Conscripts

~ Valkyria Chronicles - Changing of the Guard ~

---

This man appeared to be more like him than he imagined.

"A fellow sapper, yes? Then I imagine a history of cooperation together." Michael replied with a friendly smile. "I'm Michael Daunte, son of 2nd Viscount Daunte. I'm from Tyrelia, Edinburgh."

He didn't really expect anyone to recognize him though. It was a rather fancy looking title that held no power at all in the military ranks. Here, everybody was equal. And it was also a little known branch of the Edinburghian nobility, but his family was still comparatively more well-off than most of society. Sometimes unfairly as well. But this inequality wasn't anything new per say. Every cities, every nations had it. Every generations had it.

Before Diana approached the Tyrelian sapper, he must notice the other recruit in question. He did seem nothing different from the typical freshmen that he knew at the beginning of the war. His voice was high and mighty, as if it could crush a man under its swept. But just like Hill 58, it was going to go down either ways, it falling apart or disintegrating as the man fell along with him. He never hoped for any though. He did want a scenario where he could still keep such spirits yet continue to survive time and time again. But we feasted on each other. Either misery or happiness. One winner is the other's loser. It would never happen.

Nevertheless, the guy was asking for NCOs, to which Isaac had replied pretty much everything. Michael only had little to add. "There's Staff Sergeant Baker over there in that cabin. And of course Captain Middleton in the other cabin, our real 'sweetheart'."

Yeah, sweetheart indeed. To the point where he sweetly handed Lucia the gun to give a friendly tag to the soldiers to keep pushing forward. Or the fact that he mercifully euthanized the Imperials whom he knew wouldn't make it and give them an open-top grave that looked up to the heavens. Yep, we all 'love' him.

"For your question." Then he finally turned over to Diana. She was probably dying to know. How could this man with a very cute and childish face be so maturely voiced? How could this small dude capable of carrying so many material and tools around like that? He was dying to know too. What in the name of science would give him such a small convergence point in terms of height, and such a perfect proportion for facial features. It did make him feel less impacted by the marching of time, but in turns, people like Diana caused him the burden of having to explain it to them.

"I should be in first year of Ridge University, if it wasn't for this war." He replied to the Vastergoth member. "Eighteen in particular. How about you, if you don't mind such a question."
@Brithwyr@Landaus Five-One

~ Valkyria Chronicles - Changing of the Guard ~

---

It had been quite days ever since. Michael had found himself drained of all the commodities he could bring with him till now. He hadn't received any responding letters from his family yet, so no reason to write another one. He had fidgeted around with his deck of cards so much now that he could probably start a career in cardistry once he got back from the war. Alive and able-bodied that is. Who knows. Maybe he could impress some ladies with his tricks, either physically or mentally. But that would sound pretty cheesy to be honest. He wasn't that guy to come around and be flirty with others like Jean. Now that he mentioned it, where is he right now?

As Michael sat and read the book about automobile for the third time in a row now, perhaps attempting to memorize each and every words, the constant yawns and sighs of boredom quickly slapped his senses out from the pages of the book. He could heed the racks of the train door and the deafening toots of the steam locomotive as the signification of the next stop was all too clear. Sounds of the boots clacking on the wooden floor rhymed with the voice that boasted of great distinct and individuality. And for once in a while it sounded quite...uplifting, yet a little saddening. They were excited. They were yelling things like glory and honor. That they would be kicking Imperial asses once they arrive at their destination...just like they did before Hill 58. Seven hundred souls wouldn't make it back. Who knows if the remaining two hundreds would dare to repeat what they said to everybody if they did have the guts to say it.

Michael continued to focus, or tried to, on the pages, ignoring the soldiers outside. The train defiantly gave another roar as the sound of metal rail clashing with the locomotive creaked. A while after the train departed, Michael heard another conversation going on. Pretty loudly in fact, even standing out against the thumps of metal and the chatters of other soldiers. It wasn't really nice to eavesdrop on others, but hey, that was never his intention to begin with. They talked loud enough for him to hear anyway. Every.Single.Word

"Oooooh, Corporal Charpentier has a lovely deaaaaaaaar!"

