Bastions
Chapter Forty Nine: Union
Part 3
Prelude:
Rarely do two nations join together for the common good. Generally through war or inheritance a great nation is forged in the furnaces and the womb. Poland was, on paper, a country with her own ambassadors and King. But these were on paper. There were no ambassadors waiting in Krakow; there were no merchants looking for free passage in Danzig. King Doyvát loathed the division but had been faithful to his father to let the show go on. A show; that is all it was - a pathetic harking back to an unused crown. Deep in the vaults of Mariengrád one might find the crown of Poland lost among other riches pilfered from the country side. In December of 1388 the King of Prussia fell ill and what could have easily been shrugged off in the days of his youth quickly worsened and left the proud King bedridden. He called his advisors to his side and drafted a historic piece of parchment: the Decree of Union. In it, in just a few short lines, King Doyvát erased Poland from the map. The Decree merged Prussia and Poland now and forever. But its effects were limited. No nobles cried or cursed the day when their King deleted an old title. No serfs cried tears for a land they had never heard of and a language they had never spoken. This lack of nationalism is hard for modern people to understand. Today, nationalism and patriotism is part of our societal norms, but in the XIV Century a peasant only really knew the name of their ruler, would only rarely glimpse them in real life, likely never heard them, and certainly did not read any of their decrees. To them it was much harder to understand if their ruler was a foreigner unless it began to directly impact their lives. England is a good example: several thousand Normans could have a major impact on the language of the Saxons, but one Russian King could not leave more than a dynastical name.
October 22nd, 2012
A convoy of Prussian army trucks was stopped at the north check point. Kasimiras stood near-by, his rifle hanging from its shoulder strap. A official MP from the Zilina government flipped through the convoy's manifest, mostly civilian goods and food from the supportive Prussian government, but they had to make sure there were no arms or explosives so that the convoy would meet restrictions placed by the European Union. This was essentially a cop walking into a bar-brawl and asking for a clean fight, but it was very effective. Both sides wanted to show they were the "legitimate" side so quickly adopted the embargoes to prove the other was up to no good.
Suddenly, Kasimiras smelled something nasty and turned to another soldier a couple yards away lighting up a cigarette. "Can you do that farther away?" he asked.
"You more afraid of a little smoke than all the exhaust from these motors?"
"It smells like shit," Kasimiras said, shifting his weight.
"Smell great."
"What is that, clove?"
"Yeah. Fresh from the Far East."
"What are you, a sixteen-year-old girl?"
The other soldier looked angry but tossed his cigarette to the ground and stamped it out. He was obviously not from the German parts of Zilina were smoking was seen as a "German vice". He walked off in a huff, cursing under his breath about "mountain folk" and their quaint ways.
"Kaz. Kaz!" the MP called. Kasimiras walked over to him and waited for him to finish flipping through his papers. Despite the urgent sound to his voice he spent a great deal of time reading the last of the manifest, though eventually (and very casually) spoke up, "The Fourth is done for now, take'm back to the town and see you again tomorrow. Same time?"
Kasimiras turned and walked away without answering, the Fourth was due to be sent to the frontlines tomorrow. Maybe that is why everyone was on edge, even him. He returned to the Column, who had huddled around a fire they had built in a metal trash can. "We are off, head back to town?"
"Yeah," one of the other soldiers answered, "We were thinking Kat's for some grub before we head up front."
Kasimiras smiled, "Sounds good." They loaded up into the backs of the convoys and road them into Saint Nicholas. Once at the town center they jumped out at a red light and regrouped in a bombed-out restaurant. The place was Kat's, the original owner packed up and moved when the war started, leaving the place behind. One of the young servers upgraded herself to "Owner" and gave herself a job behind the bar. She served soldier favorites and when the place took a direct hit from an artillery round she barely batted an eye, putting up green camo tents as a replacement roof in the rain and all other times serving her grub in the open air. No one worried about a day when the previous owner would return, Kat had half the army on her side and the other half on the way.
The Fourth were her babies, though. They had been there when the shell fell, or more appropriately they were what attracted the shell in the first place. But nothing would dislodge them and they fought to clean out the city. From walls that once had generic decorations hung pictures of soldiers enjoying the bar, and from behind the bar itself hung a large banner of the Number Four. Few knew her thing for the Fourth was really a thing for Kasimiras, not even the intrepid man from the mountains.
