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“It feels like something's been cut from my memory…” Belle said.
That despairing statement encapsulated all that the military woman had felt upon the news P relayed to her. He hesitated at first. Atkinson, her partner and lover, had pleaded with him to lie to her. The lie was supposed to have eased her pain, and P thought it would be a great service to her. He had hoped that she would have celebrated him, exalting his bravery to the very end. But instead, she had lost her spark. He didn't want her to be sad.
“A-Are you o-kay…?” he foolishly asked
Of course, she wasn't! How could he not feel her sorrow?
Right, I'm still a puppet…but I can feel her pain…
“Do you want to-o talk?” he asked her.
“Good job, pal!” Gemini quietly cheered him on.
Belle stood frozen in her grief. The thought that her dearest Atkinson had perished at the hands of a bloody puppet was so much to bear. Imagining how he must have been bludgeoned to death by a horde of them made her feel sick. She was a soldier, though. She wasn't allowed to cry or grieve. She had to focus on her mission to save Krat as best as she could on her own now.
P gently touched her arm. Just like that, she remembered where she was: in the company of her savior and bearer of the worst news. When she turned her steel-blue eyes to him, she felt the pressure building behind a dam in her heart.
“Be-lle, let's go to the ga-ar-den,” P suggested.
He took her hands and led her outside to one of the stone benches past the practice puppets. He sat her down and held her hands. She couldn't look at him. Staring at the cobblestone that supported their steps, she couldn't stop thinking about Atkinson's death.
P knew the truth, though.
“P-Please…tell Belle that…I—I d-died…a hero…” the poor man, in the midst of a failing mind and rotting undead corpse, requested. “Promise me…as a soldier…she…will never…know…the truth…”
And he kept that secret.
“You're not going to tell her, right?” Gemini asked when they left Atkinson to his fate. “If she were to learn the truth…I don't think she'd stay with us at the Hotel.”
“No,” P told him. In his fingers, Atkinson had placed an envelope decorated with austere stationary. He had tried to keep his blue blood off of it. “Gemi-ni…I feel sa-ad…”
“I do, too, buddy,” the cricket empathize.
That was the letter that had to be delivered to Belle. It was meant to ease her heart in light of this horrible revelation. When she read it, and when P lied to her for Atkinson's sake, that was when it felt real.
Belle sat next to P, where she read the letter again:
My dearest Belle,
I remember the day I met you through your father's friend Sir Loett. That day, the steam of Krat Central Station was thick on the platform, and a flock of birds was flying overhead, above the glass ceiling. There, I was waiting for you. When I saw a lady take one step down those stairs, I knew it was you. Your effervescent laughter left an impression on me.
The reason I'm writing this letter... Yes, I'm at the train station and it reminds me of you from that time. We were colleagues at first and then lovers, but I still can't let you go. The way you smiled and looked forward to the exhibition and festivals, those beautiful nights with the fireworks, I just can't let go.
So, if we are to survive and make it out of here, I plan to visit you with this letter. Please stay safe and wait for me until then.
Sincerely, Atkinson
Belle's face contorted with pain. P ventured to pat her back or offer some other gesture to comfort her. It was what he wanted after learning the truth about…him. But how much comfort could a puppet bring to someone who was told that a puppet killed her lover?
Yet, through silver tears, Belle managed to smile. It took some effort, but there was a single thread of happiness in her eyes as she remembered the day she had first met him.
“We were partners in the militia first,” she said. P silently listened. “It was an auspicious day.”
“Are you ready?” Sir Loett asked her. “You don't need to waste time on appearances, Belle.”
Belle wore a yellow shirtwaist dress. She was a bit bulkier than other women thanks to her military training, but she also preferred how loose the dress felt as opposed to the corsets and high heels women of the upper class wore. While the dress itself was plain—yellow with minimal design or patterning—the neck line had a trim meant to appear like roses. Back then, Belle had shoulder-length blonde hair, tied back with a blue ribbon. It was the last time she would have it before cutting it for the militia. She had pleaded to keep her hair until met her colleague.
“A woman's appearance is often her greatest advantage when disarming others, particularly of the opposite sex,” she said.
Loett had to consider that Belle was as smart as she was adept in a fight. It was something her sisters envied. Intelligence was much more valuable in the militia, and a woman who knew how to control a fight was much more valuable than a man that could fight with brute force. He admired several women in the Stalker ranks, and everyone knew about the Legendary Stalker. Belle was just like them.
“Your father is very proud of you, you know,” he finally said, doting on Belle as an uncle would.
“It's why I want to meet my new partner as respectably as possible. Father is a merchant, not a warrior. Merchants have reputations to maintain, and as his daughter, I have to appear at least like I have some idea of dressing up.”
Belle finished her makeup. She had a picture of the White Lady, Patricia Corday, as her reference. Unlike Adelina, Patricia was a little more humble when it came to makeup. All she needed was eyeliner and red lipstick. Her hair had two French braids joining into a ponytail.
