Summer's Lease Hath All Too Short a Date

May 478 IC, Odin

Winter passed, and spring came with the tender buds of May and a sweet smell of flowers on the wind. Odin’s vast swathes of countryside were idyllic, seemingly pulled directly from some painting. It was on a sunny Saturday morning that Annerose took Reinhard and Kircheis into the city. She needed to buy more embroidery floss at the specialty store there, Reinhard needed a new pair of dress shoes, and Kircheis had come because he always came. They had accomplished their first errand early in the day, with Reinhard marching along in front of their little group and leading them through the city with a surety that belied the fact that he had been to the city exactly the same number of times that Annerose had.

Still, neither Annerose nor Kircheis minded following his lead, and he didn’t lead them astray, so by noon they had made it out of the craft store and into the shoe store. Annerose wasn’t obsessed with fashion, but she did enjoy looking at nice things, so she turned to Reinhard and said, “Can you pick your shoes on your own?”

“You can trust me to have good taste. And Kircheis can help.”

With that permission, Annerose wandered over to the side of the store with women’s shoes, picking up and looking at all the dainty little heels and dancing slippers. This left Kircheis and Reinhard to contemplate the row of men’s shoes, which all looked somewhat identical. The store wasn’t particularly busy, so Reinhard and Kircheis were alone in the aisle.

“What size do you wear?” Kircheis asked, pulling down a random box.

“Seven.”

“You want black ones, right?”

“Yeah.” Reinhard also considered the long rows of shoes, but most of his attention was on Kircheis, who seemed intent on picking, looking at the displays and pulling open boxes to check their contents. After a minute, he had a couple boxes pulled halfway off the shelves to mark their places. “Did you want me to try those on?” Reinhard asked.

Kircheis nodded, smiling, pleased that Reinhard wanted to take his suggestions.

Reinhard sat down on the little bench in front of the mirror and tried on one offered pair of shoes after another. Kircheis helpfully offered his opinion on each one, and neatly packed the boxes back up when Reinhard discarded the pairs.

“How about these ones?” Reinhard asked. “I like them.” The pair in question was matte black, with a slightly pointed toe, and laced all the way up to the ankle.

“Do they feel good to walk in?” Kircheis asked. “I like the way they look.” Kircheis stood and offered Reinhard his hand to stand as well, pulling him to his feet. Reinhard didn’t let go of Kircheis’s hand, then glanced up and down the aisle to make sure they were alone. After confirming that, he lifted Kircheis’s arm up over his head, then twirled around under it, lithely testing the feeling of the shoes.

Kircheis smiled, but also glanced around nervously, and whispered, “Reinhard!”

“I think they feel fine,” Reinhard said at a normal volume. “Though maybe they need to loosen up a little.” He smiled at Kircheis and pulled on his arm. Kircheis allowed Reinhard to lead him in a few silly dance steps to the warbling store music overhead.

Although each one of them had their eyes on opposite ends of the aisle, to make sure that no one saw them, they weren’t prepared for Annerose to stand on her tiptoes and peer over the top of the shelves at them. “Reinhard--” she said, then processed what exactly she was seeing.

At the sound of Annerose’s voice, Reinhard immediately dropped his hands and turned around. Kircheis took a step back. Annerose’s eyes narrowed a tiny bit, but she didn’t say anything about what the boys had just been doing. “Have you picked out a pair yet?” she asked.

“Yes. They’re nice, aren’t they?” He lifted one of his feet onto the bench and Annerose nodded.

“We should get going, then.”

“Sure.”

Annerose dropped back down behind the tall aisle divider, vanishing from sight. Kircheis looked at Reinhard with a half panicked expression, but Reinhard just sat down on the bench and quietly took off the shoes. Kircheis handed him back his normal pair and stuffed the new shoes back into the box to check out with.

They paid and left the store without saying a word. Back on the street, Annerose didn’t say anything or act as though anything was amiss, so some of Reinhard’s worries subsided and he tried to communicate that lack of worry to Kircheis, to get him to relax his stiff back a little bit.

