Chapter 8

It took the Klarwasser Mercenary Company a full week to march from Holenstadt to Leibenstadt. They arrived at a giant sprawling camp outside of a massive castle town. At the entrance of the camp they were greeted by a small retinue of important looking people, and the one at the very front in particular caught the Baron’s eye.

He was very skinny and very tall, possibly taller than the Baron, though it was hard to tell when he was riding on a horse. He had tired eyes with great big purple bags underneath them. His face was clean shaven and had dark graying hair and blue eyes. But what caught the Baron's attention the most was his attire. He was wearing what looked like a soviet officer’s hat and greatcoat. His overcoat was a dull gray and on his shoulders were two red stripes displaying stars and medals.

There were 10 large buttons going down his chest that looked like nothing you would find Imperial craftsmen making, far too simple for someone important enough to meet with the Baron. His officer’s peaked cap had a red star on it surrounded with golden leaf pattern on either side. At his side was a holster with a pistol in it, though it was a flintlock from the look of it, as well as a simple looking kilij.

The rest of the men around him were impressive looking, but they looked like Empiresmen. Their armor was beautifully crafted and covered in elaborate decorations, marking them as either nobles or high ranking generals, most likely both. But the man in the middle looked like a general straight out of the Soviet Union. The Baron sat there with his mouth agape, and Ludwin leaned over and whispered in his ear.

“It seems we are being greeted by the Empress’s Spymaster himself. I had heard he dressed differently from us, but I didn’t quite expect this. People from other worlds definitely have strange fashion sense.”

“Wha-...did you say...do you mean…”

“Yes. I know. It is rather strange that the Empress would allow an Otherworlder into her inner circle, let alone allow him to wear the traditional garb of his homeland while working for her. Let alone that she allows him to wear the insignia of his former homeland. The Empress has very strict rules about what auxiliaries can wear, but I suppose being the Empress means you get to make acceptions when it suits you.”

Ludwin sounded mildly irked.

The Baron’s mind was spinning. He was having a lot of trouble processing what Ludwin had just said. Did he say...that he was from another world? Does that mean...that there are other people like me?

“Oh uh...yeah how...strange…” The Baron was having an incredibly rough time trying to play off his surprise. It was obviously not working. Fergus rode up besides him with a confused look on his face.

“Baron, ah, ya donnae seem leik tha type ta beh flustered ova sum strange clothes. Didyanae travel tha world fer ten an’ a 'alf years after yer wife passed? Shouldnya be used tae different dress by now? Aye ken yer a Empiresman an’ oll but tha resta tha lad havnae problem.”

Fergus’s voice cut through the Baron and he felt a pang of sadness at the mention of his wife, though he had no idea why, or even that he had a wife, but it was enough to knock him out of his stupor. He turned and saw his lieutenants looking either worried or confused by his strange silence.

“Ah, sorry. Spymaster Brusilov just looks...different...than I imagined him looking. I'm sure it's something about my head injury. Come on then, let us ride up to meet with him.”

As they rode closer to the Spymaster they felt a sense of unease emanating from him. It wasn’t enough to freeze them in place, but it was an extremely uncomfortable feeling. The Spymaster spoke in a deep voice with a very heavy Russian accent.

“Здравствуйте, Gentlemen, good to finally meet you, the famous Baron von Bickenstadt.”

“Привет Spymaster, well met.”

Both the Baron and the Spymaster’s eyes shot open in surprise, but Brusilov recovered so fast it was barely noticeable, while the Baron was dumbstruck for a couple of seconds. No one around them seemed to notice.

“Well, gentlemen, I would offer you food, but time is of essence. Follow General Bogenhaffen to your camp,”

Brusilov gestured toward the man with a giant red plume coming out of his helmet.

“Empress has already set up for you. After your men are set up and comfortable, come to war tent, you will know it when you see it. There I will brief you on mission for all of you. With your arrival, the siege begins tomorrow.”

Everyone nodded in understanding and followed General Bogenhafen. Brusilov gestured toward the Baron to come to him. The Baron told Ludwin to take over while he was gone and rode over to the Spymaster.

“Come, товарищ, to my personal tent, I have feeling we have much to discuss.”

The Baron followed him to a large but sparsely decorated tent. They both dismounted and walked through the cloth door. Inside was a desk which Brusilov went to sit at. He brought out two glasses and began pouring what looked like wine into two cups.

“Is grape juice, no alcohol, unfortunately. We need to be at full capacity for attacking city.”

He handed the cup to the Baron, and he took a sip. Yup, he thought, that’s grapejuice. Don't know what I was expecting.

“So, you are reincarnation?” The Baron choked on his drink, coughing hard as the grape juice entered his windpipe.

“There is nowhere in this world you would be able to learn Russian, it would seem that my people just never got a foothold in here.”

