Homelands
Chapter Thirty Eight: Family Tree
Part 3
Prelude:
The war dragged on. The Fraternalists made a few gains, the Monarchists made a few gains. But all the time the Army of Estonia, supported by the Army of Finland and the Army of New Mordvia, was able to keep pressure on Memelgrád, never sieging the city, but always sitting a few miles away. But Gunvald knew they could not hold out forever. The Army of Finland was especially weak, its soldiers only partially loyal to Gunvald's cause, worried more about freeing Finland. The Army of New Mordvia was small, but well equipped, but disease was taking its toll. Information from the other fronts was rare, and even more rarely was it good news. The war was to be won here, in the Baltic, all the more fitting for the Baltic Nation. At the front, Gunvald was joined by a new commander, the young and brave Doyvát, the Prince of Estonia. The father and son team were ready to push back Vishly's army once and for all when disaster fell. Vishly order Butovit to attack the coastal region of Kurs, north of Memelgrád. The region was mostly defended by the Army of Finland as well as two western detachments of the Army of Estonia under the command of a senior ranking commander. Numbering only 10,000, the Fraternalists were utterly crushed by a Monarchist force numbering well into the 30,000s.
The Estonian-Russian Front in 1345.
August 21st, 1345
The Army of Estonia was marching double time from the interior of Lithuania. They were racing north and west to try to cut Butovit's army off from Riga. Kurs was already lost, the surviving regiments of the Western Army of Estonia reattached with the main body while any surviving Finns scattered amongst the native people, slowly working their way back home. It was all going according to Vishly's plan to strike deep into Estonia and hopefully remove Gunvald from the war. Ending the Estonian resistance was key to ending the war. Butovit, however, remained unsure. His father's attacks were becoming more and more brazen, but also less and less thought out. The plans carried the tell-tale signs of Vilhelms' work. The Prince of Prussia flared his nostrils at the thought of his brother trying to usurp him. If it wouldn't be so obvious, he'd have Vilhelms killed, draped across his father's dining table to drive the point home. Vilhelms was replaceable, he was not. He would follow his father's orders, but only for as long as he needed. Deep inside his hate boiled. Was this really to be his life?
"I am not a pawn," Butovit muttered. Few around him heard anything, they went about their jobs of organizing the men. He knew Gunvald would try to cut him off from Riga, so he decided not to go for Riga. He would show his father who was the real military mastermind. He would break with orders and sack Lithuania. And then as Gunvald rushed back to defend Lithuania, he would head north to Riga. Completely bypassing his brother and leaving the Army of Estonia tired and unable to battle. He would prove to his father his right and ability to rule. He was the master of the battle field.
The city of Memelgrád was starting to take on the grey nature of its inhabitants. Some joked that it looked more and more like Mariengrád, a city long associated with mourning. The people shuffled with no direction, grabbing what little food they could afford and returning home. Vishly's troops were constantly searching for traitors and spies, often rounding up innocent by-standers found in the wrong place at the wrong time. Justice had little to do with the system, they functioned off quotas. Vishly knew there were spies, there had to be, or he would have already won the war. So his capital paid the price. The city walls locked at night, keeping spies out and the people in. No post was allowed in or out of the city unless it bore the mark of the King. The punishment for carrying a letter out of Memelgrád was death for the messenger, the writer and the recipient. "My city is an island," Vishly said to his advisors upon their protests. Many of those to die from the letter laws were innocent monks and nuns, simply trying to coordinate church workings.
August 21st, 1977
"So, you coming back any time soon?" she asked. Bendiks looked up from his coffee and smiled. It was the waitress from last night. "You guys were... different."
"Different?" he asked, laughing to try to mask a slight streak of disappointment. "Just different? That music is getting really popular in California, you know. Red Music they call it. I learned from the best," he bragged.
"It was different, which is good," she responded. He took his empty plate and put it in a bin with some other dirty dishes. "So, are you a student here?"
"Me, no..." he said, his face turned bright red. "Are you?"
"Yeah, I study history. I... I want to be a teacher," she said. "You know, I never got your name last night. You'd think as the lead singer I'd know your name."
Bendiks chuckled, "Bendiks Tomssun, and you?"
"Isabel Kaljutog. So when were you in California? It is so hard to get permits to go out of the country these days. Especially to the West. I've been dying to get to the Netherlands or France."
"I... uh... left back in seventy four, got back a few months ago. I didn't exactly go with a permit."
Isabel's eyes opened wide, she leaned in close, "How did you get out then?"
"Trade secret," he said in a low voice. She smiled, that was good, the last thing he needed was the police at his door. "What are you doing later tonight?" he asked, trying to act suave.
"Well, classes haven't started yet, I guess nothing." The ball was passed expertly back into Bendiks court. "Hang on, let me punch out." She walked away toward the rear of the café and came back a few minutes later with a jacket and a her purse. "You guys cleared the place out last night, which was nice."
She was very blunt, but there was no point in lying. Californian Rock just hadn't gotten to Europe yet, but some people seemed to like it and it was only a matter of time. "It is the curse of being ahead of the curve," he said. "Where do you want to go?"
"I was thinking we could head anywhere but here, I've already been here long enough." Isabel held her hand out for Bendiks to help her up, which he did. The headed out of the café, a rundown state-owned establishment meant to give college kids something to do on their free nights. The sun had long set behind the Memelgrád skyline, casting long shadows down the streets. People shuffled quietly along the sides of the streets, sometimes pausing to peer into shop windows to see what the government had for sale this week. Bendiks and Isabel walked side by side, going around a pack of children playing with a long forlorn football. They kicked it back and forth, every time it wouldn't so much as roll as make a "plop" and stay where it landed.
Passing a news station, a talking head on an old black-and-white TV appeared, "Our Roman comrades have successfully repelled fascists troops outside Athens, marking an end to the five month siege which started shortly after the city was recaptured by our victorious soldiers last winter. Fascist groups in the People's Republic of Rome maintain bases in the southern reaches of the nation as well as across the many islands that make up the nation. President Gavrill Dimas says that the PRR will continue to fight fascism wherever it appears."
At a small stand, Bendiks paid a few ángits for a little bit of icecream, which he shared with Isabel. They found a spot in the middle of the town, under the statue of Vilis Stefanssun. As the sun set completely behind a row of housing Isabel started getting nervous. "What is wrong?" Bendiks asked, almost laughing.
"We need to get home... now," she said. She motioned discretely at a group of soldiers who rounded the corner into the mall. She stood up and grabbed Bendiks' hand, pulling him upright. The two began to walk away, carrying their empty cartons.
"Hey! You two!" a voice called across the way. Isabel froze in place, jerking Bendiks back, her grip tightening with fear. "What are you two still doing out?" The soldiers came up to the frozen pair and surrounded them.
"Walking home," Isabel said, "We were watching the news stand and lost track of time." She hoped the lie would work, but it was unlikely.
The lead soldier circled around, patting down Isabel but not Bendiks. He eventually walked in front of the lanky man and putting his billy club under Bendiks' chin paused before saying "You need a haircut, comrade." The soldiers left, headed down another street. Isabel and Bendiks hurried in the opposite direction. That had been too close.