Chapter Text
Britz Strudel was grieving.
In the entire history of the war between Gasco and Berman, not a single soldier — never mind a child soldier — had ever experienced this kind of grief equal to what Britz was going through.
It would sound like an exaggeration, but if some psychologist were to closely observe this situation, they would agree that, yes, being conscripted into the Berman Army due to the sins of the father beat out every possible scenario for "the most grieving-est existence ever."
The worst part was why he was in the army in the first place. His father, Spritz Strudel, had left Berman for Gasco five years ago, only contacting his family through coded letters. Britz had learned to decipher codes at a young age, so he was always excited to read from them whenever they came in the mail to see how his father had been doing. Through reading them, he'd learned about life in Gasco, and how peaceful it was compared to Berman…how freely the citizens lived.
To Britz, it sounded like his father was having a good time.
There were days when Britz wished he could travel to Gasco in a heartbeat, just to experience what his father had experienced. He'd begged and pleaded his mother to take him and his little sister Frita there. While Linza would always turn down his request, she did say that they would all go to Gasco one day, when the kids were older.
Yet, there were also days when Britz had wished his father would return. Maybe he would arrange an airship to take his family to Gasco, so they could take up permanent residence there. He hoped that even the Kaiser wouldn't say no to a family leaving Berman for good, considering how oppressive it had become in the past few years.
He had been right about the first part…but wrong about the second part. Dead wrong!
In the end, Spritz had been accused of treason, and was executed for his crimes. Crimes that Britz knew his father would never commit. But he was only a child, and his words fell on deafened ears. And once the Kaiser had wiped Spritz's blood off his paws, he ordered his soldiers to take the rest of Spritz's family.
Without his father around, Britz had to step up and take his place as the family's protector. He begged and pleaded for the soldiers to spare the lives of his mother and sister, even offering to enlist himself in the army to ensure their safety. Though it didn't prevent his mother and sister from facing further persecution, it did give them time to escape from the Kaiser's cruel oppression.
But right before leaving with the soldiers, Britz had snuck away several of the letters that his father had written to him, stashing them away in a special pouch that only he had access to.
The Kaiser never knew about these letters. Nor did Shvein Hax, the Supreme Commander who would be leading the invasion of Gasco. And once they'd arrived, Britz was sent to a prison camp in the region of Mau, which were abundant with spell-casting Felineko, along with several other Berman child soldiers. Britz was too exhausted to be upset about it.
What he was upset about was the cruelty inflicted upon the Felineko. Men, women, children — the Berman didn't discriminate when it came to capturing and imprisoning them. Even worse, they were almost always subject to the torturous experiments performed by a mad scientist named Doktor Blutwurst. He was a Felineko like the prisoners, yet he insisted on being called a Caninu, even to the point of mimicking a Caninu, both physically and vocally. Not that it did any good with fooling anyone.
Sometimes, when he was doing his chores, Britz would witness a Berman soldier dragging a helpless Felineko prisoner into some facility, with the Felineko struggling to escape in futile desperation. It was a scene he'd witnessed many times before. Not one of the prisoners ever left the facility; the thought of what was happening in there always made Britz's stomach churn. Sometimes, it would get too intense to the point he'd end up vomiting in a corner of the camp, where no one would see him.
His forehead throbbed in pain at the memory, causing a stream of blood to trickle down. Britz momentarily stopped his train of thought and pressed the cloth he held in one paw to try and staunch the bleeding from a wound he'd gotten not too long ago, when one of the Berman soldiers had struck him much harder than usual. The older men usually barked and beat the child soldiers whenever they stepped out of line, but for Britz it was far worse. Especially due to his father's actions. And even when he didn't do anything to warrant their anger.
The sins of the father were weighing heavily upon his shoulders, and Britz was paying the price, every day.
