You and Me and Commander Leigh Makes Three

May 483 I.C., Odin

Kircheis and Hilde had both finished their Military History final, and, as was their custom, walked off campus together in the overly-warm late spring afternoon.

“I don’t really understand why you took the exam,” Kircheis said to her. “You know Commander Leigh knows you know the material. He wouldn’t care.”

“It wouldn’t be fair of me to get to skip it,” she said, grinning up at him. “Besides, I figured it would probably be the last chance I got to see you before you headed home for the summer.”

Kircheis smiled. “I’m flattered.”

“Where do you live, by the way? I don’t think I ever asked.”

“Fifty-third district,” Kircheis said. “Not too far.”

“Oh!” Hilde said. “I should come visit you, then.”

This brought Kircheis up short, and he wasn’t sure how to respond. “I don’t know if your father--”

“He likes you,” Hilde said. “Just like I said he would.”

“That’s different from letting you travel to see me,” Kircheis said. He stuck his hands in his pockets. “Besides, I don’t even know what my parents would think of you.”

“Haven’t you told them about me?”

Kircheis frowned slightly. “No, I don’t really tell them very much.”

“Oh.”

“It’s not because of you,” Kircheis hurriedly corrected. “I just don’t… have much to say to them.”

There must have been something in his tone that alarmed her, because she looked up at him. “Do you need a place to stay for the summer?”

“It’s not like that,” Kircheis said. He seemed to be getting himself into a muddle with this conversation. “My parents are very kind people. They just don’t understand me.”

“I’m sorry.”

He smiled. “It’s nothing that you have to apologize for, Fraulein Hilde.”

“What don’t they understand about you?”

Kircheis shook his head. “It’s not really something that I can explain.”

“Try me.”

“They just don’t like my friends,” he said after a second of hesitation. “The company I keep.”

“I want to meet your home friends,” Hilde said. They arrived at the train station, taking the now familiar path up to the platform, where they then leaned against the chain link fence, their fingers hooked in the wire, looking down towards where the train would appear from around the corner in the distance. Hilde rattled the wire. “Martin, right?”

“Yeah,” Kircheis said. He was a little surprised that she remembered. He had only mentioned him offhand once or twice.

“Think he’d like me?”

“He might be jealous of you getting to spend time with me,” Kircheis said. “But other than that, yes, he would.”

“Oh, that’s good.” She bounced on the fence for a second. “Would I like him?”

“He’s just like you and me and Commander Leigh,” Kircheis said after a second. “You probably would like him.”

“Then I definitely want to meet him.”

Kircheis wasn’t sure if he wanted the two spheres of his life to overlap, so he shrugged. “Maybe I could take a trip back to the capital during the summer, at some point.”

“I would like that,” Hilde said. “If you brought Martin with you, we could play an SW game. Get some practice in before school starts again.”

“Martin would hate that.”

“Really? I thought you said he was like us.”

“He hates the war,” Kircheis said. He looked off into the distance, where they could hear the train begin to rattle its way closer. “He doesn’t like that I go to the IOA.”

“Why do you go to the IOA?” Hilde asked. “You’re not like the other students. You’re not even like Oskar.”

Kircheis shrugged. “Things just worked out that way,” he said. It wasn’t a lie, because it wasn’t really saying anything.

Hilde narrowed her eyes at him. “It takes work to go there. It doesn’t just happen by accident.”

“Here comes the train,” Kircheis said. He took his hands off the fence and stood up straight. “If I don’t see you until next school year…” He held out his hand for Hilde to shake. She considered it for a second, then hugged him instead, squeezing him tightly. He was momentarily flustered, then hugged her back.

“Call me,” she said. “And either do come visit the capital, or let me come see you. It’s a long two months to be away.”

“I will,” Kircheis said. “One or the other. I promise.”

“Good,” Hilde said firmly. She gave him a funny little salute as the train pulled up. “Until then, Cadet Kircheis.”

“Until then, Fraulein Mariendorf,” he said with a smile. She hopped onto the train, her backpack flopping around on her back, and disappeared for a moment before reappearing at a window, from which she waved at him until the train pulled away.

Kircheis had to admit he was sad to see her go.

Saying his goodbyes to Commander Leigh was also something that Kircheis wanted to do, so, a few days later, he knocked on Leigh’s office door.

“Come in,” Leigh said.

Kircheis pushed the door open and saluted. Leigh just waved at him to sit. “What can I do for you, Kircheis?” Leigh looked exhausted, and the papers on his desk were piled high and chaotically disorganized.

“I mostly just came to say goodbye for the summer, though if anyone else asks, I’m returning your book,” Kircheis said, pulling from his bag the latest in a string of texts that Leigh had lent him.

“Well, thank you for not stealing it for the summer, Kircheis,” Leigh said. He stuck his pen between his teeth and took the book, looking at it blankly. “I don’t even remember giving this to you, to be honest.”

“Are you alright, sir?” he asked.

“Hunh? Oh, yeah.” Leigh shook his head, his floppy hair falling in his eyes. He brushed it off his face, then smiled at Kircheis. “A good friend of mine has been staying at my house the past couple days, going through a very weird personal crisis, and it’s finals grading season, so I have not been getting as much sleep as I would like.”

“I think there’s a tank bed on campus you can use somewhere,” Kircheis said.

Leigh made a face, which made Kircheis smile-- it was a very endearing expression, for all that Leigh apparently didn’t like tank beds. “Thanks, but no thanks.” He leaned forward on his desk, propped up on his elbows, and he gestured a little bit. “The nice thing about sleep, Kircheis, is that typically when you wake up, all your problems seem much easier to solve. Tank beds do not give you the pleasure of that illusion.”

