Chapter 2 - Hedeov

For a two-day journey to Hedeov, Gavriil needed the essentials to survive: food, water and medicine. A strong three-metre rope, a lantern, binoculars, a machete and woolen cloths were useful for tackling the freezing forest; two firearms would've protected him and his traveling companion from possible dangers. The gun was a YLG-8, a revolver with a 6-round cylinder, an overall length of 279 mm and a weight of approximately 1 kg. The rifle was a Sneg-12, made of wood and metal; it was a bolt-action firearm with a weight of approximately 4 kg, an overall length of 1,300 mm and an 8-round integral box magazine that could be loaded with en-bloc clips.
It was six in the morning and Elizabeth was still sleeping. Gavriil had already packed his backpack and silently approached her to feel her body temperature.
She's still hot. Absurd.
He had never understood anything about magic and magical energy. He was a Kalekyan—he was a mere human. Unlike all other races on the continent, the Kalekyans had no spiritus and were only known for two things: their resistance to cold and the fact that they were physically very strong. But these traits weren't superpowers. Resistance to cold, for example, was a trait of most, but not all, Kalekyans. The same was true for strength. Genetics dictated the law... or at least that was what people thought. Whether this was true or not was still difficult to determine. Just as it was hard for mages to decipher the Kalekyan people, it was complicated for them to do the same with mages. For this reason Gavriil had a lot of difficulty understanding the world of spells, for him it was like mathematics. He was a little embarrassed by this, because he felt like an ignorant yokel—just like those who were often mocked in the Empire's propaganda.
The young soldier left the house. The snowstorm was over and he could relax on the shores of Lake Chmil while waiting for the girl to wake up. He heard a dog barking; it was Stanimir. The beautiful animal with black and white fur licked Gavriil on his face and he cuddled him affectionately. The dog's elderly owner, Mrs. Pepova, was nearby helping her husband take a walk in the area. When she noticed that Stanimir had gone to the young man, she showed a slight embarrassment.
"I'm sorry, he's a bit impolite—" she saw the weapons and her eyes widened. "What's the problem, Gavriil? Something bad?"
"No, I... I just... er... I have to go to Hedeov with someone."
"The girl?"
He blushed.
"You thought we didn't notice her? Everyone knows about the young girl you saved and hosted in your home. She's very cute, a little Drakalian, but cute nonetheless," she commented with a gentle smile.
"Hmm... Maybe, but I don't trust her."

"Then why do you want to accompany her to Hedeov? It's a long road, no?"

"Well... Yes, but... but I'm only helping her because I know she would never be able to survive the journey, alone. I'm just doing her a favor, that's all. Just a favor."
"I notice a certain hostility. Do you think she's a bad person?"
"No, I just... I don't know... I can't trust her. My instincts tell me to be on guard. And then she's a Drakalian, only the gods know what she might have in mind."
She ruffled his hair with a motherly affection. "That pout! It doesn't do you any good! Free yourself from negative thoughts. The fact that she's a Drakalian shouldn't worry you, but it should push you to get closer to her and do what many, in these times of war, refuse to do: learn to stop fighting."
"I can't," he said with embarrassed hostility. "I have to fight. Only in this way will I be able to bring justice and free the Kalekyans from oppression."
"And you do well. But there'll come a day when you'll have to abandon your weapons, when you'll have to talk to the Drakalians who have never done us any harm, and if by then you have not learned to stop using violence, then you'll never be able to do justice. I know what I'm talking about. My Semyon was a brave, honest young man and also a true patriot... but violence made him blind."

"I know..." Gavriil murmured, remembering the friend whose name he had engraved one year ago.
"Many of the crimes he was accused of, I don't believe ever happened. My nephew was a good person, but there are those who don't think like me and who just want to throw mud on his memory. It's a disappointment and an immense sadness for me, but the greatest sorrow is knowing that he wasn't totally innocent. I know... I saw him be violent when violence wasn't necessary. He had been drugged by the war and perhaps the best thing that could've happened to him was to die on the battlefield." She wiped away her tears with shaking hands. "It's not nice to say that, I know, but I doubt that someone like him, reduced to that state, would ever have been able to live in peace."
"I don't want to end up like that," he muttered, saddened by those heavy but true words.
"Then use these moments with her to learn to open your heart to those who are different. In these times of war, we need more people who are capable of listening. That's all."
Maybe, but why should I be the one to make the first move? I'm not a Drakalian. I wasn't born in an oppressive empire.
When Mrs. Pepova left, Gavriil remained alone for a few minutes to reflect on those words some more and then decided that the time had come. It was time to go. Hedeov waited and he no longer intended to share his home with a Drakalian.
The fact that she's half Tiberian doesn't change anything. There are many like her who have built their damned colonies in our lands.
Returning home, Gavriil entered the bedroom; Elizabeth was getting dressed and when she saw him come in, she immediately asked:
"Did you wake up before me?"
He nodded.
"Why didn't you wake me up too? Do you think I want to waste my time that badly?" she asked in a scolding tone.