Britz let out another sad sigh as he slumped against the wall of the watchtower. He then reached into his pocket and began pulling out the letters he'd taken from his home. Today, he had been assigned the day shift on guard duty, which would have been boring had he not brought them along. Leafing through the papers, he found himself lost in the sole source of comfort he had left, silently reading to himself.
While the letters were the last known connection he had left of his father, there was one particular letter that stuck out to him more than the others. This one letter had always left Britz baffled to no end, no matter how many time he'd read it over and over. In this particular letter, Spritz had briefly mentioned a boy he'd met, with whom he had formed a familial attachment. Even more cryptically was the very last sentence in the letter:
"I look forward to the day when you'll eventually meet your new brother."
Britz was thoroughly confused. His father had never mentioned anything about having a brother, older or younger. His whole life, it had just been him and Frita.
The more he'd thought about it, the more it hurt his head…even more so with that blasted wound. He groaned as he pressed his cloth harder against it, but failed to stop the few tears that fell from his blue-grey eyes as he silently hiccuped a few times.
It wasn't fair. Britz had always dreamed of traveling to Gasco, of living a peaceful life. Whether it was in the captial city of Paresia, or out in the countryside, he wanted Gasco to be his forever home.
Now, he wouldn't get to live or have a home at all.
Stashing away the letters, he slowly rose to his feet and turned to the wall of the watchtower. Peering over the edge, he noticed that it was a significantly huge drop to the ground. A dark thought crossed his mind as he contemplated climbing over the edge, letting his legs dangle a bit, and just stare at the abyss for a moment before—
A sudden shout from down below interrupted his thoughts. It was quiet, but Britz was sure he heard a girl's voice just now, her tone full of fear and desperation. Straining his eyes, Britz could see several Berman child soldiers running along, followed by a young Felineko girl with baby-blue hair braided into pigtails. Upon closer inspection, he noticed that one of the boys held a doll in his paws, and was waving it at the girl in a taunting manner.
His paw clenched into a fist as he gritted his teeth. Something kicked his brain into high gear as a spark flickered in his eyes.
A spark that he hadn't felt in such a long time.
Abandoning his post, Britz scurried down the ladder of the watchtower and burst out from its base. As he did, he could see — and hear — the commotion more clearly.
"Please," the girl cried. "Please, give me back Bleuette!" Her blue-grey eyes were red with tears as she struggled to reach for the doll.
"Oh, you mean this thing?" one of the boys asked. He stuck his tongue out as he held the doll just a little bit higher, well out of her reach. "You must really care for it, don't ya?"
"Please…just give her back." The girl dropped to her knees and began sobbing harder. None of the boys would give her any pity.
The boy holding the doll snorted. "You Felineko are such weirdo freaks. Using magic while us Caninu can't, calling things like this your 'friends', as if you never had any real friends to begin with…"
Britz looked between the girl and the boys. From his position, he was sure that he was closer to the other boy. If he could shoulder bash him out of the way, that might get their attention. He wasn't physically strong, but he was much quicker on his feet than they were.
The first boy lowered the doll and began tossing it between his paws. "But I suppose if you really do care about this worthless scrap of fabric, then I suggest you'd do well to take extra care of—oops!"
With an exaggerated lunge, the Caninu boy tossed the doll over to the other boy, who had his paws outstretched to catch it.
"No! Bleuette!" the girl shrieked.
Britz saw his chance. With lightning speed, he ran over to the child soldier and tackled him to the ground, catching him completely off-guard. He then turned and leaped for the doll, catching it right as he landed on the ground with a hard thud.
"Britz?!" the other boy exclaimed, his expression a mix of shock and anger. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"
Britz was too winded to even come up with an explanation. He instead opted to turn his gaze to the girl. Her mouth was hanging open and her eyes were wide as she stared at him.
Angry footsteps approached him, and Britz barely had time to register a gloved paw grabbing his collar as the other boy lifted him up at eye level. "You've got some goddamn nerve going against us like that, Strudel," he growled, teeth bared. "Maybe I should just tear half your face off."
