Meeting a Man of Twists and Turns

February 482 IC, Odin

The ride home in his mother’s car was the most awkward of Kircheis’s life. His mother was quietly sniffling, and Kircheis was tempted to ask if he could take over the drive, because he wasn’t sure if her mind was completely on the road in front of them, but then again, he wasn’t in much better of a state. The ride home was long, as apparently the place that Kircheis had been held was far outside the city, in the opposite direction from his house.

She pulled into the parking lot of the grocery store, about half a mile from their house, circled round the back, to where no other cars were in sight, and parked. It was late afternoon, and the sun was already setting. His mother rested her head on the steering wheel of the car for a second.

“Tell me what’s going on, Sieg,” she said. “Please.”

Kircheis shook his head. “I got caught up in something-- I didn’t-- Saturday was the first time I ever…” He trailed off, unable to explain.

“Martin got you involved in terrorism.”

“No, mom,” Kircheis said. His mother was staring out the windshield of the parked car. The heat was on too high, and he was sweating. “I wasn’t involved, and it wasn’t terrorism.”

“What is it, then?”

“It was just, some friends of Martin’s. They’re against the war. All I did was fold some pamphlets.”

“Folding pamphlets does not almost get someone sentenced to life in a prison camp on the frontier, Siegfried!” Her hands were white on the wheel.

“Mom, it’s alright.”

“It’s not alright!”

He knew that was true, but he still wished that he could get her to calm down. Tentatively, he reached out and patted her shoulder. She sobbed a little bit. “I’m okay, mom.”

“Martin rang our doorbell in the middle of the night. You don’t understand how that feels, as your mother, to think that my only son-- you could have been dead.” She tried to steady herself. “I had to pay bribes. To find you. I had to beg that judge to let you free. And that was for doing nothing . What if it had been something, Siegfried? What then?”

Kircheis silently shook his head. He didn’t have a response. He could say that it wouldn’t happen again, but he didn’t think that would be a comfort to her.

“Why did you let Martin drag you into this?” she asked suddenly, her voice sharper. “I knew he was bad for you.”

“Martin didn’t drag me,” Kircheis said. “Be upset at me, but don’t blame him.”

“Don’t defend him.”

“He’s my friend,” Kircheis said, voice firm.

“I don’t want you to see him.”

“Mom!”

“Can’t you see that he’s corrupting you?”

“Corrupting me?” Kircheis asked, startled.

“He’s not right. Everyone can see it except you. I don’t want you spending time with him.”

“I don’t understand,” Kircheis said. “Are you accusing me of something? Something other than this?”

She turned away from him completely. “Deny it. Please deny it.”

Kircheis was silent. His mother’s breathing was ragged. He looked out at the fading afternoon light outside the car. When he didn’t say anything, she sat up straight and started the car, angrily driving them back out of the parking lot towards their house. When they arrived, she reached inside her pocket and pulled out the ripped envelope that held Kircheis’s acceptance to the IOA. Bitterly, she said, “Here. This piece of paper saved your life.”

He hesitated for a second, then took it. She stepped out of the car, leaving Kircheis alone for a minute. He stared at his reflection in the window, barely visible in the twilight. “What have you done, Siegfried?” he whispered to himself.

The next day, Kircheis went to school. It was difficult to pretend like nothing had changed, that nothing was wrong, during his classes. He spoke to the principal briefly and expressed that he would be leaving school early to attend the IOA. The principal was overjoyed, wanting to brag about Kircheis’s acceptance to the rest of the student body, hold up their model student as an example, but Kircheis begged him not to. His acceptance to the IOA felt like a mistake, and his upcoming attendance felt like a shame. He wasn’t looking forward to it.

Martin caught his eye in the cafeteria at lunch, though when he first caught sight of Kircheis he looked as though he had seen a ghost. Kircheis jerked his head and the two of them left the cafeteria, then met up in the hallway. Kircheis, feeling fairly bold, walked swiftly through the empty hallways of the school, towards the entrance to the gym, and then out through the back door towards the woods. There was a spot out there that was easy to escape to, where a lot of students went to skip class and smoke. It was cold out, and neither of them were wearing their jackets, so they couldn’t stay out for long, but all Kircheis wanted to do was have a quick talk in private before lunch ended.

“Sieg--” Martin began, once they made it to the spot, down in a little depression in the ground circled by thick pines. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Kircheis said. “I’m fine.” He sat down on one of the rocks that littered the depression, his hands dangling against the ice cold stone.

“What happened?” Martin asked.

As succinctly as he could, Kircheis explained everything that happened to him after getting separated. Martin listened intently, staring at Kircheis as though he were trying to memorize the story, like he would be quizzed on it later. When Kircheis got to the part of the story where his sentence was announced, he paused.

“They just let you go?” Martin asked.

“Not exactly,” Kircheis said. “I… My mother paid some bribes, I think, to get me a lesser sentence.”

“I didn’t think the Imperial government was in the business of assigning community service.”

Kircheis pulled the IOA acceptance letter out of his pocket. He handed it to Martin, whose already pale face grew even paler as he read. “The sentence was labor,” Kircheis said. “Four years at school, then six in the fleet.”

“Could you have refused?”

“Refused?” Kircheis asked. “You think this is worse than the alternative?”

Martin shook his head. “Are you going to go through with it?”

“Martin-- I don’t have a choice.”

“There’s always a choice.”

“What kind of choice do you think I have?”

“You could defect.”

Kircheis admitted to himself that the thought froze him for a second, filled him with a certain kind of longing. But then he shook his head. “That takes money, and connections, and if I was caught--”

“But you don’t want to be a soldier.”

He looked down at his hands. “Maybe in four years I can escape,” Kircheis said. “It doesn’t hurt to go to school.”

“It doesn’t?”

“I don’t have to hurt anyone as a student.”

“It’s legitimizing it, though, going along with what they want.” Martin scuffed the ground with his foot.

