Cecilia cocked back the lever on the semi-automatic rifle after successfully field stripping it. She was the first in the class to finish. Faye set down her own practice weapon and narrowed her eyebrows at her friend. Cecilia calmly ran a cloth down the butt of the gun, scanning the boys in the straight rows in front of her.
"They know what they are doing." She clumsily spoke the Berchten words to Faye, her bright eyes widening.
"So do you," Faye replied incredulously, "How?"
"Talk later," Cecilia whispered.
It was a phrase Cecilia often told her friends. Though her Berchten was improving, once they were in the safety of their dorm and out of ear shot from the Matron, she was free to speak Antican.
Faye had some idea of the intense militarization of the Berchten public before arriving. When the Emperor had come to power fifteen years earlier, he had mobilized every man, woman and child. They naturally marched in unison, obeyed all authority figures without question and strove for perfection in every aspect of life. The Berchten people were to be reckoned with and Faye wished her country had not taken them so lightly in the early years.
After years of attending boarding schools, Faye had expected the common uniform pattern. She assumed it would be the usual fare of the plaid jumper with pleated knee length skirt and white starched shirt. However, what they wore reminded her more of the Antican Women's Auxiliary Troops uniform. Except for the skirt instead of trousers, they matched the boy's uniform of khaki military jacket, tan button-up shirt, black tie and boots with black woolen stockings.
The Matron required them to wear their hair either in a high, neatly kept bun or a tight braid wrapped around the crown of the head. Matron Mauntrel examined their appearance every morning before breakfast with meticulous attention. Their first inspection had made Cecilia so nervous that she broke out in hives.
"The zeppelin!" A boy by the window hollered.
Nearly the entire class migrated towards the tall windows that looked down on the city of Tyr. Even the professor walked over and peeked out curiously. Belle Macon, the west coast Antican girl in the class, bolted from her chair.
"Come see!" She tugged Faye's sleeve before running to the window. Faye grimaced focusing her entire attention on the rifle. Cecilia tucked a loose strand of honeyed hair into her bun with a trembling hand.
"Zimmerman, Heron and Fortune." The Professor called out, "Come witness the glory of your conquerors."
The Professor peered over at them with a wry grin, holding out an arm to a free window. Cecilia was the last to rise from her seat as the three of them edged towards the window.
The black bellied behemoth came to a hovering stop outside the sprawling city. Ant-like forms of men anchored it to an ancient clock tower on the edge of town. It's silent gracefulness was a mask to the horror of it's true purpose. Faye could see in her mind's eye the jagged rubble and dusty bodies on stretchers while the sky roiled with anti-aircraft fire. She shuddered and turned away.
"They act as though they were never attacked by one of those things here in Berchta." Evelyn Fortune murmured to Faye as they walked down the hallway after class.
"We were driven back after the first two years of war. They haven't had to worry about night raids in years." Faye replied.
"I think it would have been exciting," Belle chirped naïvely, "We missed all the show on the west coast."
"Not exciting," Cecilia answered, drawing a ragged breath. "Never."
They were silent the rest of the walk to the large gymnasium complex outside the main school building. The Emperor expected the youth of his empire to be athletically superior to the rest of the world. It was required of every student engage in a sport. The Antican girls were given their choice. Faye opted for tennis which wouldn't resume until spring. She had never been athletic and wanted to put it off until at all possible. However, Estella had made her choice right off and had even opted for a second activity. She and Gladys were in trials for a swimming competition against the girls' team from the public school in Tyr.
The air was humid as they entered the echoing chamber that housed the indoor pool. The swim coach gave a sharp whistle. Faye managed to catch sight of Gladys and Estella as they dove into the blue green water. The other Antican girls made their way gingerly across the slippery, white tiled floor towards the bleachers at the pool side. Estella reached the opposite wall of the pool then shot herself like an otter under the surface towards the finish line. Gladys came up for breath which cost her the race.
"Albert," the coach snapped. "You aren't just representing yourself. Rise above your nationality towards something better."