"You're a Drakalian, I don't know when you're used to waking up—"
"C'mon, don't pretend you care!" she exclaimed, tightening the waistband of her trousers.
"I'm not pretending," he replied coldly. "I'm trying not to treat you like you're a Kalekyan, that's all."
She sighed. "So you think I'm as fragile as porcelain?" she asked, tying her tie.
"Yes I think that. You Drakalians are not used to this climate—this reality and its dangers. You solve all problems with magic and your bizarre technologies, but without them you're like snow at the mercy of the sun."
"Nice simile," she said sarcastically, "are you also a poet?"
"I'm serious—"
"Me too." She put on her leather jacket. "Do you think I'm not a serious person? Do you think I'm some kind of runaway princess who wants to be protected by a soldier? I tried to assassinate a prince and am wanted by those Kalekyans who sold themselves to the Empire. If I hadn't gotten here, I would've ended up in one of the most terrible prisons in the world. I'm not a diamond, I'm a fighter just like you and I expect you to treat me accordingly!" She approached him. "Now step aside."
He did so hesitantly.
Elizabeth left the house and opened her hand. "Sheva." Her palm was engulfed in flames and she remained motionless.
"What are you doing?!" Gavriil asked in shock. "Stop that! Now!"
"Relax, I've no intention of hurting anyone."
"But you'll scare people that way!"
"Have you never seen a fire?"
"You know what I mean! Now, stop that!"

"Nope, I won't. Do you remember last night's speech? What I'm doing now is decreasing my spiritus level to achieve a more 'balanced' body temperature. I prefer to keep it under a certain level, it's my life at stake, after all. Give me fifteen minutes and I'll be ready to go."
He was annoyed by her stubbornness, but he certainly couldn't get into an argument with her in front of everyone. And then he knew she was right. He didn't want to admit it, but what she was doing, even if he didn't fully understand it, was right. Plus, her words gave Gavriil an idea. The young soldier entered the house again and remained there until the fifteen minutes were up.
"I'm ready! We can leave—" Elizabeth was taken aback by what Gavriil had just put on the table. "What's this?"
"Hot chocolate and homemade cookies," he replied coldly. "I was so caught up in doing things quickly that I forgot that you Drakalians have no natural resistance to cold. This breakfast will give you  the necessary energy and warm you up a bit."
She didn't ask any more questions and started eating. She dipped the biscuits in the chocolate and savored them; the flavor of the cereal pervaded her mouth and she smiled as if she had tasted the best dish of her life.
"Did you make them?"
"Yes—"
"Today?!"
"Huh? No! I had saved them!"
"Hm-mm. They're very good! You know, you should think about dedicating yourself entirely to cooking with the end of the war! What do you think?"
He didn't answer. He didn't want to continue that conversation.
"Well, I forgive you everything," she said, giving him a kiss on the cheek.
He jumped backwards and almost fell to the ground.
She laughed and started eating again.
"You...!" She did it on purpose. But why does she behave like this? Moments ago she seemed angry and now it almost seems like she has forgotten everything. I don't understand her. "Hey, look... um... I've something you might need."
"And now you've got a gift? Ohoh, Gavriil, be careful: if you carry on like this, I might think you're hitting on me."
"Don't be silly and take it!"

He gave her a heavy jacket. She immediately understood why: that black leather jacket, alone, would never have protected her from the cold. She was pleased to know that he had cared about her to the point of not only preparing her breakfast, but also giving her a piece of clothing so she wouldn't suffer from the cold.

