blood Berchten."
"So?"
The man scoffed, eyeing the blonde, "I find it hard to believe she wouldn't have picked it up from them. Says on your permit that you are only Berchten on your mother's side, a Halfbreed. Yet you speak it fluently."
Faye stiffened at his condescending tone but maintained eye contact, "Ironic, isn't it?"
With a sneer he slapped the papers on their booth table, "Antican traitors to your race." He groused, moving on to the next passengers.
The girl's pale eyes flickered over Faye as she retrieved a handkerchief from a knitted clutch.
"Thank you," she whispered in Antican, dabbing the corners of her eyes, "I hate this."
"Me too. I'm Faye."
"Cecilia Heron."
"It's nice to meet you."
Cecilia sunk into her seat. They were passing over the icy channel and leaving their country for good. Faye wondered if they would ever be given the chance to see it again. She banished the thought, her jaw clenching. She exhaled slowly, dampening down the torrent of rage in her chest.
It had been enough to see her beloved home city of Clare trampled by troops for the past year, her parents forced to take billeted enemy officers into their home. Her mother had told her to keep her head down and mouth shut both at home and now in Berchta. Faye was never one to disobey authority and bit her tongue to keep from ranting about the unfairness of it all. Survival was all that mattered now, not vain anger.
Besides, politicians in charge of the project had never told them that they had to marry into Berchten society. There was no way Faye would be able to commit such an atrocity. Bile crept up the back of her throat at the very thought.
"What do you think it'll be like?" Cecilia peeked over at Faye.
"I can't imagine," Faye gave a harsh scoff, "I wish we didn't have to find out."
Dusk was descending when they finally landed in Tyr. The mountain city was tucked in the far northeast corner of Berchta. As they hovered over the metropolis, Faye caught a glimpse of Berchten troop transports driving up into the snowy passes. The front line was on the border between Lyrovia and Berchta. Faye pressed her fingers against the window as the military trucks disappeared into the mountains. Part of her hoped they wouldn't make it to combat and give the Lyrovians a few less men to fight.
"There it is." Cecilia whispered.
Faye came up alongside her and peered over her shoulder. In the winter twilight, the black outline of towers with flags waving at their sentinels were stark against the silver sky. It sat on the edge of the mountain about a mile up from Tyr. From a certain angle, it looked like it had been hewn directly into the rock face.
"It looks like their old embassy in Clare from before the war," Cecilia muttered.
"I never liked that building."
"Me neither."
After disembarking, they found a running automobile waiting for them on the deserted street. Snow dusted the cobblestones under their shoes. A towering woman with a dour expression held an umbrella over her head to shield her from the flurry.
"Cecilia Heron and Faye Zimmerman?" She asked.
"Yes ma'am." Faye replied for both of them.
The woman sniffed in Cecilia's direction as the slight girl pursed her thin lips and focused her attention on her shoes.
"You may address me as Matron Mauntrel or just Matron." She opened the car door, "We need to hurry or we'll be late. You are the last girls in for the day."
Faye peered out the frost bitten window as they climbed into the frozen mountain night. The stars were brighter at this altitude than in Clare. They bumped under the archway of a stone wall surrounding the Academy. The chauffeur parked them at the columned doors of the main building, the marble steps glowing yellow from a pair of street lamps. Faye glanced around the square courtyard, peering up the walls of the cocooning buildings.
"Come along then," the Matron directed coldly. "We will be going straight to the assembly. No time to bring you to your rooms."
With the blood rushing through her ears, Faye entered the main doors. There was the racket of boots to the black and white tiled floors. Blinking in the glaring overhead light at the mahogany railings lining the stairs above them, Faye and Cecilia followed the older woman up the large staircase from the foyer to the main floor.
The Berchten students marched in unison with their black boots gleaming and khaki uniforms smooth as copper. As the last of the clean shaven young men passed with nary a look in their direction, the Matron, Faye and Cecilia fell in at the rear. Framed photographs of well-known Berchten politicians and war heroes lined the stark white walls.
They swerved into a sloping assembly room. The students cut off into their designated sections on the floor or in the balconies without direction. Faye had never seen such discipline. The Matron brought them down to the front of the room. The first three rows were occupied by the fifty Antican girls who had been chosen from their homeland. Faye had no time to register their faces as the Matron hurried her and Cecilia into the last two seats in the very front.
Faye glanced up the aisle behind her to see two royal blue banners flanking the doors. They hung down from the ceiling and matched the single one at the front of the room behind the podium. They sported the black frame of a hunting snow leopard facing a snarling wolf, their bodies creating a vicious circle.
The standing students, still chatting in their appropriated sections, sank into their seats as a group of nine professors marched down the aisle. Faye swung forward, reluctant to make eye contact with the severe men in their black uniforms and tall, hobnailed boots. The men sat down onstage. A middle aged gentleman with silvery auburn hair approached the podium. With a sharp trill of a drum line the room rose in one dark motion. The Antican girls quickly got to their feet. Faye dragged Cecilia up with her.
"Sit." The man directed smoothly. His posture was ram rod straight.
The room dropped into their seats with the Antican girls poorly behind in the exercise. The man's narrow eyes fell on them, his thin mouth an austere streak. Faye had the feeling that being under his attention meant either the best of things or the worst for the individual. She was frightened to consider in which category they fell.
"Young men," he paused, "and honored guests." His lips curled back in an attempted smile. Faye fought the impulse to hide under her seat. Cecilia reached over and gripped her hand. "Welcome to the Empire. The place you will now call home. Your former country has offered you to us and let me say, what a handsome sacrifice they have made."