“Is it really that bad, sir?”

“Probably not, but I’m sure I would feel better if I could get enough sleep to solve it.” He shook his head and smiled. “Well, it’s not your problem. Congratulations on finishing your freshman year as first. It’s not an easy thing to do.”

“Thank you, sir.” Kircheis’s face heated up a little and he shifted in his chair uncomfortably.

“Do you have any plans for the summer? Looking forward to going home?”

“Not in particular, sir.”

Yang raised an eyebrow. “Which one of those things are you answering there?”

“Either, sir.”

“You aren’t excited to see your friend, uh, Martin?”

“I am,” Kircheis said.

“Family trouble, then?”

“I guess.”

“Want to talk about it?” Leigh seemed sympathetic, which made Kircheis want to confess absolutely everything to him, but that would neither have been wise nor fair.

“I wouldn’t want to trouble you,” Kircheis said. “You seem to have enough going on already, and it’s not--”

“You know, as a teacher, it’s my job to look out for my students.”

“You won’t really be my teacher any more after this semester,” Kircheis said.

“I won’t?”

“I didn’t have room in my schedule to sign up for Ancient Earth,” Kircheis admitted. “I wanted to, though.”

“But did you sign up for your sophomore year SW practicum?”

“I-- of course, it’s mandatory.” He looked at Leigh, confused.

“Since I’ve always been the black sheep of the history department,” he said sarcastically, “they’re getting rid of me. Exiling me to the dark shores of the strategy department.”

“You’re teaching the top level SW course next year?” Kircheis couldn’t keep the pleased tone out of his voice.

“I’m glad that at least one person is happy about this, even if it isn’t me.” His voice and manner were petulant, but he still smiled at Kircheis. “I’m sure all your classmates will hate me.”

“Have you told Fraulein Mariendorf?”

“I told her that I’m teaching a new course next year, so she doesn’t have to repeat Military History, but I didn’t tell her what it is. Maybe I should have it be a surprise.”

“I think she would like that.”

“Good, then please do keep it a secret from her.”

“I will, sir.”

“You didn’t answer my question,” Leigh said.

“What question, sir?”

“The one you tried to dodge with this little digression. Is there something that you want to talk about? I’m a good listener, even if I might not directly be able to help.”

Kircheis looked away. “Only the most patient of adults can bear to listen to a teenager whine about how much their family does not understand them.”

He earned a laugh from Leigh from that. “It’s not like we all weren’t teenagers once. My father, for his part, did not understand me in the least.”

“Really, sir?”

“He said, and I’m paraphrasing here, ‘Hank, there are only two things in this world worth spending your life in: art and business. Art feeds the soul, and making good money with business will let you feed your body.’ He could not for the life of him understand why I wanted to study history.”

“So you came to the IOA instead?”

Leigh sighed. “No, it’s a long and stupid story about how I ended up at the IOA. It wasn’t exactly by choice. Maybe when you graduate I’ll tell it to you.”

“Is your father happy with you now?”

“I wouldn’t know,” Leigh said. “He died approximately five minutes after having that conversation with me.”

“I’m sorry,” Kircheis said.

“It’s fine.” Leigh smiled. “I sometimes think I should have told him I would study art history. But it wouldn’t have made much difference, in the end.” He shrugged a little. “I’m sorry that you’re dealing with something like that now.”

“It’s alright. I should be grateful that they’re trying to do right by me.”

Leigh leaned even further forward, sending a few papers drifting to the floor. Kircheis picked them up and put them back on his desk. “That’s all well and good,” Leigh said, “but remember, Kircheis, they’re not responsible for your life. Only you are. Just because someone says they have your best interests at heart, and even if they honestly believe it, that doesn’t mean that they should make your choices for you.”

“Yes, sir,” Kircheis said. “Thank you for the advice.”

Yang flopped back in his chair. “Wish I could tell Mittermeyer that and have him believe me. I’m just forcing my advice on you because I can’t give it to him anymore.”

“That’s alright, sir.” Kircheis glanced behind him at the picture on Leigh’s office wall. “You give good advice.”

Leigh laughed. “Well, thank you, Kircheis. Do you think you’ll be able to enjoy your summer regardless?”

“I’m sure I will,” he said.

“Good, good. Make sure you get plenty of rest, so you come back prepared to lead the pack next year. Read so you don’t let yourself get rusty.”

“I will, sir.”

“And let your friend Martin quote the classics at you, too,” Leigh smiled a little. “After all, my father was right that art feeds the soul.”

Kircheis felt very odd when Leigh said that, so he just nodded, and then stood, feeling like he was being dismissed. “I hope you enjoy your summer as well, sir.”

Leigh also stood, and held out his hand for Kircheis to shake, which he did. “I expect that I will do my best to enjoy myself, despite the universe conspiring to not let me be as lazy as I would like. I’ll see you in August, then.”

“Yes, sir.”

Kircheis walked home from the train station alone. He had told his mother it wasn’t worth the effort to drive to come pick him up; he didn’t have more belongings to pack to take home than fit in a suitcase, and he had wanted the solitude of the ride to prepare himself for seeing his family again. By the time that the train pulled away from the station in town, the same one that he had sat with Reinhard at so many times, the sun had slid behind the trees, and all the streets were just now illuminating their streetlights. The night air was warm and still, and the songs of insects and frogs in the woods were more soothing than they were annoying. Kircheis walked very slowly, and, when he got to his street, lingered in front of the empty von Müsel house for a second before turning to walk up the path to his family’s home.

The greenhouse lights were on, which meant his father was working in there, and it looked like his mother was in the kitchen, from her silhouette moving around behind the curtain. He hesitated at the front door, feeling unsure if he should knock. He decided just to open it.

