[Writing] NaNoWriMo 2011 - Flight of the Eagle

Here are the first three chapters of my NaNoWriMo entry, Flight of the Eagle.

Flight of the Eagle





“There is nothing to writing.
All you do is sit down at a typewriter and bleed.”
- Ernest Hemingway

   “You will return to me, won’t you, Conrad?”
   “Of course, my dear.”
   “I don’t want you getting killed in this silly war.”
   “I know, my dear.”
   “I’m not quite sure what i’d do without you... You know...”
   The man turned around from his desk, dressed in a heavy black, woolen coat. The interior around him was littered with stacks of paper, spinning gyros, wheels and globes of all sorts. Books lay strewn out on the dark, lush mahogany, open to whichever pages. Light shone in with an abrasive bright, white luster from the outside windows to his left side. Opposite of him, a woman stood, dressed in heavy greens and blacks, gripping a closed umbrella with herculean might, twisting it back and forth.
   “Oh, Conrad! Please!” She cried out, her coarse black hair shifting with her dramatic body movements at the shoulder. The man grimaced and turned back around, putting on an equally black top hat with his heavy winter coat. He stood on thin legs, dressed in a finer black polyester like apparel. “Conrad, please, don’t go.” The woman wrenched out once more, standing next to a lush, cream colored chair that was stacked with books all over, papers jutting out of them like torn pages.
   The man turned from facing his desk and walked over to the door, now with the wall on his right, as sunlight bloomed from the window in almost unappeasable white. He grabbed his gloves off of a prong on the coatrack, as equally as lush crimson that matched the rest of the room. He turned around, facing the room that extended off into walled bookshelves, candelabras hanging from the ceiling, a few articles of clothing and papers hanging off of them. The woman stormed over, kicking up the white loose leafs that littered the floor.
   “Conrad, you aren’t going! You can’t, it’s not safe over there yet!” The woman protested vehemently, moving up to the mans face.
   “Ah, but my dear, life isn’t safe!” He joyfully said, a thread of annoyance stinging underneath his voice with a smile on his face. As soon as his gloves were on, he opened the door behind him and leaned backwards as a great deal of snow drifted inward, looking for a place to stay. Before he hit the few feet that rested on the ground, the man floated upwards, looking down at the door as he continued his skyward advance, backwards.
   “Conraaaaaad!” The woman yelled, voice wavering with the distance and the wind.
   “I will make sure to bring something back to you, my dear!” He said as he turned around, speeding upward into the sky. The wind turned from the red and brown based city below as he flourished through the cold snow, debris collecting on his coat and hat. He popped upward beyond the cloud as a contingency of floating ships coasted slowly above the snowstorm. They were mighty, looking much like ships that sat in the sea, without sails. Great, heavy metal warships with all sorts of cannons commandeered the sky, as the flying man reached the greatest one in the center. Upon it’s side read in bold, white lettering, “Sturmkrähe.” As he reached the deck side, layered in yellow wood, men were working and all turned to look at him, stopping their immediate course or discourse.
   He smiled warmly as the men craned their heads to see the flying black shape above them. He reached the center hold of the ship, and vanished as the air around him turned blue and rippled outward like water disturbed. He appeared within the walls of the ship, back to the window he had vanished from, papers laying on desks flushing off around him. Inside, black, white, and red flags were draped across the red wood, much like the man’s own home. The floors were carpeted a dark blue, and tables were proximally placed around, and very stalwart, tall standing men were all around them. They were dressed in great uniforms, with epaulets and sparkling decorations, all of which shined in the white snowbound light. The men all turned to look as he appeared silently, and most went quiet as he did so.
   “Herr Kaiser Wilhelm! The guest of honor has arrived!” One enlisted man said, and at the end of the conference room, a man with his back to the window turned around. He had a great upturned mustache, hanging epaulets and many sashes and cords in great decoration on his pure white uniform. A sword rested by his side, hanging downward to his shiny, reflective black leather boots. Most notable of all was the helmet atop his head, it’s edge right above his brow. It was black like the boots, but a golden eagle sat on the top, upward by half of a foot. Its wings were outstretched in a glorious pattern of bravery on the battlefield. He smiled as the man arrived, walking through the significantly less decorated men.
   “Just the man I wanted to see! I was beginning to wonder if we would have had to land the ship to fetch you.” He said with a great, hearty joy in his voice, marching with militant heel to toe over to the man in black. “Where would we be to claim our place in the sun if the man who had allowed us to do it were not here?”
   He clapped the man on the shoulder and led him further into the room, to a table where a map of the world was strewn out, other papers sitting in a scattered way on top. He moved them aside with a quick hand, pointing to it. Across it, the world was largely covered in red, except for England, half of the Russian Federation, Australia, North America, and South America. Inside Europe, the German Empire was a darker shade of crimson.
   “Ah, my dear Conrad, you will see with your own eyes the victory of our empire. Nineteen Eighteen will be a year to remember, in all of history, as we move across the sea and begin the true flight of the crow!” He valiantly declared, as the rest of the men cheered on, clapping in good aspiration. Conrad placed his hand gently on the map, as he forced the rest of the red to overcome the blue on the world, and eventually the oceans, as the Kaiser looked on with wonder.
   “You’ve got the right idea in mind. With your capability and our knowledge, this red square will be our red square. Now and forever.” He said, clapping Conrad on the back as the man in the black coat just simply watched the table, unyielding, eyes transfixed on the red square.

 Chapter One
   “You’re going to be late.”
   “I don’t care. Today is the only day it hasn’t been snowing.”
   “Well, don’t get mad at me if you fail your classes.”
   A young man dressed in pitch black stepped out of the door of his home and into the gleaming white snow. He put on his top hat and moved out into the trail carved by many months of foot to automobile. His roommate, dressed in eloquent white, followed him like a ghost into fog.
   “Certainly Conrad, there can’t be anything special about this!”
   “I know what i’m doing, Friedrich.” He kept walking, carving a new path into the snow, one untouched by feet for the season.
   “How can you know what you’re doing? That stone is older than the both of us, it could be older than our city!” The young man in white called out, and the man in black turned around in a huff, hands jammed into the woolen pockets of the coat.
   “Friedrich, that stone could be just as old as Hannover. That’s exactly why I want to go see it. I don’t care about our stupid Universität.” The adventurer remarked, snapping outward as the man in white stood on the common path.
   “You’re being uncharacteristic, Conrad. These things can wait, you know, you’re not in class all day!” He called out, but Conrad had turned around and was walking across the back lawn and into the snowcapped tree line. “You’re just going to find nothing out there!”
   Conrad had already moved out of earshot, weaving between trees as he marched through the snow, trudging his feet all the way up over the edge and down again, leaving knee high craters. He rubbed his stubbled jaw, unpreened and rough for a young man of his age. His blue eyes wicked from one place to another, as trees soon became all that were around. The landmarks of the ground were gone, covered in a great plume of snow that had pierced their deciduous canopy. His coat dragged in the snow behind him, bringing up a flurry of crystals. The birds in the trees were quiet with the winter, and the sun berated down on the snow with great passion through any gap it could find against the heavy tree line, all of the ancient woods leafless save the occasional pine standing mighty amongst the dead.
   As the young man, stricken at the age of a university student, looked back and forth, he cried out in a yelp as his feet sunk downward and he tumbled forward along snow, down a great slope. He came sliding to a halt, side squeaking on a thoroughly frozen river, the snow brushed away on the slick surface, revealing the blue and white frost underneath, sparkling in the sun. It was frozen to the core, it seemed a small fish had been trapped in the wrath of the seasons, held in place. Conrad frowned, placing his hand over the top of the chilled river, feeling the same entrapment. He too, was a fish held down by the world.
   Conrad shook his head, standing up to the best of his capability on the ice, making a move to step onto the snow as quickly as possible, arms outstretched for balance. Overhead, snow was starting to drift throughout the air as he turned and walked up the river, the wind taking hold through the valley indent made by the small stream. Trees stood mighty tall amongst the line of the valley, a few of their roots visible along the walls, partially covered in snow as compared to the rest of the area. Conrad marched onward, occasionally slipping on the ice and plummeting into the white below.
   The landmarks had returned, partially. Snow was beginning to collect on him, piece by piece, melting under his body heat as the collided with his shoulders. He seemed to be walking forever, and scratched his head in mild confusion. It had, in fact, been years since he had been there. Back when it was summer, and wandering like a child was incredibly acceptable. It was sharply clear of what had happened, however.
   The child slipped on his footing and slid through the mud, the specks of wet dirt flying through the air wildly. The heel of his prim black shoe hit a tree branch and the child launched forward, rolling into water that engulfed him, gravity was suddenly no longer a problem. The child opened his eyes as a fish slithered by, frightened greatly. The blue light shone downward, just as the young boy realized that breathing was unusually difficult, and his head burst from the water, the warm air filling his lungs in one deep breath.
   The young man soon reached the great lake, coveted in ice. Snow was drifting across the sky and landing amongst the lake, swirling off in great fairy dances and patterns by the wind across the ice. The lake expanded around the trees, culling off in all directions. The young man, hands in his pockets gently, walked to the center, looking around. Trees had grown since then, the path wasn’t divergently clear.
   To the child, it was. After hiking the great rise to the mouth of the water, the lake expanded as an ocean, far and wide as the young boy could comprehend. Along the right side shore led a pathway in, heavily guarded by brush warriors and stalwart trees, all a vibrant brown and green camouflage. The entirety popped with color, as the leaves and branches swayed in the wind. He trailed along the shore line, swinging a stick at every standing reed and branch that had embedded itself in the dirt.
   The young man walked along the shifting, slick dunes of ice with great care. His hands were laced within his pockets, the shoulders were up and the wind began to take hold of the lake air, the forest side of the German state had grown heavy with ice and the lace of the winter grasp within one another. He crossed upon the water like the savior above, the ice-caked coat tail hanging from him in jagged, lofty waves.
   The child had moved further into the brush, pushing away the green life that had begun to overtake the road and the dirt beneath, the leaves and the trees all pushed and swayed with a gentle unison, the strings of a symphony, the soft waves in the ocean breach. The entire woods seemed to be enwrapped with the motherly breeze of the nation, all slow and gentle as motion built forward. The sounds of the small lake had began to push themselves away, they were gently replaced with the thousand cacophonous array of wildlife that lingered within the greened trees, their branches gnarled and twisted with a great deal of age, the ancient woods of lore coming to life as the young child aimlessly wandered in a vast wonder.
   Beyond his years, the man stepped off onto the shore of dirt and snow, the snow above him starting to push the trees as the partially spent blue sky was raptured beyond and the claustrophobic white clouds had overtaken in a furious, Wagern-esque display of capability. The young man was looking upward as he walked, right into a gnarled pathway that twisted in and out of the woods, the dead bushes and leaves all vanished into the earth from whence they came. He had kept his cold hands within the confines of his pocket, and brought his pockets up to cross his arms as the chill of the age had began to take hold into himself, beginning with the loss of feeling in his jaw.
   He withdrew his hands, rubbing them together as the wind began to blow with a violent, vehement gale against him, rushing through the pathway in the trees and bulking against him in a rage. He looked up, top hat flying off of his head, and turned around to run after it. It picked up into the air and was brought over the tree line as a sacrifice to the woods. It was gone, and Conrad turned back around, feet grinding in the snow, and walked against the gust that had overtaken the entire woods, bringing a forthright full of snow that had begun to collect along the baselines of the trees that had created this open pathway.
   The child had, without doubt, certainly gotten lost. The world was no longer the mythic pathway that had lead from his home and into the unknown-known, where adventure had lay in wait all ready with the golden road to lead one back to whence he was, to their home and particular refuge of hearth. The trees were no longer the guidance, they were the obstacle. They did not run in a direct path, they had suddenly and without warning become the deterrent to the return home. It was as if the woods was watching and waiting, a snake in the grass that served to disorient.
   He began to run, aimless, through the tree line. The wind gently tossed around leaves, they danced and circled around the young boy. Fear was the first emotion to set in, followed with a full right of panic. It coursed through his blood, possibly for the first time. Every breath he took was uncharacteristically cold for the midst of summer, he was no longer weightless in the water, but now there was nothing but forlorn opportune for dying, a concept that was unthinkable, uncreatable. The woods twisted, they turned, they stole terror throughout the boy, they took his senses and spread them across the woods. He continued to move, with a great frightened aspect.