The book in Michael's hand slammed closed in a second.

She's pretty. That voice just gave it away pretty obviously. No wonder whoever is out there were laughing so hard they could probably die. Poor guy just jinxed himself. He didn't know...

But they did mention about Marathon halfway through the conversation. He's on the train? Interesting. Michael had heard stories about him being chanted over the camps during training. He was described to be a pretty noble fellow, doing acts of kindness every chances he could get, while being all brave all around. Hearing so, despite having never met this fellow, he did have a little respect. But considering they had fairly similar pattern as the stories about MIDDLETON, Michael was quick to halt his impressions. A content of a character should not be judged so quickly. Maybe Michael could come out and have a chat up with this man, Thomas Marathon Carter, and probably see the faces of these new recruits as well. He was running out of activities anyway.

Michael placed the book into his rucksack before standing up and pass by Jean, completely unaware of whatever was in his mind right now. He walked along the hall of soldiers. Some recognizable, having been through hell on Earth at Hill 58 and some before that. Though most were strangers. Just as he would expect really. They were pretty fresh. Eager and...curious. As he trotted down the cabins, some of the recruits were turning their eyes over like bees to the floras. Maybe because they didn't think such a boy would be in the military. They had their reasons to mistaken him for such a thing. More a shock's party to let them know that he was older or the same age than most of them. Or maybe he wasn't among the freshmen joining war in the batch. He didn't look very aesthetically pleasing. His uniform still contained the soils of the place where seven hundred people died. They were probably drawing comparisons to how they would look after this. So this is the feeling when he was coming to the front days earlier. Now the freshmen had become the veterans. Not exactly that battle-hardened to say, but he did receive his baptism of fire.

Inevitably, Michael would find this man. The bent hat gave the identity away pretty obviously (they had their reasons to be proud of the signature), making filtering much easier. He was with another soldier. This guy though...

It was a rare sight indeed. He looked much shorter than Thomas was. And as he approached the two soldiers, the shock was even made clear that he didn't even need to look up to face the opposite side anymore. What are the chances of having two of this in the military to begin with.

"Good day gentlemen." He gave the two of them a quick salute as he slowly made his way over. "If I am not mistaken, you are the Thomas Carter, is it correct?"

Michael then turned over to the smaller individually. Wow he's even shorter than him. What a pleasant surprise. For once Michael is taller than someone else.

"I've met my equal. It's a pleasure to be in this with you fellow for the next one." He tried to creak out a bit of optimism for once. He wasn't too into this, but maybe perhaps with the help of these tough and unkillable soldiers, they could escape the horrific statistics that was Hill 58.
@LetMeDoStuff@Brithwyr

~ Valkyria Chronicles - Changing of the Guard ~

---

'The right thing to do is the right thing to do.'

He was right on that aspect. But he wouldn't expect much from these soldiers. Some of these men and women were already too engulfed in taking care of themselves that they may not even want or have the time to take care of others. But he could always hope more people would be like Isaac and Jean in that regard. Of course he would not stop the fact that he would be taking actions to reverse whatever Middleton was trying to indoctrinate her. But just expect it would not be a full support like he would want it to.

As the train slowly rolled on the tracks, the sound of engine and clash of metal mixed violently and messily like a horribly played symphony, Michael found himself being attracted to the scenic outside as Jean made the mention of the poet. The landscape that he was slowly passing through, it wasn't a beautiful flower field, nor a rich and well-nurtured rice paddies. It had once been though. Those once beautiful creations of god was now a death valley. All the innocent trees and flowers doing goods for mother nature now dead. When would the seeds of possibility prosper again. When would the wounds heal?

'The right thing to do is the right thing to do.'

'A reminder for our future selves never to repeat this atrocity again...'

Perhaps somewhere, sometime, these fields would not exist...