They ate lunch outdoors, at a cafe on a tree-lined street, watching the city traffic go by and speaking of light subjects: what images Annerose was going to use the embroidery floss for, a book Kircheis had read recently, and what Reinhard thought the chances were that the flowering apple tree in their yard would produce a good crop this year. It was both mundane and pleasant, which further served to relieve the lingering tension, and they sat at the cafe until the waitress began to grow impatient with them. Annerose paid the bill and they were off through the city streets again, wasting time until they could catch the train home.

It was during this idle wandering through the city that Kircheis caught Reinhard’s eye and made a silent gesture with his hand at his side, an almost invisible thing, but it got Reinhard’s attention immediately. Kircheis was telling him to watch out, which never meant anything good. As unobtrusively as he could, he looked around, but he didn’t see anything amiss. He looked at Kircheis again, asking him to confirm. Kircheis nodded slightly.

“Say, Kircheis, what do you think the best time to go to a movie is?” Reinhard asked.

“Maybe around seven o’clock,” Kircheis replied. “That way, you can have dinner before you leave.”

“And desert after,” Reinhard said.

“Did you want to see a movie?” Annerose asked. “I don’t think we’ll be back in time to have dinner before seven.” She was used to their odd conversations, and seemed to understand that there was some subtext passing here, but clearly didn’t understand what it was, because she didn’t look around, just down at Kircheis.

“I don’t think there’s anything good playing,” Kircheis said. “But then again, I don’t follow what’s coming out.”

They passed a store display with windows that had been freshly washed, and were so reflective that Reinhard was finally able to catch the person who Kircheis had indicated was following them in the seven o’clock position. There was a man, tall, brown hair, dressed in unobtrusive clothing, who was matching them pace for pace but staying a good distance behind.

“I don’t ever find movies very realistic,” Reinhard said. “Do you think it makes sense for the characters in horror films to split up?”

“They don’t know they’re in a film,” Kircheis said. “If they did, they would probably make different choices.”

“That’s true. They would probably try harder to protect the intended victim.”

“How would they know which one that is?”

“It’s usually the beautiful girl, isn’t it?” Reinhard asked, and he shifted positions in their trio, leaving the center to take up Annerose’s other side. Kircheis stepped in to fill the space he had left, and they flanked her like a guard.

Annerose ruffled Reinhard’s hair. “The girl survives, though,” she said. “You’ve been watching too many horror movies. I don’t think it’s good for developing brains.”

“Only sometimes,” Reinhard said.

“What should they do?” Kircheis asked. “Run? Fight? Hide?”

“It’s always fight, flight, or freeze.” They crossed a street. Under the pretense of checking the intersection, Reinhard looked at their tail, who was still following them. “How much longer until we have to be at the train?”

“Half an hour,” Annerose said. “We’re almost there.”

“Is being early a good thing?” Reinhard asked.

“It’s better than being late,” Annerose said, though he had been hoping that Kircheis would answer the question.

“It gives us an opportunity to do something in the train station,” Kircheis said. “Get a snack, maybe.”

“We just ate,” Annerose said, then sighed. “Boys. Such an appetite.”

“I do have to use the bathroom,” Reinhard said.

“Alright,” Annerose said. “We’ll walk faster if it’s urgent.”

Reinhard put his hand on her arm to stop her from speeding up. “You don’t have to rush on my account.” He didn’t want to draw their pursuer’s attention to the fact that they knew.

The train station came into view a little ways down the street, an inordinately fancy building for what it was, with huge columns and a wide set of white steps to get inside. All the trains were actually underground, leaving the ground floor level of the building as a kind of marketplace concourse, where one could buy tickets and tchotchkes and snacks.

“I’ll be back in a bit,” Reinhard said. He looked at Kircheis. “If you move around, I’ll find you, don’t worry about it.”

Kircheis nodded, and Reinhard headed off in the vague direction of the men’s bathroom. He made a pretense of looking around for where the specific entrance was, and saw that their follower was now sitting at a table watching Annerose and Kircheis from afar and not paying any attention to Reinhard as he slipped away. When Annerose bought a bag of pastries from one of the stalls, the man got up from his seat, walked to the same vendor, bought a coffee, and, while the waitress was busy preparing his drink, leaned forward over the counter to look at something. Annerose and Kircheis walked downstairs while he was doing this, which was a good and a bad thing. On one hand, it was giving them a chance to escape. On the other, it meant that whatever the man was looking at was more valuable than actually following his sister.