   Within the cusp of the woods, all caked in snow and the sky was a flashing white and burdening grayscale that was growing dark in anticipation, the wind pushed him backwards, it was at the point of nearly removing the young man from his feet, from turning him away from his destination. The woods no longer wished to guide him to their destination, to their very soul, but now they only willed to turn him away from his recourse. He was in a struggle against the elements, against the forest. The Universität was at the extreme far from his mind, the entire morning seemed to be as if it had never happened, as if none of it had come to fruition. His housemate would probably be home at this point, as Conrad checked his pocket watch with great difficulty, the winds battering gale was beginning to distort and shift in intensity, from great to greater.
   The effort was becoming incredibly herculean for both the young child in the summer breeze and the young man in the hardened grip of the winter. They were both against a seeding feeling that caught beneath their souls, like the beginning of a mighty tree or an invasive vine. It was but a seed, but the warm conditions and the power of the woods had let it grow at an immense rate that life itself would be incapable of doing. Frost had begun to correlate itself along the jawline and the cheekbones of the man, it was collecting and combining as atoms did, the shards of ice had become a singular sheet of frost that had coated his face.
   He had turned away from the path that he was once lost upon as the wind berates through the trees, it howled with a great anguish as the trees heaved with the weight of the snow. His vision had deteriorated, and there was no longer the sense of control as he continued to wander throughout the trees. The memories of his youth had resurfaced back to him in a great speed, they flourished inward like the imaging pictures of opening a long lost book or chest, the history of his life had been returning to him all at once and without warning. The child and the young man were one, they were once again reunited with the comment element amongst each other, fear.
   The young child was running through the brush, there was no vision other than the immediate, the there. The trees came and went in a camouflaged blur, they began to blend in with the ground and the sky, the forest soon became the world, the whole together and the world as one. He ran, as the man walked, the child was pushed, the elder was resisted. The direction of the wind came from a starkly single viewpoint to the elder Conrad, it seemed to wrap around the trees and push against his core, chilling him downward to the soul. His face had begun to paralyze within the grip of the cold, his jawline was ethereal, a phantom to his physical body.
   It was within this point that the young Conrad had found the destination that the woods had pointed him to, that had directed him in the great sweep, and the entire woods had calmed. The fear had vanished as the wind subsided. The clearing was a small circle, but the clearing was no terminology worthy, it was enwrapped in gnarled vines that had overtaken the ground and the trees surrounding. The center of the clearing was the resting home of a great obelisk, towering upward to the skies, ravaged by time. The youngling cautiously stepped forward over the vines, the footing disabled, the world shifted. The air was a peculiar state of calm, the breeze had subsided, as if the magic was gone from the woods.
   The eldest Conrad had not reached his destination, the wind against him drove a great gale as he trudged onward. The younger, however, reached the land before him. The older withdrew his pocket watch with another great difficulty, the bastion of wind unrelenting. He barreled himself up against the trunk of a tree, snowbound on one side and merely frosted on the other. The time was reaching the evening with almost unreal speed. He closed it, grabbing the line of his coat and raising the collar, pursuing the wind with spartan comfort.
   Within the great hold of the woods, the young Conrad walked with great trepidation to the obelisk, towering high over his head. Beneath, a small plate of corroded stone barely read an inscription of days gone past.
“ER LYSE ERE MERLYN
Y’ERE MERCHNT THE VYLD
MAJK LYVE ERE TO RETVRYNS”
   This was all it had read out, it appeared, the rest laid to ruin in time. The letters themselves were far from pristine, but still there. As the young man ran forward with all of his might, oppressed by the growing wind, the young boy slid off his glove. The young man had reached the clearing but the wind had not calmed as it did in his youth, he had lost his footing and was grabbing the vines, moving towards the obelisk as if he were scaling the horizontal forest. The boy reached to touch the obelisk, but halted. He stopped, locked in thought.
   The young man stole forward with great might, invigorated by his arrival. There was the slight touch of fear within them, an unsettlement. Elder Conrad bit his lip, reaching the base of the obelisk. The pocket watch had flown from his fingertips, lost with his hat in the woods. This compelling necessity to return to the stone was by and far unusual, but it had to be done. As he reached out with great might, uncertainty took hold yet he barreled forward, and just as the young Conrad touched the stone, so did the older. Their fingers touched the stone, and the two of them felt nothing.
   The wind sabotaged him, and Conrad went flying off into the tree line, tumbling backwards and landing out of sight of the epithet. The wind and the snow still carried, as Conrad coughed from the deep of his throat, a burning sensation down at the bottom. The young Conrad was still standing there, looking around as if something were to happen. The magic of the woods felt as if it had vanished, no longer resting in wait for the wandering soul in need of help. He looked around, and knew where home was. Unceremoniously, the young Conrad left, traveling through the tree line until he was certain the road was ahead. Stepping out into a lower ditch, his assumptions were correct. The road led off left and right, obviously deeper in to the right and the other going the opposite.
   The modern Conrad was unfortunately not as lucky. The snow still blazed, covering his shoulders in a patch of sleeted ice, which was beginning to freeze down his back as he walked away, pushed forward in greater speed by the wind behind him. It was stoic to move his joints, as he moved behind tree to tree to catch a break from the vicious wind that bore against his very soul, the bones and the exterior. The fear was replaced by a small settlement of anguish, it tore at him at the lack of spectacular happenings. Was his housemate right, had he wasted the day for nothing? The sky was growing dark, the fallen snow was reflecting the meager light the day had produced against the sky. Conrad vaulted forward, stumbling into the valley entrenched in snow.
   He looked up, deep into the sky, and the sky stared back to him. It was dark, and loomed over, the clouds with no thread or form but a consistent darkness that rained white. He shook his head, red with the deepest burn of the frost upon his skin. The young man strode across the lake, head drawn low and shoulders raised high, the slide of the ice trekked with cautious movements. He stepped downward along the beaten path, the wind subsiding greatly since his return from being lost amongst the wood. The snow drifted lazily from the sky to the forest below, in wide, decorated snowflakes, landing on the cold Conrad.
   He made no effort to brush them off as he walked along the frozen stream side, returning to the place in which the snow had once been brushed from to reveal the river beneath, and his footprints had started marking. He turned to the slope, stepping with great steps along the narrow footholds, steeply. The snow slunk downward in a swishing pattern along his trail, climbing to the stable level. He marched onward, sniffling greatly and rubbing his jaw, the feeling completely gone forth from him.
   He weaved in and out through the trees and broke back into the edge of the city, the lights of Hannover lighting up the snow and reflecting an orange hue into the sky. He marched along the paths set earlier and opened the back door with great ease, a flourish of snow gusting inward as he shut it. The entire home was dark, as he stood in the claustrophobic back kitchen, the rickety table bare of any sign of life on it. The lights shone in from the closed curtains in light threads, barely illuminating his path. Feeling around, stumbling and shivering, Conrad managed to make his way into the living room from the pathway of wall and cupboard his fingers walked upon. He stepped inward in great, slow strides, cautious of what hit his feet.
   Snow melted slowly off of him as he made his way to the mantle, nearly knocking off a few framed portraits as he did so. His stiff, unrelenting hands managed to secure a box in the midst of the darkness that coveted the home. He opened the box and withdrew one of the sticks inside, ripping it on the side. It flared in a spark shower and created fire, everything within inches of it visible. Conrad bent over and stuck it to the firewood resting in the dark gray stones, the fire transferring and catching hold of the barked wood. He shook out the match as the room slowly but surely illuminated into a soft orange light that harshly shadowed the silhouettes of every outstanding thing in the room. Conrad stepped backwards and collapsed on the couch, eyes and bones heavy with the spirit of exhaustion. He sat with his arms laying by his side, the red orange light flickering and swaying back and forth with unpredictable anticipation.
   Behind him, Conrad turned his head lazily to his left as a door opened. The soft press of footprints carried off a womanly figure into the light and into the kitchen where a light was turned on. He looked back further as his housemate stepped out as well, hands in the pockets of a white robe.
   “You’ve been gone all day and all night, Conrad.” The young man in black turned his head back to the fire, the feeling recovering in his bones. He took a deep breath and coughed the rest out heavily.
   “It just had to be done. The dreams had to stop.” He said, still leaned back against the plume of the back rest and his neck on the hard, shaped wood.
   “You’re probably sick.”
   “Probably.”
   Friedrich turned, walking around the couch and into the kitchen. A few moments later, the woman walked back into his room without a glance or a word. Conrad paid her no attention, staring into the warmth, safe fire.
   “You have no restraint, do you?” Friedrich asked, crossing his arms. “No fears, no foresight.”
   Conrad simply raised his arm, slowly growing less stiff, waving him away. Friedrich simply shook his head and walked into his room, shutting the door with a gentle knob turn. The man in black closed his eyes in front of the fire and drifted off to sleep, breathing heavily and slowly. The house was still except the crack of fire and the brush of wind against the front wall.
---
   The light slit into his eyes and the young man looked up, onward to the high reaching ceiling. The heavy, dark wood contrasted in the soft gray light, casting penumbra shadows in all directions. They curved and arced along the ceiling, as Conrad lowered his head with a small push and the swing of gravity downward. The fire was extinguished, the wood completely burnt away. All that remained in the fireplace were a desert worth of gray, monotone ashes. He coughed again, the burning sensation deep within his lungs. The sound of wind was no more, only replaced by the quiet tick of a clock, unmuffled by the crackling of the fire and the berating cry of the wind.
   Conrad placed his hands on the edge of the couch, pushing himself up with great force as all of his muscles ached in great pain, driving spears into his nerves. His legs, shoulders, arms. All were entrenched in a great pain, one that tore through his body. He locked his knees and stood, the pain pulsing dully in his thighs. He breathed, slowly, the blood rushing into his head. The entire home was silent in the gray morning around him, stagnant and hollow. The quiet sound of his breathing carried throughout the entire acoustics of the home.
   The young man shook his head, slowly. He jammed his hands into his pockets, the cold air of the house as nearly unpleasant as being outside. He coughed openly, too sore to move his hand up rapidly, it simply escaped his unblocked lips in small pockets. He took a small step, walking very stalwart and stocky as he took another. Pain was dully apart of his walking now, as he sniffed his nose, freezing from spending the night out of bed after the fire had extinguished. He opened a thin brown door and carefully navigated himself down dark, narrow stairs and into the basement below.
   The basement, closed in with its dark walls, was significantly warmer than the house above it, safe from the arctic wind that pummeled the house. Conrad shut the door behind him and stepped down onto the flat stone, his workspace resting below, benches and chairs all abounding. He walked over to a mighty iron heater, standing tall and proud in its distinguishable dark iron. He opened up the squeaky grate, reaching over to the nearby desk for a small matchbook. Conrad ripped out one of the paper matches and struck it against the coarse iron of the heater, tossing it into its gaping maw.
   As the wood began to catch and burn, it was here he realized that he had not dreamt. For the past handful of weeks, Conrad had envisioned himself reaching the stone at that certain day, at that exact moment within the sunset. It never changed, there were no other-worldly dream like aspects. He stood up with a grunt from bending over, mind enwrapped in this phenomenon. For once, his sleep was free of it’s deep anguish and pain. He had awoken for the past month, without fail, in a state of fear and shock, as it something had frightened him.
   For now, it appeared, the dreams were gone. His actual triumph had done exactly what he had meant it to do. The basement began to grow in warmth as the fire cooked and the metal heated, smoke pressured outside. Conrad sat down at the table covered in scrap metal and tools and slowly picked up the copper wires and heaps. He sat right next to the fire, his joints and muscles warming to his left as he began to twist and turn the metal with various tools. Above him, the door opened, and footsteps came echoing in the basement. Conrad turned around, placing his arm on the back of the chair while sitting.
   “Conrad! They say Europe is on the brink of war, and the Chancellor has been removed from power.” Friedrich said, the woman from last night gently shutting the door and lightly prancing downstairs with grace. Conrad tore his eyes from her back to Friedrich, who was looking over a slightly damp newspaper. He cleared his throat, prompting Conrad to cough another deep cough, and read. “The great Deutsches Reich is losing once solid ties with Russland, made to not provoke any acts of violence from one to another between Deutschland, Russland and Frankreich, as Friedrich Wilhelm Viktor Albrecht von Preußen becomes Kaiser of Deutschland and Prußen. He has a specific plan for bolstering the Deutscher military within his reign.”