She turned to Loett with a girlish smile. She had to admit, it was nice dressing up every now and again. She joined her father's friend at the door. Sir Loett looked on her with such doleful eyes that if her father couldn't be there to meet who would be on the front lines with her, he would happily be his substitute.
The two were to meet their contact at Krat Central Station. It was another beautiful day in the City of Krat, where men and women met each other and passed time on the streets while the puppets toiled for them. At least, the puppets worked for the upper class. Middle class people were lucky to have them, and lower class people still had to work. Then there were the militias. They willfully put their lives on the line for the Citizens of Krat.
The sky was unusually blue that day, with birds flying about. It was the middle of summer, and the only time such pristine radiance was over Krat. Spring showers, fall rain, and winter snow all colored the sky grey; summer lit the sky in aquamarine and sapphire.
As Loett and Belle arrived at Krat Central Station, the brave lady took note of how picturesque the platform was. Thick fog from the locomotives’ steam, and the sun shining brilliantly through the magnificent glass ceiling, it all appeared like a moving picture she had seen. She couldn't help but wonder if her colleague would be interested in movies and films; if they were in the militia, they couldn't be too snooty to watch at least one.
“Now, Belle, wait here,” Loett told her. “You look too pretty to get muck and dirt on you.”
“Excuse me? I'm part of the militia. I'm used to muck and dirt.”
“But you put so much effort into dressing for the occasion! Don't spoil it. I'll go retrieve him.”
Loett took his leave, meandering down the platform stairs to the arriving trains. Krat Central Station was always busy with people coming to see all of the wondrous puppets and inventions that came from the colorful mind of Lorenzini Venigni. He had to push through them all to find the one person he was arranged to receive.
Among the flood of people, and man emerged from the Blue Fairy locomotive. He had well-kept light brown hair and shining hazel eyes. He was wearing a brown suit with a lapel pin from the militia. He looked out over all these people with a sense of contentment. He had signed up with the militia on recommendation from Sir Loett. He determined him to have the acumen of a strategist, and he further piqued his curiosity by mentioning a formidable woman with an acuity to match his. He asked that he come to Krat after he pulled some strings, on this man's request to meet Belle, so that they would be partners on the battlefield.
“Down here, Mr. Atkinson!” Loett called to him.
Atkinson quickly disembarked the train. He greeted his benefactor with a charming smile.
“Hello, Sir Loett,” he happily said. “Quite amazing to finally be here in the greatest city in the world!”
“And we are happy to receive you,” Loett chortled. “Was your journey here comfortable? Hungry, thirsty? In need of the loo?”
“No, the ride was actually much more luxurious than I'd expected. To be honest, as a military man, I would have expected something…a little less bougie.”
Loett laughed. “What is Krat and all she offers if not lavished?”
Belle saw the two men meeting from the platform, and impatiently curious to meet her colleague, she headed down the stairs. Atkinson's attention was yanked away from Loett at the glimpse of her yellow dress. The thick steam, the birds flying above the glass ceiling, the sun shining so that the station was bathed in glorious light all felt like a sign from God. His heart stopped seeing such a beauty walk down the stairs. And as she approached, his mind burst with fireworks.
“Hello, Sir Loett,” she greeted in a more casual tone than he expected. “I saw you two having fun down here, and I thought I'd come down to see our guest myself.”
Atkinson stared at Belle, speechless. Beautiful and assertive.
Loett escorted the two to a bistro for them to get acquainted. He paid for the meal, and he watched the chemistry between them. The idea had originally to have them meet and test the waters of their partnership, but he took special note of Atkinson's expressions.
He could barely speak properly to Belle, and when he managed to eek out a sentence, it sounded like he was just another tongue-twisted buffoon. He would blush and hide himself from the embarrassment behind his napkin or bury his head down into his meal. Belle, on the other hand, laughed so passionately that Atkinson's trepidations shed like petals falling from a rose. His stomach bubbled with giddy butterflies.
In the coming days, Loett drove them to their training grounds, where they fenced and shot and wrestled. Belle was beautiful, and she was built like an ox. She bested Atkinson in all things, and rather than feel anger or jealousy, he was falling deeper in love with her. He had no fear of other men bidding for her hand; she was frightening. And they would talk terribly about her.
“How weak are you to feel challenged by such an excellent woman?” Atkinson bitterly asked them. They turned their ill-meaning words on him, but he didn't care. “I'll bet 50,000 Ergo that Belle would survive longer than any of you ninnies.”
Atkinson suffered a beating for that one. Belle had caught wind that he had gotten into a fight and lost. She found him in his barracks with a bruised face and bruised pride.
“Hey,” she uttered in the lantern glow that evening.
Atkinson turned away from her. “Don't look at me,” he said. “Until the swelling goes down, I'll be hideous.”
Belle took a seat next to him. He refused to let her see him. She took his hand and held it. Together, they sat silently for a while.
“I heard about what you did,” Belle said after some contemplation.
“How I made a fool of myself?” Atkinson scoffed.
“How you got beaten up for standing up for me. It was incredibly stupid.”
“Belle, I can't stand the way they talk about you! There are other women among our ranks, but you're the only one who is formidable. You don't deserve that disrespect."
