1 I-01

Hail, you the exalted one, whom I had never seen. The maker of our world -my leader!

From the dawn of time I had ceaselessly search of you, I, the undying soul of higher mankind, strong and fair. I search you in exile, slavery, and shame, unable to forget the glorious destiny befitting me in spite of all. From age to age, along the path that leads to certain death, I turned around to contemplate an everlasting dream, and all my being leaped towards the savior and the lord who was not there, but who would come, one day, set me free, and give me back the wings of youth. Towards you, beloved leader, whose name no one yet knew.

When will you come? Hundreds years rolled by; new kingdom rose and fought, and slowly in the mist of time, Truths had flipped but in name. One thing remained: the unpolluted stream of divine blood within the veins of the Gods' chosen people, and the dim consciousness in these of a great duty to fulfill. When will you come? From age to age, in the deep slumber of prosperity, I call you, but the bright sky was dead and dumb.

But, I, your follower, your worshiper to be, your seeker through the gloom of time, had not heard your name. My leader -Our leader, -You was here, somewhere, unnoticed, and on a bed of pain. I awaited you unknowingly, while many centuries of age indeed I was; while before my dark eyes, fair shadow of a radiant past appeared and disappeared, reminding me of a forgotten world, and thus foretelling me the glory of your great world to come!

[ - Chapter I - Wo Alle Straßen Enden - ]

"Congratulations, madam, it's a boy!"

His eyes scrounged up or whatever gestures he wanted to try but ultimately failed. The distinct familiar smells of blood wafted through his underdeveloped nostrils, the trace of iron is unmistakable, so pure and unpolluted -noble bloods, one that earned through the painstaking labor of giving birth.

"It's a healthy boy, just alright."

He heard raspy breath -a jovial relief in her sweet voice, one that somehow calmed him down upon it reached his ears

"May I see him."

"Of course, madam. He's a handsome little one isn't he."

He felt bound to this voice, as her breath getting closer. Soothing and calming -subduing his denial.

Who wouldn't? He's dead. And all the dead shouldn't hear a raspy breath of a young woman going after her labor. Yet here he was, feeling warmness he didn't truly deserve.

He was a dreamer, an idiot they called him, in lonesome rallied behind an old flag -in that defeated world where no light shone to his battered, scattered, and broken people.

In his search for truth and light, he was dead. He wouldn't believe until he preened open and beholden to a sight mesmerize his tired eyes.

"He is, just like his father. I think I'd fallen in love again."

Her black hair disheveled, cheeks flushed to the hue of red, and her breath is short. However, despite the light of sun dawning upon the room, he felt her smile was the most warming sensation he'd ever felt.

Mother, I have a mother. He parsed the foreign word, a single concept so alien to him. I have a mother, blessed mother.

"If I may, what would be the name befit of him, madam?"

Her smile stays on, an image undoubtedly imprinted on the baby she cradles for life.

"Reinhardt," said she, a twinkle of nostalgia passed her eyes; perhaps grieve, and then came the resolve in her voice, "Reinhardt Tristan Eugene Bougainvillea."

"A truly wonderful name."

It was the day of 7th March of 1904, an unremarkable day to any, no birds were singing and the sun was moody to but the new pair of son and mother -It was the most wonderful day in their life.

But perhaps, it is the day that mark of birth -a monster -a beast -a hero, a mark that turns the world's oceans and continents into a never-ending swath flame of war.

And thus, he, Reinhardt Tristan Eugene Bougainvillea, one who was forced to walk among the living, finally smiled.

[ The dream does not end yet ]

Little Reinhardt is a wonderful child, but he gets a little bit mature -too mature sometimes. Unlike a child of his age, he was often aloof, never regards any opinion to those he didn't respect. Never begging of anything, if any, he would accommodate me from times to times. Though I know how spoiled child he is, always craving for my attention even if he didn't show it.

I never leave him in the hands of the servants here.

I know all too well, the whispering of theirs, as our relatives snickered behind our back. The creaking of their dirty mouth ceaselessly echoed the dimly lit hallway. This, a mere trial to be given by the venerable Lord, must he keep smiling, I shall endure. Reinhardt was always with me, I love how he would always trying to be considerate even if he often be silent about it.

In the morning, he would often go to the abbey, helping or just wanted to sneak out of the mansion to a place he considered as relaxing to read some book. He began his interest in literary at the early age of two. I tried to read him some tales but he would always prefer factual historical notes rather than fanciful tales to make children sleep.

Weirdly, it did make him sleep for some reason.

At the noon he would be back home, accompanying me in the garden. I seldom went outside. Ever since I gave birth, my sickly disposition had begun to take its toll. Perhaps it won't be long before I met his father. But before then, I want to see my little Reinhardt grew to a finer man than his father.

His father… it began with him if I would think about it. I was a daughter of a count family in the Albion Kingdom. It was when I visited Parisii, on a world culture exhibition, that I met my husband.

A gentlemanly man from the Empire, he was there for dignitary visits. I knew the consequences marrying to an empire noble, our both nation was at the precipice of conflict after all.

I couldn't feel regret, even if he'd died defending his country, and leave me behind alone in this venomous valley I lived in. I, Iris Theodore Bougainvillea, is a blessed woman to have such a wonderful child.

It is, indeed.

I stared at the boy who was sleeping peacefully on my lap. His golden hair flown tenderly on the wind as the trees hide us from the sun. A half-opened book was laid on his chest as he held on it.

I sometimes worried about him, he won't leave his book unless distracted. I picked aside the book, though I half-smiled when his hand instinctively trying to protect it.

Beyond good and evil. I glimpsed at the title.

He must picked it from his father's stash he left here. I couldn't imagine why did Reinhardt was very interested in philosophical works, sometimes, I also witnessed him writing on his desk.

It was given perhaps, he didn't get many friends around, and it was clear he didn't want to burden me more.

Many would think I had such a complicated child, no one could peer into his mind and predict what he would do, I truly had no idea why they said so.

I know he only wishes for simpler things.

I sang a lullaby, as I felt his head stirring. I shushed, lulling him to his dream where he could freely fly with his wings.

Sleep my child, the gentle wind won't last. I can feel it for I'm only your bastion until you can walk for yourself.

Sleep, sleep for now. It is wise to dream. Let the gentle breeze flew through us until it had passed. Tomorrow it is time to wake up, but you won't be alone.

I promise.