When the man finished paying for his coffee and turned around, he found Reinhard waiting for him.

“Why were you following me?” Reinhard asked, arms crossed, his tone as assured and demanding as he could make it.

The man raised an eyebrow. “Where’s your family, kid?”

“I believe you would know that as well as I do. Why were you following me?”

“I’m not sure I know what you’re talking about.”

Reinhard narrowed his eyes. “I’m not stupid, and I have a train to catch. Why were you following me?”

“I wasn’t following you.” He lowered his voice. “Don’t be so loud, kid. You’re causing a scene.”

“Good,” Reinhard said. “Answer my question.”

“I’m hardly in the business of giving in to the demands of children,” the man said.

“But you are in the business of following them down the street for over an hour.”

“You must be mistaken.”

“I’m never mistaken.” He put as much force into his voice as he could without raising it, punctuating each word of his question. “What do you want?”

“Do you really want to know?”

“Yes.”

“I’m something of a talent scout.” Reinhard was nonplussed, and just continued to stare at the man, apparently succeeding in confounding him a little, because he continued to talk. “Was that your sister, you were with?”

At those words, Reinhard simultaneously leaned towards the man and put his hand in his jacket pocket, pretending like he had a weapon in there. “I don’t care who you are,” Reinhard said. “If you lay even a finger on her, I will kill you.”

“Calm down!” the man said, holding his hands up. He seemed torn between being amused and threatened by Reinhard. “I’m not going to hurt your sister.”

Reinhard stepped back, suddenly again the picture of composure. “Good.”

The man reached inside his pocket and pulled out a thick business card. “You can give this to her, though. She can call me. I have an opportunity that--”

Reinhard sneered at the man. He almost didn’t take the card, but then he snatched it out of the man’s hand, deciding that any information was better than no information. He stuffed the card into his pocket without looking at it.

“Well, excellent,” the man said. “I look forward to working with your family.” He reached out to shake Reinhard’s hand. Reinhard stared at it for a second, then turned around and stalked away, heading down the stairs. When he was far enough away that he thought it was safe to look back, he did, and saw the man continuing to watch him. Annoyed, Reinhard walked away even faster to find Kircheis and Annerose.

That night, after the whole von Müsel family had gathered for dinner (a rare event), Reinhard was sitting in the living room, reading a book, when Annerose stepped in to find him. “Let’s take a walk, Reinhard,” she said.

“It’s dark out,” Reinhard said, turning the page in his book without looking up.

“It’s a beautiful night,” Annerose said. “I would like an escort.”

Reinhard looked up at her, met her eyes, then closed the book. “If you insist.”

“Wear your jacket. It’s chilly out.” He obeyed, slipping on his shoes and jacket, following her outside. She took the big camping flashlight from the hall closet and swung it in front of them as they walked, the dancing beam illuminating the rocks on the ground. Annerose turned deliberately in the direction away from Kircheis’s house, though Reinhard glanced behind him and saw the light on in Kircheis’s bedroom window.

They walked in silence for a few minutes until they were quite far down the street, out of the area with houses and towards the water tower and woods. “Were you planning on telling me what was going on, earlier today?” Annerose asked.

“No,” Reinhard said.

“Ah.” Annerose paused. “Would you tell me if I asked you to tell me?”

“What are you asking about?” He was guarded and tense, but he wouldn’t refuse a direct request from his sister.

“Let’s start with where you went in the train station. I know it wasn’t the bathroom.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because twenty minutes after we got on the train, you went to use the bathroom there,” she said, and ruffled his hair, a gesture that he didn’t mind from her. “I have eyes as well as ears, you know.”

“There was someone who was following us. I made him stop.”

“Made him?”

“I spoke to him. I wasn’t going to fight someone three times my age and twice my size in a train station.”

“And the only reason you didn’t was because you were in a train station?” Annerose asked. Reinhard crossed his arms and said nothing. “Alright, alright,” Annerose said. “What did you say to him?”