His accent disappeared, and it sounded like he was speaking English with an American accent.

“That deep Russian accent I have is something I do to throw people off. It works pretty well, right?”

The Baron finally regained his bearings enough to answer.

“Yes, it really did throw me off. You sounded like you had just learned German and weren't comfortable for it’s grammatical structure yet.”

Though, I have no idea why I am able to understand and speak German, my first and only language was English.

“Yes, it makes interrogating and negotiation easier, it makes people think I am dumb, so they try to take advantage of me, and then I strike. It works every time. Oh, the language here is known as 'Reikers', but the way. Anyways, you are a reincarnation, that much is clear. I thought something was up when I saw you gawking at me. I knew that the great Baron von Bickenstadt was quite a learned man, but no one man can learn of everything, so perhaps you were just seeing my coat for the first time and were interested in it. If that were the case, I'd let you take a look, no harm done there.”

Brusilov took a quick sip of his grapejuice.

“But, then you spoke to me in Russian, a language only a select few even have knowledge of in this world. I knew there was only one explanation, that you were a reincarnation. Well, two explanations, but the other meant I would have to purge my men, and I don't particularly want to do that, dealt with plenty of purging during my stint in the KGB. You haven’t learned how to properly control your gifts from the gods yet, am I right? Does anyone else know about your reincarnation? Do you think tha-"

The Baron shook his hands in front of him and sat forward.

“Woah woah woah! Slow down man! I am having trouble following you. I am supposed to be from this world, and as you said I am supposed to be extremely well educated, so I couldn’t just ask questions about how things work here, so I need you to explain some things to me.”

“Hm, you should have been given memories when you reincarnated. Ok then, let us go through my questions one by one, and later I will answer whatever questions you have to ask me. You are obviously a reincarnation, so where are you from back home? And what year are you from? As I am sure you can tell I am from the Soviet Union, born and raised in Vladivostok. I died in 1986, Afghanistan is going to be the death of the Union, mark my words.”

“I am from the U.S, Nyc specifically. I died the year of our lord 2019.”

Brusilov stroked his chin in thought.

“Wow, that is a significant time difference. Tell me, has the Soviet Union fallen?”

“Yes, in fact it ended very soon after your death. There's a reason we call Afghanistan 'the Graveyard of Empires', it ruins everything that tries to invade it. The Soviet Union broke apart in 1991, the U.S won the cold war.”

Brusilov slumped in his chair.

“So I died for nothing, only prolonging the inevitable. Well, nothing I can do about that now. There is a lot I wish to ask about the future, but we have more important fish to fry. Now, tell me, how much do you know about your gift from the gods?”

“I have no idea what that even is.”

“Oh god, we may not even have time run through everything you need to know. Think of the gifts from the gods as them granting you super powers, like Superman, or more accurately Captain America. I don't have the resources to learn about your gift yet, so you will have to wait for the Seekers to come. Oh, don't worry about what they are right now, no time to explain. One of the gifts for all people like us, otherworld summons and reincarnations, is the gift of language, though I guess it's technically possible that someone from this world could be gifted that. Hasn't happened yet. Anyways, we can speak, read, and understand all languages, from here and our world. The problem is that if you don’t learn how to control it you will just speak whatever language you heard last, so you will need to work on that.”

“Wait so, I have super powers?”

“Essentially. About 20% of the population are what we call ‘Gifted Ones’, they are far stronger, faster, smarter, and generally taller than the average person, though some argue that they are only stronger, faster, and taller, but that's neither here nor there. That's a job for sociologists. In addition to that, many of them are gifted abilities by the gods. You definitely have a gift, one or more is given to all summons or reincarnations, you just need to learn what it is and how to use it.”

The Baron stroked his beard in contemplation.

“Hmmm. Sometimes, when I’m fighting, I can perfectly predict what my opponent is going to do, like how they will swing, how they will feint, and the trajectory of their weapon, and react to it before they are able to do it. It only happens sometimes, but it does happen often enough to be noticeable. I doubt it is just lucky guesses, the predictions are too detailed. Almost like a vision.”

“That is most likely a gift from the gods. You will be able to control it in due time. Well, there is not much I can do for you right now.” He stood up from his desk and resumed his thick Russian accent. “We have work to do. Let us get to it. I will send you wine later, maybe we discuss future after siege is finished.”

He smiled and ushered the Baron out of his tent and escorted him to his men’s camp.

“Tell your lieutenants they have two hours of rest, I will tell Empress you are exhausted from march. You made good time, by the way. All the way Holenstadt in just a week? Sheesh.”

“Thank you, Brusilov. See you in two hours.”

The Baron walked into his tent after telling the men to rest and laid down on his cot, contemplating all he had learned so far. As he was contemplating what has happened in the past week and change since he was summoned to this strange land, he slowly drifted off to sleep.