After Jean left off to get some stripper clips, Michael found himself unoccupied for an indeterminate amount of time. Thankfully he did have a deck of playing cards. He didn't know if these guys could play cards or not. He was pretty sure if they were from a family of upper middle-class, or even a small nobility like Michael's, they would probably have learnt it somewhere in the balls or parties they went through. But whether or not they were capable of playing card games or not, he didn't care. He could make do by himself. But as he was reaching for the deck inside his rucksack, a strangely familiar voice caught his attention.

'Mickey?'

He turned to the doorway to realize...

Lucia?

She was alright. And happy in fact? What? How strange was it that he was just informed that she was in bad shape when she appeared completely fine? Did something or someone cheer her up? If that's the case, then great! He was quite relieved to see Lucia in such cheerfulness. Now that he thought about it, this was the first time he saw her in this state. He couldn't blame her though. The first sight she was crying of a horrendous task. The second she was recovering. The third she was called back to that bastard. And the fourth she had passed out from artillery. Perhaps this was indeed her true nature: a pretty and innocent girl who only wishes to bring smile to people's face.

Well, perhaps a little too innocent...

"Uhh..."

He could feel her hand on his face, her thigh pressed against his chest. She was grabbing onto his hair, and ow ow! She was pulling it! What the hell was she doing?!

She soon released him as soon as she settled on a seat nearby. Again, Mickey? She meant Michael? And all of that stunt she just pulled off, just to get to the nearby seat?

"I appreciate the effort, but you could've just asked."

She probably just didn't know. It did come off as a little strange to him that she didn't bother to ask. She probably didn't know basic etiquette in terms of gestures rather than being rude. But considering all the ladies he had met in his life were rather luxurious and had a prestigious origin, they were normally pretty and elegant in appearance but especially very well-mannered in words and gestures. He swore they would freak out like rats meeting cats if they saw Michael in this state. As well-pampered as they were, they probably had never seen the sight of having to run for miles a day, or especially the fact that you could fall dead with a hole on your head any moment.

"My career as an actor has been a disaster. That's when I decide to go to university instead"

Or rather he was about to. If that paper had come a little earlier! Well, not worth dwelling over it anymore. It had already been months ever since. He had already received his baptism of fire already, so he probably couldn't really say anything otherwise.

Once again, he went through his rucksack and took out a deck of cards. Fifty two in total. His fingers busily fiddled with the cards, counting if he had accidentally left any back in Garnia. But occasionally, from the very outside corner of his eyes noticed as if someone was trying to burn his face with only their eyes. Quite constantly at that. Curious, he turned around to Lucia. It was her. Nobody was sitting in that same direction except for her. She was holding a pencil and a small book, just like Franz did the day before. Was she also an artist or something? But just as he was looking at the book, it slammed shut as she put it away. It appeared to be some kind of secret? Personal ones probably. After getting the notification, Michael was dealing the deck out when Lucia showed her appreciation for what he, no they did yesterday, as she hugged everyone of them, with Michael being the first as he was the nearest to her.

And for the rest...

'...'

If anyone could see him right now, his oxygen output was virtually non-existent. He could scent her fragrance you know. The warm pleasant but difficult to describe scent. It...God! His irises directed straight to the side as his subconsciousness erupted an all-out war about whether he wished or wished not this would be over soon. If she knew just to ask directly, all of this could have been averted. Easily at that. And he's not Mickey!

Whether or not he wished it or not, reality still marched, as Lucia settled down in her seat again. And Michael finally breathed again. He didn't even bother correcting her about his name anymore. It probably didn't even matter to him after all that stunt she pulled twice on him to even surface in his mind. Seriously, it had to take a bit of boldness and shamelessness to climb over a boy twice, whilst one could have just quickly excused themselves with only two words.

When he thought this was over, Britta showed up at the doorway to deliver some food.

"Thanks for your effort." Michael graciously accepted the small box of ration. It wasn't hot delicious food, but it was rather quite nutritious and filling. It did take a while for him to settle down with this type of meal daily, but his adaptability did amaze him sometimes. Though right now getting one would be a little difficult considering the woefully undersupplied front they were in. The meal the other day Michael also needed a bit of persuasion with the cook as well.