The sound of it alerted his mother, who called out, “Sieg, is that you?”

“Yes, I’m home, mom.”

She emerged from the kitchen as Kircheis was taking off his shoes at the door. He was struck by how small she looked. “Sieg,” she said, and smiled. “Welcome home. Dinner’s keeping warm in the oven.”

He wasn’t sure exactly what to say, so he just tried to smile at her in his usual quiet way. She came up to him, and he bent down to kiss her cheek. She patted his back. For all the trappings of affection, Kircheis felt it to be a stiff reunion.

“Go put your suitcase in your room. I put fresh sheets on your bed for you.”

“Thanks, Mom,” he said, then did as instructed and disappeared upstairs.

His bedroom was simultaneously larger and smaller than he remembered it. Of course, having the attic bedroom meant he had far more space than his closet of a freshman dorm at the IOA provided, but it still felt like it had shrunk, or perhaps the outside world had gotten larger. He sat down on the bed, running a hand over the quilt his mother had folded at the end of it, the one his grandmother had made for him a few years before she died, and he opened his suitcase. On the very top was the picture of Reinhard and Annerose and himself, smiling and frozen in time. He returned the photograph to its usual place of honor on his desk, and immediately the room felt more like his again.

He remained there for a few minutes, until his mother called him down to eat dinner. His father was seated at the table already. “Welcome home, Sieg,” he said. “How have you been?”

“Fine, thanks,” Kircheis said. “The year finished well.”

His mother returned to the table bearing the meal, and she served everyone. “You have good grades, I presume?”

“I suppose,” he said.

“Is this an ‘I’m first and don’t want to brag’ kind of ‘I suppose’?” she asked with a knowing smile.

Kircheis smiled and shrugged, taking a sip of his milk.

“Congratulations,” his father said. “I never thought that I’d see you become an officer, but if your schoolwork is any indication, it seems like you’re suited for it.” His voice was the mild kind of pleased, deliberately pitched that way to avoid anything unsavory underneath.

“Thank you.” There was the general quiet clinking of cutlery as they all ate. “Dinner is good, mom.”

“I made your favorites. And a black forest cake for dessert.”

“You didn’t have to,” Kircheis protested.

“It’s so rare that we get to see you, I would be derelict in my duty as a mother if I didn’t try to spoil you a little while you’re here.”

“Do you have any summer assignments that you need to do?” his father asked.

“One of my professors gave me a list of things to read, but that isn’t an assignment, just a suggestion,” Kircheis said. “I’ll have to see if I can find them all in the library.”

“Which professor is this?”

“Commander von Leigh,” Kircheis said, unable to keep the warm tone out of his voice while discussing his favorite teacher.

“What does he teach?”

“I had him for military history this past year, but he’s being transferred to teach the strategic warfare upper level practicum,” Kircheis said. “It’s a war games class.”

“How interesting,” his mother said. “Is it computer simulations?”

“No, we play against each other, while another student moderates to make sure that legal moves are being made.” He checked to make sure his parents were actually interested in what he was saying, saw that they were, and then continued. “So, say you had two fleets both trying to capture a planet…” He picked up his napkin and laid it on the table to represent the planet, and then took the salt and pepper shakers to represent opposing fleets. “Each player would send a message to the game moderator what order they wanted their fleet to execute-- say, Fleet A wants to move into the planet’s orbit at a certain speed-- and make sure they timestamp it with when they want their order to be executed. They don’t know what the other player is doing, so the other player could say, ‘I want to move towards the enemy fleet and fire on them.’ The GM would advance the clock, and would execute both orders, so--” Kircheis moved the shakers-- “Fleet A would be moving, but Fleet B would be heading towards them. The clock advances in increments, and every time it does, the GMs send both players new information about what they could see. So the A player would learn that they’re being chased, and they might decide to either speed up or turn and return fire. It can get pretty complicated.”

“Fascinating,” his father said. “I certainly never did any of that during my compulsory service.”

“Yeah.” Kircheis looked down at his plate.

“So, you like this Commander von Leigh?” his mother asked. “Odd name, isn’t it?”

“His family is Phezzani,” Kircheis said, which he thought was probably a true statement. “But yes, I like him. He’s a good teacher.”

“Has he done anything of note?”

Kircheis was a little uncomfortable with the question. “I suppose.”

His mother raised her eyebrows. “This is another one of his ‘I suppose’ deflections,” she said to his father, even though Kircheis was right there. “I’ll search Commander Leigh’s name and learn that he’s been responsible for some great miracle on the battlefield.”

“If he were famous, he’d be more than just a commander,” his father pointed out, trying to soothe his mother. “That’s not exactly a flag officer. For a teacher at the end of their career, it’s not a particularly high rank.”

Kircheis was momentarily confused. “Commander Leigh isn’t-- he’s very young. He only graduated from the IOA in 479.”

This elicited very different reactions from his parents. His father was startled, and his mother was suddenly anxious, narrowing her eyes. “That is young, but I suppose to be a commander at that age shows good promise in his career,” his father said.

“And why has young Commander Leigh taken an interest in you?” his mother asked.

“I don’t know,” Kircheis said. “He’s just nice.”

“Have you made any friends at school?” his father asked. “You didn’t mention anyone when you were home for the winter solstice.”

“Just one,” he said.

“Oh?” his father asked. “What’s his name?”

“Er, my friend is a girl,” he said.

“What’s her name then?” his mother asked, suddenly very interested.

“Hildegarde von Mariendorf.”

“How did you meet her?”

