For centuries, the Empire and its citizens have tirelessly fought against the threat of the Infected. Because of the Infected, the people lived within cramped walls. Because of the Infected, the people endured a brutally stratified and militarized society. Because of the Infected, the people ate mostly what could be produced in government controlled, hyper efficient and standardized greenhouses. Because of the Infected, a huge amount of the Empire’s economy was devoted to the development and production of weapons. Because of the Infected, thousands lost their lives every year. Because of the Infected, every few years, an entire city would be entirely wiped off the map.

Despite all of that pain and suffering caused by them, after centuries of dealing with it had caused something strange to happen: There was a certain feeling of routine to it. Certainly there wasn’t a single citizen of the Empire, noble or otherwise, who did not fear the Infected on some level. Those assigned to guard or maintain a city’s walls were quite familiar to losing a work colleague every now and then. Few accepted the job without a level of acceptance that one day, perhaps they might be the lost work colleague, grabbed, mangled and bitten brutally, suddenly gone from the world of the living. That was the key word: Acceptance. For quite a few centuries, even before any of us had been born, the people of the Empire had accepted that dealing with the Infected might always be a part of reality.

That was something incredibly important to the Empire's consolidation to be sure. Once the Empire had accepted it, even if it continued to call the Infected a blight upon the land that should be purified, there were many fewer lives lost due to the stoppage of certain insane practices such as Purifias, wars of reclamation, which more often than not were as effective as trying to drown a raging flame with wood. However, that acceptance also brought about a certain delusion that slowly ate away at the preparedness of the people in the Empire.

The existence of the Infected is normal. People dying to the Infected is normal. They are no different from other kinds of natural disasters or beasts. As long as we keep doing what we are doing, as long as we sacrifice ourselves, they are not a real threat: The government might regularly talk about them as the greatest threat to humanity’s continued existence, but to many it was just regular propaganda, devised to keep the nobility entrenched in power. Many citizens couldn’t help but think: If they truly fear the Infected, then how can they waste so much on petty games like the Great Race or fill the higher ranks of the military with people whose position in life was an accident of birth? Of course, such thoughts were very rarely said out loud or even written in the web. But it still bred a sort of complacency.

Thus was born the greatest delusion, shared by almost all of the Empire: As inconvenient or dangerous the Infected might be, they would never truly be a threat that could end the whole of the Empire. That delusion, that invisible shield that many felt to be around the greatest cities of the Empire, would soon come crashing down onto Trestia.

When the Unbreakable arrived at Trestia’s Central Station, it was still a normal city, dealing with its normal, routine problems. Prince Alexander had not dared to publicly announce the existence of the massive swarm of Infected advancing to the city so until a few days later, when the swarm would become easily seen by the naked eye from any reasonably tall construction, the people of Trestia would still keep their delusion of safety. Though some unease could be felt from the definitely uncommon act of a candidate to the Throne easily accepting another candidate to the Throne into the city even after military preparations had been done, many knew that it was better to leave the nobility to their games.

Everything changed once the people of Trestia started seeing with their own eyes the size of the abyss that was about to try and swallow the Empire whole. Desperation was sown, and destruction was reaped. Prince Alexander ordered the city closed in a bid to keep all of those important armaments factories working. People rioted and were promptly killed, sacrificed on the altar of safety and order. Gruesome as it was, few argued that it was unnecessary, for how else could the city’s defenses hope to stand against such a huge swarm? Many were the poor souls lost in ill-fated attempts to hijack either the Unbreakable or the Charger. Princess Lia herself was responsible for sending one person back to the Flame and though she mourned the loss of that person’s life, she warned others that she did not regret it and would not hesitate to do it again, should another attempt at hijacking the Unbreakable occur.

Once these first few riots died down under the heavy boots of Alexander’s and Lia’s armies, a feeling of doom and finality descended into the city. “The reckoning has come!” is a phrase that became commonly heard in the streets of Trestia. Many wanted to join the army, perhaps for a possibility to pass over to the other side being able to say: “I stood my ground, and struggled as best as I could.” Many thought that the arrogant barons of Trestia would abandon the city of their luxurious trains. Some believed that it was Prince Alexander who kept anyone, even nobles, from abandoning the city.