“I asked him why he had been following us, and I told him to leave us alone.”

“How did he answer that question?”

“He said he was a talent scout. Maybe a movie producer or something.”

Annerose bit her lip. “Hm. You didn’t hear anything else?”

Reinhard shrugged. “He gave me his card, but all it has is a name and number. I wasn’t going to call.”

She nodded. “Alright.” They were silent for a second. “You know, you don’t have to do things like that.”

“I do,” he said.

“We would have been on the train and gone in a few minutes. You could have gotten hurt.”

“I would have been fine.”

“Reinhard…”

“Annerose.”

“I’m just trying to look out for you.”

“And I, you.”

“That’s not your job.”

“Nor is it yours.” Reinhard turned slightly away. “He was after you, you know.”

“I know,” she said with a half sigh. “You’ll understand when you get older.”

“I think I understand it quite well now.”

She looked over at him, taking in his tight lips and defensive shoulders. “You’re not much of a child anymore.”

“Glad to hear it.”

“But you’re still my baby brother. It’s my job to make sure you don’t have to worry.”

“But you didn’t even realize that something was wrong!” He found himself unexpectedly agitated. Perhaps that was partially because he hadn’t realized there was trouble either, until Kircheis pointed it out. “You could have been in real danger.”

“If he had gotten close to us, it would have been a different story. It’s alright, Reinhard.”

He frowned and didn’t say anything. They walked on in silence for a minute or so, but since they didn’t turn back around, there was still something Annerose wanted to discuss. Reinhard emphatically did not want to discuss it.

“May I ask another question?”

“You may ask.”

There was a long silence, as Annerose thought of how best to phrase things. “What is Seig, to you?”

Reinhard looked at the darkness straight ahead of them on the path. “What does it matter?”

“I think it matters quite a lot.”

“And what would you do if I said the wrong thing?”

“I don’t think what you say here has any bearing on how I will behave.”

“Then why must I answer the question?”

“Because I’m your sister, and I’m asking you.”

Reinhard took a second to answer. “He’s the only other person that I care about in the world, besides you.” He paused. “And if you take that away, I will have no one.”

“You would choose him over me?”

“It’s not a choice I want to make.”

“I don’t understand,” Annerose said.

“What is there to understand?” When Annerose didn’t reply, he said, “You’re my family, and I love you. Kircheis…” He took a breath. “Kircheis is the same as myself.”

“What does that mean?”

“How could I explain it to you if you don’t understand?”

“I’ve never known you to be unable to explain something to me before.”

Reinhard shook his head. “You already know what you think. To try to put it into words would be inimical to me.”

“I wish I did not have to think anything.”

“Then, don’t.”

“Things don’t work like that.”

“Are you going to leave it be?”

“Leave what be?” Annerose asked, paused, then continued, “What do you do with him, when you’re alone?”

Reinhard flushed, and was grateful to the cold darkness of the night for hiding it. When Reinhard didn’t say anything for a long time, he could feel Annerose tensing beside him. “Do you take my silence as an admission of guilt?”

“What else can I take it as?”

“Silence, and nothing more.”

“I’m forced to imagine, Reinhard.”

“Are you so painfully curious? Will knowing satisfy you?” Reinhard’s voice was bitter. “Must I put into words for you something that I don’t dare to put into words for myself?”

Eventually, Annerose said, “Yes.”

There was a long stretch of silence. “I kissed him. Once.”

“Did he kiss you back?”

“He would if I asked him to.”

“And will you ask?”

“It’s an impoverished love that makes such demands,” he said, ice in his tone.

Annerose knew that comment was much more directed at her than it was at anything to do with Kircheis. “I’m sorry for asking.”

Reinhard didn’t respond. At the next intersection, Annerose turned around, and they began walking back to the house in silence, scuffing up the dirt on the side of the road with their feet. It was a painful and stilted walk, with Reinhard nurturing a small anger at his sister for prying into his business. If she forbade him from seeing Kircheis, which she could try to do, it would be too much. He tried to trust that she would not do that, but he was finding it suddenly hard. She shouldn’t have asked.