“She’s-- her father is friends with Commander Leigh, so he lets her come to his class. It’s a sort of unofficial thing, but Chancellor Steger ignores it.”

His parents glanced at each other. “So, she’s smart?” his father asked.

“Smarter than I am.”

“I highly doubt that,” his mother said dismissively.

“We’ve played that kind of strategic warfare game against each other, and she’s beaten me a couple times.”

“Odd hobby for a girl,” his mother said. “Where does she go to school?”

“One of the girls’ schools in the capital.”

“You mentioned that her father was friends with your teacher-- what’s her family like?”

“Her father is nice. I’ve been to their house a few times. She’s the only child, and her mother died a couple years ago.”

“It’s serious, then?” his father asked. “Since you’ve met her father.”

Kircheis was startled. “I’m not-- Fraulein Mariendorf isn’t-- We’re just friends.”

His parents both looked at him with differing unpleasant expressions. His father was merely surprised, but his mother seemed actively upset.

Kircheis felt the need to explain himself, “She’s too young for me, and her father is a count, so it wouldn’t be appropriate, and, anyway, I don’t think she likes me like that.”

“How old is she?” his father asked.

“Fourteen.”

His father’s expression was one of appraisal. “Well, it’s good for you to have a friend, regardless.”

“Yeah…” Kircheis looked back down at his plate.

“Your fencing coach was asking me the other day when I ran into him in the grocery if you had been keeping up with the sport,” his mother said after a long second of awkward silence. “Have you been?”

“Oh, yes.” Kircheis was relieved for the change of topic. “I take several physical classes in the evening. Fencing, ground combat, and hand to hand.”

The conversation moved on to slightly easier things from there, and after dinner, Kircheis was able to retreat to his room. He found messages waiting for him on his phone from Martin.

> yeah, I did

> just finished eating dinner

> how have you been

> now?

> let me wait until my parents go to bed

> then i can probably meet you somewhere

They agreed to meet at one of their usual haunts, a wooded area in the nearby park that absolutely no one would be at during the night. Kircheis waited around until he heard his parents finish their nighttime routines, busying himself with unpacking his belongings back into his dresser. When the house was quiet, Kircheis crept down the stairs, remembering which ones creaked and needed to be stepped over, and then exited the house.

He jogged to the park, relishing the nighttime quiet and the muggy air against his face. Martin was waiting for him on a park bench, visible at a distance by the light of a nearby streetlamp. When he saw Kircheis coming down the road, he stood up and walked down the path a little, disappearing into the trees. Kircheis followed a little behind.

The whole park had been deserted, but Kircheis couldn’t fault Martin for wanting a little extra privacy before they spoke. He could see him a bit ahead, using his phone flashlight to illuminate the path. Kircheis’s eyes were sensitive enough, and he was used to walking in the dark woods enough, that he didn’t need more light than what the moon provided. They came to an area of the woods that was mostly pines, growing far enough apart and with their tufts of branches high enough up that it served as a kind of clearing. There were rocks scattered throughout the clearing, of different sizes, some half buried in the dirt, some several meters tall. Martin sat down against the largest one, sliding his back down the surface and his feet out in front of him, leaving scraped trails in the dry pine needles underfoot, revealing the dark, damp dirt beneath. Kircheis sat next to him.

“How was your train ride?” Martin asked, breaking the silence.

“Good,” Kircheis said. “I’m glad to see you again.”

“Yeah.” Martin scooted a little closer to Kircheis and put his head on his shoulder. Kircheis rested his cheek on Martin’s hair. He picked up and fiddled with some of the dry pine needles on the ground next to him. “You survived a year in that place.”

“I did.”

Martin moved his head a little so that he could look up at Kircheis, rather a puppy-dog sort of expression. Kircheis thought it was endearing and smiled down at him. “You know, you never told me if you actually liked it there or not.”

“It’s like any place,” Kircheis said. “There are things that I like and things that I hate.”

“You don’t tell me about it.”

“I thought you didn’t want to hear.” Kircheis tugged on some of Martin’s long hair gently. “You hate the fact that I go there. I thought I was sparing your feelings by not talking about it.”

“I’d rather know.”

“Why?”

“Do you not want to tell me?”

“No, I will tell you,” Kircheis said. “I’m just trying to figure out what you want to hear.”

It had been a long time since he had had Martin next to him like this. When he had come to the city on his quick visits, they couldn’t exactly go somewhere private together, so the intimacy of their interactions had been necessarily limited. And when he had come home for the winter solstice break, the weather had been too poor to meet outside, and Kircheis’s mother had watched him like a hawk. He had barely been able to sneak himself to Martin’s house once or twice, when his parents were out. Having Martin next to him now, curled up against his side, made him acutely aware of how unpleasant every other time was.

Martin took Kircheis’s hand and placed it on his lap, playing with his fingers with both hands. “I just want to hear about you. Are you the same person when you’re at school?”

“Should I be?”

“I don’t know,” Martin said.

Kircheis was silent for a long second before speaking. “I don’t feel real, most of the time when I’m there,” he said. “Not like I feel when I’m here with you.” He found it hard to think about himself at school, unable to call to mind what he was thinking while in class or laying in his dorm at night, like the thought process was so alien to what he was feeling now that he couldn’t quite recreate it. He felt like he moved through the school year in almost a dream, not really rising to the surface except for certain moments: when he was playing an SW game, when he was walking Hilde back to the train station, when he was talking to Commander Leigh.

Martin waited for him to elaborate.

“There’s only a few people there who I feel like are worth talking to, who I think understand things. But I can’t tell them about myself, even if I wanted to.”

“Mmm,” Martin said. “Who are these people?”