The great forest that separated Klyugin from Hedeov stretched for several kilometers and was made of pines and firs dressed in white. The road to take was narrow, full of obstacles, undulating, punctuated by short climbs. A cold breeze sometimes whistled through that quiet forest, and when it did, one could hear the thud of heavy blocks of snow. Everywhere the girl looked, she had the impression that nature extended to infinity.
Gavriil and Elizabeth had left just an hour ago and had not stopped walking. He led the way and she walked next to him. The soldier didn't speak, he was always serious, but not angry and, what she noticed immediately, his seriousness tended to dissipate when he looked around; the sight of the wild, untamed nature relaxed his face, his eyes, his heart.
A fallen tree crossed the road. It had been uprooted from the ground and had smashed, with its mass, many smaller trees. Gavriil placed his bare hand on the snow-covered wood.
"The wind last night was devastating," Elizabeth commented.
"It wasn't the wind," he said.
"How do you know?"
"Look at the snow on the trunk. It's too little. If it had been knocked down by the wind, the tree would've had to be practically buried under the snow. This means that the wind isn't the culprit." He glanced at the branches and then at the roots. "It was a young, healthy tree. Something tells me it fell for another reason.”

"Do you have any idea?" she asked curiously.
"Hmmm." He cleaned some parts of the trunk and revealed some claw marks. "Belyy Zver'."
"What?"
"A kind of white bear, but much bigger." He turned and pointed to the ground. "The footprints have been covered by the snow, but some are still partially visible. Judging by the height of the scratches, it's probably a young male of about four years old. He's not particularly big, but he's looking for a partner."
"Wait a minute, how can you say he's not big?"
"The height of the scratches and... well, the trees around. They are still intact. An adult male, in these periods, tends to break  a few more trees. Consider them some kind of tests of virility. They break them to seduce females."
"Oh. Then you'll definitely have problems with deforestation."
"No, luckily there aren't many Belyy Zver' and they also tend to knock down the younger trees. Do you know why? Because the older ones are much tougher and are experts at making big adult males look weak."
The two began walking again.
"Soooo... the tree is a bit like the jam jar," she said, smiling.
"What do you mean?" He narrowed his eyes.
"There are some men who, to impress women with their 'great physical prowess,' take on the arduous task of opening jam jars with their bare hands. Sometimes they succeed, but occasionally the jam wins."
"It's dumb. What kind of man would do such a stupid thing?"
"If it's not the jam jar it's swatting a bug or fixing something that's broken or lifting big boxes."

"We don't have anything like that. If a man wants to impress a woman, he goes into the forest to hunt for her and brings his prey to her."
"Wait—you mean like cats do?" she asked, holding back her laughter.
"That is the way to show physical strength and courage. Having said that, it happens that women do the same thing."
"What?! Really?!" Her eyes widened in amazement.
"To demonstrate to the beloved man that they can have a strong offspring. But when it comes to that point, in most cases, the two people are already in love and have probably already decided to get married. The whole practice, whether men or women do it, is just the icing on the cake."
"So... which of your two parents did it?"
"First my father and then my mother, although for different reasons: he did it to demonstrate his strength, she did it for fun."
"How can you say that?"
"I was already born." He paused briefly. "And... what about your parents? How many jars of jam did your father have to open before he seduced your mother?"
"A million," she replied ironically.
"Your mother really loves jam, uh?"
"She loved the cherry one... and my father preferred honey... in fact, even when he prepared cereals for himself, he put honey in the milk."
"Condolences," he muttered.
"Thanks," she replied, quickly wiping her eyes.
As the sun set, Gavriil found a place to spend the night. He prepared everything needed to light a fire and prevent it from going out. From his backpack he took out some cheese, some stale bread and some water. Illuminated by the fire, the two travelers dined in the taciturn and dark pale forest. Elizabeth took off her heavy jacket and this worried Gavriil slightly.
"Are you sure?" he asked.
"I'm warm enough already," she replied with a gentle smile.
"I'm surprised you're not already dead. Heat is just as lethal as cold. If your body can warm up so much that you don't suffer from the freezing cold of this forest, then it's a miracle you're still alive."
"I know," she murmured. "High levels of spiritus cause hyperthermia and, in my specific case, I could die or... well... um... I should've already died. Even Dr. Mannlicher, the doctor my mother took me to, thought there was something abnormal about me. The best explanation he could give me was this: my body has adapted in such a way that it can withstand higher temperatures."
"How high?"
"Think about the maximum body temperature a human can tolerate and double it." She sighed. "Obviously his is just a theory, but if he were right then a question would arise spontaneously: why? And I'm afraid to ask it."
"Aren't you curious?"
"No," she replied quickly.
"Why?"
"Because I'm not. I don't want to know. That's all. There are things I'd rather not know, at least not now. Maybe one day, when I'm ready, but not now." She forced a smile.
He immediately dropped the topic, he didn't want to argue. "I advise you to sleep, I'll be there to keep watch."
"And what about you?"
"Do you want to take guard shifts?"
She nodded.
"Then we'll do that." He breathed an internal sigh of relief.

