Steel and Magic

Sunlight streamed through the small windowpanes onto the dining table, where an earthenware bowl of steaming rice porridge sat waiting.

Beside it were small plates of pickled radish, cabbage, and other vegetables. Roasted meat lay on a flat wooden board, its skin coated in a thick, savory sauce, accompanied by several slices of pale bread.

As on every morning since his arrival, breakfast had been laid out in the front room of the small timber-framed house where Hermann was quartered.

He took his usual seat without hurrying and began to eat.

The food here isn’t bad. Though I still need to get used to such hearty breakfasts.

A middle-aged man entered the room and set down a tray bearing a teapot and a cup beside him.

“Thank you,” Hermann said, studying him briefly.

The man had dark, shoulder-length hair combed neatly back and a well-trimmed beard framing his face.

“You’ve been serving me for a week now,” Hermann began cautiously as the man poured the tea, “and I still don’t know your name.”

The man continued his work without a word or a pause.

“Fine. I’ll just call you James.”

No answer.

“How long have you been serving political detainees, James?”

The man didn’t react. Instead, he picked up the tray once he was finished, offered a brief bow, and disappeared into one of the rear rooms.

“Hey!” Hermann called after him, craning his neck to see where he had gone.

Then he let out a sigh and returned his attention to the meal.

Not even the damn butler talks to me, only those blasted interrogators with their endless questions...

Where do you come from? Where do the weapons come from? Who developed them? How many do your people possess? Are there more men like you?

He blew gently across the surface of the hot tea and remembered how they had once placed a map in front of him and instructed him to point out where he came from.

But he couldn’t.

At least I know now that this can’t be the same place I’m from. Though I still don’t know whether that’s supposed to comfort me or terrify me.

No sooner had Hermann finished eating than the door was unlocked from the outside.

The soldier who opened it stood silently in the doorway and watched him.

She was small and slight. Beneath the deep hood of her dark-red cloak, only the tips of her blonde hair were visible, making her look less like a military escort than a figure from a fairy tale.

He took one final sip of tea before standing and following her outside.

“Well then, Red Riding Hood, where are we headed today?” he asked casually.

She twitched slightly, clearly displeased by the nickname, but said nothing.

As she did every day, she led him through the clean streets of the Upper District, past government buildings, shops, and luxurious residences.

This time, however, they headed in an entirely different direction.

As they approached the checkpoint at the edge of the great barrier, Hermann suddenly felt his pulse quicken.

Wait a second. Am I finally getting out of here today?

Waiting on the far side was the same litter that had brought him here before, borne by the same armless women who had taken him to the Upper District days earlier.

Once they had climbed into the litter, an uneasy feeling settled in his stomach.

Feels a bit like I’m being taken to a firing squad. I just hope I’m wrong...

“So I take it there won’t be any interrogations today?” he asked his escort.

She turned her half-hidden face toward him, but once again he received no answer.

Hermann sighed in resignation.

“And here I thought our guards were tight-lipped.”

Why do I even keep talking to her? If she hasn’t responded in a week, why would she start today?

“Is it true?”

Hermann immediately snapped his head around at the sound of the soft, whispering voice.

Did Red Riding Hood just speak to me?!

“That men fight where you come from. Is it true?”

For a moment, he studied her in surprise.

So that’s the question that finally breaks her silence?

“Yes,” he said at last.

Her hands twitched slightly.

“You too?”

He nodded.

“And the women?”

He hesitated briefly before answering.

“Their duty is to secure the future of our people. As mothers.” His gaze lingered for a moment on her slight frame. “Once they come of age...”

She raised her head, disbelief flashing in her hazel eyes beneath the hood.

Shortly afterward, the vehicle came to a halt, and she lapsed back into silence.

“What nonsense...” he heard her mutter before they climbed out.

***

They had arrived in a secluded part of the city, well outside the Upper District, though not far from the outskirts of the Lower District.

Hooded guards patrolled the area on flight discs, their eyes constantly scanning the surroundings.

Directly ahead stretched yet another magical barrier, though this one was different from the others he had seen so far.

Its surface reflected the surrounding environment so perfectly that its true nature was apparent only at close range.

When they stepped through, Hermann immediately noticed the soldiers stationed along the inside of the barrier, feeding magic into it.

He remembered the Grapevine, where the same kind of spell had been used to create a three-dimensional map.

Tong called it illusion magic. Looks like they’re combining it with barrier magic here for camouflage purposes. 

Impressive.

Then he looked ahead.

And froze.

There, in the middle of the concealed compound, surrounded by groups of women dressed in all manner of uniforms and robes, stood several tables.

And on them...

Firearms.

Metal gleamed in the sunlight. Dark barrels. Wooden stocks.

Without thinking, Hermann took a step forward.

So they really did build them. No. Create them with magic...

Hermann recognized them all.

The K98k and the buzzsaw are probably from the Grapevine. That one up front is a Luger, less effective against Manylegs, I’d think. The MP40 beside it might do better.

Another step.

Wait a minute...

His eyes widened.

Is that an FG42? I’ve only ever heard of those. Never used one myself.

Then his gaze settled on another weapon.

And this time, the sight struck him almost like a physical blow.

But... that’s an MP43. Just like back then, when we...

He moved closer.

But the guards noticed immediately.

Hands shot upward, magic crackling between their fingers.

“Back off!“

Only then did Hermann realize that he had already reached out toward it.

Slowly, he pulled it back.

As he took a step away from the weapons, his gaze wandered from the firearms to the groups of women studying him with interest...

...until he spotted a familiar face not far away.

Isn’t that the Creationist who helped me during the battle? Tanna, wasn’t it?

She stood among several other Creationists who, like her, wore blue jumpsuits with large white ruffled collars.

Tanna looked exhausted, just like the women beside her. Her face was pale and drawn.

Did she have to create all of these? She looks completely worn out...

“Is that him?” he heard someone ask.

He turned around.

“Yes,” replied another voice, one Hermann recognized instantly. “If everyone’s ready, we can begin.”

“Very well, Commander. We’re eager to see whether this man and his weapons can live up to your claims.”

Zirka turned toward Hermann and gestured toward the tables.

“Show them what you showed me.”

For a brief moment, Hermann stood frozen.

Then he nodded with a faint smile and stepped toward the first weapon.