He didn't pay attention to Britta as she talked to Isaac. He didn't intend to pay attention to anyone for now. He just wanted to shut himself off and enjoyed his meal for now. Who knows when would he get this again. But then again...

"You guys..."

Britta didn't climb over Michael, rather she was just reaching for Lucia, which was alright, but in front of his eyes were something as equally uneasy to look at as getting climbed on. That wasn't even from the same girl.

"Excuse me." He coughed gently, but visibly, his brows were pouring into his nose.

'Could you please clear the vision for me?'
@FalloutJack@LetMeDoStuff

~ Valkyria Chronicles - Changing of the Guard ~

---

The surrounding seats near him began to be crowded by people in his squad. Isaac was the one he invited, followed by Franz, who seemed to be a lot brighter than the time Michael met him the day before. It was lifting to see to be honest. He even joked about him being so lady-magnet. It was valid actually. Jean, despite being a mess of a person due to the horrifying baptism of fire, was seen with at least a few ladies with him. How he did that was a mystery, but that was just impressive.

"Go ahead gentlemen." The contagiousness of the conversations were irresistible. He could spend his time by himself, but considering his emotional state right now, having a company or two would be really helpful, considering two of them were already someone he already knew and made impressions on. Three exactly, if saying things otherwise.

"Romantic? What do you suggest otherwise then sir?"

Carrying an unconscious person is best done in cradle style. To the great contrary of expectation, this five feet tall man was surprisingly fit and strong, at least to carry a girl like Lucia. She was a little light to be honest, but could not expect anything more or less from her softness of her body. But he couldn't deny that though. That was also what some newlyweds would show off sometimes. Or the story of medieval knights saving the damsel in distress. Well, he looked nothing like that knight in the human imagination of course. He was midget and he had no shining clad armor. And he acted nothing like a knight by the way.

But then again, it wasn't too unexpected with the news of Lucia. Bad shape? That seemed like an understatement. But assuming she was already out, probably Middleton was with her as well. He knew little of the Captain, but from the view of the observers, from brutally killing Imperials, forcing Federation soldiers forward and, without a trace of mercy, ordering an innocent teenage girl to shoot retreating soldiers, his appreciation for humanity obviously wasn't high. His recommendation for being a caring soldier to his fellow comrades would probably fall into deaf ears, and even if he went for Lucia, he'd probably be shooed away by that bastard, or even worse be the target for him to smite.

"I'm not so sure about that one statement though Isaac." He replied as he turned over to the Lance-Corporal. "There will be people who agreed. For the record, me and Jean do...but there are reasons why people would want to choose otherwise..."

People would argue that was for survival. That nothing in war was good or righteous, and that the only victory means surviving. That could be a valid point, but what was the point of surviving when you lost what made you human? If they ended up so, the only thing they could equate to would be beasts and animals in human's costume. He'd rather die than such a fate. Then at least he would be reunited with those he loved in the end.

"I don't think most will, but we'll gather as many as we can. I'll try to look after her whenever possible."

And whenever appropriate.
@LetMeDoStuff@FalloutJack@CFProxy

♦ A New Era ♦ - A My Hero Academia RP

Acion Nakamiji

---

He'd seen enough.

"You g-"

But could not say anything.

The moment he tried to intervene, it was like a bird with a broken wing. When the step was taken, he felt as if the weight of the entire world was crashing down upon him, but his hand saved him just in time as he was about to lose his balance. He swore he could feel as if someone was trying to sever him limbless. How deep was that feather struck in his leg earlier? It felt like it had gone through his bones or something. Dulga surely could not be taken lightly. But still, he found himself hanging onto the rail near the wall as he felt his world real again. He watched as the rest of the observers began attempting to stop the fight. But to no avail.

He wished it wasn't, but it upon closer inspection, he figured it would be impossible. This wasn't just a normal fight over who gets to have candies or shits like that. This was a head on ideological fight. And it was between two men. Of course he'd never approve such methods of solving their difference, but he knew shouting at them would only make the situation worse. Like he said, they would not make up if they were forced apart like this. He'd so much prefer a talk with at least one of them, but right now, one of his legs was virtually useless to say anything.