"Come in."
At the tepid welcome Faye pushed open the door. The floorboards creaked under her boots as she edged into the narrow room. The single window at the end of the cluttered office was aglow with the afternoon light. The cherry red sun slung low in the fuzzy glass pane. She cleared her throat as she moved towards the desk at the far end of the room.
"I'm here about the advertisement."
The young man seated before her was finishing a sentence in long hand. He had yet to glance up. It was a surprising as well as refreshing change. Her first day had left her feeling like a goldfish in a bowl. Even the teachers stared at them with disdainful fascination.
"I'll be with you in a second," he murmured rubbing the end of his pencil against his scalp.
Faye closed her hands behind her back. She fought the urge to rock on her heels and fidget. The piece of paper calling for new writers at the Gazette rested in her hands. It had been discarded on a bench by one of her classrooms. After snatching it up, she'd clung to it. She had grown the habit of taking it out during class to read it over periodically. The scant words rushed over her like water to a dying man in a desert.
The young man shifted in his seat. His eyes briefly drifted up as a hint of a smirk brushed across his full lips. He nodded to the chair in front of the paper ridden desk.
"Please, sit."
Faye awkwardly clunked down, grimacing as she attempted to lay her hands demurely in her lap. She surveyed the small room. There was a looming state issued photograph of the Emperor in the corner. The man's lean face with the heavy eyebrows and thin beard accosted the viewer with his wrathful glare. It was difficult to imagine how such a man had come to power so quickly.
With a sharp exhalation the young man set down his pencil on the lined paper and leaned back. "I apologize for having kept you waiting." He lifted a strong, ashy brow. Faye waited a beat to see if he would give any further excuse. He remained silent.
"I'm sorry to have interrupted you," she returned with a tight smile.
He waved a hand dismissively with a shake of his head. "No harm done. You saw the advertisement?"
"Yes," she chirped. She unwittingly leaned forward to the edge of her chair.
"I see," he nodded. "What is your name?"
"Faye Zimmerman."
"Miss Zimmerman, you are one of the new students from the former Republic of-"
"Yes, yes. Of course," she sharply interjected.
The young man cocked his head to the side, studying her without expression. "Of course."
Another silent moment passed. The last rays of the sun evaporating from the tense air. Faye glanced up from her hands and met his steady gaze. The young man's eyes were a heady sage green, unblinking and mute as ice. Like many of the students at the school, he was unreadable. She wondered if they bred them that way in this damnable country. It ignited a spark of resentment in her chest towards him which she quickly swallowed down. She remembered her mother's advice; head down and mouth shut.
"Please," Faye sighed. "If there is any chance that I could work on the Gazette-"
"I'm sorry Miss Zimmerman," he interrupted her. "But that advertisement is nearly a week old. It was issued before your people arrived. All the writing positions have been filled."
Resting his elbows on the desk and he peered at her over the typewriter. Faye's gaze skittered to the floor as the heaviness of his words knocked the wind from her. She crumpled the paper in her hands.
"There is nothing?" Her voice sounded more fragile than she meant it. Faye fought the tightness in her throat, "Truly, I'll work at anything you need. I was an editor at my old school paper back home. I'll copy edit, proof read. I'll even hand out them if need be."
He pursed his lips, eyes dropping to the desk. Faye swallowed. With a curt nod, she rose and brushed out her khaki uniform skirt.
"Thank you for your time," she shrugged defeated. "It was nice to meet you." She darted towards the door, horrified by the threat of tears behind her eyes.
"Miss Zimmerman," he stated calmly as she laid her hand on the doorknob, "I will inform you of any openings. I promise."
With her back to him she managed a weak nod. She rushed out into the echoing hallway before he could say anything else. She was barely ten feet down from the door when she realized he had never introduced himself.
Faye's arms went rigid at her sides as she raced past the empty classrooms. She and the other handpicked girls from the Republic of Antica were being housed in a separate wing of the school which stood opposite from the boys' dorms. Entering the single corridor they now called home, she found it deafeningly silent.
When they arrived earlier that evening, some were almost excited. It was the first time in months to have a full meal without rationed items. Their rooms were simple but comfortable. The Berchten Matron, who would be their chaperon and adviser, gave a firm but hospitable overview of the school guidelines.
However, by the end of the first day the girls knew their place. The ones that couldn't speak Berchten were condemned to silence until they were able. Thankfully, Faye's mother had been schooling her only daughter in her native tongue since birth.
All the Antican young women had to meet certain criteria to be selected. One or both parents had to be of full blood Berchten stock. They needed to be educated, upper class girls between the specific ages of sixteen and eighteen. Prior to selection, the girls were medically examined and proven to be fertile.
The war was almost won and it was time to blend the conquered nations into the Empire of Berchta. A variety of methods were being tested but this was the most controversial on both sides. It was a social experiment. On paper it would bring the younger generation of Antican youth to heel. A simple remedy to perhaps also bring their parents around. Intermarriage between Antican girls and Berchten boys would water down their culture and their will for independence.
Faye had been chosen and was shipped over the channel. Cut off almost entirely from her family. She would attend the National Academy in the mountain city of Tyr. Strictly a boys' school for honing them into the men who would one day rule the Empire. If all played out as the Berchten authorities hoped, Faye and the other Antican girls would end up their wives.
The politicians clearly believed it would only be a matter of time and hormones. However with only one day down, Faye Zimmerman could see it would take much more for them to forget their homeland or what had been done to it by their invaders.
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