Remorse of the Faithful Unifier (I)

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This is a reminiscence of the end of the beginning.

An end to the tale of a man who was once known as the "Iron Chancellor"; the hero of his legacy, a sculptor of his nation's destiny.

The man was the chief mastermind behind the formation of an empire. Juggling with the complex and interlocking balance of powers, he skillfully navigated a kingdom's rise with his policies of national unification and economic growth. His tenure in the government saw the bolstering of a military, the build-up of an industrial might recognised far and wide.

But it came to a conclusion 8 years prior. His disagreements with his monarch's successor resulted in his abrupt resignation and retirement afterwards.

That summer, a warm breeze was drifting through the lush greenery overlooking a countryside neighbourhood. The sun shone bright. Trees and plants were in full bloom, with rolling hills and forests surrounding the view. The air was thick with the fragrance of wildflowers and freshly cut grass, and the sounds of chirping birds and buzzing insects filled the air. Crop fields of wheat and barley were ripening at this time of the year.

It was a period of growth and abundant activity, yet here lay the great man on his deathbed. He was frail and feeble, drifting in and out of consciousness as he relived the moments of his long life, full of stories and memories.

The room inside was spacious and elaborately decorated, with dark-coloured wooden furniture and ornate fabrics on the walls. The large bed, complete with a canopy, was placed opposite the entrance, and the light from the sun cast a warm glow on everything in the room.

Gathering around him were his family and close associates, including his daughter Marie and his eldest son Herbert. The doctor and nurses were also in attendance, administering various treatments and medications to try to ease his pain.

The year had marked the rapid decline of his health, which had caused him to retire to his estate in the rural estate, just outside a nearby major city.

What lay before them all was not a towering figure whose decisions and works had a massive impact on his nation's history, much of the world's century and beyond. His character was of a real mortal, guided by his own reason and emotion with his own inherent human flaws.

What went next was a solemn and emotional air.

"...Father…"

His daughter Marie held his wrinkled hand as the old man struggled to face them.

The man's body had become increasingly weak and unresponsive. His personal physician had been monitoring his condition closely and had informed his family that there was little hope for recovery. It was clear to every single person in the room, including the old man himself, that this would be the last moment he would be able to give his partings.

And so, with all the remaining strength he got left in his vessel, the dying man shared with them his deepest aspirations and regrets. He spoke of his hopes for his family, his fears for the country, and his reflections on his own life. It was a poignant moment, filled with both sorrow and a sense of closure.

"...The wheat…so vast and golden, swaying gently in the wind,"

The old man said faintly, before he went on.

"I remember the times with you and your mother, a peaceful life on our estate in Pomerania, free from worries…"

Tears had begun forming from Marie's eyes. Her brother, Herbert, looked at the scene with a pained expression.

"I missed her, I missed her so much since she passed before me… Herbert, I trust you that you will continue to protect your siblings and the family…"

"Of course, father."

Herbert stepped forward. He was clenching his fist, gripping hard on his coat as he assured his father.

"It felt like just a moment ago… I united the country, drove out the devils out of our soil. But I was also the one who divided my fellow countrymen! I have failed to ensure a stable future for them… The Fatherland… In the end, I have failed him, horribly so…"

"It's all right, father… You have done your best… And you finally had a choice to rest…"

Marie's voice, with a tint of sadness, could be heard.

'A choice. That was what it was…'

"Heh! You are right. In the end, it is all but a choi-!"

A harsh, rasping sound emerged from his throat for a time as each rattling cough wracked his lungs. His face flushed, and lines etched themselves more deeply into his weathered skin. The doctor quickly moved in to support the old man. Finally, the coughing subsided, leaving the old man gasping for air. His chest was heaving as he struggled to regain his composure.

"Sir, here, drink some water."

"No, it's fine…"

The old man, still lying on the bed, gently shook his head.

'Perhaps I myself am the Devil.'

The old man stared at his rested hand on his blanket-covered stomach. His vision had started to become blurry. His consciousness was fading.