"Yeah I don't have the strength to intervene right now. Thanks anyway Kishimoto-san."

Supported by Tomoe, Acion slowly left the training room to the infirmary. After a brief check-up by Kiwi, he was healed up pretty fast, but she did recommend taking his time at the infirmary, as the wound was a little severe for a training exercise. He did not intend to disobey her though. She knew what's best for all of us.
@liferusher

~ Valkyria Chronicles - Changing of the Guard ~

---

Michael gave a quick sigh as he stared at his rifle. He already knew who was at the doorway.

"...You're right..."

Continued he looked at the gun carefully. The bolt of the gun had been polished far enough that it began to blink at him as the sun indirectly shot him a ray into the window to his soul. Why was he getting this worked up though? He wasn't gonna be able to stop the fact that Lucia was already in Middleton's cabin. What he only had to expect was her after this, which would probably take at least until the next stop to see the result. He should be more concerned of himself and the rest of the squad right now. He still hoped that Franz still kept his mood up. It wouldn't take that little to turn his mood and feelings back down, but he just did not know when it comes to human beings.

"I'll try to put that out of my mind for now."

How come it wasn't an easy task? Especially when his immediate consciousness was idle. His mind drifted to what he may say to Lucia. What sort of bullshit would he feed her this time. And how exactly would he do to counteract said bullshits. It would not be as simple as a 'Don't listen to what he says!' or 'What he's saying is wrong!'. Whatever he begged for, she still knew Middleton more than he do, and that he lives in this war longer than he does. If anything, she should trust his words more than Michael's, or anyone's. If anything, he had to tap into her own nature, morality and long taught beliefs. But still, now? When he didn't know a thing yet? What was he supposed to do otherwise?

"If you want to...I don't mind." He gestured at the seat right the opposite side of him. Perhaps the Lance Corporal that Michael wished was promoted instead would keep him distracted.
@FalloutJack

~ Valkyria Chronicles - Changing of the Guard ~

---

He wasn't sure if he could call it a goodnight sleep. The last thing he knew before he opened his eyes were hours ago when he closed it. He didn't have any bad dreams thankfully. But the next thing he knew, his throat was killing him. His lips was dry like a desert, while he could feel as if peels of flesh inside was dropping. He didn't drink a single drop of water ever since last night. But his mind disproved of him getting out of bed. His arms and legs were still screaming in pain. It was quite a day yesterday. Carrying equipment up the long hill, charging through the trenches, wrestling with an Imperial before having to run for his life in an artillery barrage. It was way more than any training could help him. But nevertheless, Michael still found himself crawling over to the door to the food tent for a drink. Even if it was just a sip of pure tasteless water, it still felt like he was ascending to a higher plane of existence. It was a good distraction to the war he was placed in.

He returned to his bunk after a few minutes. Franz was still asleep, but Lucia wasn't there anymore. Did she leave while Michael was still outside? But looking over to her bedside - the empty box of ration - Michael couldn't help but leak a smile. At least she was taking care of herself. Michael had been quite worried after all that trauma she had been through. Some people would be broken to the point that they had to be fed by the other soldiers. It was that harsh. But perhaps Lucia hadn't gone through that much. And hopefully that was the extent of it.

After gathering his tools and guns, he gave a quick reminder to Franz before heading out in a hurry. Initially, he thought that he would soon be chastised by the cocky officers or his fellow soldiers of higher ranks for his tired and exhausted look, but in fact, no one was different from him right now. The bags in their eyes, the dry and bruised lips, the bandaged arm or legs that still soaked with red hues. Instead, the feeling came from somewhere else instead. As he was about to arrive at the train station, the squad passed through a small town, or rather what remained of it. Some houses only had half of its mass remained, while the rest flooded the street in a huge mess that nobody even bothered to clean them up. The collateral damage had been moved over to the side of the town, with coffins lining up neatly where it should be. And those who were left...