   Conrad looked at him as Friedrich looked back at the woman, who was looking over his shoulder at the paper, long brown hair falling like a river onto his arm. Conrad turned back to his table, picking up one of the small bent copper pieces.
   “So, what does that mean for us, do you reason?” He asked, twirling the piece between his finger, mind racing with possibilities back and forth.
   “Well, we could be drafted if one starts. But, who would we be fighting against, everybody?” Friedrich asked, looking back over his shoulder at the woman, who shrugged, holding up her hands in an innocent non-answer. “I’m not really the warring type.”
   “I don’t think anyone is, Friedrich. Anyone sane, at least.” Conrad responded, looking back over the chair at the standing pair.
   “Well, if one does happen, it won’t be for a while. All these things take time to come together, look at the Americans and their civil war. It didn’t just happen overnight.” Friedrich mused, turning back around with his damp newspaper, walking around the basement in his white shirt and black vest, and matching black pants. The woman was dressed in a much heavier winter outfit, complete with tall, rounded fur hat.
   “Tell me, did you put out the fire last night?” Conrad asked, coughing quietly after he asked.
   “I did when I got up this morning, when it was light. I’d have woken you but I was incredibly late.” He responded, turning back around as the woman trailed after him like a anxious puppy. “Before you apologize, you didn’t wake us up last night. We.. Well, I was waiting for you, at least. I’d rather not have to call the police on you.” Friedrich explained, the woman latching onto his arm, looking quite tired. Conrad hadn’t even crossed the thought of apologizing.
   “I’m alright now, mostly. You and Katja can return to what you were doing.” He said, still holding the thin copper wire.
   “We were going to go out and get foodstuff while the weather wasn’t murderous. It’s supposed to be incredibly awful tonight, from what I hear. If you had gone out this morning instead of last, I doubt you would have come back.” He said, looking down from the top of the stairs, the woman following him in silence. “I’ll return by this evening with enough supplies to last us through a snowstorm or small war. Who knows if they’ll begin rationing us, Conrad.” Friedrich finished, and deftly moved through the door, the woman swiftly following. It shut, and he was still looking up at the stairway.
   Conrad turned back around, rubbing his unshaven jaw and looking at the copper strewn out in front of him, in varying bits and pieces. There was a whole glass jar full of the thin strands, clippings of copper wire. He took the piece he was rolling in his hand and bent it, taking another and bending it as well, touching the two ends into a crude, hand bent circle. As he did so, the two ends sparked, and he dropped the piece with a startle, staring down at it. It fell as one piece, the four endings did not separate.
   

The young man picked it up again, looking at it closely. It were as if the two ends had been welded together, without the residue. As if they were one coil to begin with. He ran his fingers down it, neither edge was warm, all of it was only faintly heated from his consistent touching. As he did so, a faint blue streak spun around the small circle of copper, as if lightning had arced around it. He did not let it go this time, too wrapped in wonder, staring at the ring. It was about two inches in radius, and four in circumference.
   As the ring circled once over, the bends were gone. It was as if someone had simply wound it off a copper core with a machine, perfect as a wedding ring. He moved it in between his hands and squeezed, but it would not yield to pressure in any way. It was still flawless around, sparkling in the orange light of the fire and the incoming light that broke through the snow of the high, square window. It was thin, too narrow to reflect images, but still had a thin sliver of orange on one side and white on the other.
   Conrad rubbed his eyes, still draught with exhaustion, certain he was imagining this. Unless this copper had gained electricity, there was no way this was possible. Around him sat his other inventions, like a bladed desk fan that didn’t operate, a thinner globe holder, book openers and many more. They were cast aside into obscurity and dust, forgotten in their kitsch or useless qualities. He set down the ring, recoiling his hand in a mild state of confusion and fear. Something certainly was wrong. He got up, moving the fire around with the metal poker and returned to his seat, staring at the ring, expecting some sort of answer. It laid and did nothing.
   He picked up two larger lengths of copper, doing the same. He bent the two of them individually into a crescent shape and brought them close together. With a somewhat inefficient attempt at calming himself, he touched the four ends together and they sparked, the copper combining. Was this some sort of microscience that men were working on in laboratories in the Universität? It seemed the only explanation. Conrad ran his fingers quickly along the bent divots and hills in the copper, and as if they had trailed his clockwise fingers, the blue arc jettisoned across the thin copper wire, almost invisible if not paid attention to in the low light. It straightened itself out, and he twisted the metal with all of his physical might, it no longer yielded. He set it on the outside of the first ring and picked up another.
   Almost dumbfounded by the results, Conrad bent the two wires and connected them together, increasing and speed and forgoing his trepidation. They connected, and it smoothed itself out just as fast as he could run his fingers across it, pushing and pulling with separate hands as one would an automobile. The blue light veered across with the accuracy of a perfect circle, and the larger ring became one. He set it on the outside of the other two, making the rings of Saturn on his table. He felt the immense need to do something with this, something he wasn’t even sure how to do. His anxious, shaking hands guided over to a heavy ball of copper, made for a project and set aside, forgotten of its use.
   He placed it gingerly within the center of the rings and stared at the grouping of like metal objects, confounded. The incessant need to put these objects in this order had come and gone, now there seemed to be a gap to jump along the continuing excitement that seemed to be ready to leap off of his fingertips. The excitement was still there, but it no longer seem to force his direction. An input of active, conscious thought seemed necessary.
   But... What? What was he wanting? These thoughts had raced through his mind as he stared at the small bronze ball and the three rings around it. It was immediately clear, a globe. The larger one, wrapped in a print of the planet, was sitting in disuse, the northern pole and most of Russia covered in dust. Conrad grabbed the small sphere within his hands, running his fingertips together over the cool surface, which reflected the different sources of light at warped and strewn angles. In his mind, he pictured the world as it had been taught to him, the design and edges of it all. He continued to turn it in his hands, fingers moving without friction on the ball.
   Conrad stared off above him, locked in thought. His mind raced with the capability, the power, all of it attentive to the concept of the globe, the visible earth. He closed his eyes and felt the power return to his fingertips, sparking and tingling. Looking back at the ball, it was spun with the blue light, now simply covering over the rest of the ball instead of in threads around it. It glowed like a lightbulb, illuminating the quiet copper rings below and the dark wood of the table in a hushed, deep sea blue. The light was mute as Conrad let go of the ball and it stayed in place, floating a few inches above the table. On it, small, brighter concentrations of blue began to appear and work their way in jagged lines around the ball, like ants in a colony.
   They moved and twisted between one another, creating solid shapes for the most part. In their path they had left an indention of copper, thin and precise. Soon their task was complete and the glowing stopped, yet it did not move from it’s impossible position. Conrad watched, staring in great awe, mouth agape. The rings rose from their table with a light tremble, shaking and wavering as they did so, like something was oppressing them. They rose in their ascending sizes, surrounding the small orb. The blue lights had imprinted what he was thinking of, a rudimentary map of the planet. The rings began to align around the orb, and slowly started turning in almost random directions, centering around the ball like the pathways of planets.
   They gyroscoped around the ball, moving at a swishing speed. Conrad moved his hand over the rotating rings, curving around it slowly. The planet turned with his hand, as he experimented by moving up and down, looking at the planet from afar, graved into metal with permeance. He looked closely at it, and in the top left hand corner of where the German Empire was, glowed a tiny blue speck. He tried to move it with his hand, and even touched it in between cycles of the copper wire, but to no avail. The young man closed his hand over the mechanism, and the rings folded into the circle, vanishing into them like dropped objects into the ocean. The lines vanished and the blue dot was gone from sight.
   He let it go, and it plumed into the air, the rings disengaging and the lines fading back into view. He pushed it gently by placing his hand near it, and it loftily floated away, unhindered by gravity. He stood up, looking quickly back to the mass of unused materials he owned, and to the copper orb, which was floating above his eye level, still lazily spinning. Conrad turned back to the table, placing his hands down on it. The soreness was gone, or at least ignored, as excitement took over, and the spring of fear touched the pit of his heart. He ignored this as well, picking up copper rods, mind tingling and percolating with the possibilities.
   He grabbed more wire, twisting and turning it as if his fingers were the tip of his mind and his actual thought was just fueling them with their capabilities. He connected them with thoughtless sparks, weaving and rotating all around. He grabbed a few copper sheets, sealing them together with a single finger. There was no explanation, his mind was free of conscious thought. His hands guided him through the tinge of excitement and fear. The metal plates soon became a bullseye lantern, single gaping hole through the front. With a deft swipe of the hand, the sides were no longer slightly dent or burnished, they shone like coins.
   He placed the light metal down, hands visibly trembling with anticipation. Grabbing another copper orb, Conrad placed it within the center of the lantern through the removable top, and welded it with the blue trailing light off of his fingertips. The reasoning was gone, the understanding was that it was just ‘there’. He was sure of what he was creating, but why it was happening was still a mystery. It was answering a question to a test that you knew what the answer was, but not why it was correct, how the problem links to the answer in any way.
   He closed the lid and sealed it as well, walking off in an excited, hurried gallop to rummage around more supplies. He found a piece of dusty glass, bringing it back over to the table. Without even thinking, Conrad ran his hand over the cornered edges and they rounded immediately afterwards. He pressed his palm into one side and it curved, smoothing over to a perfect lens. He fit it within the opening of the bullseye lantern and tapped it, a spark flying through the lens and to the small ball of copper, as it began to start glowing blue, brighter and brighter as Conrad stared at it, almost blankly. It grew too bright to look at, and he picked it up by the sides, turning it away from him.
   As momentum of power grew, it began to shine a direct blue light in the low lighting of the basement, the specks of dust from movement fluttering through it. It was a calming blue, but an unusual sight to see none the less. He picked it up and moved it from place to place in the basement, illuminating the forgotten storage crates and the lone cardboard boxes, all filled with indiscriminate materials. It reflected blue light off of the shiny floating globe, piercing out of the windows of mid-day. He set it down, the light jettisoned out on the back wall, picking up another copper plate. After looking it over for a few seconds, the young man replaced it to the table, his mind tingling again.
   Conrad turned around, moving with the best of his stiff legged ability, traversing up the stairs, into the cold, empty house. Sweat ran from his forehead, down to his sharp jawline, and steamed as he threw open the door into the light snow, marching along the foot caved canyon to the side shed. He opened it up and withdrew a few, round logs of the dark wood around the area, rushing back inside with an armful, door still open. The young man pursued back down stairs where the small globe was wandering like a lost cat around the ceiling of the basement and the blue lantern was still stalwartly shining the clear blue light on the side of the wall. He set down the logs on the table, knocking off a few loose, dusty books and other failed inventions.
   The cold logs were touched lightly with snow, as Conrad grabbed the bark and simply peeled it off like a banana, the entirety of it coming off in a smooth, perfect removal, guided by the shine of blue light on the serrating edge. He tossed the bark aside on the ground with a clack, stripping the rest to their dark wood. He began to run his hands over the logs like the fashion that one would curve a block of ice like. They were controlled shapes, his mind was beginning to assume control instead of letting the unknown force take hold of his capable hands.
   He soon had a small piece of wood, shaped into the distinction of a violin. It was all one solid, yellowed color, twisted and shaped like the natural fashion of wood. He sat down, no longer tinged with excitement and anticipation, but honed in with a dramatic shift to control and precision. He sealed together external pieces of wood and focused every intrinsic detail using his fingertip, able to not even touch it to guide the blue light to do as he willed. He slid in indentions for the sound holes and tapped the body, the wood inside vanishing as it was hollowed. He crafted a master violin, taking copper wire and laying it in place of the strings, winding it into the functioning knobs for tuning.
   He ran his hand over the strings and they turned to hair, dark and coarse, perfectly tightened. Conrad simply waved his hand over the violin, and the shade and form shifted to match the deep red color of violins perfectly. From the other block he molded out a bow, doing the same with the copper wire to it. It too turned to hair and matched the color, and before him sat a lightweight, thin violin. He picked it up and put it into place, drawing the bow to the strings, and let go of it all. The blue sparks left his fingers and touched the violin, and it slowly began to play itself, the bow drawing across and making a viciously sour noise, fading in and fading out. The bow raised, as if it were thinking, and descended again. The noise was sour once more, and it pulled back halfway through, like a frustrated student in a concert hall before a symphony.