So Kircheis spent a while explaining meeting Hilde and Commander Leigh, and how he had read the description of what had happened at El Facil, and how he had known immediately that Leigh had orchestrated it so the civilians could escape. Martin seemed duly impressed.

“So, you think you can follow in his footsteps?” Martin asked.

“He thinks that he can do good in the Empire,” Kircheis said. “As part of the fleet, even. I hope that’s true. It seems better than running away-- otherwise he would have left. He’s from Phezzan, I think.”

Martin nodded, his hair tickling Kircheis’s chin, his head still resting somewhere between Kircheis’s shoulder and chest. “You like him?”

“Yeah. I wish you could meet him. You might get along.”

Martin leaned further sideways, ending up with his head in Kircheis’s lap. Kircheis stroked his hair off his forehead and stared up into the night sky, plenty of stars visible through the cracks in the pine tree covering overhead.

“Why do you say that?”

“He told me to let you quote the classics at me. Told me it would be good for my soul.”

Martin laughed a little at that. “Should I be flattered or worried that you were talking to him about me?”

“Flattered.” Kircheis shook his head. “I wish I could tell him more. I would like to brag about you.”

Martin reached up and took Kircheis’s hand off his forehead, holding it and then bringing it to his mouth to kiss. “I should be the one bragging about you.”

“I wish I had known that it would be like this,” Kircheis said. “Then I would have tried to convince you to take the test, so that you could come with me.”

“I don’t think you would have been able to.”

“I know. But I would have tried.”

Martin kissed his fingers again. “Should I make you take your teacher’s advice?”

“Which one?” Kircheis asked. He traced Martin’s lips with his finger.

“Shall I quote some literature for you?”

“Please,” Kircheis said. He leaned back against the cool rock and closed his eyes. “I want to hear it.”

“Hmm,” Martin said. He rubbed Kircheis’s hand with his thumb. “Some say an army of horsemen, some say soldiers, some say a fleet of ships are the most beautiful things in this dark world, but I say it’s what you love…” Martin’s voice was so soft and quiet that Kircheis couldn’t help but shiver a little as he continued to recite the poem.

When it was done, they sat in silence for a second. “Thank you,” Kircheis said. He paused for a moment, then said, “You are more beautiful than all the ships in the imperial fleet, you know.”

Martin sat up. “Not a very high bar to clear,” he said, but he was smiling in the very faint moonlight. Kircheis tugged on the side of Martin’s shirt, pulling him forward so that the smaller boy could straddle his lap.

“Well, there’s something to be said for watching a fleet of ships slide in front of the stars,” Kircheis said. He tucked a bit of Martin’s hair behind his ear. “You have to find beauty in it, because you’re not allowed to have anything like this.”

“I wish you didn’t have to go there.”

“It’s alright. I just have to try to find the good I can do there.”

“Is there any?”

“I hope so,” Kircheis said, thinking of Leigh.

“Yeah.” Martin put his hand on Kircheis’s chest. “I’m glad you haven’t changed so much.”

“I won’t,” Kircheis said. “I don’t think that it will change me.”

“Good.” Martin leaned forward and kissed the side of Kircheis’s mouth. Kircheis smiled and turned Martin’s head with his hand so that he could reciprocate.

July 483 I.C., Odin

The summer had grown sticky and ill feeling, and Kircheis had needed to escape the stifling pressure of his house, so he had begged a Tuesday off of work from his boss at the tavern where he bussed tables and asked if Martin wanted to take a trip into the capital with him. He told his parents that he was going to see Hilde Mariendorf, which was true, but not that he was bringing Martin with him. It was the same kind of lie that he had used years ago, whenever he had wanted to go camping with Reinhard-- he would say that he wanted to go camping with the von Müsels, and simply imply that more than just Reinhard was going. He was fairly sure that Annerose would have supported him in this lie, if his parents had ever bothered to ask, but they never did.

It was a constant point of confusion for Kircheis why his parents had liked Reinhard so much more than they liked Martin. After all, the two boys were the same in many respects: intelligent, passionate about the things they believed in, prone to fits of both anger and tenderness, and homosexual. It was true that where Reinhard was athletic, Martin was bookish, and their looks didn’t really compare at all, but Kircheis didn’t think that should matter so much. Maybe, he thought, if Reinhard had stayed on Odin, his mother would have come to dislike him as much as she now disliked Martin, but Kircheis couldn’t possibly know.

Kircheis thought about this on the train ride into the capital, which was several hours. He stared out the window while Martin read a book beside him, occasionally shaking his shoulder to show him an interesting line.

In the city, the bright summer light seemed to reflect off of every surface: the pavement, the buildings, the cars parked haphazardly on the sides of the street. The place was an oven, without even the relief of a breeze. They were planning to meet Hilde at a cafe, and, by the time they walked there, both Kircheis and Martin were sweating heavily, though Martin was the worse off.

“After this,” Martin said in between breaths, looking down at the map on his phone, “there’s somewhere I’d like to go.”

“Of course,” Kircheis said. “Where?”

“Thursday is the fiftieth anniversary of the Triangle Street Riot,” Martin said. “I’d like to see the area.”

“Oh, I didn’t realize,” Kircheis said. “Yeah, of course we can go.” He looked at Martin as they walked. “Why do you want to see it?”

“Just-- you know-- pay my respects.” Martin was looking steadfastly down the street, squinting in the glare off the window displays they were passing.

They arrived at the cafe where they were supposed to meet Hilde, a blessedly cool place, and Kircheis spotted her immediately, seated on a high stool at a tall table in the corner, a book open in front of her, her omnipresent backpack dangling off the chair, wearing a smart looking blue blouse and black pants, legs swinging to kick the table.