Michael wasn't sure to have his sympathy given to these innocent civilians or similar shots return fired for their ignorance towards what happened to their loved ones. Nevertheless, he continued the march towards the station. He could feel the gazed stabbing into his back, but he did not care. He did not care about their hatred. He was trying to do this so that he could return home safely.

Soon, he arrived at the station, where he was supposed to be transferred away. But before he was allowed to board the train, someone shaped the entire squad into place, into proper line and formation. He knew this drill too well though, but wondered what did they have to say after all of that.

What turned out wasn't entirely unexpected. A bunch of propaganda rhetoric about how heroic they had fought up there. Yeah, tell it to the squad instead, those guys who were half dead already. What followed next was the promotion of the person Michael most dreaded in his entire life. So now he is capable of making certain promotion to other people in the squad. The lucky ones - not so sure if it was lucky or not - chosen was Daniel and Jean. He didn't understand the basis behind these choices anyway. It seemed random anyway. But he didn't care less.

After the whole ceremony, the formation was dissolved as everybody soon boarded the train. And following suit the course, Michael also made his way to one of the wagon. As he made his way, however, he saw again the girl he had spent a deal of time taking care of the day before. She was making her way up to the wagon two ones from his. She was the only one to board. Oh yeah, Middleton did call her to the cabin. His cabin. His heart sank just as the reminder crossed his mind. What the hell was he up to with her this time? He had called her just before the artillery hit, and what now? He shuddered to think what he was indoctrinating her all this time.

He simply shook his head once, before entering the wagon. He turned left into the room at the back of the wagon, two cabin from Jean and the entire group as he settled down onto his seat. Once he did, he began going through his guns again. The bolt had to be oiled, the muzzle had to be clean, the magazine was also clear of dust. They were all done already. He didn't need to check again. But he did. A few times before he finally stopped.

"I hope she could retain herself."

He didn't want another cold heart.
@CFProxy@LetMeDoStuff

~ Valkyria Chronicles - Changing of the Guard ~

---

Michael was about to leave, thinking it would take a bit more time for Franz to take it in. It normally do for people, he thinks. But when his hand was on the door, he could hear his voice again. A totally different one.

"It would be preferred if you don't. She had a day." Michael responded. Wasn't he present at the beginning of the charge? He was pretty sure everybody present was pretty knowledgeable about a girl being given a dreadful job of killing her own allies.

"She's Lucia. Lucia Farris." Michael gave a brief sigh as he turned around to look at the girl. She didn't seem to be affected by the Darcsen's sudden spring of spirits. She had drifted a little too deeply so. Hopefully because of that, she wouldn't be having a bad dream about whatever or whoever she had to go through. And he hoped to have that also. He hoped to drift deeply so that all he knew after he closed his eyes was the moment he opened them again.

Looking at the state of the Darcsen right now, there was something beginning to well up inside of him. A feeling that he had just saved someone? That he had just helped someone through a calamity, even if it may turned out to be a vain attempt, as he may die the very next day, the next month, the next battle. But just like he himself said, Michael had preserved a man's future, no matter how short that preservation would be. He had done one of it. He should be a little bit happy about it. Nothing better than a bit of respite from the hell he was in.

"If that is the extent." He gave Franz a smile as he accepted the shake. "But I'll get us something first." He then quickly left the room, heading out for where rations were being handed out. A few minutes later, he came back with three boxes. All full of the daily rations that he had known all too well during his training days. Handing to Franz one of them, Michael also took one and had his meal. It had been a long day for him. For everybody...

After it, he would offer Franz accommodation too, if he didn't mind. Whether or not he'd take it or not, he quickly drifted away into unconsciousness. And thankfully, as he had wanted, he jumped right into deep sleep. His vision was all but an empty void of darkness.