   Conrad stepped back, watching it float in place, staring at the bow as it moved. It descended once more to the bow, determined to do a better job. It struck the strings and guided across it, learning. The sound was bitter and squeaked sour notes, but far more passable than before. Conrad stood, surrounded by what his hands had just created. Was it real? Certainly not. He was still laying on the couch, the empire was nowhere near bad relations, and Friedrich was still asleep in his room with Katja. It was here that the fear sitting in the pit of his heart struck him. What was he to tell Friedrich about these strange things? Certainly he would be seen as an outcast, something to be detained and studied. Would Friedrich turn him in? Hopefully not.
   Conrad looked back to his inventions with a magnificent less amount of wonder. They had to be hidden, turned off, stored away. The violin was testing the waters of chords slowly, sour rings tuning in and out. The globe was wandering, lost, around the ceiling of the basement. The lantern was the only motionless object, cascading the ocean color on the wall. Conrad reached up and grabbed the small gyro, the rings folding in and returning to a copper sphere. He tapped the glass of the lantern and the spark returned to his finger, extinguishing. The violin was slashing its strings in a haste and furor, clearly aggravated with the inability to play correctly. Conrad grabbed the instrument and it ‘died’, no longer moving on its own.
   He set it down on the table, pocketing the sphere. This was a clear peculiarity, and the gravity of it all began to set in. If he could make anything, wouldn’t the world think he was dangerous? Probably. Conrad shook the thought from his head and turned, heading to the stairs as the fire crackled quietly and dimly, running low of wood. He traversed the stone steps to the level ground, into the cold home. Everything seemed to be perfectly still in the gray light, perfectly normal. He walked over to the window, the soreness returning to his legs and shoulder blades, peering out through the glass. It was snowing quite heavily, as a few brave automobiles passed gingerly on the frozen landscape, a handful of people walking around, finished with their weekend classes.
   He turned back around, looking at the clock. It was marching into the evening with stalwart resolution, ticking ever so slightly. He had time for one more invention before Friedrich returned, Conrad resolved, and took off back down the stairs, shutting the door behind him. He grabbed a jagged piece of firewood and jammed it into the fireplace, the soreness vanishing from his body with a steep graduation. He sat down on the table and began to grab the strands of wire and the copper plates. He turned the copper plate and began to seal it around, removing the bends with his smooth hand and the blue glow, pulling it as the metal magically stretched across.
   Conrad stood up again, moving with slow precision back to the boxes of supplies. He grabbed two squares of dusty clear glass, standing up and moving back to the table. He sat down at the desk, placing his hand on the corner of the glass, holding it with the other. The blue light shone as he began to turn it, creating a rounded edge. He pressed his palm into the glass edge and made another lens. Conrad fit it within the metal tube, and sealed it in with the blue trailing light on his finger. He took the other one and rounded it out as well, making it considerably smaller. Conrad grabbed another metal sheet and rounded it into a much more narrow cylinder, connecting it to the larger one and welding them together, running his hand over the seam as the inside bent and curved perfectly without being seen.
   He placed the smaller glass lens inside and began to run his hands over the contraption, refracting the inside without thought. He picked it up and looked at the simplistic design with wonder, peering through the smaller end. It magnified the wall, and as Conrad tapped it again, it magnified the single brick he was viewing in great detail. He lowered it from his eye, looking it over and running it in his hands. The inventions were quick, easy. Simple. He leaned back in his chair and began to curve design into it, making it much more ornate with layered copper plates, the blue lights easily bending to his will. He continued to do so until the sound of the door shutting above him echoed throughout the darkened basement, and he immediately pocketed the scope into his vest, spinning and standing up as his name was called from above.
   Conrad pocketed his hands into his pants and traversed up the stone steps into the cold room above, the only light source being the newly lit fireplace as Friedrich and Katja were setting down bags. Friedrich looked up to him with his short cut brown hair, narrowing his eyes on his olive colored face.
   “You’ve been down there all day, haven’t you?” He asked, as Katja looked back from the fire with a piqued interest. Conrad stood up straight as Friedrich returned from bending over, wrapped in his own thoughts. “Are you alright? Do you need to see a doctor, Conrad?” He asked, and as if the winds of fate pushed him around, Conrad coughed heavily into his right arm sleeve, and Friedrich looked sold on the idea completely.
   “Certainly not, Friedrich. I’d notice completely if I were sick at this point.” Conrad retorted to him, who placed his hands on his hips as Katja looked back to the fire unheedingly.
   “You spent the entire day down in the basement, rather than, you know, in bed. Like sensible people.” He responded, still staring Conrad down with intent of dominance. Conrad resolved, and did not falter.
   “Friedrich, you can’t be certain that i’m sick just because I had spent the day outside. I feel fine, in veritas and aequitas.” Conrad retorted, moving from the door to the far end of the couch that pointed to the kitchen. He was, in fact, not fine. His bones were tied to sore muscles, they were sore and ached, each movement felt like a great push of the ocean against a stone wall, chipping away at his strength. He nearly stumbled, nearly grimacing, as he moved. “Fine.” He stated again, looking at Friedrich, who simply took the time to shake his head.
   “You’ve got me worried, Conrad. Certainly worried.” Friedrich said, grabbing the paper shopping bags and pulling them into the kitchen, Katja grabbing another and doing the same. Conrad lurched himself around the couch and picked one up for himself, wincing to bend his knees one way and then the other. With the might of Atlas, Conrad pulled himself into the kitchen, determined to be unrelenting in his strength.
   Friedrich was placing a select few things in the ice chest and the rest in the cupboards high to the ceiling. Conrad set down the bag on the vacated table, rubbing his elbows to help them release. The room was only slightly beginning to warm from the fireplace to replace the stoic, stagnant cold that lingered in the air. Friedrich turned to face him, looking at him closely.
   “Going to bed tonight or are you off to  your adventures in the woods?” He asked, with a tinge of the underlying blade in his voice, uncharacteristic of him. Conrad peered back at him, his heart pulsing with the secret he had kept in fear and his mind racing as to why his reaction was as strong, and as caring, for the first time he had managed to see him as such.
   “Don’t be preposterous, Friedrich. I left for the woods to take the off chance that these dreams would vacate and i’d be able to take my piece of mind. It worked, and now i’m going to be staying here, like a sensible person.” He mocked, and Friedrich looked taken aback. He turned around and shut the open cupboards, striding out of the kitchen with abrasive speed. Katja looked to Conrad, a strike of worry across her otherwise silent face, and left after him within the same speed.
   Conrad was then alone in his kitchen, the only light being the power of the orange light coming from the fireplace. He drifted off into the living room, sitting on the couch again. The man leaned forward, placing his elbows on his knees and clasping his hands together as his back tinged and his muscles cried out in torturous agony. He sifted around through his pockets and withdrew the small orb, releasing it from his fingers with a meaningful touch, and it lifted into the space in front of his face, opening its copper bands and beginning to spin slowly, the planet carving its natural edges in and the small blue dot hanging over Hannover, German Empire.
   He stared at the orb as it spun around him, casting stark shadows from the orange light, the globe within spinning ever so slowly, as if it took the time of the earth if untouched. The face of the gyroglobe he could see was black, the dark side of the moon against the orange light that shone brightly and irregularly as fire does, flickering with the capability to produce or destroy life. He felt out of body, out of mind, as his inner feeling seemed to vacate his body and spin around his seating, breathing in and out slowly. The pain subsided from his body as the small orb floated outward and slightly down, the orange side visible, shining the vibrant fire against the virulent burnt orange copper toning.
   Conrad Berahtramn, university student, inventor, was at peace. Everything seemed to just fit and work at this point, as if something outside was relaxing him. The pain was gone, the worries of his life were gone as well. Certainly this capability, whatever it may be, would be his ticket to success in his life, purposefully and for once, perfectly. He leaned back in the seat, staring at the orb as it listlessly wavered around, almost anxiously as it did so. The orb itself just moved slowly, the three copper rings twisting and turning in random directions, all equally spaced around the orb.
   He stood up, grabbing the orb as the rings folded in within itself. A quiet creak was heard, and he turned around in the shadows, looking to the owner. Friedrich was leaned against the wall, and Katja had opened the door, looking outward. Friedrich looked, with great certainty, as if he had been there the whole time. Conrad still had the orb clasped in his palm, fingers wrapped around it tightly, pointed upward.
   “An explanation would be nice, Conrad.” He said quietly, and Conrad’s mind had been wiped clean, no more thoughts upon it by any means whatsoever.
   “I... I don’t know. It just happened.” He explained, breathing in and out with a great slow continuity.
   “You certainly know, you just took it from your pocket and let it... float, there. In the air.” Friedrich explained, waving his hand in a circular motion to mimicry the gyroglobe.
   “I.. I can’t tell you why I have this, because... I don’t really know. I made it myself.” Conrad continued, still holding the sphere.
   “Let me see it.” Friedrich demanded, and Conrad tossed the small, weighted ball over to him. He caught it with both hands, despite needing one, and looked up at Conrad. He opened his hands just as Conrad had done, and the ball rolled to the floor, landing on the hard wood with a heavy thunk. Friedrich bent over and picked it up, standing back up and looking at the sphere in the firelight, moving around the couch closer to the fire.
   “How, Conrad?” He asked, peering closely at the flawless orb, and looking back to the young man in black and white. Conrad simply shrugged his shoulders, arms crossed together, heart beating at the race of a horse in mid sprint.
   “I... I don’t know. It just happens.” He said, and Friedrich immediately tossed it back to him. Friedrich motioned his head as if he expected Conrad to teach him, and the young man took in a deep breath and released the ball from his hands, the blue light streaking over it thinly before it floated upward and opened once more, the gyro copper wires spinning in perfect circles and around the spherical plane of the orb. It drew in the marks of the planets and the blue light returned. “I think it only works for me...” He said, holding it above his hand as it floated without moving completely from one direction to the other quietly.
   “Certainly, Conrad, that can’t be real. Where did you find it? How are you able to do that, electricity?” He asked, and Conrad shook his head, the orb beginning to move as if it were an anxious child, unable to stay where placed.
   “No, Friedrich. I woke up, I went down stairs to think and felt the urge to... make something. Anything. I put two copper wires together, and connected them. When I did, they just... sealed. As if I had welded them. No marks, just perfectly on it. I don’t know how or why, but it just happened.” Conrad defended, and Friedrich looked to him as if he had lied to him and executed his mother under the consequences of vigilante law.
   “That’s... That’s a damn lie, Conrad!” He snapped, taking a viciously aggressive step forward. “A damn lie!” He called out, stepping forward again. Conrad closed his fingers around the gyroglobe quickly as Friedrich snapped out to him, reaching out to take it. Conrad stepped backwards, the soreness returning to his shoulders and his legs.
   “Friedrich, relax!” he called out, stumbling backwards on the rug and falling to the floor, looking up at his housemate, who’s face had taken on a a grip of anger and fear, and Conrad’s heart pulsed and beat with great intensity. Friedrich raised up his fist but was pulled backwards as Katja grabbed him by the waist and threw him backwards with an almost unheard of force from the small woman.
   “Friedrich! Control yourself, you savage! Why does this anger you?!” She snapped with a fury at him, brow lowered and scrunched together. The two men were on the floor in the same position, looking up to those who were overpowering them, standing over with great control. Conrad stood in a fury and backed up once more. Friedrich looked past Katja, visibly calmed to an extend, but stood again. She pressed her hands on his chest and pushed him back down. “No! You’re going to stay there until you’re calm! This is so much unlike you!” She snapped, glaring at him as her long brown hair hung downward, starkly aggressive against his own aggression.
   “He’s different, there’s something wrong here! We have to notify the police, Katja!” Friedrich snapped, looking ready to pounce upward as he had before, getting both of his footing at a runners stance.
   “Is this an American witch hunt, Friedrich? Something strange is going on here, but we can handle this like reasonable people.” Conrad said, as the two of them looked over to him. Friedrich stood up slowly, unthreateningly, and dusted himself off.
