Bastian
Chapter 187 - Others

✧Others✧

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“General quarters, general quarters, everyone to their battle stations.”

   The captains voice rang out through the tannoy of HMS Rayvael. Ratings and officers ran too and fro to get to their designated positions. Bastian stepped out onto the deck of the bridge, his telescope coming up to his eye as he scanned the area. The Lovita fleet were fleeing at full speed, while the main force maintained overwatch along the defensive line, not wanting to escalate the situation.

   In the north-western waters of Trosa island, a skirmish had broken out between Berg’s 5th Squadron, commanded by Admiral Demel, and a scouting fleet of Lovita. There was no real challenge in it, the fast moving scout ships were no match for the frigates and dreadnoughts of Demel’s fleet. Bastian decided to pursue the scouts, eager to capture one.

   The North Sea front had been a stalemate for months. A tense stand-off between sturdy spears and impenetrable shield. Lovita were desperate to open up a route to Berg’s mainland, but Berg’s defensive line was proving to be a formidable line, locking down the North Sea. Although Lovita had the larger fleet, the fact that Berg had control of Trosa island made it easier for them to deploy at short notice and keep the defensive line well supplied.

   “Blue flag from the flagship,” a communications officer called out. It signalled autonomous actions.

   Satisfied, Bastian turned back into the command deck and took his seat. His cold gaze looked out over the sea, where the fog of war was rolling across their prow. “Left, fifteen degrees to 075.”

   The waves grew higher as the ship turned into the rough seas, cutting an intercept course with the fleeing vessels. Bastian did not hesitate as sea spray splashed against the windows of the bridge. Both sides were in turbulent waters, but Bastian did not flinch from the hunt. His junior officer around him wore expressions of concern and worry, but their eyes showed strong sense of trust at their commander.

Bastian Klauswitz was an incredible commander, unlike any the world had seen before. He knew no fear of death, burning every bridge behind him. He followed the orders with an empty heart and no regard for anything else—including himself. Thus was his strength made manifest. 

His ship never sank; those who sailed beneath his banner will win the game. This adage became reality to the crew of the Rayvael, leading them to believe that even fate could not oppose their captain’s legendary will.

   “Maintain course, full speed ahead on both sides,” Bastian said calmly. Shouts rang up as the captains orders were relayed to the helm and engineering. The Rayvael increased its speed and crossed the dark blue seaIt wouldn’t take long to catch up to Lovita’s ships.

   “Targets in range,” a rating called out.

   Bastian got up from his chair and looked down at the already battered ship doing its utmost to try and escape the imposing presence of HMS Rayvael.

   “Hold the main, fire only the secondary,” Bastian said and his order was carried out.

   “Major! The enemy ship is turning to face. Looks like they are going to open fire.”

   Bastian was unfazed by the news. The little scout ships guns might be able to scratch the paint of his ship, but it wouldn’t be able to do any significant damage.

   “Change, ten degrees right,” Bastian said calmly. It was hard to tell those eyes surveyed a scene of battle. “FIRE!!!!.”

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The paper held no news of Major Klauswitz. Odette was relieved. Every day she felt the anxiety of seeing his name in the honour rolls of the dead and when she did not see his name, it was like a great weight lifted and her heart felt light. Only to get heavy again the next morning, in anticipation of the news.

   As she caught her breath, the summer sun was rising high into the sky. The heat was oppressive from the second the first rays shone out across the village. There was not let up on the heatwave. Odette looked out across the village square, where there would normally be market stalls, but now there was only dry, dusty dirt.

   When the general mobilisation order was issued. All the young men of the village were called up into active service. For a long while, the tears of the families saying their final farewells could be heard throughout the village.

   Anytime one of the men of village was reported to have died in battle, the chapel bells would ring throughout the day. A small service was held. There were never any bodies to bury, so the ladies would bury their husbands or sons clothes. Yesterday the bells rang non-stop for the village’s teacher.

The coffin lay cold and empty, with only his symbolic dog tag and the remnants of his blood-stained uniform to signify a life lost. Tears streaming down his widow’s face, as their naive children continued to play innocently, unaware of the tragedy that had befallen them. Not even the most eloquent words could bring comfort in that moment; all mourners simply stood in.