For the girl who had been terrorized throughout the whole journey, the girl who was forced into the war without her own consent, the girl whose first kill was no one but her own allies who she was supposed to support, the girl named Lucia Farris, she would wake up some time later, with a box right next to her on the bed. It would be the life force that would enable her to get through the day.
@CFProxy@LetMeDoStuff

~ Valkyria Chronicles - Changing of the Guard ~

---

Michael waited patiently, in silence, as Franz took his seat and began his story. Or rather, he gave him a notebook. It took him a while to do so though. A diary? Or a journal? Michael didn't want to look intrusive, but eventually Franz gave him it anyway. It was rather a sketchbook. And there was...Mila. When did he sketch her? But it was incomplete. It was barely a quick basic sketch, but it already caught the essence of her beauty. But perhaps now that when she is dead, it'd never be completed. All that would be recorded of this girl ever was this sketch. It was painful to think about it. Such life lost for what? A whole bunch of angry old men bickering over each other.

'Future huh?'

He wasn't wrong. Michael didn't mean him being useless. He clearly had talents in arts. But the problem is the society, not him, nor his race. Michael knew the whole Darcsen incident that occurred in the ancient past. That was the reason he rejected Yggdism. How could people so blind to believe such a story that had no ways of verification, no written records, and only had the story told from mouth to mouth that originates from the VALKYRURS themselves. It is an insane world he is living in, but knowing that would not help a person like Franz. But 'future' is an ambiguous word. He just didn't have one in terms of acceptance. It's unfortunate that it is a huge thing.

Michael took a while to compile a response. He knew saying cliché things would definitely not help anyone. Because he probably have heard it countless times already. But nevertheless, he still needed to convey his point across.

"Depends on what you mean by future actually." Michael began, his palm still holding onto the notebook Franz just gave him. "If you're looking for acceptance by the general society, then you probably know the answer."

Things could change, but he doubt it would change in his lifetime.

"Personally, I think you do have a future. Everybody does." He continued. It did sound a little empty, like comfort word to a hurt animal. "Even if it isn't allocated to you yourself."

He gave a long exhale before looking over to the Darcsen, who may be confused with the statement.

"You did say you grieved for Mila. Then you're already better than me..." His voice drifted off in a bit, as he seemed to stare into space. But he quickly recovered as he continued. "But it shows you do actually care about something. About her. About her future. And I think Mila does too, in her final moments and decision to cover you. I know she probably doesn't live your life, doesn't fully understand what pain you have to go through, but I think that's one of her future, even if she doesn't come out of that alive..."

"She saw that she could preserve and protect others' future. And she jumped right at it. No hesitation, no thinking. Even though her ideals are a little simplistic and to be honest unhealthy, I still respect her greatly to know that she saved you. Sometimes it would be in vain. I know, because I too failed to save my friend. His father owned a carpenter shop, and he was waiting for his son to inherit it, but what he would receive now would merely be a letter saying he died for his country. Only because I missed that shot. But the thought alone also speaks. I know it sounds a little sophisticated, but I just think that..." He said, some of his words almost unable to materialize, before placing his right hand onto Franz's left shoulders "To preserve people's future is also a future."

For some unknown reason, that final quote of his, whether or not it struck Franz, struck him back instead. There was something in his own words, derived from what Franz and others would think his wisdom, that made Michael confused at himself. Despite saying this genuinely from his heart, it still felt strange to Michael. Probably because he never have to touch it before, and now that he was making it for the very first time. But hopefully, Franz could get it.

"I think you should finish this though. Try your best to remember." Michael closed the notebook in his hand before handing it back to Franz. "We'd probably want some food. We had an emotional day."
@CFProxy

~ Valkyria Chronicles - Changing of the Guard ~

---

August, 1904...

"God Almighty..."

Over the course of only a few hours, the street had been turned into a battlefield. And it turned out to happen right on their tenth anniversary of the young couple and their small young child, right when they decided to escape the dull and unchanging background of their mansions for a while as they decided to book a ship to Gallia, in the city that they would lovingly call the city of love. Yes. Right in the very heart of this city occurred this massive riot of men and women. They weren't any subversives or protestors. They were gangs. Those thrown out into the sewer worthlessly by those who dared to take the audacity to be their carer, whilst society kept drowning them into the depths of the abyss. One could argue otherwise that they were just unsatisfied and spoilt children. Perhaps a few of them were, but would that dismantle the claim? Dissatisfaction firstly came from the inability to provide sufficiently. And that statement in itself could go a long way.