"Sometimes, I would think about the past, as glorious my achievements as they might seem to be. The thought that 'I should have done better' has always haunted me every night… For the country, and for your mother…"

"No, father. You have done so much for us. For me, Herbert, and Wilhelm as well…! Mother would also certainly sympathise!"

Before Marie realised it, her tears had begun to drip on the bedding as she was still gripping her father's hand.

"If so, then I can be at ease…"

The old man, relieved, had a thin smile formed on his face.

'Ah, I'm tired. They say that death comes with peace and calm… Truly, man's life is but a few short years…'

As he gazed up at the ceiling with his eyes struggling to stay open, the man whispered,

"Please just let me see my Johanna again…"

'I trust that God shall watch over my country and people and deliver them from evil. I suppose, with this, I will finally be able to rest from this suffering…'

With that, the old man slowly closed his eyelids and went into a deep slumber.

"...Father?"

Marie called on the man as he was lying on the bed, unbudging.

"Doktor!"

The doctor's brow furrowed with concern as they leaned in, studying his face and his breathing patterns. Despite the urgency of the situation, the doctor remained calm and focused. He quickly checked the old man's vital signs and medical history, trying to identify any underlying conditions or factors that could be contributing to the man's current state. After he discerned all of it, the doctor slowly turned to them.

"He fell into a coma... he is still alive and breathing, but considering his underlying heart conditions…"

He trailed off, shaking his head.

"I deeply apologise," he continued, "but with our current capability…"

Before he could finish, Herbert cut him off.

"No, thank you, doctor," he said firmly.

"We appreciate everything you've done."

The doctor nodded, his expression sympathetic, before quietly exiting the room.

As he left, the family members remained in silent contemplation, each lost in their own thoughts and emotions.

The day was July 28, 1898.

The man's condition took a sudden turn for the worse. He lapsed into a coma from which he would not recover.

On the following two days, he passed away in the morning, surrounded by his family and closest friends. The scene at his deathbed was described as grief-strickenly dramatic, with many of those present weeping openly at the passing of the great statesman.

The news of his death quickly spread throughout the nation and the world, with many newspapers paying grand obituaries and tributes to his legacy.

A faithful servant of the former emperor until the end.

His death marked the end of an era in the nation's history and the passing of one of the most influential figures of his century.

And so, the history book had turned for yet another single page.

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Inside, time and form was irrelevant. All things had come to a halt.

Darkness.

A lone person with a frock coat was floating in an endless void, surrounded by an infinite expanse of blackness.

'...Hmm? Where am I?'

No matter where he looked, there was nothing but the dark field stretching out in every direction.

'The afterlife…?'

It was as if they were lost in an endless abyss with no hope of escape.

He could somehow see his own figure inside the emptiness, but the lack of light made it impossible to gauge distance or even their own movements, leaving them with a disorienting sense of weightlessness.

The only thing that seemed to exist in this space was their own consciousness, which was free to wander without any limitations to orientation or the laws of physics.

'How vast… I wonder where it leads to…'

So the man thought as he attempted to 'dive' to a specific direction to see where he could possibly end up. But to no avail…

It was as though he was lost in a strange—yet somehow familiar—place.

As time went by, a feeling of oppressive emptiness left the man with a sense of unease, as if he was somehow adrift in a boundless sea with no hope of finding land to step onto.

But then, what came next made him stop. It was as unexpected as his imagination allowed him to.

Flecks of lights started to pop-up from one course, then two. Before he had made sense of what was going on, they were everywhere, charging in every direction with incredible speed.

The lights then started to form an axis as they rotated with some kind of centripetal force.

Denser, closer, tighter together. The lights then formed a blinding light that shone outward throughout the entire space.

The man covered his eyes with his forearm as rays of light passed through his body.

For a moment, as things calmed down, the view was beginning to be clear.

Constellations of stars suddenly appeared across the dawn sky. Colourful dots scattered, gleaming with a surreal view of purple-orange celestial beauty. They provided dim lighting, reflected by the endless sea below, inside the previously pitch black expanse.