“So is just living here,” Kircheis said. “But we can’t all leave.”

“Reinhard von Müsel did.”

“That was different.”

“How?”

“It was different, Martin. He has nothing to do with this.”

“Fine.”

“Not everybody can leave. Some people have to stay here and try to change things for the better.”

“Yeah, and when they do, they get arrested and shipped off to labor camps on the frontier,” Martin said, suddenly very angry. He turned away from Kircheis, hands balled into fists.

“Martin,” Kircheis said, standing. He put his hand gently on Martin’s shoulder, and Martin tensed up, clearly trying to stifle the outward expression of his feelings, be they anger or sadness or something else entirely. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” Martin said. “Don’t.”

“Are you alright?”

“No,” Martin said. Kircheis squeezed his shoulder a little, and Martin turned towards him. Kircheis put his chin on top of Martin’s head as Martin leaned onto his chest. After a second, he said, “Gods, I’m so glad you’re alive. I would have-- if you were dead…”

“It’s okay,” Kircheis said. He kept saying it, though it didn’t make it true. “I’m so sorry about everybody.”

Martin shook his head a little, hair tickling Kircheis’s throat. He was silent, but he wrapped his arms around Kircheis tightly. Kircheis winced a little.

“Ow, careful, I think I cracked a rib,” Kircheis said.

“What?” Martin asked, dropping his hands, alarmed.

“When they kicked me,” Kircheis said. “While I was being arrested.”

“Gods, I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Kircheis said. “It’s not that bad.”

“Let me see,” Martin said. Kircheis obligingly untucked and hiked up his school uniform shirt, showing Martin the blossoming black and purple bruise on his left side. Martin cringed sympathetically at the sight, then reached out and gently touched it. Kircheis stood still and let him.

“I should have gone instead,” Martin said, still with his fingers moving slowly over Kircheis’s side. Kircheis shook his head and grabbed Martin’s hand, dropping his shirt back down.

“I’m glad it wasn’t you,” Kircheis said. “We should go back inside before the end of lunch.”

Martin looked up at him. “You should be angry with me.”

“Like you are with me?”

“I’m not mad at you,” Martin said, entangling his fingers with Kircheis’s. “I am mad, but not at you.”

Kircheis smiled a little. “I’m glad.”

“I won’t let this happen again.”

“I’m not sure it’s something you can prevent.”

Martin scowled a little. “I will try, at least. When I do things, I swear I’ll be careful.”

Kircheis squeezed his hand. “I know.” He tugged Martin forward a little, and together they pushed their way through the thick trees, beginning to head back towards the school. “My mother doesn’t want me to see you anymore,” Kircheis said, almost idly, though it had been on his mind through their entire conversation.

“She hates me.”

“She suspects us.”

“I didn’t say anything to her.”

Kircheis shook his head as they silently walked through the trees, hand in hand.

“Are you going to stop seeing me?” Martin asked.

“We’ll have to be more cautious,” Kircheis said. “That’s all.”

Martin nodded. “Okay.” Before they pressed through the final bunch of trees that separated them from the school, where they could hear the bell ringing, signalling the end of lunch, Martin stopped abruptly. “I love you, Sieg.”

Kircheis smiled. Perhaps uncomplicated was the wrong word for it, but Martin was a bright spot in his life, perhaps the only one. He glanced around, making sure that they were still invisible from the perspective of the school building, and leaned forward to kiss Martin, running his hand through his hair, feeling his solidity and warmth.

August 482 IC, Odin

His mother had cried when she had dropped him off at school. Kircheis had felt uncomfortable, but had tried to comfort her as best he could. He thought that maybe she should have been more relieved. After all, she could not possibly have forgotten that this was the least of all punishments he could have possibly gotten. It was hardly a punishment at all.

He was grateful to find that the rooms were all singles. Perhaps it was due to the high numbers of nobles that enrolled in the IOA, people who were not accustomed to sharing anything. It wasn’t that Kircheis would have been opposed to having a roommate, in theory, but he suspected that, in practice, he wasn’t about go get along with many of the other students here. He didn’t think that they would have much in common. He spent his first afternoon at the school arranging his room the way he liked it. He had, without his mother seeing, gotten a picture printed of himself and Martin, taken on one of the last days of high school. He placed this photograph on his wall, above the little desk. The photograph of himself, Reinhard, and Annerose sat on the desk, as usual. He had to wonder if Reinhard would be happy that he was keeping his promise, albeit accidentally.

In the evening, there was a convocation dinner for all the new students, so Kircheis put on his uniform for the first time, felt how hot it was in the still stifling air of the Odin summer, and made his way across campus, watching his fellow new students stream towards the hall. He realized that he, and all of his classmates, were being watched: upperclassmen, identifiable by the fact that they weren’t walking in the same direction, were leaning on the sides of buildings, watching them, or sticking their heads out from their dorm room windows to see the parade of freshmen go by. They weren’t hostile, exactly, but there was a definite curiosity and judgement present in the looks.

That same curiosity and judgement was present in the looks of his fellow classmates, as well, but there was more of a direct sense of competition there. Kircheis tried to blend in with the crowd, but he was very tall, and when he entered the dark hall, he found that seating had been assigned by class rank, so it was impossible for people to ignore him. Before the dinner began, he tried to make polite conversation with the people at the front table, those directly below him in rank, but found it was difficult. This was nothing like his high school, where any resentment towards him being at the top of the class was tempered by his classmates having known him their entire lives. All of these other boys were total strangers, and they had no reason to think he “deserved” the number one spot.

Privately, Kircheis didn’t think he deserved it either.

Up at the front of the room, staff were trickling in to take their seats at their tables. Kircheis looked them over, trying to guess which ones would be his professors. They all looked somewhat austere, dressed in their fleet uniforms. It seemed that, based on their ages and ranks, teaching positions were something that people took a step or two before retirement. The modal rank seemed to be captain, but a few of the oldest staff members were flag officers.