When they were close enough to the house that they could see its lights, Reinhard finally asked, “What are you going to do?”

“I don’t know,” Annerose said. “Let me think about it.”

“If you must.”

Several nights later, Annerose and Reinhard’s father came home in a very strange mood. Where usually he was either sullen and tired, or monosyllabically cheerful, on this night he seemed weirdly contemplative. He sat in the kitchen as Annerose cooked dinner, an unusual thing for him to do, as he normally retreated to his study and didn’t emerge until food was on the table. Reinhard took notice of this odd behavior, and as he helped wash the dishes and set the table, he looked between his father and Annerose, wondering what was going on. He was ignored, but his father kept his eyes on his sister, looking at her as though she was a math problem rather than his daughter.

Annerose, for her part, was uncomfortable with this scrutiny. She disliked being observed, but she could as much ask her father to leave as she could ask her father to sprout wings and fly away. They ate without speaking of whatever their father was thinking of, but this unspoken subject cast a pall over the meal. Only their mother seemed not to notice it, speaking normally about mundane things and complimenting Annerose on the meal.

After dinner, their father said, “Annerose, may I speak with you in my study for a minute?”

“Did you want me to clean up first?” she asked, indicating the dirty dishes.

“I’ll take care of it,” Reinhard said. She smiled at him, though the smile gave away her nervousness. She followed their father into his study.

Reinhard turned on the water in the sink, letting it run, then tiptoed down the hall and pressed his ear against the door of the study, hoping to hear the conversation. He couldn’t quite make it out; the door was a little too heavy, and they were speaking quietly. When he heard his mother’s footsteps approaching from behind him, he straightened back up and stepped away from the door.

His mother looked tired, and she spoke very quietly. “You don’t have to eavesdrop on your father, you know.”

“I wasn’t,” Reinhard said.

“Of course you weren’t. You left the sink running.”

He narrowed his eyes at her. “You didn’t turn it off.”

“I figure it was left on for a reason. My children may be smarter than I am, but I am not an idiot.” Reinhard didn’t say anything, so his mother continued, “I’ll speak to him about whatever this is when he’s done. Don’t trouble yourself.”

She put his hand on his shoulder and nudged him back towards the kitchen. He went, glancing behind himself at his mother who proceeded up the stairs, and at the ominously closed study door. He was washing the dishes when Annerose came out, eyes downcast.

“Annerose,” he said, catching her attention from the sink. She looked up at him, and the look in her eyes was so horrible, constrained, despairing, that he almost ran over to her. She shook her head ever so slightly, and walked out the kitchen door into the dark garden, not even taking the flashlight.

Reinhard continued to do the dishes, waiting for his father to come out. He did after a few minutes, and he glanced over at Reinhard. “Where’s your sister?”

“She went for a walk.”

“And your mother?”

“Upstairs.”

His father nodded, then went upstairs. Reinhard wiped his hands off on the dishrag, then, as quietly as he could, slipped inside his father’s study. He knew exactly what he wanted, and how to get it. As he ran his hands underneath the bottom drawer of the desk to open up the false bottom, his eyes landed on a little piece of paper sitting on the desktop: a business card, one that looked exactly like the one he had been handed by the man several days prior. Reinhard’s hand closed around the gun, and he tucked it inside his pants pocket and slipped back out of the study.

He crept upstairs. The door to the master bedroom was ajar, perhaps intentionally left that way by his mother, so Reinhard could hear every word that was being said. He flattened himself against the hallway wall, hand on the gun in his pocket, just in case.

“What did you say to Annerose, to send her out there in such a mood?” his mother asked, a very casual tone in her voice. “I saw her kick a tree, which is out of character enough to concern me.”

“It was good news,” he said. There was a squeaking sound as he sat down on the bed. “She’s probably just surprised.”

“Oh? What kind of good news?” Again, with the falsely light voice. Reinhard loved his mother, suddenly.

“I had someone come visit me this morning. He made me an offer.”

“Someone?”

“A man by the name of Bartholomew von Marcan. He called himself a talent scout.”

“And what did he come to see you about?”

“Apparently, he saw Annerose in the city the other day, and thought that he might be able to find a position for her.”