Gladys rolled her large blue eyes, made even more piercing by her aquamarine swim cap. Estella threw a cheeky grin in her direction as she got out of the pool. After wrapping towels around themselves, they tip toed towards the bleachers, dripping the whole way.
"Good hustle, Winter, good hustle." Evelyn mimicked the coach under her breath once they were in ear shot.
"I win." Estella beamed, her mahogany curls tumbling around her freckled shoulders as she took off her cap.
"Would you stop gloating? It's getting old." Gladys grouched, sitting down hard on the bottom bleacher beside Cecilia.
"I think you both did a good job." Cecilia whispered in Antican so only they could hear.
"Good isn't good enough for these Berchtens," Gladys groaned, throwing the coach a dirty look once his broad back was turned, "What do they expect us to be over here? Automatons?"
"They expect us to be the Divine Ideal," Faye flipped open her notebook. "Didn't you listen to my reading that first week?"
"Sorry, I must have missed that part between all the hegemony and bloody jaws." Gladys wiped her nose with a pale hand.
"So, are you here to report on what a superior swimmer I am, Faye?" Estella smirked, resting a foot on the bleacher and leaning on her knee, "About how worthy I am of a Berchten suitor despite my lowborn upbringing?"
"Report?" Belle asked.
"I got the position at the Gazette. Gustav left me a note with my first assignment yesterday."
"That boy and his notes." Estella shook her head.
Faye smiled, "Tell me about it. Would it kill him to have a polite conversation?"
"Probably would. He is Berchten." Gladys quipped.
"Anyway, I'll be heading to a boxing match tonight," Faye glanced up from her notebook, "Anyone want to come with me?"
"I'm in for sure." Estella patted her hair with the towel.
"Gladys and I have an exam in Geography tomorrow," Belle commented, "We could probably use the extra study time."
"She's right." Gladys grimaced.
"Cecilia?"
Cecilia bit her lip and looked down at her hands, "I'm not good with blood."
Her answer sparked a memory from class for Faye, "Wait a moment. You're not good with blood but you know how to field strip a rifle better than most of the boys in our military science class?"
Estella laughed, "Definitely didn't expect that from 'Shakes and Hives' over here."
Cecilia smirked, "Skeet shooting champion of Howorth County. My daddy taught me."
As the petite blonde turned her eyes to her hands, the other girls quieted. They all knew that her father had been killed in action right before the surrender. He had been a wealthy cattle rancher in northern Antica near the city of Lordesmont. Intensely patriotic about his adopted country, he had volunteered even before the draft and insisted on seeing action despite his age. Cecilia rarely spoke of him but when she did, it was clear he had been a devoted father to Cecilia and her younger sisters.
"We won't be late tonight, Cil," Estella smiled warmly in her direction. "Do you know who's fighting in the match, Faye?"
Faye had to admit she didn't have a clue.
After dinner, Estella and Faye pulled on their uniform sweater vests under their jackets and donned their Academy black scarves and mittens. Trudging through a steady snowfall, they returned to the Gymnasium. Upon entering the stuffy training area, they found they were the only girls in the murmuring crowd gathered around the elevated fighting ring. Estella led the way like a ram rod through the throng and they reached the front row.
A red headed student gave Faye a quizzical smile as she pulled her notebook from her jacket, "Got some studying to do while you watch the match?" He asked with a broad smile.
Faye shook her head, "I'm writing a piece for the Gazette."
The boy's milk blue eyes widened, "Oh! So you are our new writer!"
"Yes," Faye crooked an eyebrow at him, "Are you on the paper as well?"
"Editorials." He nodded, holding out a hand, "Roth Neilsson."
"Faye Zimmerman." She shook his hand firmly.
His eyes widened even more, "You're the girl-"
"Yes, I'm the Antican girl who had to read aloud to the entire school." She groused, wondering if she would ever live that event down.
"No," He shook his head, "Not that. You're the girl Anson Goldrick was talking about."
"Who?"
Roth pointed to the ring. Faye's jaw clenched as the black haired Berchten from her history class turned to face the center of the ring. The overhead glare reflected off his golden brown chest as another boy helped lace up his gloves over his hand-wraps. His onyx eyes lacked their cocky glint as he stared intensely down at his hands.