How will the future judge the Prince and the Princess? Will they be tyrants who needlessly closed the city of Trestia into a slaughterhouse? Will they be great leaders who rallied and inspired Trestia into a heroic defense? Will there even be a future in which humanity will judge their actions? Will this written piece ever be read by another person? I can only hope that it will be.

Katherine gazed intensely at the piece of paper in front of her. For the last hour she had been writing, trying to put her chaotic thoughts and feelings into something coherent. There were many things that she was feeling, but fear seemed to be overpowering everything else. She feared being caught by the censors, so she did not even type it into her computer. She feared being executed for her less than flattering commentaries about the Empire’s treatment of its people. She feared the silence, but she also feared speaking up. More than that, she feared being swallowed whole by that… thing which she could easily see from her room’s window.

It had been ten days since the Unbreakable had arrived at Trestia. With the influx of new recruits and constant mobilization by the soldiers, it had become an uncomfortable place for a civilian like Katherine, so she looked for lodge in the city. The room she was in, as luxurious as it was, was pretty cheap, because few people liked being reminded of their impending doom.

At first, Katherine thought she would be swamped in requests, unable to stop listening for even a moment to people’s stories. Reality was quite different, there wasn’t a single soldier that did not feel like this would be their last stand, the place where they would die, failing to defend it. If the city was doomed, then what was the point? Everything would be destroyed, and nothing would be left anyway.

Katherine could not disagree with such thoughts, yet she still wrote, trying to leave something behind in that doomed city. She clutched the papers once again.

“Fuck, what is wrong with this world…”

She left the room in search of an establishment where she could drink something, anything with alcohol. She hoped to forget, for even a fleeting moment, about that menacing sword hanging above all of them, by the thinnest of threads, which for so long she and many others had so easily ignored.

The Great Tower of Trestia was one of the three great monuments of the Empire, along with the Imperial Palace in the Capital and the University Building of Came. It was full of lights that helped illuminate the city at night. It usually provided a charming contrast to the dark surrounding countryside, but in those days, it merely amplified the horror of the coming horde. On top of it, one person silently stared at the moving Swarm of Infected that threatened to eventually swallow the city.

“Damn, they sure are slow, aren’t they? Sometimes it feels like they are never going to actually get here.”

Chelsea wasn’t sure if she would like for that to be true. That endless tension was something that she always hated: She longed for a fight, but then she remembered that girl, a feeling of dread took over her. It was a fight that she knew she could not win. It was a new feeling that she very much hated.

“Catching some fresh air and…” The unknown man gestured towards that massing thing that advanced inexorably to the city. “Appreciating the view?”

Chelsea turned around. The man had just stepped outside of the elevator.

“Excuse me, have we met before?”

The man shrugged.

“I don’t suppose me getting beat up by you in hand-to-hand sparring counts as meeting. I am Alexander’s Shadow, the name’s Frederick. Call me Freddy or something.”

It was probably something that he must get a lot, but Chelsea could not resist commenting on.

“You have the same name as the Second Prince. Is that why you asked for someone that you just met to refer to you by a nickname?”

Freddy winced at that, but quickly regained his composure as he approached her.

“Well, since I’ve started doing that, I’ve considerably cut the amount of people who refer to me as the ‘Lesser Frederick’ even though I am among the strongest Knights of the Empire. It just kind of sucks that I have the same name as the very best.” He kept approaching her. “Although, I must say that I don’t mind having such a splendid woman as yourself referring to me by a nickname.”

Chelsea brushed off a creeping arm aiming for her shoulder and gave Freddy a polite smile.

“I appreciate you flattery, but unfortunately, my heart belongs to another man already, while everything else I gave to Lia.”

Freddy seemed slightly disappointed, but continued the conversation unfazed.

“Ah, the Third Princess. A remarkable person certainly, hard to wrestle anything from. How about that man, perhaps I could duel him for your heart, at least for a night?”

Chelsea shook her head, gesticulating to try and get her point across.