   “You need to sit down and explain everything to me, Conrad, or i’m going to the police. Flat, short, and simple as that.” He said, crossing his arms as the hint of aggression was still passively on him like some sort of spell.
   “Alright, alright. To the basement, and i’ll explain everything there.” Conrad responded, rubbing his jaw and moving with great struggle to the basement door, bones feeling as if they were the planks of a bridge, heaving under his weight. The young man simply opened the door and guided them all downstairs as the low, dying light of the furnace below was still illuminating the small bit of the area.
   He walked over to the heavy metal machine and picked up some of the cold wood laying beside of it, jamming a few logs in as the fire slowly began to eat through the bark and take hold. He moved the chair and took a heavy seat, as his flatmate and Katja did the same.
   “Alright, Friedrich. There’s no reason to kill me whatsoever, largely i’m not exactly sure why or how i’m able to do such things.” Conrad explained, releasing from his ever tight grip the gyroglobe, as it sparked into life, the copper rings rising from the orb like a swimmer out of water, pulling like surface tension away from it. “I went out into the woods and got lost, back when I was a child.” He recounted, “I found a large stone, a grave marker, and I touched it. Ever since then, and even more so now that i’ve left home, i’ve been having dreams that i’ve returned to that space.
   And, well, I just had to go back. The dreams were every night, it was beginning to drive me mad. So, I set off, got lost, and found the stone again. I didn’t even notice the time spinning. I found the stone one more and touched it, and, well, had to turn back and come home. Whenever I woke up, well...” Conrad motioned to the gyroscope, which was beginning to drift away listlessly once more. “I came downstairs after you two left to clear my head, and felt like I had to create something. So, I bent the copper wires. They just kind of came together in a blue spark, and were there. I ran my hands over them, and they turned out to be unbendable, and made a perfect shape.
   I made three of them, and took a copper orb and ran my hands over it. Thinking of a globe, it carved one in there, and I set them all together in the fashion you see now. When it came together, it all just kind of lifted and began to spin. I don’t know why, it wasn’t electricity.” Conrad remarked looking at his housemate, as Friedrich gave him a contemplation look. “It all just came together and made that. I didn’t, however, feel like that was enough... So, well, I got some more materials...” He said, standing up, the soreness gone from his person.
   He moved over to the lantern, still sitting askew from the linearity of the desk, and he moved it away from the faces of his two observers, and tapped the glass lens. From his fingertips, a blue spark shot inside, and the entire lantern shone out an extremely vibrant blue, bullseye streak against the wall in the back. The two sitting looked over with great wonder.
   “Conrad, how is this even possible?” Friedrich asked, running his hand through the light passively.
   “That’s just it, Friedrich, I don’t know. I had the instant passion to create, so I just... created. I’m not trying to downplay any sort of skill, it’s as if it were magic, a fantasy.” He explained, looking back over at the two of them from the light.
   “So you just came downstairs and had the need to do something like this?” Friedrich questioned, still looking at the light.
   “To answer a redundant question, yes, Friedrich. I made one other thing before you guys got here.” Conrad explained, fishing around in his pocket and withdrawing the small scope, halfway designed in an ornate fashion, much like a pirate would own. He handed it over to Friedrich, who looked it over cautiously.
   “A periscope?” He asked, looking through it. He gazed around, pulling his eye away and looking back at Conrad. “I don’t get what’s special about this one, does it glow or show you the future?” He remarked, Katja sitting quietly next to him.
   “No, just look through it again.” He said, as Friedrich peered at the fire with it from where he was sitting. Conrad reached over and tapped it, the blue spark feeling between his finger and the metal returning. Friedrich looked as if he were about to drop it. He pulled it away from his eye, flustered.
   “No... This has to be some sort of machine.” He said, looking the outside over once more.
   “I assure you it’s not, Friedrich. Do you think I had enough time to make these three things you didn’t see down here before?” Conrad responded, crossing his arms. “I don’t know how, and I don’t know why, but it happened. If you’re going to turn me into the police, I suggest you make up your mind so I don’t have to sit here in a state of fear.”
   Friedrich thought, standing up and handing over the periscope. He moved back to the stairs in silence, as Katja stood and followed quickly. Taking the notion, Conrad trailed after them, his inventions still working in pure silence as Friedrich ascended the stairs with a quickening pace. Friedrich was destined for the door, and moved to it sharply, grabbing his coat and throwing open the door. In his take of fear, Conrad raised his hand, Katja standing beside him. From it, the rash of blue sparks jumped between fingers like arcs of electricity, looking much the same as it did so. He breathed in, and as he breathed out, a jumping spark trailed across the air in a glowing fashion, striking Friedrich in the back.
   The young man went flying into the snow outdoors, tumbling over his head and laying flat on his back, head pointed to the door. Katja ran outside to him, careful around the ice laid by the footpaths. Conrad stood there, lowering his hand slowly, looking outside. The fear pulsed through his heart and through his veins, all he could hear was his heartbeat. He took a step forward as Friedrich removed himself from the snow, turning around, and Conrad stumbled, catching himself on a small table by the stairs and the basement door. He grabbed his chest, breathing heavily, as his heart continued to pound like a Roman war drum he had learned much about in his university classes.
   Friedrich came back inside, covered in snow all over, glaring at Conrad. The young man looked up from his lowered position as Friedrich shut the door, taking off his coat. He came closer and struck Conrad on the head, the student falling to the floor. Katja cried out but did nothing as Friedrich hit him again, but all Conrad could feel were various strikes and punishes against his body, violent in nature. Pain coursed through him as he curled up, powerless while the pain and soreness re-accustomed itself once more to his muscles and bones, the feeling of blood running from the brow of his forehead.
   Pain soared through him, and he opened his eyes as the lashings finished. Katja had pulled Friedrich back, and his eye stung greatly, the vision slightly blurred. He sat up, pressing his back against the wall as Friedrich glared at him, fists tightening as Katja held him back with both of her hands and all the reach of her arms.
   “You’re a danger, Berahtramn. A danger to us all.” He said, and threw Katja off of him with a great violence, lunging to Conrad once more. However, the young man who was bleeding on the floor let the fear take hold. Just as he had been in the woods in his youth, the fright of death and danger was suddenly all his spirit could take, and he raised his hands. Blue light speared outward in a great beam, like the sun breaking through the clouds in a massive passion. It was almost too bright to witness, but it shot outward and struck Friedrich in the chest, as he went flying backwards into the upper chimney of the fireplace, striking the brick and falling back down to the floor, in between the fireplace and the couch.
   Conrad stood up, breathing heavily, sweat and blood running from his forehead in anguish. Katja stared on, too stunned to move or act, hands cupped over her mouth in paralyzation.
   “Friedrich, you’re acting like a fool. I tried to be civil, but people are executed when they are feared because they are the unknown. You have changed, completely. You are not the man I went drinking with in Wien, nor my housemate for four years. It is as if I had left, and I had changed with what I had done.” He said, placing both of his hands on the couch as Friedrich looked up from his prone position on the floor, with an intent glare. “But you, Friedrich von Merkul. You too have changed. You’re more of a danger to me than I am to you.” Conrad finished, and the silence in the air could be cut with a moving ship.
   “I’m moving out. Tomorrow. You can live here alone. If the police come, it’s not my doing.” Friedrich said in a rage, and swept up from the floor, which was covered in the dust of broken stone and specked with smashed pebbles. “You’re going to be caught.” He finished, grabbing Katja and storming into his room, slamming the door. Almost immediately, the sound of things being violently ripped off of shelves was audible from behind the wood. Conrad shook his head, returning into the basement. He grabbed the gyroglobe and tapped the lantern off, looking over the dormant violin, forgotten from his mind to show to his former housemate. Conrad resolved that it probably was for the best, anything more incredulous and Friedrich would have him executed the next morning.
   He sat down in the chair and leaned back his head, staring at the ceiling in the flickering glow. Conrad breathed in, and out, slowly. He continued to do so until his conscious stopped, and he drifted out of life and into sleep, the continuing fire and world moving all around him as the young man rested from his day, the orange light casting shadows on all in the immediate area.

Chapter Two
   
   Conrad walked through the empty home, books stacked here and there in a quaint order. The sound of violin was drifting itself slowly and surely though the house, the masterful work of Bach’s orchestral suite was playing keeping the room full of noise in comparison to the empty state. He ran his hands over the back of the couch, still in the same position, looking around. There was much to be done today, and no will to begin doing it.
   Lighting up the room in the midst of the evening were small gyroglobes, except they were now drifting and glowing a vibrant blue light around, as if they were walking along an invisible floor and an invisible ceiling, all in the same line and intangible boundaries. Conrad rubbed his eyes, picking up a few leather bounded books as a knock on the door was wrought. He waved his hand and the music stopped, the lights vanishing and all moving objects stopping in place. He walked in the new silence to the door, opening it wide. Within the grasp of the bright outside the smell of fresh plants and watered earth drifted in like an ocean wave carrying a fog.
   Outside the door stood a woman, dressed in a brightly green sundress, a bonnet slanted on her head, covering part of her flowing blonde hair, that curled around her shoulders. She smiled, as Conrad did the same, stepping to the side with the door open as she strode in. He waved his hands and the music resumed, with a sour strike of irritation on being interrupted, and the lights continued prancing about in their circular dances. The motion of the mighty clocks continued turning and a broom was sweeping on the floor here and there happily.
   “Ah, Conrad, you always know how to keep yourself free from doing work, don’t you?” She said cheerfully as he shut the door.
   “Naturally, Anja. I wouldn’t dare force myself to do anything if I didn’t have to.” He said, dressed in a button up shirt tucked into his waist and rolled at the sleeves. “What may I account this wonderful occasion for?” He continued, walking into the living room greater. Anja turned around, her dress swirling.
   “What, can’t I see my favorite magician without a necessary cause and warrant?” She said, frowning in a mocking style, the slight of her smile still visible underneath.
   “Not really, you never seem to be around until you need something enchanted or changed or some sort.” He said, smoothing over his hair with his hand as the broom danced around him and off into another direction.
   “I came to tell you of the news, since certainly you have no idea otherwise, as you don’t leave your house until you have to buy something.” She said, taking off her bonnet and setting it on the corner of the couch.
   “The news?” Conrad questioned, raising one of his dark eyebrows.
   “Yes, the news! The German Empire is preparing for war!” She said, reaching in her bag and withdrawing a newspaper. She held it out to Conrad, who took it with a snatch and moved around the couch to the empty fireplace, grabbing a cigar from the top and lighting it with an extended finger, which sparked into flame. He shook his hand out and puffed out smoke as it lit, reading over the paper.
   “Well, by the Kaiser. After that assassination of the Archduke, I would imagine that we’d be up to something, but war? Friedrich had told me that this was expected...” He said, taking the paper and unfolding it, reading aloud, taking the cigar out of his mouth and tapping it into the fireplace, where a pile of cigar ashes rested on the brim. “As of today, two days after the Österreichisch-Ungarische Monarchie declared war on the Königreich Serbien, the Deutsches Reich has begun to mobilize troops in expectation of war in August. It is expected that the alliance between the Österreichisch-Ungarische Monarchie and the Deutsches Reich will stand true and Germany will declare war on all opposing countries in the beginning of August if all goes according to plan.
   The Reich will not release aggression against the Königreich Serbien or any of her allies unless completely necessary and provoked up opening hostilities in the other theaters. No draft has been called at this time, but one may be expected if the war lasts longer than anticipated by Deutsches military commanders. All citizens are expected to stay calm in the following weeks.” Conrad finished, looking over at the woman, who was looking on with grim, but unsurprised anticipation.
   “Conrad, you know what this means, right? There’ll be a draft eventually, people are saying Amerika and England may get involved, and well... Nobody is really sure what they’re capable of.” She said with the longing air of an almost fear in her voice. Conrad shook his head and turned around, facing the mantle. He tapped his cigar ashes, breathing in slowly, shaking his head.
   “There is no way I will be drafted, Anja. It’s just not possible, my eye is damaged after Friedrich stepped on it.” He explained, tossing the paper onto the couch and dusting off ashes from his right sleeve. “I just can’t be, it’s not possible.” He furthered, as Anja moved around the couch and touched his shoulder, with a faint tip of all of her fingers.
   “You can’t just throw out that possibility, Conrad. We all knew this was coming, and you have to be prepared for this. You can’t just start throwing out magic on the battlefield.” She explained, removing her hand and crossing her arms. Conrad walked back over to the window, looking out onto the summer air through the glass panes.