"Wonderful," she commented drolly.
"Yeah, he can come across as a real-"
"Bully?" Estella grinned sardonically at Roth, having heard the entire exchange, "And I thought thumb tacks and paper clips were his weapons of choice, not boxing gloves."
Roth grimaced, "He's not so bad once you get to know him."
"I'd rather not." Faye glanced at Roth with a dry expression.
Roth swallowed so his Adam's apple bobbed up and down his skinny neck, "I don't really know what to say."
"Then you probably shouldn't say anything." Estella shouted over the cheers of the crowd as the bell rang for the first round.
Faye was jotting down the first particulars of the scene and not paying attention as the opponents met in the middle. Estella jabbed her in the ribs with her elbow.
"Faye, look who Paper Clip is fighting," she whispered harshly.
Faye snorted as the other boy came into view. Anson tapped gloves with Gustuv before the referee blew the whistle. Gustav stood a couple inches shorter than Anson but was just as broad in the shoulders and chest. He'd have to be to fight against Anson, who was clearly the heavyweight of the match. The round began, the boys dancing around the ring with their fists up.
The sidelines erupted in chaos. Faye and Estella were stunned by the noise. Until then they had seen nothing but control and decorum in the Berchten students. Faye wondered if they were trained to react so voraciously at the slightest hint of blood. She wouldn't put it past them.
"Goldilocks has a nice left hook." Estella commented.
Faye was thankful she brought Estella along. All she knew about boxing she had learned in the library that afternoon. Whatever comment Estella made, Faye jotted down.
The referee blew the whistle for the end of the first round. The opponents broke away to their separate corners. As Anson leaned back against the ropes, another boy patting his damp hairline with a towel, his eyes happened to land on Faye. Her mouth tightened as he blinked and gave a swift grin, a dribble of blood pearling down his jaw. She grimaced, quelling a spark of annoyance. She was determined not to let the brute get the best of her.
"He's a live wire, that boy." Estella remarked dryly, "Good ol' Paper Clip. Though Goldilocks has been surprising."
"Do you give everyone nicknames?" Faye asked, writing down her thoughts on the first round.
"Pretty much."
"What's mine?"
"I was thinking Thumb Tack, since you and Paper Clip seemed pretty chummy after class."
"You're hilarious."
"I know."
The whistle blew for the second round. Anson came in swinging, his verve heightened. He landed a heavy blow to Gustav's jaw, sending the boy into the ropes. Anson caught Faye's eye. Chest heaving, he grinned displaying the gap in his front teeth. Gustav threw himself back into the ring. Anson blocked the shot to his face but Gustav struck him in the stomach. Anson colored beet red as he doubled over. Straightening himself, they danced around, keeping their distance. When they clashed again, each blow was blocked. The whistle blew.
"They are both very good." Estella commented, "Even Paper Clip."
Anson never saw it coming. Guarding his face with his left glove, Gustav delivered a blow to his opponent that finished the boy off. Anson hit the dusty floor of the ring and bounced once. He didn't get up. The crowd exploded. Roth Neilsson let out a holler than Faye could only call primal. She sensed Estella shrink next to her as they were both awed by the power of the crowd. Gustav took a heavy step to the middle, peering down at Anson's inert, hulking figure. The referee knelt next to him and Anson stirred. Faye let out her breath with relief.
Her gaze rose to Gustav as he faced her side of the ring. He scanned the screaming crowd with a seething glare. His entire chin was gleaming red and dripping to his shoes, a tuft of blonde hair slicked to his beaded forehead. Looking at him, all Faye could think of was the line in The Book of Our Fathers.
No better than the animals. Bloodied jaws… hungry for the hunt.
Though it was written for all the other peoples of the world, at that moment no line better fit Gustav Wolff, a pure blood Berchten youth. He embodied all things feral and raw. He was the Berchten Divine Ideal, hot blood boiling beneath an icy exterior. Faye wondered if any of those parts were in her. She wondered what the cost was for awakening them should she take the risk.
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