“That would pose a very big problem. After all, the man I have pledged live my life beyond this war with is Franz Mann, Lia’s Sword. Pray, tell me, what good would it do if either of you ended up dead because you want to get in my pants? What should I tell the Princess then? Oh, I’m sorry, he was just so earnest, that I couldn’t help but let them kill each other for the right to use my pussy. Sounds like a great situation to me!”

Freddy backed off completely, putting his hands up in the air in a mock gesture of surrender.

“Okay, okay, I give up, you win. But damn, aren’t you the caustic one?”

“I’d give you a couple slaps for that one, but something tells me that you’re the kind of person to enjoy that, so I’ll refrain.”

“To be honest, I never thought about that before, but now that you mention it… I might be willing to have you test that hypothesis.”

Chelsea rolled her eyes, exasperated, and gesticulated towards the incoming swarm of Infected.

“Flame! Can’t those stupid things be any faster? Save me from this stupid conversation!”

Freddy tensed up and completely changed his demeanor.

“Don’t say such things.”

She turned towards him, slightly confused by his change in attitude. What was he hung up on?

“What?”

He took a deep breath, exhaling before speaking.

“The Infected. I wish they would just stay away forever. There is no meaning in engaging those things: They are just a horrible blight upon the earth.”

Chelsea smiled inside. At least the conversation seemed to take a turn for the better in her opinion. Grim as the subject might be, it sure beat his weird advances.

“We cannot survive without battling them, is that not meaning enough?”

He shot back with a very quick response, it was certainly not the first time he was having this kind of conversation.

“No, survival in itself has no meaning. What you do with the life that survival gives you is the meaning.”

Which might sound like a good enough response, if you don’t consider a few other things.

“So, you think that violence against other men or animals hold some kind of meaning?”

He puffed up his chest.

“Of course! There is honor and a battle of wits when facing against a fellow man! Hunting is also a noble endeavor of trying to beat Nature, with the promise of a tasty meal later. Fighting the Infected is like pulling out extremely poisonous weeds, tedious, dangerous and soul-crushing. It must be done, but how better the world would be if it didn’t need to.”

Fellow man. These words reminded her of something.

“What about Mutants? You think there is any kind of meaning to fighting one of them?”

She remembered Duke Prelestia, the bird-headed, supremely strong Mutant. She did not fight him, but from what she merely saw, she knew that he was on a completely different level, even when compared to the Bridesmaid. Oh, right, they were actually called Heir Maidens. She felt like she probably could get some meaning out of fighting him.

“Mutants, huh, I must admit that I’ve never stopped to consider them. Perhaps in the future I should travel to the Wildlands and see them for myself.”

That was quite a surprising answer to her.

“I did say that I planned to marry, but do you really think we are going to live through this?”

Freddy pondered for a few seconds before answering.

“You know, Alexander wasn’t just given Thelema. He earned the respect of everyone there. If anyone can lead people out of this situation, then Alexander is the one. I really think that. All I can do is squat and start pulling out from this interminable sea of poisonous weed that will kill me if I get the slightest touch.”

Not bad. Chelsea thought to herself. He almost seemed respectable, at least enough for her to accept having him as a friend.

Down at the tower’s ground floor bar, Franz stared at the almost empty glass in front of him, feeling immense regret. Early on in their stay in the city, Lia temporarily relieved him and Chelsea of their core duties. A way to signal trust in Alexander, after all, betrayal in their current situation would be madness. As a result, Franz found himself assailed by a terrifying mixture of anxiety and boredom. The early riots gave him some respite, as he helped control the fearful and angered masses, but as the rioters’ strength was nowhere near that of the combined forces of Lia and Alexander, that distraction soon died down. It was weird, he usually didn’t even do much anyway, but that small window of boundless freedom before an onslaught that would bring him certain death was nothing but a burden. For a few days, he was content simply with savoring Chelsea’s company, but for some reason, his conscience screamed at him to stand alone and confront his dread. Thus, he asked to be alone for a night, a decision which he now deeply regretted.

He ran away from the sweet obliviousness provided by his lover to that bitter obliviousness given by whiskey. How pathetic that was. He barely noticed the man who just gave him a light pat on the back.