"I'd like to see you try," Britz replied. "But I know you won't." He'd heard these kinds of threats from the other child soldiers before, and none of them ever came to fruition. He knew they were total cowards who only spouted out those empty threats to make themselves feel better.
"Tch!" The other boy tossed Britz to the ground and turned his tail to him. "Whatever. I've got some reports to give to the doc. I don't have time to deal with a witch like her." His companion rose to his feet and trotted after him, but not before giving Britz the stink-eye.
As soon as both boys were gone, Britz let out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding. He then looked down at his paws, noticing that he was still holding the doll. Thankfully, there was no sign of any damage or dust.
He then turned his attention to the girl, noticing that she was still staring at him in awe…like he was a prince who'd just hopped out of a fairy tale. He wondered if it was because of what he'd done.
Shaking the reverie out of his mind, he rose to his feet and slowly approached her until he was within arm's length of her.
He was at a loss of words at what to say to her, as he fiddled with the doll in his arms. What was he supposed to say to her? His paws were trembling and his heart was racing.
Looking between the girl and the doll, he decided that it would be best to start by giving her back the doll. Slowly, gently, so as to not frighten her, he held the doll in front of him.
"Um, here," he began hesitantly. "I believe this is yours."
The girl held out a pale paw hesitantly, then withdrew. Britz figured she'd be fearful that he would just snatch it away from her and laugh. But that was nothing like him at all.
He held the doll a bit closer to her. This time, she took the doll and cradled it close to her chest, hugging it tightly.
"Thank you," she said meekly.
"You're welcome," Britz replied.
Neither of them exchanged any words. Then, the girl looked up at Britz's face and noticed something. "Oh, your forehead."
Britz held up a paw to the wound. "Don't worry about me, please," he said. "It's just a scratch."
"No, please. Let me at least repay you for your kindness."
Before Britz could utter a syllable, the girl suddenly rose to her feet and walked over to him. Now that they were alone together, Britz noticed that she was barefoot, with a simple anklet adorning her left leg.
He didn't have time to process anything else when the girl held out a paw to his forehead and uttered a quiet incantation. Shortly afterwards, a soft green glow emanated from her paw, and Britz felt his brain buzz with warmth. The glow eventually faded, but the warm feeling didn't leave him.
Slowly reaching up, he pulled the cloth off of his head and felt for the wound that was once there. There wasn't any more blood coming down, but Britz knew that he would forever bear a scar for as long as he lived.
"Um…thanks," he said.
"A-anytime," replied the girl.
Silence fell between the two once again. Britz looked away, his heart fluttering in his chest. He'd never met someone who was just…so similar to him. She was shy and quiet, but also polite. Maybe she might have the same hidden courage as him?
His ears perked up something that was barely audible. "Hm?" he turned to her again. "Sorry, could you please repeat that?"
"I said my name is Sheena," she said, a bit louder this time. A small smile formed on her face as she held up the doll. "And this doll is my friend, Bleuette."
Britz smiled as he gently took Bleuette's paw and shook it. "It's nice to meet you, Sheena and Bleuette. My name is Britz."
"Britz…" Sheena sighed happily. "Such a noble name for a noble Caninu."
He blinked in surprise. "You think I'm noble?"
"Mm-hmm." She nodded her head. "I could tell you weren't like those other boys the moment you tackled one of them to the ground. I've never had anyone stick up for me like that before." She paused to look down. "Well, except for my sister, but…"
Britz frowned. This girl was suffering so much, and it pained his heart to see her like this. If only there was a way he could help her—no, save her.
For the first time, he felt a spark in his chest. A newfound resolve that he hadn't had in such a long time. And like any spark, that resolve would evolve into a fire, one that would continually burn until his last breath gave out.
From that day forward, he made a silent vow to help Sheena escape from the prison camp, to not let her become another one of Blutwurst's horrible experiments.
Even if it meant worsening the sins of the father.
Even if it cost him his life.
Even if it meant betraying the Berman.