“Fraulein Hilde,” Kircheis said, coming up to her and getting her attention.

Her head jerked up immediately, and she practically leapt off her stool to hug him. “Siegfried!” she said. “I’m glad you came.”

Kircheis shrugged and smiled at Martin until she released him. “It’s good to see you, too,” he said. “Let me introduce you-- Martin, this is my friend Hildegarde von Mariendorf, Fraulein Hilde, this is Martin Bufholtz.”

Hilde enthusiastically shook Martin’s hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Herr Bufholtz.”

“Pleasure’s mine, I’m sure. Sieg has told me all about you.” They all sat down.

She smiled. “Really? He said he thought you might be jealous of him spending time with me. I hope that’s not the case.”

Kircheis cringed a little, but Martin was taking it in stride. “Should I be? Are you attempting to steal him from me?” His tone was a joking one-- Martin seemed at ease around Hilde immediately, which Kircheis had not expected, but was pleased by. Martin wasn’t open with many people at school, and when he was, it was usually the argumentative sort of openness, and not the friendly kind.

She laughed. “Of course not. I think there’s plenty of Siegfried’s friendship to go around.”

“How has your summer been?” Kircheis asked.

“Good, mostly,” Hilde said.

“Mostly?”

“Hank is busy all the time, so I don’t get to see him.”

“Hank?” Martin asked.

“Commander Leigh,” Kircheis supplied. “What’s he busy with?”

“Oh, I don’t know. He won’t tell me. I don’t think it’s anything important though, or he would.”

“Would he?”

Hilde crossed her arms and frowned. “He should.”

“He’s probably just getting ready for the next school year.”

She sighed a little. “I guess. How have you been?”

“Good,” Kircheis said. “It’s been nice to get away from the IOA.”

“Your family treating you okay?”

“Yeah, they’re fine,” Kircheis said. He looked out the bright cafe windows.

Martin looked at Hilde appraisingly. “Have you met Sieg’s family? When they came to the IOA?”

“No,” Hilde said. “I’m not sure what they would think of me.”

“They might not like you,” Martin said.

At the same moment, Kircheis said, “They would probably like you fine.”

Kircheis and Martin glanced at each other, each surprised by the other’s judgment. “Well, they don’t like me ,” Martin stressed.

“And what does that have to do with me?” Hilde asked, leaning forward a little.

“Well, er, you know,” Martin said. He waved his hand vaguely at Hilde. “Right?”

“What?” Kircheis asked.

“I feel like I should be offended,” Hilde said.

“Nevermind,” Martin said. “You said she was like us. I just was making assumptions. Since your parents don’t like me.”

Hilde looked at Kircheis. “How many other people have you told about our shared interests?”

“No one,” Kircheis said. “But you can trust Martin.”

“Good.”

“But my parents don’t dislike you because of that,” Kircheis said, still somewhat confused. “Or, at least, not before last year, they didn’t.”

Martin rolled his eyes, looking at Hilde with an amused expression. “Yeah, they dislike me for the other thing.”

“I feel like I’m missing some context here,” Hilde said. “What happened last year?”

“Er, nothing,” Kircheis said.

“You are not very good at lying.”

“Sometimes it’s better to just say nothing,” Kircheis said. “It really was nothing. I got in trouble and my punishment was to attend the IOA. I told you it was a stupid story.”

“It was my fault,” Martin said.

“So, your parents dislike Martin because he got you in trouble?”

“I couldn’t explain why my parents like or dislike people. They didn’t like him before then, either.”

Martin had a grim smile on his face. He shrugged. To Hilde, he said, “Sieg finds endearing about me the same qualities that his parents hate. I’m sure it would be the same for you.”

“What do you mean?” Hilde asked.

“You know,” Martin said. “Haven’t you ever walked into a room and seen or heard someone, and thought, ‘That person is just like me,’ for some reason-- maybe you couldn’t even explain it? It is in the other that one recognizes the self. Anyway, those same things that you and I might see-- other people hate them.”

“Oh. Yeah,” Hilde said. “I guess.” She was pensive, suddenly.

Kircheis was struck by the way that Martin phrased this, and thought back to that first moment he had seen Commander Leigh, walking in to the convocation dinner late. They had seen each other. He thought back to the time he had met Reinhard, peering over the fence at the domineering and impetuous boy, and had been immediately convinced to be friends with him. He thought of Martin. And he looked at Hilde now, in that new light, trying to see what Martin seemed to immediately see about her, why he was so friendly, when Kircheis had been worried he would be jealous or misunderstand their relationship.

“We find each other, don’t we?” Martin asked. And he looked over at Kircheis with a smile.

“Yeah,” Kircheis said. “I guess we do.”

“Aside from your parents, how has your summer been?” Hilde asked. “Reading anything good?”

“Just working through the list that Commander Leigh gave me. I keep pretty busy,” Kircheis said. “I have work a lot, so…”

“Where do you work?”

“White Stag Tavern, just bussing tables,” Kircheis said. “Doesn’t pay great, but it’s something to do.”

“You should have stayed with me over the summer,” Hilde said. “If you wanted to work, my dad could have found you an assistantship in Neue Sansoucci, or something.”

Martin made a face.

“It’s fine,” Kircheis said. “I don’t mind being at home.”

“What?” Hilde asked at Martin’s expression.

“We clearly live in different worlds, Fraulein Mariendorf.” Some of the warmth that had been in Martin’s tone vanished.

Hilde frowned. “What do you mean?”

“The rampant nepotism in government positions is part of the problem here, isn’t it?”

“Martin…” Kircheis said. “She’s just trying to be nice.”