After a few minutes of this, the head of the IOA came in, called everyone to attention, and began a speech. Kircheis paid attention, but his eyes were continuing to wander around the room. He noticed that there was an empty seat at the staff table, and he wondered who was missing. As the chancellor, von Steger, was saying something about, “The shining path to victory that you all will walk someday,” the question of which staff member was missing was answered.

A slightly unkempt looking man of average height slipped in through the back and tried to make his way, as unobtrusively as possible, towards his seat. He wasn’t successful at this, because a good number of the staff looked over to see what the commotion was, and the grimace on his face made it clear that he knew he had been observed. He was younger than all of the other staff by a huge margin-- he couldn’t have been more than twenty five-- and he was only a lieutenant commander. That was nothing compared to the fact that he was obviously not from the Empire. Kircheis had never met anyone who looked like him, only ever seeing that kind of face shape in history textbooks and the occasional movie made on Phezzan. Was he a defector from the FPA?

Von Steger’s speech continued. Kircheis couldn’t help but continue to look at the man, who was fiddling with something on his lap. The man next to him, a captain, leaned over and whispered something in his ear. The lieutenant commander smiled a little bit, but stopped looking so agitated.

It didn’t take much longer after that for von Steger to conclude his speech and the whole room to raise glasses in a toast towards the Empire and their future. Kircheis glanced at the staff table once again during the toast, and saw that the odd-looking lieutenant commander was watching the table where Kircheis was sitting with an odd expression, a tiny, weird smile. In fact, he was looking directly at Kircheis.

Kircheis was confused by the stare, but met the man’s eyes, and, for whatever reason, his smile was suddenly more genuine and wider. Kircheis didn’t smile back, but he did raise his glass in his direction. “Prosit!” he said along with the crowd.

Kircheis’s first day of classes was normal, and he didn’t see the mysterious lieutenant commander again. He was quickly becoming acclimated to the atmosphere of the school, for better or for worse. He could recognize at a glance who were upperclassmen and who were underclassmen, and he was doing his best to put names to faces for the members of the freshmen class. His schedule was full, but thus far his classes had seemed interesting. He had signed up for the strategic warfare program because it had been recommended to him, and apparently that same recommendation had been made to all of the top students of the class, because they followed each other around from class to class in a pack. They hadn’t known each other long enough to form a tight knit group, and there was an obvious feeling of competition between them, so Kircheis had no idea if they were all going to end up as friends. He rather doubted it.

It was on Tuesday when the next hint of strangeness crept into Kircheis’s life. He was walking out of the cafeteria after lunch, passing by the front gates of the IOA, when he saw a rather strange sight. A boy was standing, with his hands on his hips, demanding that the student guarding the gates direct him to “Professor Hank von Leigh.” As Kircheis got close enough to overhear the argument, he realized that the young person, who he estimated was about thirteen or so, was not a boy after all, but a girl wearing pants. She had on a blazer from a private girl’s school, but the pants were mismatched, as though she had discarded the skirt that accompanied the uniform and switched out for her own personal fashion.

“I have an important message for the professor from my father,” the girl said.

“And who is your father?” the student on gate duty asked, looking amused.

“Count Mariendorf,” the girl responded.

“And does Count Mariendorf not know how to use a telephone, or send a message?”

“Just tell me where I can find him.”

“I’m afraid girls aren’t allowed on campus. Dangerous, you see.” Kircheis didn’t think this was a real rule, or, at least not in the sense that the gate guard student was trying to apply it. From the girl’s deep frown, it was clear that the gate guard was clearly just trying to rile her up for his own amusement. Kircheis decided to step in.

“Pardon me,” Kircheis said, stepping up to the gate, “but I have Military History with von Leigh this next hour. I’d be happy to escort, er, Fraulien Mariendorf there.”

The gate guard looked at him with an expression of disdain. “And you know where that is, freshman?”

“I’m sure I can find it,” Kircheis said.

The girl seemed to decide that her chances with Kircheis as a willing escort were far better than continuing to argue with the gate guard, so she ran a couple steps forward, out of the guard’s arm range and into campus.

“What’s your name, freshman?” the guard asked. “If she causes any trouble, you’re going to be reported.”

“Siegfried Kircheis,” he said. “I’m sure there won’t be any problems.” The girl had the right strategy, he thought, so he followed her back into campus before the gate guard could say anything else.

“Thank you for the escort, Cadet Kircheis,” the girl said. “Do you know where Professor von Leigh is?”

Kircheis consulted his schedule on his phone. “Helsheim building, room 105.” He began to walk in that direction. He was worried that he would need to slow down his pace so that the short Mariendorf girl would be able to keep up with his long strides, but she jogged along next to him energetically, her backpack thumping on her back. “May I ask what urgent business you have with the professor?”

“No, you may not,” she said.

“Er, okay,” Kircheis said. “Right over here.”

They were getting some odd looks as they traversed campus. Kircheis tried to ignore it and just focus on arriving at their destination. The day was hot, but inside the Helsheim building was cool and dark, filled with wood panelling and linoleum that looked like it hadn’t been updated in about half a century. Kircheis held open the door to the lecture hall to allow Mariendorf in.

“Oh, he’s not here yet,” she said, not sounding all that disappointed. The lecture hall had a few students in it, but this didn’t bother Mariendorf, and she chose a seat near the front, opened her backpack, and took out a notebook and a pen. Kircheis noticed inside the bag the skirt that she had apparently divested herself of before arriving here. The pages she flipped past in the notebook were labeled with headers like “Vocabulary, Week 1” and “Lab safety intro quiz notes.” Middle school work.

“Do you want me to take a message for him?” Kircheis asked, standing next to her.

“Oh, no,” she said. She smiled at him. “Thank you again for the escort, Cadet Kircheis. I really do appreciate it.”