"Boys!" she called as they walked in, quickly filling the place up. "What is with all the long faces, Kaz?"
"Back to the front tomorrow, Katja," he said.
Her face paled slightly as she watched him try to weakly smile, to tell her in a small gesture that everything would be okay. Recent weeks had been brutal, uncharacteristically so. But they were holding out. Not an inch to the Magyars, they would declare. Saint Nicholas was free and forever more it would be. "Well, drinks are me then!" she shouted, trying to rouse some cheers. She got some genuine smiles and a couple cheers, but people were worried. They had been fighting for a while now. They had watched a beautiful white-walled city turn into a twisted mangle of rubble and razor-wire. The city was nearly empty except for soldiers and a few brave souls who catered to them. Souls like Katja and her crew.
She got behind the counter and started pouring pints and passing them out. Kazimiras was last and with a little flick she left a heart in the foam on top of his mead. He looked down in it and smiled, maybe missing the point, but he looked back up, "Thanks."
"No problem, Sweetie. Let me put the TV on for you guys." She got out the remote and turned on the news. The only reliable channel was the Prussian affiliate of the French Broadcasting Company, based in Rennes, so it came in Breton with Prussian sub-titles. Their news was about as balanced was going to get and they talked about things other than the war. "Can I get you anything to eat?" She asked Kasimiras.
"Yeah... uh... can I get a Sicilian Cold Cuts?"
"White or Wheat?"
"Rye, if you have any."
"Fries or chips?"
"Neither, please. Unless you want them." She twisted her head to show he had made a dumb point, "Fine, fine... you own the place." She smiled and headed off to the back. Kasimiras turned to the screen. Football scores were currently coming up. Most international games in Europe were being postponed to try to force Hungary and Zilina to come to the peace tables. Didn't seem to make too much of a difference. Rumors were spreading of a mutiny in Hungary, but the anchor expressed that the claims were completely unsubstantiated. But just as he said that the ticker beneath him came up with "BREAKING NEWS FROM HUNGARY" Everyone turned to face the screen and someone called for Kasimiras to turn it up.
The anchor put his hand up to his ear to hold his earbud in a little closer. He paused as he listened to a message and then turned intently to the camera, "This just in from Pest: the Hungary government has ignored claims from their military and has voted to recognize the Republic of Zilina."
The room fell dead silent. Kat walked out with Kasimiras' sandwich and looked around, "What is wro..."
"SHHHH!" shushed someone. Kasimiras pointed to the TV screen which now had scenes of the war up on it while the anchor was in a tiny picture in picture.
"I repeat, reports from our reporters in Pest indicate that the Hungarian Parliament was voted to recognize the Republic of Zilina, essentially over-riding the insistences of military commanders that the war would end victoriously soon. The Prime Minister of Hungary has called a press conference."
The screen switched to a suited man surrounded by several armed guards, "Ladies and Gentlemen, after several months of armed conflict, I and the Parliament of Hungary have decided that the war for Zilina is not only a fruitless endeavor but one that is contrary to the wishes and morals of the Hungarian people. It is for that reason that I, as head of state of the nation of Hungary, do extend the olive branch to my counter-part in Saint Nicholas."
Suddenly the whole city was alive. Any soldier close to a TV or radio was out and dancing. Cheers and patriotic songs echoed through the marble-lined streets. The Fourth stood up and cheered. Kasimiras was pulled from the bar by an ecstatic comrade who locked elbows with him and together they danced a traditional jig. Round and round they went until Kasimiras tripped and landed with his back against the bar. In the cheering and shouting he looked up, smile across his face, just in time for Kat to run her hands through his hair and pull his face to hers.