The chapel bell announced the hour, and village women took to the streets for a prayer service for their husbands but Odette, who lived as Marie Byller, couldn’t join them. Her fake marriage to Bastian Klauswitz was over and done with; he was no longer her husband and so she had no claim or rights over him.

   “Excuse me, Miss Marie?” a woman said, the grovers wife, she had been staring over at Odette for a while now. “I don’t mean to pry, but there is a rumour going around that your cousin, who visited a little while ago, is not actually your cousin.”

   “Oh my, why are you talking such nonsense,” an elderly woman said, who was sharing the table with the grocers wife.

   “What? I want to know the truth and put these horrible rumours to bed.”

   “I’m sorry, Miss Marie, please understand that it is a very sensitive time at the moment. People will gossip to keep themselves distracted,” said the grocers wife’s friend.

   After offering a smile in way of an apology, the friend dragged the grocer wife away. Odette sighed and got up.

   With the outbreak of the war, the hero’s name was on everyone’s lips again. Newspaper articles, propaganda posters and all sorts had Bastian’s face on it and spread throughout the empire. It could only be a matter of time before her true identity was revealed. It was time for her to move on from the village.

   Standing within the shade of the willow tree, Odette looked out at the stream that shimmered like brilliant scales. Memories of walking the path with Bastian filled her with past joy and brought tears to her eyes. She tried to swallow her sobs and walked on, but soon stopped. 

What are your true feeling?

   She wrote letters to Bastian every day, but she never got as far as posting them. She would always tear them up and throw the torn pieces into the fire. She didn’t want to clutter his mind with them while he fought on the fiercest frontline.

Her vision blurred as she pondered the meaning of the returned ribbon. Quickening her pace, she approached her home.

Bastian had already settled everything, and she didn’t want to burden him with her useless feelings.

Odette practically ran back to the cottage, where Margrethe bounded up at her and tried to lick her hand. The puppies bounded in her wake, like little balls of fur that had no control over their legs.

 She looked down at the miracle Bastian had given her. A bittersweet smile on her face. For a moment, her vision dimmed and her legs buckled. She was barely able to keep herself from falling by holing onto the bannister of the stairs. Bile rose up to her mouth and a surge of nausea came over her, making her fall to the floor. Margrethe’s alarmed barks kept her from going completely unconscious.

   “Odette!” a familiar voice called out. Odette looked up to see Count Xanders was rushing towards her.

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“Capture an enemy ship? Are you some sort of pirate now, Major Klauswitz?” the commander’s voice boomed in Bastian’s ears.

   The Rayvael had completed its clandestine mission and returned to port with a Lovita ship in tow. All its crew were now prisoners of war and were being transported to camps. The ship itself had been quarantined. Even still, the commander-in-chief was not happy.

   “I warned everyone about kicking the hornets nest,” the commander kept shouting.

   “I authorised the operation,” Admiral Demel said. The commander turned his ire onto Demel.

   “Is that why Major Klauswitz does not fear disciplinary action? Because he thinks you can protect him? Admiral, this can not go unpunished. I don’t think the full command of a capital ship should be left to the likes of a major, war hero or not.”

   Bastian observed indifferently, like watching the exchange of fire from a safe distance. Facing the enemy again would be more preferable than having to be here for this.

   “What do you have to say for yourself, Major? Why on earth did you think bringing a useless scout ship to port would be worth all this commotion?”

   “We were planning a search,” Bastian said.

   “A search, for what, what did you expect to find?”

   “We don’t know that until we start searching.”

   “So you risked a capital ship for nothing then?”

Bastian remained calm, he expected the reactions; nothing was surprising.

 “It’s done, so no choice. You started it, so you must clean it up.” The supreme commander soothed the tense atmosphere. “You’ll be responsible if the hidden enemy conducted their covert operations. It will be your responsibility. And remember, if you return empty-handed, that too will be a reason for reprimand.” His eyes went wild with anger and fury as he stared at Bastian.

Bastian accepted the orders and left, starting an operation to search for the hidden enemies.

He was in the front of the armed search party, ready for close combat.

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