“Rough night, buddy?”

Franz slowly turned around. He recognized the man, Thomas, Prince Alexander’s Sword. He tried to think about why that man would talk to him, but any considerations and speculations just turned to mush in his head, so he just blurted out something that might have resembled his thoughts about the current situation.

“Nah, just getting too lost in the horrifying realization all that we care for, all that we have suffered for, everything, just might be trampled by a sea of corpses soon enough.”

Thomas laughed in response.

“Be careful that it doesn’t get lost in you, tomorrow when you’re feeling a little better, you might want to let it out and close the door.”

Somehow that seemed like it made a lot of sense to Franz, so he found himself nodding to it.

“That’s a good one! You plan to let your fear out when they finally arrive? Bloody things are taking their sweet time.”

The laughter this time was more awkward.

“Well, I usually would say that keeping the fear with you is good, because it helps in keeping you alive through the damned battle, but this time I’m not even sure survival is a possibility.”

That was good, Franz felt better, somehow by just spilling them immediately, it was like he was getting freed of his thoughts.

“You know what? Know what I think? That bitch, who’s controlling all the Infected. You know a woman does that, right? Anyway, That bitch, I think she’s bloody well making their advance really slow, to, you know.” He tapped his own head with a finger. “Break us here. The longer it takes, the more we think, the more we think, the more this seems hopeless. Today, a man might be resolved to die on his feet, tomorrow, he might just have realized that crawling on all fours might at least buy him a few more moments before getting caught by that… thing.”

Franz had never spoken so authoritatively before in his life.

“Hah! You got some good words too. So, what do you reckon we should do to foil her plans?”

Franz put a finger up, ready to give the truest answer he could, or so he felt in the moment, but then the answer suddenly vanished from his mind. A few moments later he found another one that in that moment felt just as true.

“Forget, Forget, you know? Make it seem like the blood things took a couple of days to arrive, like they should have. Wake up in the eve of battle telling yourself: What, they’re here already? It was just yesterday we got visual on the bastards.”

Thomas banged lightly on the table in response, lightly cracking it.

“Hear, hear! That's a good solution my man!” He turned to the scowling bartender. “Get some more whiskey! I’m way behind this schedule, I still remember yesterday, and before that! Come on!”

So the two men spent the rest of the night trying to drown their stubbornly floating terrors.

In one of the higher floors of the tower, Alexander and Lia were having a friendly conversation while they had some wine.

“You know what, I think I may have underestimated you, perhaps you do have what it takes to beat Frederick.”

That was a sudden turn for their conversation. Until then, they had been talking about recent events and how to possibly deal with such an impossibly large amount of Infected. Lia decided to be careful and try to find out why Alexander would say such a thing.

“Huh, that’s a weird thing to say. I’ve always felt that I was able to beat anyone of you, or else why would I even get in the race?”

Her confidence wasn’t a lie, although in the past she might not have cared either if she would win the race or not.

“Why even get in the race…” He stared at his glass as if seeing a faraway scene. “Do you want to know why I entered the Great Race?”

It took a moment for Lia to recover from the question. That was actually extremely valuable information, provided he wasn’t lying. Although not everyone else might be willing to negotiate, knowing Alexander’s reason might let Lia transform a great rival into a potential extremely valuable ally. Should she just honestly answer with her feelings? She really wanted to know. Was he playing a game? She didn’t think so. He did not seem to be that kind of person. Cold-hearted, tyrannical, pragmatic, ruthless, those where some of the adjectives that Lia could comfortably use to describe him after these few days, manipulative was not among them.

“Tell me.”

Alexander at first had a confused expression, but then burst out laughing.

“Hehe, tell me. Really? You take all this time to consider my offer and you simply answer me with tell me? That’s funny. For someone that likes to be so meticulous about what you say, you sure are easy to read, huh?”

Lia hid her agitation with a smile, but she had a feeling that her cheeks might be slightly red from the embarrassment. On a better note, she was grateful to be able to speak completely calm.

“So, are you going to tell me, or are you going to tease me some more? Personally, I’m not exactly a fan of being teased…”

Maybe that didn’t sound that calm.