"Honey, don't look that way."

Anyhow, back and forth, these guys somehow thought they could stand up to the police forces. Whoever thought up of that idea would probably be shot by now, if he did not go down with these men. But nevertheless they decided a clash with the police right in broad daylight. And how horribly they were proven wrong. At the very end of the day, multiples of bodies lay on the street, while the rest were beaten into submission and was probably rotting in some prison right now.

It was a reality so common to a normal person who did not spend their entire time locking themselves in the loots that they did not actually work for themselves. But to become common to a person, he or she must have a time of stranger to that. And that was exactly what this eight years old child was seeing in front of his eyes. People killing people? Stabbing and clubbing each other to death? How could anyone do such a thing to another human being like that, especially that person was no more or less than he himself. He could not understand or even fathom such an idea...

"These guys..." He suddenly spoke, regardless of the blind of the eyes by his mother. "Are they evil?"

The question was as innocent as it could get. In his world right now, it was all black and white, good and evil. A gutted feeling knotted his stomach. But nevertheless, he remained still as a rock, yet his hand gently ran through the young boy's scruffy black hair as he answered.

"It's arguable, my son. But they did commit a great sin."

"A great sin?" The boy asked with round eyes. "Would they be going to hell father?"

"If they don't repent, my son."

"I'm afraid, father. I could see them from the balcony, trying to hurt bystanders." He said, his words seemingly normal at first. "I think they deserve it."

And his lips slowly changed. His firm, rock-solid smile ceased, and now facing his very own child was a hand grabbing so tightly by the wrist that even his wife was a little concerned.

"Whatever you're saying, my son, I do not want to hear that from you again." He said. Every words that came out felt like a bullet pinning him down at every limbs and corners. He knew his father could be a little austere, but to say he was adequately prepared for each was like saying a man was prepared for anything that may be thrown at him in his entire life. Instinctively, he wanted to look away, but the way he looked at him, a pair of eyes that penetrated, that locked his in its very track, ensuing that he had to heed what he said regardless.

"W-Why?" He meekly replied, a squeak uttered into the chilly autumn air.

"Because you would be there as well." Instead of a frontal shout, the father calmly replied. Only then would he let go of his son's arm. He stood up upright, straightening his shirt before giving out a breathe of air.

"Remember, no one deserves to be given a judgement by an akin figure..."

With that said, he knew the family had no more place here, as they was determined to not let a bad apple spoils a bunch.

But that moment was the beginning...

---

Michael had been looking at his own hand for a while now. It seemed to have no hope. He was just the same as he had been up that trench. Would shock be an explanation this time? He had been given time to think, time that he did not have to worry about being blasted into pieces at any moment. And yet it did not come. How come? Had he gone too emotionally numb for such a thing anymore?

"No hope..." He muttered gently to himself. Though in the small room, it may have been a little loud. He quickly looked over to the sleeping Lucia on the other bed, a little scared if he had woken her up. It didn't look like so. She didn't move. Good.

Yet again, he let out a sigh as he laid his back onto the wooden wall behind him. His eyes felt heavy right now. His eyes had been so tired right now. They served him when they should not be, and went through hell with him, going through smoke, fire, blood and mud. Perhaps it needed a bit of rest, now that he was given permission to.

Just as he was about to lie down, however, from the door emerged Franz. Not the Franz that he knew though. The more recent Franz. He wanted a talk. He could hear the forcibility in the way he speaks. It was definitely not the Franz he knew up that hill. This was only a shadow of his former self. But now that he wanted a talk, he'd have no qualm taking him as guests. Even if he could feel himself passing out at any moment.

"I don't know if I could be of any help, but..." He sat up straight, rubbing his hand on the bed, gesturing him to take a seat right next to him. "Mila...if I'm not wrong, she was 'that girl', right?"

He would know who he was talking about. The funny and ironic thing about this is that despite being a person expected to give out sympathy, love and advices, he was the one who couldn't take in all what he told others to do.
@CFProxy