Liberi Reader

The youth steps forward and grabs Talulah's hand.

Under the gloomy sky, a fierce fire rages.

First, the barn roof flies into the sky, but before the wooden frame touches the ground, another shell smashes through the barn, flipping barrels by the well...

Over the distant hillside, cannons flash and flicker, like matches being lit, one after another.

Another barrage of shelling hits the field even before that shout could finish. Splintered wood and dirt rain down as burdenbeast herds neigh alongside children crying, their long period of peace ripped apart.

Nine and the Reunion warriors following her arrive in the center of the farm, looking upwards at the massive infantry force rushing down the hill.

Before her blossoms a sea of blood-red flowers, surging towards their enemies.

I know Father and Mother were not buried together.

Father is interred in the royal mausoleum, while Mother is buried in the apple orchard of the summer palace, in a small graveyard at the end of the rows.

...I couldn't possibly have hidden this fact from my mind by simply refusing to think about it.

Only a single inscription is carved upon the stone.

'For my eternal love. Here I lay to rest in peace her soul.'

Inside the cemetery, a small, simple gravestone leans upon an ornate, royal tombstone, like a child nestling in its mother's arms.

The usually frank servant suddenly pauses. She looks up at the Tsar to observe his expression, as if unsure if she should continue.

The coffin was buried in a shallow grave—one man is enough to haul it up.

It opens to a question. The small box, enough only to house a pet or young child, is completely empty.

No remains nor any belongings are inside.

Nothing at all.

The Tsar approaches the coffin and gets down on one knee, reaching out to rub the surface.

Finally, he spots a name engraved upon it.

Anastasia.

Sister.

Nastya.

He looks up at the yellow-green leaves and branches, growing from the trees—none of them apple trees.

If the dead are not dead, if vivid memories can be wrong, if forgotten history can be recovered, then...

What other impossibilities lie in wait?

'...General Afanasy Igorevich Khratov, former commander of the Sixth Army's First Division and chief of staff.'

He first distinguished himself in the battle of the Four Emperors, and in the Tenth Ursus-Kazimierz War, led a small elite force to thwart the enemy's counterattack, a rare feat amongst his peers.'

'Later, he demonstrated exemplary prowess in both border and local conflicts with his considerable expertise in combat, raid, suppression, and mediation operations.'

'He learned from his defeat on the Bloodpeak Campaign, and in the Great Rebellion, led his troops away from the Sixth Army and surrendered to the State Council, all to buy more crucial time for a later counterattack...'

In between his words, Hellagur swiftly lifts the book to show her the cover, while simultaneously ripping out the page he just read, crumpling it into a ball in his palm.

The already fragile book shakes only slightly, instead of falling apart.

[Image(image="73_i25_3", screenadapt="coverall", xScale=1.2, yScale=1.2, x=-100, y=0, fadetime=3)]

Immersed in the bright light of the twin moons, she casts her gaze to the depths of the ocean.