“Uh, sorry, that wasn’t my intention. Anyways, my reason for entering the Great Race… It’s quite simple actually. I want to stop Frederick.”

It really was simple, so simple that it lightly shocked Lia.

“What?”

Alexander shrugged.

“No wonder you also carry that impressive confidence that you can win this Race. You don’t know Frederick very well, do you?”

Lia searched her memories. Frederick had left the Golden Cage not very long after she had been born, so she had never even met him personally. Justinian had told her a lot about their brothers, but now that she thought about it, he had talked very little about Frederick. The little she remembered, Justinian sounded strangely irritated.

“I… actually don’t. That’s kind of surprising to be honest.”

She had never thought about it. She knew, like most people in the Empire, that he was a genius swordsman, far surpassing even the second best. She knew nothing about him besides that. Was Alexander willing to tell her about it?

“Well, this isn’t exactly a comfortable topic for me… but hey, if all this situation does end in you surviving and me dying, I’d rather you know what you’re going to be up against. Frederick, he…” Alexander paused, looking for the best words to describe his brother. “Is a natural-born winner. Some would call him arrogant, but when your skills match up with a lofty evaluation of yourself, can it truly be called arrogance?”

“Hmm, tell me more.”

“He was always armed with an unassailable confidence that everything that he wanted was his to take, he merely needed to put in the necessary effort. It wasn’t like he acted as if the world owed him something, no, he just felt that he was good enough to win and take anything he wanted. Playing games with him was a nightmare. It’s not like he simply was good at everything, no. He just insisted… he would play with anyone as many times as it would take to beat them, even if just because they were exhausted of being pestered for a rematch. And he didn’t mind wining that way, all that mattered to him was winning, being superior. Swordsmanship, I suppose that is the only discipline where he never tasted defeat. His ambition is as great as his skills and he often talked about the craziest things he wished to do once he was Emperor.”

“Got any examples?”

“Let me see… Ah, yes. He wanted to completely banish the aristocracy and create a society based entirely on merit and skills.”

“Is that necessarily so bad? Such a society would better serve the Emperor, no?”

It spoke to the lofty place the Imperial Family had within the Empire, that a Prince and Princess talked about the nobility with such indifference.

“True, but such a thing would for some be relegated to the realm of dreams. Not so for Frederick. Just like how he challenged me to a game of chess hundreds of times before he eventually defeated me once, I wouldn’t put it past him to go ahead and try to implement such a crazy idea.”

Lia pondered for a few moments this information. Frederick certainly sounded quite overwhelming, but something was left unexplained.

“Considering what you’ve been telling me, Frederick sounds like the ideal Emperor, at least according our culture, not that I have any intention of giving up. So, why would you enter the Great Race, risk your life, just to stop him?”

“Good question. That’s because I don’t think the Empire measures up to him, and he will break it. He sees nothing but himself. He is the kind of person that happily leaves people behind to die while he runs towards his objective. He also will not hesitate to trample others. He will easily dismiss the life of others as not good enough. I know that if he becomes Emperor, he will grind it to dust in order to fulfill what he wants to do. It’s not so much that he would burn it down out of malice or greed, he might burn it down in order to not only prove that he can, but to then also prove that he is good enough to rebuild it. Except, would he even be able to? And even if he did, how much would be lost just to satisfy his capriciousness? No. I cannot abide by it, I cannot accept it. I don’t want to see this great Empire go through such turmoil because of him.”

“And you believe that I might have some hope against him?”

“Yes, because he will not expect it. Because, justified or not, you are the underdog. He always gives it his all, he gives it his best so that he can win. Why would he ever worry about you? He surely believes that you should have been crushed by me or Charles by now. He should have nothing on you. That is what gives you a chance.”

It was a strange conversation. Did Alexander in some roundabout way surrender to her? She wasn’t so sure. But still, after that conversation she couldn’t help but feel an increased load on her shoulders. Even more than before, she felt like she just couldn’t lose, not just for herself, but for the Empire. She felt herself full of the resolve that she was the best candidate. Not even that huge mass of Infected would stop her!