“No problem,” he said, though he was more confused than ever at this point. He took a seat a few spots away from her, not wanting to crowd, and took out his own notebook. More and more students trickled in, the large lecture hall eventually filling almost completely. This class was a requirement for all freshmen, so it wasn’t surprising that there were so many people here. Kircheis checked the time.

At exactly the moment the clock ticked the hour over, the door near the front of the lecture hall opened, and in strode the man who had been late to the convocation dinner earlier in the week. Up close, Kircheis could see that he was good looking, in a loose and floppy kind of way, and he walked with a kind of unassuming gait, as though he were surprised that all of the students were here to listen to him.

“Welcome to Military History I,” Leigh said. He fished a remote control out of his pocket and turned on the projector with it before clambering up to sit cross legged on the surface of the table at the front of the room, accidentally sending a couple pens rolling to the floor. He glanced at them dolefully but made no attempt to grab them. “I’m Lieutenant Commander Hank von Leigh.” He scratched his head a little bit. The projector was slowly booting up behind him, and he kept glancing back at it to see if his lecture slides had appeared on the screen yet.

Kircheis scribbled on his notebook, “Are you going to go talk to him?”

“I don’t want to interrupt his lecture,” Mariendorf wrote back. She grinned at him a little.

At this point, Leigh was going over the syllabus. “I know that most of you do not have a strong interest in history, but I hope this class can impress upon you at least a few lessons that can be carried over to what you do in the SW practicum. If any of you have Captain Staden, you can feel free to ask him how I used my knowledge of history to give him a headache.” Leigh smiled a little, as though he was laughing at his own funny joke. “But even more than that, a focus in this course is on learning to think critically about situations that you find yourself in. There’s no amount of memorization of tactics that can prepare you to understand the real, human cost of fighting a war. Some of you will be asked to make hard decisions, and I hope that I can give you a framework to use to make the best decision you can under bad circumstances.”

He switched the lecture slide. “I suppose I should tell you a little about myself so that you know you can trust me.” He laughed again. On the screen were a couple photographs of himself-- one in a cadet uniform with several other young men, one with him standing next to someone in a Rear Admiral’s uniform on the bridge of a ship, and one in a group photograph of other officers. “Er, so, I’m from Phezzan, if you couldn’t tell. I studied here at the IOA and graduated in 479 as second in my class. I was Vice Admiral Merkatz’s adjutant for a little while, primarily patrolling the Iserlohn Corridor, and I was involved in these skirmishes and battles.” He flashed a list on the screen, but then moved past it before Kircheis could read the details. “And then I spent some time working in the Personnel Intelligence unit in the Ministry of War under Commodore Bronner. And now this is my second year teaching here.”

Kircheis had several thoughts about this quick rundown of Leigh’s. He had clearly moved around quite a lot, but had also been promoted relatively quickly, both of which seemed very strange. He might have been lying about being from Phezzan. He had a bit of an accent that didn’t strike Kircheis as particularly Phezzani, but, then again, Kircheis didn’t know any people from Phezzan.

“Any questions on that?” Before actually giving people a chance to answer, he said, “No? Great. So let’s get started with real history rather than personal history. I didn’t choose it, but the material I’m supposed to cover here starts at the Thirteen Day War…”

The lecture proceeded normally, except for the fact that Leigh spent the whole time sitting on the table, switching between several increasingly weird postures. He didn’t seem to have any lecture notes that he was reading off of, aside from the general slides behind him which he barely glanced at. He was a good lecturer, though, and Kircheis took notes as well as he could, though he was tempted to just put down his pen and listen. Next to him, Mariendorf was also taking notes, though hers were a lot more comprehensive than Kircheis’s were. When she saw him looking, she smiled a little.

As class came close to ending, Mariendorf shoved all her belongings into her backpack, then looked around as though considering what the fastest exit from the room was. Kircheis watched her, rather confused.

“And that’s all I have for you today. Er, make sure you do the reading; it’s in the syllabus. And start thinking of topics for your first essay. See you on Friday,” Leigh said. He sat on his desk for a moment longer.

In the general rustling chaos of all the students gathering their things to leave, Mariendorf dodged out of the classroom. Kircheis followed her, feeling somehow responsible for this thirteen year old. “I thought you wanted to talk to Lieutenant Commander Leigh,” Kircheis said, running up to her, pushing past several of his classmates outside the door to do so. Mariendorf continued to try to slip away, but Kircheis didn’t let her.

“I just wanted to see the class,” she said, turning to face him. “You should let me go before--”

“Fraulein Mariendorf,” Leigh said, coming up behind Kircheis and putting his hand on his shoulder. “I was under the impression that you had your own school to attend.”

Kircheis turned, half attempting to leave the conversation, but Leigh gave him a smile that indicated that he was welcome to remain.

Mariendorf crossed her arms. “Tuesday and Friday after lunch is ladies’ preparatory work,” she said. “I would rather skip it.”

Leigh looked as though he was trying to stifle a laugh. “I see. Does your father know that you’re not in school?”

“Are you going to tell him?”

“I should, shouldn’t I?”

“Please, don’t,” she said.

“He might like to hear it better from me than hearing it from your school, which he pays good money for you to attend, you know.”

“Oh.”

“Perhaps we should have this conversation in my office, rather than in the hallway, right?”

Mariendorf nodded. Leigh started walking down the hallway. When Kircheis didn’t follow, Leigh turned around and said, “Freshman number one, I’d love to hear how you came to be acquainted with Fraulein Mariendorf, if you have time.”

Kircheis didn’t have class after this, so he followed Leigh and Mariendorf down the hall and up a narrow set of stairs. Leigh unlocked an unassuming door and let them both into a chaotically messy office. He immediately sat on top of his desk, leaning his elbows on his knees, and looked at Kircheis and Mariendorf standing in front of him. “Well?” he asked.

“How did you know I’m the freshman number one?” Kircheis asked.

“You were in the number one spot at the convocation dinner,” Leigh replied. “I didn’t look up your name, though.”

“Kircheis. Siegfried Kircheis.”

