Belnon, Southern Regena1017Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ40pZdmSzX4
The Second Empirical War
The faint rumble of transport trucks hummed in the distance. The sound filtered through my busy brain as I hung wash on the line.
That morning, Theda and I had closed off the third and second floors of the old house. We draped white sheets over the furniture, locked shutters and swept crumbling ash from hearths then crept away like tomb robbers.
Autumn was waning and the farmers were whispering of a bad winter coming our way. With only the kitchen, back parlor and servants living quarters to heat, we wouldn’t waste as much fuel.
My mind that early afternoon was on ration stamps. In the north, where the moneyed population lived, there would be rare shortages. They were willing to collaborate with the Berchtens. However, southern Regena was stubborn. Rural and rife with anger for wounds from the last war, we were a rough bunch. The invaders would have to crack the whip. Belts would no doubt be worn tighter that winter.
The rhythmic crush of hobnailed boots to the dirt road shattered my thoughts. The damp hem of a chemise slipped from my fingers into the basket at my feet. Theda’s brown eyes widened as she stared at me, frozen at the edge of our herb garden.
We had heard rumors of a company heading towards the village of Belnon but had put it to the back of our minds. The ominous crank of a tank as it creaked past the house prevented any more denial. The enemy had come to Belnon and there was no knowing when they would leave. A shout came from the front of the house and my heart dropped a beat.
“Edgar.” Theda breathed in horror.
I clumsily ran in my unlaced boots, skirts whipping my bare legs. Rounding the corner of the manor, I saw my ten year old brother at the end of our drive. He was waving as though they were our soldiers. War was an exciting game to him and the players had merely changed uniforms. I thought of our father wasting away in a Berchten POW camp and sped towards him.
A soldier paused as I reached Edgar. The young Berchten was handing my brother a candy bar. Viciously, I knocked it from Edgar’s outstretched fingers. I jerked him back a step and lifted my sharp chin.
“Miss,” the young soldier nodded, closing his slack jaw, “How are you-“
“Better find a loose village girl to help you practice your Regenian because you won’t be wasting any more of our time.” I snapped, keeping a firm hold on Edgar’s wriggling shoulders.
“Georgie, he was only giving me a candy,” Edgar elbowed me in the hip but I didn’t let go.
The soldier sighed through his nose, his alert blue eyes scanning the grey trail of the Berchten war machine behind him. He met my eyes again and I was struck by his youth. About the same age as my older brother if he were still alive.
“I mean no harm,” he offered.
I sniffed, disturbed by his attention. He knelt to the ground and dusted the dirt from the bar. Another tank growled past as he offered it once more.
I stared at his nimble fingers and thought of our brother, Sid, and how he had been mowed down by Berchten machine guns. My glare bored into him as though he was guilty of the deed. Even such a brief exchange felt like a betrayal of my brother and father.
“You have another two miles till Belnon. I suggest you keep walking,” I grabbed Edgar's forearm and dragged him up the drive.
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