***
November 1st, 2012
The Fourth Column was one of the few columns chosen to march in the colors parade to the capital. Beside them was the Sixteenth in their extravagant dress uniforms. The whole capital was packed full of people wanting to see the parade and sing patriotic songs as loud as they could. Zilina had chosen to accept Hungary's branch of peace the same day it was offered. Kasimiras tried glancing around to take in the scene, but had to keep his head facing forward. As they marched people threw flowers at them and at least once Kasimiras was pulled from the group to be kissed and have a wreath hung around his neck. Despite the celebrations it was a sad day for the Fourth and many of the other columns. Today the paramilitary forces would be disbanded, their purpose had been served. They would be separating, going their separate ways and heading back to their homes. Kasimiras was planning on staying in Saint Nicholas, he had a promise to Kat to keep. Plus German Zilina wasn't free just yet. That would happen sometime soon, though.
At the end of the main street stood ZIlina's capital, the front was decorated to hide the scars of war. Scaffolding surrounded the building as it was slowly put back together. The Prime Minsters of Zilina and Hungary as well as the heads of state of Prussia, France, the United Kingdom, and Germany stood proudly watching as the units marched two-by-two and then parted in front of them.
When it was all said and done Kasimiras made his way back to Kat's, still in the closest thing the paramilitary forces had to dress uniforms. She was wiping down the counter and smiled when he walked in. He rested his gun against one of the remaining pillars and left it there. He sat down on a stool and waited for his pint. "You know I'll have to have you actually work, right?"
Kasimiras shrugged, "I am fine with that. Me and you. We'll pass out more pints than you can shake a stick at."
Kat gave him a kiss on the forehead then handed him a pint of mead. "Of course we will, Sweetie. But first we should think about putting up a roof."
"Nah, I like the open feeling of the bar."
"That's fine, but I think the people who own the apartment above us will eventually want a floor... and probably some walls."
"Psah. Walls. Overrated." Kasimiras smiled and turned around on his stool. He looked out into the street. The bar started to fill up as more people made it back from the parade. The Fourth began to squeeze in, filling up all the seats. The pints flowed like water and the tables were covered in warm food. People who had not even known each other before the summer cried as they parted, sharing email addresses and other ways to contact one another. As the group posed for a picture a not-so-rugged figure stepped into the bar. Alex walked in and without missing a beat, he jumped into the picture next to his friend.
By the end of the night it was down to just Kat, Kasimiras, and Alex. "So when are you coming home, Kaz?"
"I am home," Kasimiras replied.
Alex smiled, but it only partially masked his sadness. "Fell in love with this old pile of rubble?"
"Well, it wasn't exactly the rubble. But yeah, if you fight for something long enough, why would you want to abandon it?"
"I guess it is not like the capital is far away. We aren't that big of a country," Alex said. "We'll miss you back home, buddy."
"I know," Kasimiras said, "But I'll be around."
"Everyone is proud, man. They never leave me alone. Your folks coming down?"
"Soon, they say. It is too crowded down here with the parade; dad isn't any good with crowds. Don't blame him. I sort of miss when the city was empty."
"I don't, I like that people are coming back. We didn't fight for a capital full of ghosts, Kaz."
"No, no we didn't. We all had something to fight for and it seems we both have it."
"Yeah. Well, I'll be seeing you around, Kaz. Take care of yourself."
"Alex, I am not going anywhere. You talk as if I was going away," Kasimiras said.
"You're right. I don't know why I am so gloomy. I guess it was because I thought I would be taking home our hero."
Kasimiras looked at Kat, who rolled her eyes, "I guess I can give you a few days off." She kissed him and then waved as the two men headed out.
"She's pretty, Kaz. I am happy for you."
"It is good to just have something to come back to." In the night shrouded city, there were only a few working lights left. But the two friends walked toward the train station, bags in hand. Back at Kat's, Katja walked over to a pillar where a gun was resting. She knew it was Kasimiras' but she could not leave it there. She picked it up and hung it on the wall with everything else. She smiled as she looked around. Kasimiras wouldn't be gone long, but soon she'd need the extra pair of hands as they tried to get the place ready for civilian life. All the soldiers that used to pack the place full were all headed home. The rowdy Texans were disbanding and finding flights back to the new world. Even the news was starting to forget. They went back to the mundane things that kept people entertained before. But a tiny little mountain nation would never forget. Rag in hand; Katja started polishing the counter again. As she did so she hummed a little tune.
Tine Zliná
Urins haburg já...