Leigh stuck out his hand. “Nice to meet you, Cadet Kircheis.” They shook. “And how do you know Fraulein Mariendorf?”

“I don’t,” Kircheis said. “She just said she was looking for you, so I offered to bring her.”

“He rescued me from an argument with the gate guard.”

“That was very kind of you.” He studied Kircheis intently. “The number one student, if you keep that spot… Well.” He trailed off a little.

“Sir?” Kircheis asked.

Leigh smiled. “I was just thinking of some friends of mine.” He pointed to a photograph on the wall behind Kircheis, who turned to look at it. A tall, dark haired man and a shorter blond man with a wide smile stared out from the frame, leaning slightly towards each other as they sat across from each other at a table outdoors. Both were wearing cadet uniforms. “Reuenthal and Mittermeyer. They were the number ones in my class and the year below. I suppose I just like to know who’s taking their place.”

Kircheis nodded a little bit.

“When is Oskar coming back to Odin?” Mariendorf asked.

“Hm? Oh, I don’t know,” Leigh said. “I can ask what his leave schedule is.” He stared nostalgically into space for a moment more, then shook himself a little. “You’ve gotten me off topic,” he said. “Hilde. You can’t just skip school. How did you even get here?”

“I took the train.”

Leigh rubbed the back of his neck. “And why did you come here?”

“I wanted to see you teach.” She pulled her notebook out of her backpack. “I took notes.” She showed it to him. Kircheis watched as Leigh tried and failed to stifle the look of happiness and pride on his face.

“And were you planing to do this again?”

Hilde shoved her notebook back into her backpack then stood resolute. “Maybe.”

“Do you have a way to get back home?”

“The train.”

“I should call your father to have someone come pick you up.”

“He’s at Neue Sanssouci right now,” Hilde said confidently.

“Then I’ll call the house.”

“I can get home just fine.”

Kircheis felt awkward trapped in this argument. Leigh was taking out his phone, but then he seemed startled by the time. “I have to teach my elective in two minutes,” he said. “Hilde, I’m going to call your father about this tonight .”

“Please don’t make me go to ladies’ prep. I hate it.”

“I’ll see what I can do for you.” Leigh stumbled off the table. He looked up at Kircheis (he was a good few inches shorter than he was). “I hate to trouble you, Cadet Kircheis, but would you be so kind as to make sure that Fraulein Mariendorf makes it out safely?”

“Of course, sir.”

“Great. Er, I really have to go.” He pushed the two out of his office, then locked the door behind him and practically ran off down the hallway. Kircheis watched him go, feeling slightly flummoxed.

“You don’t need to escort me,” Hilde said as she began walking. “I know the way out now.”

“But Lieutenant Commander--”

“You don’t have to do what Hank tells you. He wouldn’t actually mind.”

“I’d feel better if I walked you,” Kircheis said. “It is against the rules for you to be here, I think.”

Hilde wrinkled her nose, but didn’t protest any more as Kircheis walked next to her. He led her out a back entrance to campus, so that they avoided the guard at the main gate (who was mainly symbolic anyway), and then kept walking with her long past the bounds of campus, heading towards the train station. Hilde actually knew the way better than he did, so he was just following her at that point.

She bought herself a train ticket and sat down at one of the waiting benches. Kircheis was about to buy a ticket for himself, but she stopped him, saying, “Seriously, Siegfried, you do not need to follow me all the way home.”

He assented at that one, but sat on the bench to wait with her until the train arrived. She fished around in her backpack, found a plastic lunch container, opened it, and offered him some cookies. Kirchies took them gratefully. “Thanks,” he said.

“You’re welcome,” Hilde said with a happy smile.

“How do you know Lieutenant Commander von Leigh?” Kircheis asked, after eating one of the cookies and wishing he had something to drink with it.

“He’s been my friend forever,” Hilde said casually. “He used to stay with my family over the summers, while he went to school. My mother knew his friend Oskar’s mother. That’s how we know each other.”

“Oh, that makes sense. And you like him enough that you want to come see him teach?”

She turned to look at him, very steadily. “Hank is the greatest person in the world. You should listen to him, too.”

“What makes you say that?”

She tilted her head and looked at him, as if trying to figure out something about him. “What’s the bravest thing you’ve ever done?” she asked. It was a strange question, one that Kircheis found he couldn’t answer, not directly, not to this child.

“I don’t know,” he said.

She was quiet for a second, still looking at him. Kircheis didn’t flinch under her gaze, but he didn’t really understand it either. “Hank knows what the bravest thing he’s done is. And he would do it again, if he had to. That’s all.”

It was at this point that the train began to pull in to the station, and Hilde gathered up all her belongings and stood. “Am I to believe that I’ll see you again on Friday?” Kircheis asked.

“I hope so,” Hilde said. She stuck out her hand to shake as soon as she had her backpack on her back. “It was nice to meet you, Siegfried.”

“Nice to meet you as well, Fraulein Mariendorf.” The train hissed to a stop and Hilde got on, waving one last time at Kircheis, who remained on the platform until the train departed.

October 482 IC, Odin

It became Kircheis’s tradition to meet Hilde at the main gate and walk her in to visit Leigh. The guards on duty didn’t really care, or were mostly amused by Hilde’s self assuredness (unexpected from such a young lady) and soothed by Kircheis’s calmness about the situation. Pretending like it was normal somehow allowed it to be so. He wasn’t sure how she had secured permission to skip her regular school, but she showed up without fail after lunch every Tuesday and Friday. Kircheis was rather charmed by her, and she always brought some sort of snack to share with him at the end of class, so he suspected that she liked him, as well.

One of those days, a rainy Friday, while they were walking underneath her umbrella (held up by Kircheis) to the train station, Hilde said, “You should come to my house some time and meet my father.”

Kircheis almost stopped walking. “I don’t think--”

“Why not?” Hilde asked. “You’re my friend. I’m sure he’d like to meet you.”