 

On the second day, finally, after several hours of walking, the two travelers arrived near Hedeov, the small village that stood on the banks of the Lepechin River—which flowed into the large Lake Chmil. To reach it it was only necessary to go over a snow-capped hill, on which stood an eight-metre stone obelisk erected by the United Tribes in memory of the fallen soldiers. Ten years ago, in 1711 IC, eighty one brave volunteers, led by Lieutenant Vvedensky, defended Hedeov for fifteen days from the forces of the Aisenevian Principality. The lieutenant was saved at the last moment by reinforcements from the United Tribes and it was he who, a few months later, ordered the construction of the monument.
From up there one could clearly see the village and Gavriil immediately noticed something strange, and stopped Elizabeth from continuing. He hid together with her and took out the binoculars.
"Shit!" he exclaimed angrily.
"What happens?" she asked worriedly.
He gave her the binoculars.
In the streets of Hedeov there were soldiers in blue camouflage and black berets; they were ten men of the Aisenevian army. The population of Hedeov was very low—barely two hundred people lived in that village—and every single man, woman, and child was forced to leave their homes and stand on their knees with their heads bowed. A young rebel with a lion's heart tried to oppose this injustice and was immediately killed; the shot was heard all the way up the hill. Gavriil was furious and immediately grabbed his rifle, he was ready to kill each one of those soldiers. He could not accept such cruelty, just as he could not tolerate the arrogance with which those invaders had decided to cross the border established by the United Tribes.

Elizabeth knew the reason for that invasion.
They're looking for me.
Her heart was filled with a strong sense of guilt and she was ready to do whatever was necessary to stop those people, but when she saw Gavriil pull out his rifle she became agitated. Elizabeth could feel the young soldier's anger firsthand, but she couldn't allow him, blinded by his anger, to make a mistake that would cause a carnage. As soon as she saw him take aim, she put her hand on the barrel of the rifle and muttered:
"Stop. Those soldiers will turn on the civilians if you attack them!"
"Not if I can scare them—"
"They have hostages! They have nothing to lose and if you provoke a firefight, they'll have no reason not to use those people as human shields!"
He raised his eyebrows. He hadn't thought about that. He was ashamed of not having done so and left the rifle.
"Now we have to think about how to stop them."
"Do you have any idea?"
"With my pyromancy I can generate fire whirlwinds and I can throw fireballs, but if I used it it would be dangerous for those people, so we have no choice but to play smart." She looked into his eyes. "Do you trust me?"
He frowned. "No, but if you have a plan that can save those people, I'll listen to you."
"Good."
Meanwhile, in Hedeov, Lieutenant Ivan Vasilyevich Kun took two people—a man and a woman—and led them into a completely ransacked house. He made them sit down with the most false of kindnesses and, taking out his pistol, asked:
"Have you seen a blonde girl wandering around here?"

"No, sir, absolutely not—"
The lieutenant shot the man in the head without hesitation.
The woman screamed in fear.
"Shut up, bitch, and answer the question: have you ever seen or helped a blonde girl? A foreigner? She's a Drakalian."
She, scared like a child, shook her head slightly; she had tears in her eyes.
"You're useless."
"No, Please—"
He shot her. "Bring me two more! I want to hurry! No wasting time!"
Two girls who didn't belong to Hedeov, but who were helping the military, entered the building. They both had a black bodysuit, red winter jackets and were both armed with the same model of pistol. They both had blood-colored eyes and hair as white as snow. The only difference was that one had long hair, the other had short hair and was also wearing a red scarf. They were twins who belonged to the Ordo Gladii. The first, the one with the long hair, was Viper; the second was Echo. They had been tasked by Prince Wilhelm to help the Aisenevian military forces search for Elizabeth.
When the lieutenant saw them cross the threshold, his eyes immediately fell on their weapons; he wanted to be sure that neither of them had any intention of killing him. He was never too sure around the Ordo Gladii. The FK-11, the gun model used by the two girls, was, among other things, much faster and more resistant than the Aisenevian weapons. This handgun was black, metal, with an overall length of 217 mm, a weight of 950 g and had a detachable box magazine with 32 rounds.