“A position? She’s hardly old enough to be employed.”

“She’s fifteen.”

“A child.” His mother’s tone had changed, slightly. This was a warning. Reinhard’s heart was beating in his ears.

“She’s not a baby anymore. She’s of age.”

“And what does this position entail?”

There was a moment of silence, filled with the creaking of the bed as he shifted, and the rustling of fabric. “There’s a place in the Kaiser’s court for her,” he said, finally.

“A place in the Kaiser’s court.”

“It would be a wonderful opportunity.”

“An opportunity.”

“Yes.”

“And how much--” there was venom in his mother’s tone-- “did you sell your own daughter for?”

“Think of her future,” Reinhard’s father said. “She’ll have every comfort in the world. She’ll advance her social standing, and Reinhard’s. It’s the opportunity of a lifetime.”

“Is that what you said to her? That it’s an opportunity to help the family? To help her brother?”

“Yes.”

“Because you know that she would do anything if you phrase it like that.”

“She’s a smart girl.”

“She’s a dutiful girl.”

“Yes.”

“And, being smart and dutiful, she understands that her own father has just sold her, like a piece of meat. To be used by a lecherous old man for--”

“Do you want to be thrown in jail for lese-majeste?”

“There are some crimes that are far worse than that.”

A momentary pause. “She said yes, that she would go of her own free will.”

“You knew she would say that. You already took the money, didn’t you?”

“I needed--”

“You needed!” And all of a sudden, there was a crashing sound, something glass shattered against the wall.

“You!” his father yelled, and his mother yelped. A stumbling of feet.

It was at this moment that Reinhard pulled the gun from his pocket, flipped off the safety, and kicked the door the rest of the way open. His parents both froze at the sight of him, his mother backed up against the wall, hands out as though to protect herself. His father had grabbed the collar of her blouse. There was a shattered glass on the floor, the one that usually lived on his mother’s bedside table.

Reinhard calmly pointed the gun at his father. “Step back.”

“Why do you have that?” he asked, not moving.

“Step back,” Reinhard said again. His face was perfectly calm. “I will shoot you, if you don’t.”

“Reinhard!” his mother squeaked, and there was real fear in her voice.

“I heard everything,” Reinhard said, and she nodded. “What do you want to do?”

“What the hell are you saying?” his father asked. He released Caribelle’s shirt, who almost collapsed in relief, as though that had been the only thing holding her upright. He turned towards Reinhard, then, who kept the gun leveled at him. “Put that down.”

“How about you sit down in that chair?” Reinhard asked, very calmly. His father took a step towards him. Reinhard flicked the gun slightly above his father’s shoulder and fired, leaving a penny sized hole in the wall behind him. His father stumbled sideways in a pathetic attempt at a dodge and his mother shrieked.

“The second shot won’t be a warning,” Reinhard said. “Sit down.”

There was a fraction of hesitation, but then his father saw the look on Reinhard’s face and sat down on the stiff backed dressing chair, knocking off a couple pairs of stockings and skirts that had been laying on top of it.

“What did you want to do?” Reinhard asked his mother.

She was overwhelmed, leaning back against the wall and breathing rapidly. “I don’t-- I don’t--”

Reinhard turned back to his father, to allow his mother to catch her breath and regain her composure. “Is this already a done deal, in your mind?”

“I already agreed.”

“And money changed hands?”

“Yes.”

“And could you give the money back?”

“It’s gone.”

“I see.” The situation was crystalizing in Reinhard’s brain. “And what would be the punishment for defaulting on this?”

His father was silent for a moment.

“If Annerose didn’t go with this ‘talent scout’...” Reinhard’s voice was cold and vicious. “What would happen?”

“She doesn’t have a choice,” his mother whispered. “They would come take her.”

Reinhard nodded. “But you don’t want that to happen.” He didn’t look at his mother.

“We can…” She trailed off. She looked at her son, and then her husband, and then seemed to come to her senses, realizing that her ten year old was threatening her husband with a gun, and that she needed to take control of the situation. “We’ll leave,” she said finally. “It’s the only thing we can do.”