“I don’t think that would be appropriate,” Kircheis said.

Hilde squinted at him, and a fresh gust of wind blew some of the rain into her face. “I think it would be fine.”

“I’ll think about it,” Kircheis said. Hilde sighed but left it at that.

He didn’t interact much with Leigh, outside of going to his class. Leigh seemed to like him, and gave him an A on his first paper, with a scribbled comment that he could be more committed to his analysis, but aside from that and smiling at him on his way in to class, Leigh didn’t stop Kircheis to have a conversation. For his own part, Kircheis had no idea what to think about the mysterious man. Staden, who taught his strategic warfare practicum, had, in fact, made a face when someone brought up Leigh in his presence.

“Here’s the thing about Lieutenant Commander von Leigh,” Staden said to the class. “People fall into three categories with him-- those who like him for no apparent reason, those who hate him, and those of us who are grudgingly forced to admit that the man has talent.” Kircheis saw that a good number of his classmates were nodding along when Staden mentioned hating von Leigh. It left a bad taste in Kircheis’s mouth. “Love him or hate him, though, you’ll learn a lot from him if you pay attention. And that’s what you’re here to do, not gossip about your other teachers.” And then Staden moved on with the lesson.

Kircheis never tried to bring up the odd reason why Hilde thought that Leigh was the greatest person. He didn’t really understand what she meant by it, and he suspected he wouldn’t get a straight answer if he did ask. But it sat in the back of his mind, regardless. He wondered exactly what Leigh had done. He was somewhat tempted to ask Staden, since the two seemed to be friends, maybe go visit his office hours, but decided that it was better not to pry. Kircheis already had enough unwanted attention on himself.

He held on to his number one spot without much difficulty. He gave his full effort to everything, of course, but he wasn’t sure why he wasn’t beaten. Every time he left one of the SW classes, even though he won his matches, he could always see immediately ten different ways he could have been crushed, if his opponent was quicker on the uptake, or more vigorous, or paying better attention. Kircheis wrote all of these things down in his post mortems, and Staden once left a comment on his paper that read, “You give me a headache with this. Your opponent doesn’t have the ability to retrospectively see five moves ahead like you are now. In the moment, you make good choices, so don’t overthink yourself into paralysis.”

Kircheis had no idea how to interpret that either.

He was friendly to and generally well liked by his classmates, but he wouldn’t say that he had any friends. At least his pleasant and helpful attitude prevented resentment from forming that he was first. On weekends that he wasn’t busy, Martin would take the long train ride in to see him, which was enough to keep him mostly happy. He did admit that he enjoyed school work at the IOA more than he had enjoyed high school, even if he did miss his literature classes. He even made time to keep up his fencing and other activities, signing up for a night class almost every night of the week. He kept himself busy enough that he didn’t have to think.

It was in October, when he felt like he had really settled in to his schedule and way of life at the IOA, that he received notice of a slight upcoming disruption. He lay on his bed and texted Martin about it, holding his phone above his head.

> don’t bother coming to see me this weekend

> I have to go on a school trip

> neue sanssouci

> for a deer hunt

> top students from each class

> and i assume whatever staff are shepherding us

> i don’t know if we’ll see anyone at neue sanssouci

> i’m sorry that we won’t be able to meet this weekend

> school still fine?

> i’m sorry :(

> seems like a long time away

> maybe so

Kircheis smiled at his phone, then put it away to sleep.

That Saturday, Kircheis lined up with all the other top students on the edge of campus, waiting for the bus that would take them up to Neue Sanssouci. Surprisingly, as they were getting on, someone ran up to the bus at a jog, and it turned out to be Leigh. One of the other staff members that Kircheis was unfamiliar with, at the front of the bus gave Leigh an annoyed look.

“On time as always, Leigh.”

“Can you blame me for not wanting to come?” Leigh asked.

“The kaiser likes you,” the other man, a captain, said. “You could hardly not be assigned escort duty.”

Leigh balanced his hands in the air, as though he were a set of scales. “The kaiser likes me, I almost got shot to death on this field trip… There are many different things to consider.” But his voice was humorous, and the other man laughed.

“I remember that.”

“It wasn’t that long ago.”

Everything about this conversation only added fuel to the fire of Kircheis’s imagination. The kaiser liked Leigh ? The obvious foreigner? And Leigh had almost been shot to death? Here? Kircheis looked over at him, and Leigh caught the look, an amused expression on his own face.

Kircheis shook his head and looked away, out the windows of the bus for the remainder of the ride.

After they arrived at Neue Sanssouci and were shuffled through the many labyrinthine hallways, Kircheis was surprised to learn that they would be having a kind of customary direct audience with the kaiser. That was the last thing he wanted, considering that he was technically a criminal who had been about one unpaid bribe away from getting executed for treason. As the kaiser walked into the room, everyone stiffened, but Kircheis stiffened even more than usual. The only person in the whole area who seemed (somewhat) nonchalant was Leigh, who gave the students an almost sympathetic look from where he lingered against the wall, saluting the kaiser. Maybe there was some truth to the idea that the kaiser liked him.

The kaiser went down the lines of students, saying a few words to the first in the class of the seniors, juniors, and sophomores, before he came to the freshmen. Kircheis could feel everyone’s eyes on him.

“So, you’re the latest IOA crop,” the kaiser said.

“Yes, Your Majesty,” Kircheis said, echoing what the other students had said.

“What’s your name?”

“Kircheis, sir. Siegfried Kircheis.”

“I hope to see you back again next year, Siegfried Kircheis,” the kaiser said.

“Yes, Your Majesty,” Kircheis said. And that was the end of it. The kaiser walked past him.

“Von Leigh, would you care to join Susanna and I for breakfast?”