“I can handle it,” she told him sharply. “I don't need you to protect me, especially if it means that you'll get hurt for it. There is nothing those men can do to tear me down.”
Atkinson turned to her, his face horribly ugly and misshapen from the blows sustained. “Belle, I know you're strong and fearless. You're the most amazing woman I know. Please, for my sake, do not challenge them. If this is what they did to me for standing up for you, I don't want to think about what they could do to you!”
Belle was more angered by Atkinson's worry than any threat to her safety. But, she had to decide, maybe it was safer for both of them. She ignored the ridicule and tended to Atkinson's injuries. She only fought back when her challengers troubled him while he recovered. And before long, Atkinson was back on the field. Belle became a shield against those that would take out their irritations on him. Such actions on his behalf left him helpless to the throes of his heart.
“Belle?” Atkinson said one night as they were returning to the barracks. She held a pair of scissors in her hand, and a bucket sat in front of her. “What are you doing?”
She held her golden hair in her hand. “It's time to say goodbye,” she said with melancholy. “I can't afford to have long hair anymore.”
Atkinson understood why she had to cut her hair; however, his heart crept up his throat at the thought of not being able to see her with the last bit of radiance shone outward. He remained silent for a moment before an idea came to mind.
“Belle, wait,” he interrupted her. Belle had opened the blades. “Allow me to be the one to cut your hair if it'll make it easier.”
“I have to be the one to do it,” she told him. “This is a test of my resolve to officially leave behind the life I once knew and dedicate my life to Krat.”
“Then, I want you to know that I'm here with you, and I won't leave your side once you prove your resolve.”
At the top of her ponytail, Belle sawed through her hair. She locked eyes with Atkinson, who mirrored her determination. Once the hair was cut, she dropped it all into the bucket. With the swipe of a match, she burned the remnants of societal femininity and erased her former self. It was hard, and Atkinson took her hand to remind her that he would be with her until death. They were sworn brothers in arms.
At least, they had been. This was becoming something more.
Not too long after the makeshift ceremony had been completed, Belle had come to realize that Atkinson felt deep affection for her, and along the way, she felt the same about him. On the days they were allowed to enjoy civilian life, Belle and Atkinson went to bistro and parks together. Belle was excited to see the Grand Exhibition and all of the new inventions and innovations that it would showcase. She went to boutiques to try on clothes that tickled Atkinson's fancy and vice versa. Festivals came and went, and they laughed together at them. Fireworks burst in the sky and colored Belle in all sorts of hues. Atkinson was head over heels for her. He wanted to propose to her, but their first deployment interfered.
The puppets were out of control. People were being murdered by the puppets in their homes. The militia was sent in to take care of them, but soon, Carcasses began to get mixed into the fray. Atkinson and Belle, armed with sabers and pistols, destroyed as many of the monsters on either side as possible.
“We've got to spread out if we want a chance of thinning the herd,” Atkinson said.
“Are you sure?” Belle asked. “It'll be some time before we see each other again.”
“I'm sure. I'll meet up with you at the Grand Exhibition!”
Belle let out a sigh. “That was when we got separated,” she told P. “I didn't know he had gone off to Krat Central Station. I had heard that the puppets there were particularly vicious.”
P held her hand. “I'm so-rry, Belle,” he softly said.
“There's no need to apologize,” she quivered. She shook her head. “Atkinson died a hero, and I should be happy about that. He went down in glory.”
Belle was clearly holding back her tears, and she smiled at P. “Are yo-ou okay?” he asked her.
“Telling you about my partner made me feel better. So, I hope that you can find that same love that I did.”
Belle stood up to return inside the hotel, leaving P alone to contemplate in her reminiscing. It was the same thing that Julian had told him. He placed his hand over his heart. Closing his eyes, he thought about him. Belle's story felt like a memory he couldn't quite place.
“Gemini?” P uttered.
“What's up?” Gemini flickered.
“What if…Ro-meo and I…were part-ners?”
“Like in battle?”
“Yeah…”
“It would be interesting to see you two as friends fighting on the same side.”
P paused for a moment. Julian and Belle had wished him to find true love. When he killed Romeo, he felt sick. They had gone to school together. And after taking his Ergo, he had been hearing his voice more often. At least, he thought he could hear him.
“If we were partners…if we were friends…if we were…” P muttered to himself. He pressed his hand to his heart. “I wish I got to talk to you, Romeo…”
Gemini glowed in his lap. “You miss him, huh?” he asked. “I didn't think you'd miss the King of Puppets.”
“He-e was in pain…just like Be-lle. If I ta-alked to him, we wouldn't have had to fi-ight, right?”
“Maybe? I don't know. What I do know is that he didn't want to hurt you…surprisingly. It was strange!”
Don't look at me…I'll be hideous…
P thought about the King of Puppets. Romeo was so handsome, yet his shell was so scary. He thought about Atkinson, who he saw as a rotting Carcass, but in Belle's memory, he was beautiful like she was.
He trembled. Perhaps Romeo had been turned into a monster, too. And if that were the case, who would be that callous to him?