Reinhard nodded. “Call Annerose inside.” He didn’t take his eyes or gun off his father.

His mother went to the window and opened it, letting in a blast of wet spring night air. “Annerose!” she yelled. “Come back inside!”

“Downstairs, in the hall closet where we keep the camping stuff, there’s a thing of rope hanging up next to the flashlight. Can you get it?” Reinhard asked his mother.

“You’ll be okay here?”

“Yes.”

She nodded, then left the room, leaving Reinhard to stare at his father in a tense silence.

“You don’t have to do this, Reinhard.”

He didn’t respond, nor did he take his fingers off the trigger, or the barrel aim off his father’s chest. He felt strangely calm about the whole thing. If his father made one wrong move, he wouldn’t hesitate to shoot him, and he wouldn’t feel badly about it at all. In fact, it was tempting to just kill him now, to save himself the trouble, but he didn’t. The only thing that stopped him was the fact that it would upset Annerose and Kircheis.

Kircheis. He needed to talk to Kircheis immediately. That would have to wait.

His mother returned with the rope. “Did Annerose come back in?”

“I told her to stay downstairs.”

“Good. Tie him up.” She knelt down and did so, tying the rope maybe tighter than was strictly necessary, forcing her husband’s arms back behind him as she tied every part of him to the chair. Reinhard kept the gun on him at all times, and he didn’t so much as move, though he glared at them both with increasing hatred. Reinhard checked the knots over once she was done, making sure that they were secure enough that his father wouldn’t be able to bother them for at least a little while.

“Shut the window,” Reinhard said. “We can open it back up before we leave, so that he can shout to the people who have come to collect--” He couldn’t quite bring himself to say it. “Don’t need him to starve to death.”

His mother nodded and obeyed. They left him in the bedroom, shutting the door behind themselves, and went downstairs. Annerose was in the kitchen, leaned over the sink, long blonde hair falling around her face. Reinhard stepped up next to her, tried to look at her, wrapped his arm around her. “It’s okay,” he said. “It’s okay.”

She shook her head, and he glimpsed her face, saw that she had been crying.

“I won’t let anyone touch you,” he said.

“You can’t control--”

“We’re going to run away,” he said. “We’re getting out of here.”

Annerose turned. “But he said…” Her voice was choked up. “It’s for you. I should do it for you.”

“He was lying,” Reinhard said, firmly. “I won’t let you destroy yourself for me.”

“It’s my choice.”

He would have laughed, if the situation hadn’t been so horrible. “Choice,” he said flatly. “That’s no choice.”

Their mother broke in, then. “Annerose, we’re leaving. I can get us away. I know… I have some old friends-- money-- a favor--” She was clearly thinking through all the possibilities as quickly as she could, thinking of what strings could be pulled, where they could go. Reinhard looked at her, saw the clarity on her face, and nodded. He would have to trust that she would take care of it, for now, anyway. He could take Annerose and hide in the woods, but that would have been the extent of it, which wasn’t so much a solution as it was a deepening of the problem. His mother had alternatives at hand.

“You should pack your bag. Whatever you need,” she said.

“Where will we go?” Reinhard asked suddenly.

She looked at him. “You know, don’t you?”

“Out of the Empire.”

“Yes.”

He nodded. Far away, but the only place that they could go. That was fine. His attachment to his homeland was nothing more than the attachment to Annerose and--

Kircheis.

He held the gun out to Annerose. “Hold on to this for me,” he said. “I need to go do something.”

“Where are you going?” his mother asked.

“I’ll be back.” Annerose nodded, and Reinhard headed out the kitchen door, into the cold night.

Kircheis was already waiting for him outside, leaning over the side of the fence as he had so many times before. “I heard the yelling,” he said. “Is everything alright?”

Reinhard jerked his head, and Kircheis nimbly hopped the fence and followed him, falling into step next to him. They headed towards the wooded area behind the house, though they didn’t go very far, just far enough that no one from either of their houses could see or hear them.

Reinhard paced back and forth for a moment before speaking. Kircheis watched him with sad eyes, illuminated very faintly by the moonlight overhead. Reinhard explained the whole story, speaking quietly and quickly, sticking strictly to the facts of the matter and explaining what was going to happen, that he was going to have to leave.