“Of course, Your Majesty,” Leigh said. Several of the students couldn’t stop themselves from exchanging somewhat wide eyed glances at this. Leigh followed the kaiser out of the room, and the whole scene descended into mutterings between the students. All of the freshmen and sophomores in the group had had Leigh as a teacher, since he taught a mandatory class, but Kircheis wasn’t sure if that made the mutterings more or less hostile towards him. The gossip quickly turned to other matters, though, as the students were led off to their own lavish breakfast, and then out to the hunt.

Kircheis was happy to be in the crisp October air. It was a beautiful day, with a cloudless sky and fresh breeze. The only problem was the temperature, but as soon as Kircheis was saddled up on his horse, his uniform and the movement kept him warm enough.

He was a good rider, and a good shot with the bow, having briefly done both horseback riding and archery as activities in high school before settling on fencing as his main competitive sport. Still, the muscle memory came back to him easily, and he took a few practice shots with the bow, driving some arrows deep into trees. He didn’t actually want to hunt a deer, so he separated himself from his classmates and simply wandered around the forest for a while.

When he was deep into the forest, he spotted a deer, its antlers bobbing up and down as it drank from a tiny stream. Kircheis watched it, holding his breath.

Reinhard would have shot it without hesitation, he thought. Kircheis could shoot it, if he wanted to. He certainly had the skill. His hand tightened around the bow in his hand, but he made no move to notch an arrow.

“I’m keeping my promise, Reinhard,” he said aloud, which startled the deer. “Are you keeping yours?” The deer looked up at him, then darted away, vanishing into the undergrowth.

Kircheis shivered a little bit, feeling like the forest had suddenly grown colder without the spectral memory of Reinhard next to him. He turned his horse and headed back out of the woods.

He found a few of his classmates milling around on the lawns of Neue Sanssouci, apparently bored of hunting. Kircheis stabled his horse, patting her on the nose in thanks, then returned the rest of the equipment. When he walked out of the stable area, he was surprised to find Leigh laying in the grass, apparently asleep, or at least with a book draped completely over his face to block out the sun.

“Aren’t you cold there, sir?” Kircheis asked, thinking that this might be a good opportunity to ask Leigh what to do about Hilde’s open invitation.

Leigh lazily reached up and pulled the book off his face. “Done hunting already, Kircheis?” He got himself into a sitting position.

“I don’t think it really suits me,” Kircheis said.

“You looked like you were a good rider.”

Kircheis shrugged. “Mind if I sit?”

“Of course not.” So Kircheis sat on the ground next to Leigh.

He looked off into the woods, watching some of his classmates ride in and out of the trees, some of them chasing each other around. “I never really liked the idea of killing without a reason,” he said. “That’s all.”

Leigh smiled. “I understand.”

“You don’t like hunting either?”

“I’m a terrible horseback rider, a terrible archer, and I don’t prefer it as a sport,” Leigh said.

“You said on the bus that you almost got shot here?”

“No, I said that I almost got shot to death,” Leigh said. “Subtle but key difference. I did get shot.”

“I’m sorry.”

He smiled a little. “It’s fine. It’s mostly funny, at this point. My friend Baroness Westpfale makes me tell the embarrassing story at parties.” He rubbed his thigh a little. “Had an arrow go all the way through me, right there.”

“I’m glad you didn’t die, sir,” Kircheis said.

Leigh laughed. “You’d have an easier history class if I had died and therefore wasn’t your teacher.”

“I like your class.”

“You’re one of the few, I think.”

“Do you like teaching?”

“Oh, yes. I do. It’s nice to feel like I’m doing some good.” He smiled a little. “Thank you for taking care of Hilde, by the way.”

“Er, you’re welcome. I don’t really do anything, though.”

“I would be worried about her wandering around campus by herself.”

“She thinks she would be fine.”

“She appreciates your company, even if she does think that she’s a match for the average IOA student.”

“Is she?”

“Is she what?”

“A match for the average IOA student?”

Leigh laughed, a rather charming sound. “I’ve never seen her get into a fight, but I think she’s quick and scrappy. She’s certainly the intellectual equal of most of your classmates.”

“How did she convince people to let her attend your class?”

“Her father, and I think this is to his credit, indulges her more than any other father has ever indulged their daughter. He’s lucky that Hilde’s indulgences run towards dressing like a boy and skipping dance class to come learn military history.”

“I see.”

“I told her that I would deliver her a private lecture if she wanted, but she wouldn’t accept that as an answer. I think it’s sweet that she comes to see me, anyway.” He smiled a little. “Why do you ask?”

“She told me that I should visit her house some time.”

“You should,” Leigh said. “Her father is a generous man, and he likes anyone that Hilde likes.”

“I would not want him to think that I’m taking advantage of his daughter.”

“Are you?”

“No, sir,” Kircheis said as emphatically as possible. “For one thing, she’s a child.”

“She’s only three years younger than yourself. But I see what you mean.” Leigh rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m of the odd opinion that it’s good for students here to have friends outside the school. I’m also of the opinion that Hilde is a good judge of character, and she likes you. It seems natural to me that you could be friends.”

“We really don’t know anything about each other.”

“You don’t?” Leigh tilted his head to look at him. “There’s a lot that can be learned just from being in someone’s presence.”

“Is there, sir?”

“Don’t you feel, when you look at me, you already know everything there is to know?” Leigh had a weird expression on his face, like he was making a joke that Kircheis had no hope of understanding.

“Every new thing I see about you makes me more confused,” Kircheis said.

Leigh laughed. “I’m given to understand that I have that effect on certain people. But truthfully, I’m not a complicated man.”

“Tell me of a complicated man. Muse, tell me how he wandered and was lost, when he had wrecked the holy town of Troy…” Kircheis said without really thinking.

“Are you accusing me of something?” Leigh asked, smiling and tilting his head.

“What?”

“Odysseus, lord of lies,” Leigh replied. “Or perhaps just a man far from home.”

Kircheis shook his head and backed off a little. “No, I didn’t mean anything by it. I just-- a friend of mine likes to quote the classics. I can’t help but think about what he would say if he heard you say that.”

“A friend at the IOA?”