"What do you want?" he asked submissively.
"This violence is useless, Lieutenant," Viper said with a contemptuous sneer. "What do you think you're getting by killing these people? We'll never be able to find the fugitive if we don't do proper interrogations."
"We don't have time. The United Tribes don't know we're here. We must be fast, otherwise we'll be surrounded by enemies. And does it really matter how many will die from this waste? Hedeov is a piece of shit, no one gives a damn about this place."
"What if you were wrong?" Echo asked coldly.
He shrugged. "It makes no difference to us. One way or another we're harming the enemy, right? And then... this place deserves to burn." He looked out the window. He looked at the desperate faces of the prisoners. He felt nothing for them. "My brother died right here. He wanted to free Hedeov from the tyranny of the United Tribes, but he was killed by those fanatics led by Vvedensky. But not just my brother, oh no..." he turned towards the two girls. "One hundred and four soldiers were killed in this village. One hundred and four liberators, who only wanted to protect Hedeov and allow it to embrace progress, were killed here. Hedeov is a den of barbarians who prefer bloody traditions to freedom and modernity. They deserve to die."
"Do as you please," Viper exclaimed, raising her arms. "My sister and I have no intention of standing in your way. We have our orders and you have yours, but know that by slaughtering these people you will get nowhere—"
"Sister," Echo murmured, placing a hand on her shoulder.
"What's up?"
Echo motioned with her head to look out the door.

Elizabeth was in the village. She had her hands raised and rifles pointed at her. The girl they were looking for was right there in front of them, and no one understood why she hadn't been found before.
"I'm not here to fight. I want to give up."
Lieutenant Kun, as soon as he came out of the house, showed a triumphant smile. "It turns out I was right: Hedeov's people were hiding you. They're all liars, I knew it—!"
"There's no need to hurt them! It would be unnecessary violence!" the girl exclaimed. "Now you have me! Let these people go! I'm the one who tried to kill the prince, they didn't do anything wrong! They don't even know who I am—"
"So what? Just by having welcomed you, these people have committed a very serious crime. They have to die."
Elizabeth's gaze fell for a moment on the two twins.
Brannovian. Ordo Gladii.
The girl looked back at the officer and asked, "What does the Empire want from me?"
He was confused.
"Why not just kill me? Why didn't you order your men to shoot me? And why didn't the two of them take out their guns to kill me?"
The lieutenant had no idea what to say, he didn't know the answers to those questions either. He only knew that the Empire didn't want her dead.
"Your escape was quite... interesting," Viper stated with a smirk on her face. "You flew all the way here. The news has reached the ears of the prince, he, then, has decided to... er... commute your sentence. You see, these people are not here to kill you, but to take you—"
"Do you want to kidnap me?"

"You're perceptive," Echo exclaimed, crossing her arms.
"Forgive my sister, the first time she heard about you she expressed strong doubts about your intelligence. I admit that I thought so a little too. I mean: what kind of idiot would try to kill one of the most important people in the world? You're lucky, you know? You're so lucky. Another person, in your place, would've already died. But, hey, congratulations! You've gained the prince's interest! You won't die! You should be happy abou that."
"Well, if I'm that important, I want you to listen to my requests."
"Ooh! And why on earth would we do that?" Viper asked raising her eyebrows.
"Because I could leave this very moment, right?" Elizabeth replied immediately. "I could spread my wings and fly further and further into the territory of the United Tribes."
"You would never do that. You care about these people," Echo commented.
"This is true, but I'm still a Drakalian and I've no intention of throwing my life away for barbarians. I protect them because I believe it's the right thing to do, but there's a limit to everything."
"Liar."
"My sister is right, you're lying and you suck at hiding it. The very fact that you made an attempt on the prince's life is proof that you're one of those people who believes in the cause of the United Tribes—"
"And who told you that? Do you want to know who I am? I'm the illegitimate daughter of Emperor Ludwig XIII!" she stated in a solemn tone. "I was never recognized by my father because my mother was one of his many concubines! I tried to kill the prince because he doesn't deserve the throne! I deserve it!"

The twins and even the soldiers were stunned by that statement.
Elizabeth stepped in front of the civilians; her enemies were now all in front of her. "So here is my proposal: put an end to this useless violence and tell the emperor that her daughter wants to talk to him. I want to talk to my father. Just that." She looked at the twins. "Can you do it?"