“It’s not nepotism for the top student at the IOA to get a summer job,” Hilde said, frowning. “He would be well suited for any post.”

“It’s not the idea that Sieg is well suited that’s the issue, it’s that there are so many other people who are also smart and talented who don’t happen to know the daughter of a count.”

“There’s no one who’s smarter than Siegfried.”

“I don’t disagree, but it’s the principle,” Martin said.

Kircheis was very uncomfortable. “It’s a problem with society that we can’t really solve by arguing about it here,” he said.

Martin plowed on. “Besides, why would Sieg want to go to court?”

“Because--” Hilde began.

“Look, it doesn’t matter,” Kircheis said. “My parents would have been unhappy if I didn’t come home, and I can’t impose on your father regardless.”

“Alright, I’ll stop antagonizing you,” Martin said, and some of the friendliness returned to his demeanor. “It’s not often that I get to speak so freely, especially not with a daughter of a count. I’m abusing Sieg’s friendship with you.”

Hilde relaxed a little bit, but she was now more considering of Martin. “You can tell me what else you think is wrong, you know.”

“Now, that is not a conversation that one should have in public,” Martin said. “Maybe some other time.”

Hilde laughed. “I suppose so.”

“We’re going to see Triangle Street after this,” Martin said. “Would you like to come?”

“Sure,” Hilde said.

“Your father won’t mind?” Kircheis asked.

“I told him that I was going to the city to see you. He doesn’t mind what I do.” Hilde reached behind her and fiddled around with her bag for a moment before pulling out a book. She handed it to Kircheis. It took some effort for him to decipher the title, as it was written in the Alliance language. “Hank told me to give this to you. He said it was relevant to your last conversation.”

“What is it?” Martin asked.

Kircheis flipped the book open and laughed at what he found. It was heavily illustrated, even though it was a dense academic text. The inside cover had the scrawl of the book’s original owner, “Ex Libris Captain Armand Westerson, Jamestown ,” and a competing stamp from the imperial archives, noting that the book was seized property. “An art history book about ancient Earth,” Kircheis said. “I guess he’s trying to save my soul.”

“Does he think it needs saving?” Martin asked, taking the book and flipping through it. He paused at several of the pictures. “What does this caption say?”

Kircheis leaned towards him in order to translate the provenance of a marble statue. Martin smiled. “He probably sent this more for you than for me,” Kircheis said. “You can have it.”

“I can’t read a word of it. You’ll have to read it to me.”

“My one year of language study isn’t going to get me that far,” Kircheis said. “We mostly learn useful things, like, ‘Surrender or be destroyed’.”

Martin frowned. “Then maybe you’re right that he thinks your soul needs saving.”

Kircheis smiled. “Alright, I’ll read it. But you’ll have to be patient with me.”

Martin bumped his shoulder on Kircheis’s in a friendly way, then put the book away in his own backpack. When he did, Kircheis caught a glimpse of a stack of papers.

They talked about other subjects for a while, until they decided they had stayed in the cafe for too long, and then the trio walked out into the sweltering summer once again. “So, Triangle Street?” Hilde asked.

“Yeah,” Martin said. “This way.”

It was a bit of a walk, and the weather was so disgusting that even though they wanted to move faster to escape it, Martin and Hilde both were unable to push themselves to any kind of speed. Kircheis, who was used to the rigorous IOA physicals in all sorts of conditions, didn’t mind as much.

As they were heading down the main street, Hilde in between Kircheis and Martin, a car drove past them, screeched to a stop, and then reversed haphazardly down the street, causing a whole cacophony of horns, which brought Kircheis up short, thinking that there was maybe an accident in progress. Instead, the car, a slick convertible driven by a woman that Kircheis did not recognize, parked illegally on the side of the street next to them. The driver leaned over the side.

“Well, if it isn’t little Hildegarde von Mariendorf. And with a gentleman on either arm. I never thought I’d see the day.” The woman had black hair and sunglasses, and was wearing a sundress that Kircheis suspected cost as much as three weeks of his pay at the tavern.

Next to him, Hilde was blushing fiercely. “Hi Maggie,” she said. “What are you doing here?”

“Does one need a reason to visit the city?” the woman asked. “Don’t be rude; introduce me to your friends.”

“Maggie, this is Siegfried Kircheis and Martin Bufholtz. Siegfried, Martin, this is Baroness Magdalena von Westpfale.”

There was a moment of shared recognition between Magdalena and Kircheis. “I’ve heard of you!” Magdalena said enthusiastically. “Hank’s favorite student.”

Kircheis flushed. “I don’t--”

“Do the three of you want a ride somewhere?” Magdalena asked. “Hop in.”

The three looked between themselves for a second, and then Hilde shrugged and got in the front seat of the car, leaving Kircheis and Martin to take the back. “Thank you, Baroness,” Kircheis said.

“Where are you headed? It’s a hot day to be walking anywhere.” Magdalena said this as she pulled her car directly out into traffic, not really mindful of safety, as though she expected everyone else to just get out of her way, which, for the most part, they did.

“Triangle Street,” Hilde said.

“What are you heading there for?”

“It’s almost the fiftieth anniversary of the riot,” Kircheis said. “We’d just like to pay our respects.”

Magdalena made a face, one visible in the rearview mirror. Martin tensed up beside him. Even though the top of the car was open, Kircheis was sure that no one noticed him slide his hand along the leather seat and grab Martin’s hand, mostly to stop him from saying anything rude to their ride and Commander Leigh’s friend.

“Sure,” Magdalena said after a second. “I can take you there.”

“What are you doing out?” Hilde asked.