“I’ll come with you,” Kircheis said immediately. “I said I’d always come with you.”

Reinhard felt like his heart was falling out of his chest. He stopped pacing, reaching across the distance between them, and grabbed Kircheis’s hand. “You can’t,” he said.

“Why not?”

“My mother--” And beyond that, Kircheis had a family, and a life, one that Reinhard couldn’t demand he tear himself away from, just for his sake, though he wanted to so badly. “She wouldn’t let you come.”

“I could come on my own. I’ll stow away.”

Reinhard shook his head. “Kircheis.”

“I want to be with you,” Kircheis said, and it sounded like his heart was in his throat as well, childish voice full of tears. “Don’t you--”

Reinhard pulled Kircheis towards himself and leaned his head on his shoulder, hearing Kircheis’s breathing, feeling his heartbeat in the crook of his neck. Kircheis held him as though he never wanted to let go.

“I’ll come back,” Reinhard said. “I’ll do anything I can to make it so I can come back.”

“You’ll be a criminal.”

Reinhard shook his head, his nose bumping Kircheis’s neck. “If I’m going to the rebels…” He thought about this for a second. “Nobody should have the power to take my sister. If the Kaiser has that power… It should be taken from him.”

“What are you saying?”

Reinhard clenched his fists, grabbing Kircheis’s shirt in the motion. “I will destroy the Kaiser. From outside. And then I’ll come back to you.”

“Reinhard…”

He looked up at Kircheis. “Is that wrong?”

Kircheis met his eyes. “No,” he said. “I don’t think so.”

“Good.”

“What should I do?”

“You’ll wait for me?”

“I want to help you.”

“Oh.” Reinhard smiled for the first time at hearing those words. “We can work together, then. Me from the outside, you from the inside.”

Kircheis nodded. “How?”

Reinhard thought about this. “The surest way to gain power is through the military. You should join. Go to officers’ school.”

“The Fleet?” Kircheis’s voice was hesitant.

“You can do it.”

“But then I’ll be against--”

“That doesn’t matter,” Reinhard said. “We can do this.” His voice was suddenly sure, as though having these vague fragments of a plan were enough to set the full course of both of their lives. “You and me. We can take the universe.”

“That’s what you want?”

“Kircheis--” Reinhard paused. “That’s what it will take, won’t it? For us to…” He reached up and ran his hand through Kircheis’s hair. Kircheis leaned into the touch. “Will you do it?”

“Yes,” Kircheis said after a second. “For you.” He was very quiet.

They stayed in their embrace for a long moment, then Kircheis’s hands, which had been on Reinhard’s back, found his shoulders and moved Reinhard away, ever so slightly. Reinhard looked up at him.

“Reinhard,” Kircheis said, very quietly. “Can I…”

“Whatever you want,” Reinhard said.

Kircheis closed his eyes and leaned forward. Although it was a closed mouth and childish kiss, Reinhard had both his hands on the back of Kircheis’s head and kept their faces together for far longer than was strictly necessary.

When it was over, Reinhard said, “I should go.” But then he didn’t move. “Annerose is waiting for me.”

“It’s okay,” Kircheis said. “We’ll-- we’ll see each other again.”

“Yes. I promise.” He still didn’t move, though, and just stared at Kircheis’s face in the muted moonlight. “Kircheis.”

“Reinhard.”

“Will you give me--

“Whatever you want,” he said.

Reinhard pulled on a chunk of Kircheis’s hair. Kircheis fumbled around in his pocket for a second and pulled out his pocket knife, a sturdy little red thing. He pulled it open and used the blade to saw off a chunk of his hair, which he pressed into Reinhard’s hand.

“You take some of mine,” Reinhard said, and leaned forward so Kircheis could repeat the move on his own hair, a very odd and tender feeling. “Now I’ll have a piece of you to remember you by.”

“You wouldn't forget anyway.”

“No, but I want to have it.”

“I don’t want you to go.”

“I know.”

“I--”

They hugged again, then, each clutching the chunk of shorn hair, clinging to each other as though they would never see each other again.