   “But... Anja.” He turned around, the stroke of energy retouching his brain, his fingertips, his very self. “What if I could? What if, somehow, I managed to expose myself without getting myself killed. Make it into a business expenditure. Start doing things for people like I make for you. Inventions, creations, the entirety of it all!” He exclaimed, moving past her in a hurry, cigar in his fingers and trailing ashes on the carpet, the broom following him around as the sounds of Händel’s frantic violin piece was sharply dashing its way around the home.
   “That doesn’t sound very safe, Conrad.” She said, a worried tone carrying across her voice again.
   “Safe? Life isn’t safe. I’m tired of hiding.” He said, crossing his arms. “I can do it, certainly! There is a great possibility that this could work!” He exclaimed with a great excitement, walking into the kitchen quickly. The lights were weaving in and out of here as well, and the broom followed him around. He waved his hand and multiple pieces of equipment and hand made machinery started moving around the kitchen, as if it were the heart of a giant beast coming to life, and Conrad and Anja were standing inside of it as the woman followed him in.
   “These things are useful, Anja, I just need a way to allow OTHER people to use them. Yours work all the time because I never turn them off, but what, what if,” he exclaimed, eggs rolling here and there on the machine and beginning to cook themselves on hotplates, fueled by magic, “we were to find a way to allow other people to do the same, as if they were using my own finger touch! As if they too were the magician!”
   “Conrad, i’ve never heard you so excited about an idea before. Certainly something has touched you in the head since you went to the stone, and more than just magic.” Anja said, crossing her arms.
   “Of course not, Anja, because everything has been easy to this point! I’ve been hiding, unable to go outside due to how different I am from the rest. But I, I am able to strike like a fire when I have an idea! It’s how the magic works, Anja! Ideas and fuel!” He exclaimed, and froze in place. “By the Kaiser, that’s it! Ideas and fuel!” He said, as an omelette slid off onto a plate and floated to the table.
   He ignored it completely, moving into the living room and tossing open the basement door with a wave of the hand, fluttering downstairs. The basement was almost completely full of bronze and iron inventions, with limited room to walk. Anja followed in a hurry, moving quickly to catch up with the magician.
   “I find a way to give people fuel and instruct them to just think of what they want to do! Just as I thought of the globe and created by trusty Gyroglobe!” He exclaimed, tossing a few metal contraptions off of his main workdesk, littered in books, as they went floating off into the other direction slowly. “I just need some sort of integration system with a person. Some way to control the flow of the blue light magic, and a generator for the person to be able to be replenished with it.”
   “Do you even know that much about your magic, Conrad?” Anja questioned, picking up a few knocked over objects and straightening them out across the entirety of the basement.
   “No, not really, but what can stop me from learning? What has stopped me before? Nothing!” He valiantly declared, smiling as he did so, drawing out paper. He laid the paper out and drew a pen from a small mug holder, beginning to scribe lines across it in an orderly fashion. “Some sort of tank. Something to physically hold the magic. I’m able to move it from one thing to another, but could it be contained, controlled?” He said, drawing out the intricate design. Excitement tinged on his voice, his hands trembled with the capability, with the possibilities of it all.
   “Conrad, you’re going to lose sleep over this. Why don’t you relax and take it slow?” Anja asked with concern, placing a hand on his shoulder as he drew. His arms moved with great speed in his dark red shirt, drawing grand lines in a stark pattern. Underneath his controlling fingers, was the idea of a tank. In the center, as he drew it out, was a sort of glass vial, that stretched the length of someone’s back. There were stripes of metal bands across it.
   “I will have this, Anja, and I will introduce it to the world. All of it. Who would draft someone who has done such a great thing to the world? Would they draft Tesla, or Beethoven, if there were a war? No, they were men who changed the world!” He said, his mind completely forward, tingling and buzzing with energy forthright. It sparked here and there, back and forth, as his fingers seemed to guide themselves just as one of his magic creations did as well.
   “Everything, Anja, everything will solve itself.” He said, fingers moving with great speed. As he did so, his hair began to rise and the blue energy surrounded him, objects all around starting to work, even the broken ones, and lift from their position. Anja too, was lifted slightly from the ground, glowing blue with energy as Conrad moved faster and faster, glowing much like a lantern of magic.
   “Conraaad! Everything is floating, stop!” She shouted, placing her hands on the bottom of her sundress to hold it down as she drifted backwards. The young man stopped, turning around quickly. He immediately stopped glowing blue and the light vanished from all of the objects and Anja, which came crashing to the ground in a clang. She looked up to them like an abused animal, confused and defeated.
   “Oh, dear. What happened?” He asked, the energy in his voice audibly draining immediately, looking down at Anja as she scrambled upward to her feet, dusting off her bright sundress.
   “You got so excited that I guess you started radiating magic. Everything started working and lifting from the ground as you were drawing, and so did I!” She exclaimed, frowning as Conrad patted her on the shoulder.
   “My apologies, Anja. I’m still not one hundred percent sure how this magic all works and operates.” He said, looking down with the air of defeat.
   “That’s exactly my point, Conrad. You don’t know, and how can you be sure that you can just simply start trying to give it to other people? It’s obviously meant for you.” She said, frowning. Here stood his childhood friend, someone he could trust more than anyone else, and her word took greater gravity than the words of Friedrich or Katja, one of the few people he had interacted with in the last year or so.
   “Well, I obviously can’t do it in a day...” He said, a tinge of disappointment still held on him. “Certainly, certainly. But, it’s still an idea, is it not? There’s nothing I haven’t been able to create whatsoever at this point. Everything is completely doable. There’s nothing stopping me, eh?” He said, smiling at Anja as best he could, and she crossed her arms.
   “I’m still not really pushed. Friedrich didn’t really seem to keen on accepting this.” She said, but Conrad shook his head.
   “Something was wrong with him. Something different, as if what had effected me had done the same to him.” He explained, turning back to his desk and grabbing the paper, holding it up to the lights all around, floating lazily. “I’m certain this is possible, and if I pull it off, so many people will want it that the Capital won’t be out for my head, but rather how I did it, and how I can help them. Right?” He said, but Anja shook her head.
   “You know I don’t think the same as Friedrich, but you do have to be careful, Conrad. I don’t want you getting hurt.” She said, frowning again.
   “I know, Anja, I know. Certainly I wouldn’t risk my life if I knew that there was still the chance I could get out alive and on top. But as for now, I have this project in mind. Nothing will be able to stop me from trying, at least. And if it’s not possible, it’s not possible. I move on, no?” He said, looking back to the paper.
   Anja simply sighed and rested her head on his shoulder, staring at the paper as well. The hastily done, yet extremely precise drawing looked back at the pair, the image of a sort of backpack of energy, that went down the entirety of the back and a long, glass tube was drawn to fill with a blue liquid. Conrad waved his free hand, the ashes of his cigar falling to the stone ground below, and the drawing of the tank filled with blue ink that glowed to about three fourths of the drawing, moving constantly like water.
   “It’s just an idea, Anja. This is exactly how the magic works. Ideas, concepts. All it needs is a body to run through.” He explained, slowly, surely, smiling. She breathed in and lurched off of him, walking to the stairs.
   “Come, Conrad, get your mind off of the magic for a moment. We’re going to lunch while it is still nice and light out.” She said, moving up the stairs without looking back. Conrad rolled up the paper and pressed his hands on the rolled ends, the paper shrinking into nothing. He walked to the stairs as well, ascending to follow the woman. She turned and walked outside, grabbing her bonnet on the way, as Conrad put his hands into his pockets and followed out the door into the bright light, striking against his indoor-based eyes.
   The outside air was rich and warm, the grips of summer that was looming on the brink of fall. People were walking all over in the streets as Anja walked along the stone path out of the yard. Conrad turned around, looking at all the inventions he had kept as his friends, his family, and waved his hand as they all went back to being lifeless, the violin music stopping. He closed the door and turned around, following the women.
   The pair walked off across the streets of Hannover, across the glorious soil of the German Empire, and into the crowds of the paved roads, people talking over all subjects and types. The war, their lives, the weather, the season. He heard it all as he followed Anja, almost completely lost in the city he had lived his entire life. He breathed in and out slowly, bit, by bit. The warm air was comforting, as compared to the stale air that his home had comprised of. He was unable to open the windows without someone certainly looking in, after he had enchanted them to have a heavy reflection, only able to be very faintly seen, at night, looking in with the intruders face pressed against the window.
   He brushed shoulders with petite women and hearty men, all sorts of students and workers. It was a city of all sorts of people as Anja led him into the main corner, automobiles tutting back and forth, almost all of them black in color. He rubbed his unshaven jaw, having simply forgotten most days, largely only shaving if he were to be expecting Anja. He weaved in and out of people, cautious not to just move them gently out of the way with the wave of his hands, knowing better.
   Anja stopped at a street curb and looked back and forth as cars drove by, and took off as a gap of them opened. Conrad quickly followed, cautious not to be struck by a car as well, and they galloped across the street. The two reached a small, italian based bistro, with a great many of chairs and tables stuck with umbrellas outdoors. She opened the small, waist high iron wrought fence, smiling at all the people as she did so. Conrad followed daftly, pale as the moon at night. Anja took a quaint seat outdoors, on the iron chairs, at the equally dark iron table near the opening of the restaurant. As Conrad sat down, a woman with flowing black hair and a very italian look approached with a smile.
   “Ah, welcome, welcome, what shall you two have to drink, hm?” She asked in a voice as equally cheerful as Anja’s looks. Conrad rubbed his jaw in thought as Anja took a menu from the woman, who laid one out in front of the magician.
   “Oh, just a water.” She said, smiling cheerfully. The woman nodded and looked to Conrad, who echoed Anja. The woman wrote this down on a small yellow notepad and turned on her heels, zooming off into the inner soul of the restaurant.
   “Why here, Anja? I didn’t know you liked italian food.” He said, opening the paper menu and looking it over carefully.
   “Ah, but it just wasn’t available for so long! All of Europe feels like it’s coming together as one, sort of. I mean, except for the impending war.” She said, while looking at the menu carefully.  “It’s nice to branch out from our usual of heavy meats. Try something new, you know?” She said cheerfully.
   Conrad did not feel the same cheer, as the energy seemed to have left his body all of the sudden, as if he hadn’t slept in ages. He looked over the menu but did not think of what was on it, instead his mind was taken back to the basement, locked in thought of what had happened. The overflow of energy, everything that had seemed to pick up and drop once more as he had lost his focus. They all seemed to take into the prototype of his idea for the invention. What if there was much more to the magic he had yet to even begin to witness? Nothing like that had ever happened before, even in his greatest excitement of creating inventions. That, or he hadn’t noticed it whatsoever before hand. He was still taken in thought and did not notice the bustling city of Hannover around him until a voice interrupted his thoughts.
   “And for you, Herr?” It asked, and he shook his head quickly, looking up.
   “Hm?” He asked, looking at the italian waitress who was standing with her notepad, waiting on him.
   “Your order, are you ready?” She asked, a tinge of very slight impatience threading under her voice.
   “Oh, yes, of course.” He gave a quick glance to the menu, actually reading the text at this point. “Oh, chicken parmesan, please.” He said, folding over the menu and smiling faintly at the woman. He looked to Anja, who was also struck with concern on her face.
   “Are you alright, Conrad?” She questioned, frowning. “You seem as if you had almost blacked out there.”
   “Oh, yes, i’m alright. Of course.” Conrad replied, shaking his head as a dog would to remove water. “I was just thinking about what had happened. You know, in the basement. Something is odd.” He explained, biting his lip.
   “Oh, Conrad, I told you to take your mind off of all of... that. You know what I mean. We’re here to eat.” She said, folding her arms on the lip of the table.
   “I know, I know. It’s just... it feels like I have no energy. Like something is wrong.” He explained, but she shook her head vehemently.
   “Enough, Conrad, we can talk about it when we return home. Just relax, for now.” She explained, but he could not. It felt as if he were back that night with Friedrich, like everything was being controlled through fear rather than through excitement and the ideas. He breathed in slowly, back and forth, trying to calm himself.
   “When’s the last time you had left the house?” She asked, leaning in close as the noise increased, a group of people were talking loudly.