“No, from home,” Kircheis said.

“He must be a good friend, since you say you’ve picked up his mannerisms.”

“Yes, sir.”

“I sometimes worry that my bad habits rub off on my friend Reuenthal,” Leigh said. “But perhaps his good ones are just as likely to rub off on me.” Again, that weird smile on Leigh’s face.

Kircheis didn’t know how to respond to that, so he stayed silent for a second and looked at the book that Leigh had either been reading or using as a face mask, or both. Surprisingly, the title was not printed in the imperial language. Leigh noticed the inquisitive look and passed the book to Kircheis. Although he had been taking the mandatory class on the language used on the other side of the galaxy, he was only a semester into it, so when he flipped to the first page, most of it was meaningless to him. Leigh watched him examine it.

“A gift from the kaiser,” Leigh said, by way of explanation, which served to mystify things rather than clear them up.

“You are friends with the kaiser, sir?”

“I would not presume to put it in those terms. But I think that the kaiser gets some amusement out of speaking to me,” he said. The tone in his voice was absolutely inscrutable. “This was seized from a rebel ship when it was captured. Since the kaiser knows I have an interest in history, he put out a standing order for all newly seized history texts to be collected and offered to me. Very generous of him.”

“You speak the rebel language enough to read it easily?”

“Fluently,” Leigh said, with no further explanation.

“Could you just get books like this through Phezzan?”

“Imagine the hassle that that would entail,” he said. “Not to mention the associated cost and suspicion. If the kaiser wishes to bestow his gifts and favor upon me, who am I to not accept them?”

“May I ask how he came to know you?”

“It’s a long and silly story,” he said, but talked about the accident his freshman year, and then a long string of incidents that seemed to revolve around Baroness Westpfale. They weren’t described in any detail, so it was more like a list of times that he had encountered the kaiser rather than reasons he had given for the kaiser to want him around. “Anyway,” he said, “I have the kaiser’s favor to thank for many things, including my position at the IOA. I’m not sure if it’s making my life easier or harder.”

“Do you like the kaiser?”

“Kircheis, let’s be more circumspect in our questioning, shall we?”

“Yes, sir,” Kircheis said. “Sorry, sir.”

“No need to apologize.” He took the book back from Kircheis. “It’s just sometimes better not to ask questions to which there can only be a true answer or a lie. It will prevent resentment on both the part of the asker and the answerer.”

Kircheis nodded. “I understand.”

Leigh smiled. “Good lad.”

The faint praise made Kircheis feel slightly flustered, and he looked away from Leigh, heat rising in his face. Leigh seemed ignorant of this, or at least willing to ignore it, because he said, “I can solve your Hilde problem for you, by the way, if you like.”

“Oh, er, thank you, sir.”

“I shall invite you to the Mariendorf house myself, and then there will be no thoughts of impropriety from the count.”

“That seems--”

“The count is very used to his guests inviting their own guests to his house,” Leigh said. “He will be pleased to meet you, I’m sure. You’re a good student.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Leigh stood, shaking out his legs and wiping the grass from his pants before offering Kircheis a hand up. Kircheis took it and Leigh pulled him to his feet, ending up with Leigh looking upwards slightly to meet his eyes. “I’ll let you know the time-- it might not be for a while. But don’t think I won’t make you work for this favor-- make sure you do the class reading beforehand.”

“Are you going to have me help Fraulein Mariendorf with her studying?”

Leigh laughed again. “No. She does very well in my class, considering that she is not a student. I think this is a way to kill two birds with one stone. Hilde wants to take the SW practicum, but has thus far had no one to play against. I can force you to play, though.”

“Sir, I’m sure that Fraulein Mariendorf is very talented--”

“Kircheis, I do not think that you need to concern yourself with hurting her feelings.”

“I didn’t mean to imply anything other than I have practice and she does not.”

“And that you’re the top ranked student, who Staden says is undefeated, and you’re years older than her, and she’s a girl besides.”

A flicker of anger rose up in his chest, but then he looked at Leigh’s face and saw that Leigh was having a joke at Kircheis’s expense. “No, sir,” he said.

“I think that there is a chance that you will be the one to end up with hurt feelings,” Leigh said.

“I know how to lose gracefully, sir.”

“Do you?” He smiled. “It’s hard to know that when you have yet to actually lose.”

“The SW practicum is not the only opportunity a person has to suffer defeat.”

Leigh looked at him more seriously, then. “You’re right about that.”

“Do you really believe that Fraulein Mariendorf is that skilled?”

“I haven’t actually had a chance to see either you or her play, of course,” Leigh said. “But while you have the benefit of practice, Hilde has the benefit of my private tutoring since she was about seven years old.”

Kircheis was silent.

“Do you not think that I would be as competent of a teacher at SW as I am at history? Or were you lying when you complimented my teaching earlier.” Again, Leigh seemed to be having a laugh at his expense.

“No, sir,” Kircheis said. “My hesitation is only that I haven’t seen your performance, just like you haven’t seen mine or Fraulein Mariendorf’s.”

“An understandable hesitation,” Leigh said. “I’ll send you something so that you can see my bona fides.”

“You don’t need to do that, sir.”

“You can think of it as a test for yourself, as well,” Leigh said. “If that makes you feel any better.”

“I don’t want any special attention,” Kircheis said.

“Oh, well, I think that my special attention is worth very little.” Leigh ran a hand through his hair. “Maybe even worse than useless.” He looked at Kircheis. “Actually, you’re right that maybe I shouldn’t bother you. I’m the kind of person who drags others down to my level.”

“I didn’t mean to insult you, sir, and I apologize if I did.”

Leigh smiled at him. “If there’s any insult here, it’s been my fault. Well, think about it, anyway, and either let me know what you want, or don’t.” He clapped a hand on Kircheis’s shoulder for a second. “I’m glad we could talk, Kircheis.”

Before Kircheis could say anything in reply, Leigh was already walking away.