As dusts of clouds settled, they revealed a massive fiery burning pillar, rising high into the endless sky. Its flames flickering and dancing in the darkness. The heat emanating from it was palpable, even from the distance he was standing. The object was unlike anything mankind had ever seen.

"Wh- what is it…?" The man said as he seemed to struggle in reorienting his body the instant he had realised that he was standing on the body of water.

Surrounding the cylindrical pillar of fire were countless panels of various colours, each one rotating in its own unique pattern. The man was mesmerised by the interplay of light and shadow as the panels moved around the fiery column. There were formless, irregular shapes moving in and out around the fiery column.

It was both a terrifying and exhilarating experience. For this was beyond anything the man could comprehend or rationalise. He felt as if he was witnessing something ancient and mystical, something that had been hidden from the world's sight beyond centuries of civilisation.

"Fear not, child of man."

An echoing voice came out of the pillar.

"I-it spoke…"

The man stumbled back in surprise as the fiery pillar began to shift and transform. A bright light enveloped the area, and when it dissipated, the man found himself face to face with a majestic being.

The being in front of him was that of a little girl. With her eyes closed, her head turned slightly to the side with her fingers interlaced together, forming a praying gesture. The girl's brown long hair, illuminated by the faint sky light, was cascading down her back in gentle waves.

A myriad of feathers in varying shades of white, orange, and pink—reflecting the starry dawn sky high up. Wings spanned out behind the little girl, creating an ethereal and otherworldly atmosphere. The girl was wearing a flowing white dress that accentuated her divine appearance.

If words alone could represent it, the scene itself was an evocation of peace, purity, and wonder.

Seeing all of it, the man finally able to calm himself and asked the little being,

"...Excuse me, but you are…?"

Dropping both of her hands to her sides, the little girl quietly fixed her gaze towards the man. Her eyes were vivid, beaming with a fluorescent tone. It was as if she was piercing directly into the deepest part of his soul.

"Thy kind hath called me by many names ere now: The Holy Spirit, The Akashic Records, The Zeitgeist… I shall grant thee the liberty to choose as thou wilt, however,"

answered the girl as she started to continue,

"We art the Administrator; the ones who oversee the worlds. We have guided mankind in their journey through the mortal realm. 'Tis we who doth manage them according to the Will."

A shiver came down on his spine.

That would explain his situation—where did they currently meet—and the real identity of the little girl in front of him.

But…

"...Are you… God?"

"In a sense. For as the Administrator, we art not the whole of the Heavenly Throne, from whence doth emanate the Will, but merely a part of."

"...The Will?"

"The Will of the World. The Will that doth move the winds, sway the earth, and flow through every living soul. 'Tis all-present, and through it doth all that existeth in the worlds take shape. And by it as well, may the worlds follow their paths towards the future"

"Is it destiny?"

"Indeed it is."

"...If all had been predestined, then what is my purpose here?"

The little girl explained,

"There have been some errors in the world, from whence thou camest. Destruction hath wrought much havoc upon the land. The chaotic nature of mankind hath proven to be prevalent, as time doth passeth forth. The Will thus desire the restoration of law and order. And by it too, another possibility of the future shall be found. For this very purpose hast thou been given a chance to be reborn into such a world."

"Destruction…? Reborn?" The man interjected.

"Verily," she said as visible images of the past events began to form around them.

From little dots of light that suddenly appeared out of nothing, signs made of light were expanding until they formed a finely lined group of congruent panels, rotating around the two of them at a certain distance. Each of the panels had the size of a whole carriage.

They all showed recordings of various events that happened on Earth following the 19th century.

One showed towering city skyscrapers rising high above the surrounding landscape, shrouded in a dirty cloud of smog. Thick and hazy. The sky tinted in a murky, grey shade.

Clear representations of the effects of industrialisation on the environment, as the rapid growth of cities and industries led to increased pollution and degradation of nature. They were unthinkable in the mind of a person that came straight out of the Industrial Revolution where economic growth is paramount, even at the expense of the natural world.

But what caught him at the very heart was both his most expected and unexpected. It was the highest form of fear of which he had ever known. That which had haunted him for every night since the day he would once believed that it might come.