   “Hm. Sometime, I reason. A few weeks.” He explained, still feeling the fluttering nervousness. “It hasn’t been too long, at all.”
   “It seems too long.” She said, as the waitress returned, two oval, heavy white plates in her hand. She set them down in front of their respectful owners, smiling and walking off. The pair picked up their instruments and began to eat quietly as the sun began to perch over the red shingled roofs and the white and brown buildings. Conrad got about halfway into his chicken over pasta and sighed, looking up at the sky as a few birds fluttered here and there.
   “Oh, Anja. Why war?” He asked with a sigh and a longing voice, leaning back and staring off into the distance.
   “I don’t know, Conrad. I guess it’s just how people work. Maybe if you do well enough, everyone will forget about war and start living in peace.” She said, continuing to eat quietly.
   “Maybe, or maybe it will be the other way around.” He explained, eating a lukewarm piece of chicken.
   “Oh, Conrad, please. Get your mind off of war, off of all this mystic nonsense, and just relax for a while.” She pleaded, and he nodded quietly.
   “Alright, alright, Anja. You win.” He shook his head, yawning silently. He rubbed his jaw and cut another piece of chicken, feeling quite different as his food no longer cut itself in pieces and organized all over.
   “Did you leave Violin playing?” She asked, and he shook his head.
   “No, I turned him off, certainly.” Conrad stated, and they both sighed as the sun continued to paint the sky a berating color of orange, swirling in pink and yellow against the darkening blue sky. The two ate in silence as the world slowly quieted around them, people returning to their homes, and left their Marks and stood, moving out of the iron gate and onto the sidewalk. Anja grabbed him by the hand and led him across the street, the only obstruction a car every now and then.
   “Conrad, what is it you plan on doing with your life. Being an inventor?” She asked, looking back to him quickly as they walked along the sidewalk of Hannover.
   “I don’t know, maybe settle down. Eventually. What exactly do you plan on doing, Anja?” He asked, as the two walked, hand in hand, down the sidewalk.
   “Well, what is a woman supposed to do? We grow, we settle down, have children, send them to school, or in our case, possibly war.” She said, and Conrad trailed behind her, quiet with thought. “Perhaps, someday, we may be able to live in peace, like every family wants to do. Just maybe, though.” She said, as the sky grew darker and the shades of orange started to fade away.
   “Would you start a family with me, Anja?” He asked, an air of nervousness on his voice. She kept walking, not looking back at the young man.
   “Hm. I couldn’t tell you, Conrad. I haven’t the slightest idea of whether or not this entire country will be here in a few months.” She held onto his hand tightly, despite the possible rejection. “I can tell you that if we are, it may or may not happen. Can you tell the future?” She asked, looking back at him for the first time, blond curls swishing and swaying under her bonnet.
   “I wish I could, there are a lot of things I want answered. Things like you, the war, my inventions.” He confessed, as they crossed another vacant road and ended up at his home. She walked along the stone path to the door, opening it into the darkness.
   “It’s dangerous stuff, Conrad.” She said, removing her bonnet and placing it on the hat and coat rack. He waved his hand as the lights came to, and the sound of Mozart struck up from the beginning, as Violin was playing itself upstairs. He turned and closed the door while the lights spun all around the high ceiling, waving back and forth. Anja walked into the kitchen as Conrad followed, taking the plate with the hastily made omelet on it, tossing it into the trash, half of it sticking on. She began to scrape it away as Conrad waved his hand again without even a thought, the rest peeling off and falling to its fate.
   “Come to me, Anja.” He said, moving back into the living room and laying down on the couch. She moved inside and laid on top of him lazily, both of them fully clothed and strung out.
   “If you did get drafted, you would come back... right?” She questioned, turning her head to look at the lower Conrad with one eye.
   “Of course, Anja. Life isn’t safe, but i’d be the only soldier on the front who could stop a bullet. I think that counts for something.” He explained embracing her shoulders with his arms, and she held on to his forearms with her thin hands, looking back up.
   “Well, let’s hope you can stop them all. Or not have to go whatsoever.” She said, sighing deeply.
   “Worry not, Anja, worry not at all. Let’s leave this war behind, they haven’t even declared a war yet. They’re just preparing for one. It’ll be months until they start any sort of a draft. I’ll be certain by that time that i’ll have refined my magic into something else, something capable of preventing me from joining in any war.” Conrad explained, his dark hair hanging down slightly, untrimmed and unkept, unlike the refined men of his age who bloomed out of university into jobs and fortunate futures.
   “I hope so, Conrad.” She said, nestling into her position. The two sat in silence as the lights dimmed themselves, attuned to the energy level of the magician laying flat. The two continued their holding in silence until Anja had drifted off to sleep, and Conrad had done much the same. The lights shut themselves off and Violin stopped playing, resting gently in his velvet case, tired of the same old Vivaldi and Bach he had been practicing. All of the instruments in the household quieted and stopped, the entire home submerging into nighttime darkness.
   As Conrad came to, Anja was already up and off of him. He sat up as the sounds of motion were lingering in the kitchen. He stood groggishly, dragging himself into the kitchen. Anja was seated at the table, dressed in a combination of his clothing, reading the morning paper. A cup of coffee was beside her, and a plate of finished food was nearby.

“Anything interesting, Anja?” He asked, running his hands through his hair, which was decidedly uneven as usual. She looked as if she had not been able to fix her hair as much as she would if she were home.
   “Unfortunately not, just more speculation of war. The Österreichisch-Ungarische military is supposedly planning on moving into Africa, but nothing is confirmed. Probably just waiting on us.” She explained, turning a page in the paper.
   “I see. Do you want to go home and get yourself ready, Anja?” He asked, moving to sit at the table, grabbing her cup of coffee and taking a temperature checking sip.
   “Eventually. You know, Conrad, i’m not really sure that i’m going to be going home much anymore. I think i’ll just move into here.” She said, still looking at the paper and turning another page. Conrad looked up, starkly confused.
   “You’re... moving in?” He asked, a little flustered.
   “Yes, do you have a problem with that?” She said, folding over the paper and looking at him from the rim of it. He looked away, rubbing his hair covered jawline.
   “Well, of course not. It’s just kind of... Chaotic here. You know.” He said, looking up to her.
   “Yes, well it’s chaotic at my home too. Hard to hide your enchanted inventions from visitors. That broom continues to knock on any door I put it in, so i’ve had to lock it in a chest in the basement when someone is coming over.” She explained, closing the paper and folding it, setting it down on the table.
   “Well, if only there was a way for you to control it, hm?” He inquired, smiling at the blonde woman, who was sitting primly on the chair, folding her arms and crossing her legs, leaning at Conrad.
   “And that’s why I want to be here. You certainly need someone to test these things on, right?” She inquired, still smiling. Conrad, however, looked quite taken aback.
   “I wouldn’t dare test anything on you, Anja! These things can be awfully dangerous.” He explained, looking up at the machine that sprawled across the kitchen, complex in endeavor of making various types of breakfast.
   “Who else are you going to test them on, your neighbors? Friedrich?” She asked, scratching her head. Conrad sighed, placing his chin in his hand and his elbow on the table.
   “Well, you’ve a convincing argument.” He explained, looking at the machine still. “But, who am I to say no?” Conrad sighed out, looking at Anja, who was smiling warmly.
   “I knew you’d say yes. I’ll pack my things and be here by tomorrow morning, certainly. And i’ll bring that damn broom with me, your single one can have some company for once.” She exclaimed, standing up. Conrad waved his hand and the lights started up, and Violin removed himself of his case, stretching out his bow and strings. The house shook to life, as Anja walked out of the kitchen. Conrad stood, yawning, walking into the living room.
   She pulled her sundress off of the back of the couch where it was rested before. She kept the same continuous smile across her face as she swayed over to the front door, opening it into the bright late-summer morning that was breaking through the clouds rising across the horizon. Conrad stepped to the door as Violin began to warm up its strings, twisting and tuning quietly. Anja turned around in a spin, looking directly to Conrad.
   “Don’t go off and do something rash before I get back, Conrad.” She advised, the smile drawing from her face. He nodded complacently.
   “Of course, Anja. I’d dare not do a thing.” He said and she smiled once more like the sun rising behind her. She turned, walking down the stone path in the light breeze that swayed across the woodland area. It gently pushed the grass without control, the trees waved back and forth gently, the core of their leaves turning a pale green in the veins.
   She walked across the road and into the crowd as Conrad closed the door gently, looking back to his unkept, messy home. Books were stacked here and there and a few loose papers were strewn across the ground. He slowly walked over to the couch, lifting up the newspaper that was resting, casually tossed aside in its folding. He unfolded the bottom and looked across it once more, the impending threat of war held on by black text on yellow paper.
   Anja was right, Conrad mused, thinking that a draft was not an immediate threat. He ran his fingers on his right hand across the word on the paper, as if it would lift off and vanish. The sunlight was breaking into the house, rising across the floor with herculean slow speed. The young man turned around and drew the curtains, flourishing darkness in the room. Conrad moved up the stairs and pulled the curtains on the window at the mezzanine, the entire house was lit by the circle of dancing lights, save for the meager light shining in from the kitchen, away from the rising sun. He stepped back down to the ground floor and sat down on the couch, just as he did the night returning from the woods, which seemed like so long ago.
   The young man breathed in and out slowly, and raised one of his hands, waving it around in a wrist-driven circle, as fast as his repetitive breathing. As he did so, the blue light trailed from his fingers and escaped into the room, growing thin and layering over things. After a few moments of grace time, the loose papers and books strewn across the house began to rise and move in all different, intelligent directions. The papers organized themselves in varying stacks and the books returned to the bookshelves in between the fireplace and the window. The paper reams set themselves down on the tables and any open, non-floor space they could find.
   After the dust settled and all was silent of movement, he dropped his hand, still locked in thought. The magic drew from his fingertips and he brought things to life as such. They acted as piles, batteries. The thoughts in his head seemed scrambled but available, just waiting be taken from his conscious. He ran his hands down his face, beard prickling and mightily disheveled. He stared off into the fireplace, as if looking for answers, as if it were to solve itself.
   But there was nothing else in the room to solve his problems, save for the dancing lights that were moving one with each other on the same level of plane in the living room, ducking under to the lower kitchen and wafting up to the upstairs area slowly. They moved up into his bedroom, and through the chimney, all over, to ensure the exact coverage of the entire house. Conrad laid back his head, staring at the orbs. They danced like small glass spheres containing a warm yellow light, as if they were lightbulbs unhindered, able to move and be free.
   The young man shook his head, however, and was taken away from his thoughts as there was a knock on the door. He sat up his head, looking back and forth. With a small wave of the hand, the lights simply vanished, Violin ceased to play, the window panes lightened in. He walked over and opened one of them, and walked to the door, opening it cautiously. The sunlight beamed in from the birth of the mid-afternoon, and Conrad squinted at the frame, their front away from the light. His eyes adjusted quickly, and a man in a brown suit was holding a briefcase to his side.
   “Conrad Berahtramn?” He asked, tiny round glasses pinched to the bridge of his nose. He was as bald as bald gets, no hair struck his head outside of his eyebrows. Conrad nodded, slowly, as if the sun had stunned him. “You haven’t picked up your mail in almost a year, we’re obligated to hand deliver it to you at this point.” The man explained, tightening his tie with his free hand. “May I come in?” He furthered, and Conrad nodded quickly, stepping back and opening the door wider.
   The man stepped inside, looking around with the normal curiosity of someone entering the house of a stranger for the first time. He walked over to the short table next to the basement door, setting his briefcase level on the ground and clicking it open quietly, pulling the top upward. Inside were largely white and manilla papers, which of he pulled from it, separating a few and putting them back inside. He turned around, holding them outward.
   “I suggest you check your mail more often, as we can’t keep just bringing it to you, Mr. Berahtramn.” He said, curtly. Conrad nodded in silence, seemingly a little stunned. The man turned back around, shutting his briefcase primly and walking to the door, opening it into the afternoon light. He adjusted his tie with one hand before stepping off with silence. The young man rubbed his head, thoroughly confused. The bald man walked off into the streets and vanished in the crowd as Conrad shut the door, looking at his mail. It seemed it hadn’t been checked in quite a long time.