“Dress shopping. You can see what I got.” She gestured vaguely to a bag that was at Hilde’s feet.

“What for?” Hilde asked. “Are you going back to court?”

“No,” Magdalena said. “I’m still in the depths of disgrace with all of them.” She tossed her head. “I’m sure I’ll be allowed back eventually, but for now, I’m enjoying my vacation from it all.”

“Then what’s the occasion?”

“I’ve been invited to a wedding,” Magdalena said with a smile. “And I need to dress nicely, so that when I compliment the bride on how much nicer she looks than I do, she will really feel like she’s accomplished something.”

That was the strangest justification for anything Kircheis had ever heard.

“Whose wedding is it?”

“Hank’s friend Wolfgang Mittermeyer, and his lovely fiancee, Evangeline, who I doubt you’ve met. Have you met Wolfgang?”

“I don’t believe so,” Hilde said.

“Sweet man, in some respects,” Magdalena said. “But he does not understand many things. I gave him some very severe words, once.”

“What did you say to him?”

“Oh, mostly that he should propose to her,” Magdalena said. “He felt like the situation was more complicated than it actually was. It’s not, though.” She laughed a little bit. “Maybe I have been away from court too long, that I’ve resorted to gossiping about the wedding of friends-of-friends with a high school student.”

“What was complicated about it?”

“Oh, I’m sure in ten years you’ll have the same sort of complication,” Magdalena said. “No need to learn to play that game early.”

“What do you mean by that?”

Magdalena reached over and tugged on Hilde’s ear, an action that made her already overheated cheeks turn deep red. “I’m sure you’ll have to get married someday.”

“I don’t know,” Hilde said.

“What would your dear departed grandfather say, if he thought you were going to be the last of the Mariendorf line?”

“My father says--”

“Oh, Hilde, your father indulges you far more than any father has ever indulged their daughter, in the history of the universe.”

Martin glanced at Kircheis, making a questioning face, as if asking silently what the baroness knew. Kircheis shrugged.

“Are you going to get married?” Hilde asked.

Magdalena laughed. “I will have to, someday, won’t I? It would satisfy my mother, certainly. Maybe I’ll even marry Hank. The kaiser did give his blessing to that, after all. It would be a shame to waste it.”

Both Hilde and Kircheis reacted to that, though Kircheis tried to keep the weird twist in his gut invisible. He could not imagine Commander Leigh marrying this woman, and he didn’t want to. Hilde visibly frowned. Magdalena saw this and tapped Hilde’s nose with a smile. Hilde turned away and looked out the side window.

In a car, the trip to Triangle Street was not very long. The place was less of a street and more of an open square, but formed by the intersection of three roads around an area where a triangular building had once stood, but had long since been demolished. The street was empty, most people wanting to be inside during this hottest part of the day, and the silence, aside from the idling of Magdalena’s car, was almost oppressive. The surrounding buildings were tall enough to block the sun, casting the street into a false twilight. The darkness was incongruous with the heat.

Martin got out of the car, taking his backpack with him. Kircheis followed him, and Hilde followed Kircheis. Magdalena stopped her car’s engine fully, then got out as well.

Martin had wandered over to the side of one of the buildings. “You can still see the marks.” He pointed to an area of the wall where the brick seemed to be indented and slightly glassy, as though it had melted into slag with the heat of blaster fire.

“They weren’t going to tear the whole building down just to get rid of that,” Magdalena said dryly. “What are you doing?”

Martin was opening his backpack and pulling out the sheaf of papers that Kircheis had seen in there earlier. He had come prepared, and he started walking down the square, taping one up in every place he saw one of the old, scrubbed clean scorch marks; “REMEMBER WHAT HAPPENED HERE,” and then a list of names written in bold red text.

“It’s not like anybody could really forget,” Magdalena said, but she leaned against the wall and carefully watched to make sure that nobody was coming down the street. Kircheis, wanting to get out of here as quickly as possible, helped Martin. Hilde did as well, and before long, they had hung up all the flyers.

When they were done, Magdalena ushered them back into the car, and drove a little distance away. “I didn’t know I was driving around a whole little gang of republicans,” Magdalena said. “I can see why you and Hank get along so famously.”

“You don’t have to be a republican to believe that a government should not slaughter its own citizens,” Martin said.

“Everything that has happened before will happen again,” Magdalena said. Her voice was light but her mouth was pinched.

“I hope not,” Kircheis said.

“What did happen?” Hilde asked. “I’m sorry to say that most of the history I know is what Hank has told me, and he’s not as interested in the modern kind.”

“It was during Otfried’s reign,” Martin said. “There was an assassination attempt against him. It didn’t succeed, and he blamed it on a republican group.”

“A bomb,” Kircheis said. “Planted in the palace.”

“My father remembered it all,” Magdalena said, sounding distant. “He was a kid, then, though. His father, my grandfather, worked in the ministry of the interior and said that they just picked someone to blame. They couldn’t let it go unpunished, but they didn’t have any real suspects.”

“Everyone knew they were innocent,” Martin said bitterly. “Even if they were republicans.”

“Then what happened?”

“They used to use that street for public executions,” Martin said. “They brought them there, and there was a whole crowd. But the crowd wasn’t there to watch the execution. They were there to stop it. I think they thought that if there were enough of them, they could rush the soldiers…” He shrugged. “It was a riot. The soldiers just started killing everyone who was in the streets.”

There was silence in the car for a second. “Why do you say it will happen again?” Hilde asked.

She didn’t respond for a second, looking pensively out of the car. “Friedrich remembers his father well enough to know that when you blame someone for a crime they didn’t commit, you don’t make a public spectacle out of it. But, sooner or later, somebody will forget.”