   He flipped through it as he walked through the house, slowly and drifting aimlessly. A lot of it was trash, but a few seemed hand written. He tossed the others on the mantle and tore open the rest with his finger, unfolding the paper and reading them over. Nothing important or necessary, it seemed. Letters from extended family, old friends. No draft notice, at least.
   Conrad shook his head and lumped all of the mail trash together on the mantle, walking over to the window. He waved his hand again, feeling the energy rush beyond him, out of his fingers and into the home as the dancing lights turned on, and Violin began retuning itself. He looked out the window, breathing slowly and consciously, as people walked here and there. The window panes darkened themselves on the outside looking in, and he just stood and watched everything turn, automated.
   After a few minutes that seemed like mere seconds, Conrad turned around and jammed his hands into his pockets, shuffling downstairs in his bare feet. The basement was still choked with objects and creations of all design, nowhere to be put and no major use. An automatic paper organized was sitting on top of a box full of auto-writing pens. He could put them all around his home, but it would be much harder to hide were anyone to just waltz in.
   He marched over to the table and unrolled the scroll, revealing his mania induced drawing from the day before. He took his pencil and sat down, erasing a good amount of things, redrawing them in clearer. After a few minutes of fixing, he tossed it aside, taking out another large design paper. He began to draw again, slowly and precise in his actions. The design was a sort of backpack one would wear on their back, made out of copper. It would contour to back of the wearer, sort of like a second spine. The center of the drawing, however, was a mystique blank. It was just white fading into drawing of the outside. Something was, obviously, missing, however what exactly was to be in place of the center began to rear through Conrad’s head, the mental block he had experienced before.
   Something was missing, an idea. He took the gyroglobe from his pocket, releasing it into the air as it spun up with masterwork speed. The orb glowed its tiny blue dot as the rest spun quietly. He lowered his hand a ways and felt the touch of the orb, as visible blue streams of magic slipped from his fingertips and wandered to the ball like smoke, returning. This was a trick he had learned earlier on, it just seethed magic back and forth between the object and his hand. It was, just his hand, however. The magic would not bounce back and forth between two objects.
   He shook his head, sighing, biting down on the eraser end of the pencil. He grabbed the gyroglobe and pocketed the lifeless copper ball, looking back at his drawing. Certainly, something was missing. Some sort of way to allow magic to be used by someone else. The stone wasn’t an endless source of free magic, he had returned to it earlier in the year and felt nothing from it, it reacted to nothing. Anja’s touch brought her no gift as well.
   The ideas in his head scrambled, Conrad stood up, rubbing his brow. The life of an inventor is the longest uphill challenge, it seemed, as the young man walked back up the stairs, laying down on his couch, staring up at the ceiling. The mid afternoon light shone in from the windows and the dancing lights grew brighter as the sun was no longer directly across from a window. They danced here and there, uncaring of Conrad or the rest of the home, only with one another. He watched these lights, all with a circular bronze bangle around their centers, unwavering.
   “The lights.” Conrad mused to the empty home. “The lights, they dance without care, they do not need me to continue their lifelong work.” The young man continued, still staring up at the lights. He raised his hand and arm gently, wrapping his fingers down in a fluid motion, as one of the lights descended to him. He grabbed the copper bangle with two fingers, looking the small object over.
   “Why do you operate, light?” He asked, and partially expected an answer. It just glowed, however, and did not move or answer. The yellow glow shifted and warped like a small ball of water, kept together by its own surface tension. He released it and the small light hurried up to the upper reaches of the ceiling, anxious to return to the infinite dance the lights lived their lives for.
   He got up from his couch as the evening set in, opening a window as the sweet breeze rolled in, heavy with warmth against the cool house. From the outside, the window was closed and felt as such, but the magic illusion was indifferent to Conrad, whether he caused it to appear as such or not. The young man walked upstairs, opening the door to his room and wandering inside listlessly. He removed his outer shirt, standing in his wifebeater and looking at the few lights that twisted through this room as well, occasionally wandering out the doorway to be replaced by a few more dancing ones.
   He placed his hand on his bedpost, and almost immediately following, the front door opened and closed. He snapped his fingers and the lights extinguished, Violin stopping his play from the lower reaches of the house. He shot a sharp look to the hallway and the stairs, heart pounding.
   “Oh, Conrad, please, turn the lights back on.” The voice of a woman drifted up the stairs as footsteps following it were clicking through. He exhaled, slowly, the white cold tension still lining his veins. He waved his hand and they all resumed once more, the upstairs lit artificially once more. He turned to the door as Anja walked in, smiling warmly. “A bit anxious, are we?”
   “Someone came over today, giving me my mail. I just wasn’t used to anyone being here, very disenchanting.” He said, shaking his head slowly. Anja crossed the room and leaned on him quietly.
   “You must relax, Conrad. Besides, anyone would have already seen these things. Might as well give up as soon as the door opens, you know.” She teased, smiling. The young man was not as light hearted, and exhaled still, the light grip of fear tingling through him. She looked up at him, running her extended nails on his cheek lightly. He felt like melting where he stood, dripping down into the bedroom below him. All at once, she moved away and back to the doorway. “Come, Conrad, I do have things that need unpacking. The rest will be here tomorrow.” She said over her shoulder, as Conrad felt like his mind had just left the building.
   He wandered downstairs with her, feeling as driftingly lost as the lights. She opened the door and grabbed her bags, hauling them inside. Outside, the evening was heavy set in its ways, the visible outside dark with the threads of orange and gold placed from the other side with the sunset. Conrad slid past her and grabbed the rest, shutting the door with his foot behind him. She walked into the vacant bedroom, the door already opened, setting down her bags at the foot of the bed.
   Conrad did the same, looking around the room. It was spartan in quality, just a bed, a desk and a bureau. It certainly wasn’t his favorite place to be, it hinged on memories of the fateful night. Anja looked around at things curiously, he had normally kept the room closed and locked, no need to be in or out.
   “Quite bare, I wish he had left all of his books.” She said, frowning as she walked.
   “Yes, well, he took pretty much everything he could haul out.” Conrad responded, running his hands over the dusty table.
   “Oh well, the rest of my things will be dropped in front of the house in the morning, so all is well.” She continued, running her hand over the wallpaper. It seemed as equally dusty as the table. She walked around the room and to the bed, sitting on the side. “So, what all did you do today, Conrad?” Anja asked, looking over her shoulder.
   “Hmh. Thought, mostly.” He responded, brushing dust off of his sleeves. “Can’t really piece together one to another, very confusion.” Anja shrugged, walking out the door and into the living room.
   “So, Conrad, is this all you’re going to be doing?” She asked, still wandering around the living room, observant.
   “Is all what?” He asked, following her out.
   “All of this. Your research. I can’t live here if you’re going to be in the basement forever.” She said, running her hand along the back of the couch. Conrad looked down, thinking.
   “Well, no, I can’t be down there all the time, but the sooner I figure this out, the better.” He said, also looking around the home he had been in for the last handful of years. “Everything will be more open.”
   “I hope so. As for now, I spent the whole day tearing things off of my walls and out of my house, so, as a result, i’m going to sleep.” She announced, weaving around the couch and Conrad to the door frame. He spun, looking as well, as she slipped into the room like a specter. “Goodnight, Conrad,” was all that echoed throughout the home as it fell silent. He turned, rubbing his jaw in the hollow of the room. The lights danced back and forth, circling with their endless energy. The young man looked up to them, staring in wordless thought.
   They danced in a weaving spiral, in and out of the rooms, in and out of view. He leaned against the couch in a slanted position, pocketing his hands as he continued to look to his high arching ceiling. They danced and pranced about, weaving. The trails burnt into his eyes as he watched made an eloquent design, before the young man shook his head. He lurched himself off of his couch and trudged his feet upstairs, tossing off his shirt and snapping his fingers sharply as the lights indoors all turned to dark, their copper rings continuing to flash in the hidden vents and slits of the moonlight.
   ---
   “I’ve got it.” Conrad mused out loud, but nobody was around to hear. He stood up, scrambling up the stairs, carrying a few rolled up pieces of blueprints. His ascent up the stairs was rapid, his excitement prickled with trepidation. He opened up the door and looked around sharply, the house was vacant in the summer air, the windows open and the curtains billowing softly.
   “Anja?” He called out, hesitant. There was no answer. He popped his head into her room, which was also vacant, save for the piles of boxes that were stacked here and there in the floorspace. Conrad pulled back his head and turned, looking around the rest of the house, walking off to the back and around to the front, checking his own room. Coming to the conclusion she was out of the house, Conrad sighed, sitting down on the couch, unrolling the paper. It was an machine as they all were, however, the spinal design was retained. The center was still a vacant blank against the paper, yet now the top right shoulder seemed to come down as if it were a light metallic sleeve on the corners and extending down to the hand. It looked fragile, Conrad pictured it as fragile, at first.
   The excitement was still there but it was underlying, and no longer bursting at his seams. He looked around the house once more, checking to see if the blonde was hiding in plain sight, but she was not, to his naked eye. He stood up and dusted himself off, as the woman came rushing back inside the house, blindsiding the man.
   “War, Conrad! We’ve gone to war!” She declared, holding up a newspaper. In massive black print read the words:

WAR WITH FRANKREICH

Chapter 3

   War. Conrad stared at the paper as she held it up in the same, dramatic pose. It declared what it was meant to declare, as Conrad snatched it from her hand, dropping the rolled up blueprints on the couch, the mystics at the far back reaches of his mind. He unfolded the half, it looked incredibly hastily printed. The young man leaned against the top of the hearth, looking it over and reading aloud.
   “In aide of her allies, the Deutsches Reich has openly declared war on the Dritte Französische Republik, with an expected declaration against the Russisches Kaiserreich following. The war is not expected to expand beyond any countries, and mobilization of military soldiers into Frankreich within the following days. Deutscher officials claim that the might of the empire will continue to aide her allies in war. All citizens are expected a patriotic mindset within the following onset of victory.”
   Conrad tossed the paper aside on the mantle, covering his pile of old mail, rubbing his forehead. Anja stepped over quickly, picking it up again and spinning around, unfolding the rest and reading the entire story.
   “There’s not a lot about it, but the whole paper is about it. If that makes sense.” She commented, as Conrad pulled himself from the mantle.
   “Both Frankreich and Russischer. This is not going to be a quick war, Anja.” He explained, but she was too enraptured with reading the paper to comment. “I managed to squeeze out the drawing of a prototype while you were gone.” He explained, but she shook her head.
   “Conrad, what if there’s a draft? There certainly will be.” She affirmed, but Conrad sat down on the couch heavily.
   “Relax, Anja. No draft. This war isn’t going to last long, whether it’s us or them at this point.” He explained, but the woman continued to walk around the room, her heels clicking back and forth, from side to side of the couch.
   “You can’t be certain of that.” She said, finally stopping and looking at the man, who was watching the lights dance across the ceiling in their trite patterns.
   “Oh yes, i’m certain that I could be certain of anything, Anja. With what i’m making, I could change anything in my favor.” Conrad answered, pointing up at the lights. “With this idea, the world is going to bend beneath my fingertips.” The woman looked at him but he paid her no visual mind.
   “Let’s just hope you don’t turn the world under your sole control. The last thing we need is some sort of maniac controlling the country and starting even more wars. The Kaiser is bad enough.” She complained, going and sitting primly on the ashen stone of the mantle. “They say students at the university are starting to protest the war. That it’s just the Kaiser being trigger happy.” She continued, looking over to Conrad, who was still visibly transfixed with the lights.
   “That’s fine, Anja, but it’s not a major concern to the both of us right now. I’ve got bigger things to be working on.” He said, looking back to her, eyes reading her concerned face. “Relax, you must relax. You can’t let this consume you.” Comforted the man, as Violin played a quiet fugue upstairs, sensing the disturbance within the home.
   “I’m trying, Conrad, but... War! It’s almost unheard of, that’s best left to the savages, to the chaotic barbarians, the Americans!” She protested, making motions with her hands.
   “Anja.” Conrad stood, looking over to the woman with a patriarchal stern gaze. “You must not let this worry you. What will come will come, it’s out of our hands... For now.” He explained, moving around the couch and opening the partially shut door to the basement. “I’ve got work to do, try and get out of the house and stay away from the whole war talk.” He said over his shoulder, a new type of emotion taking a grip on him.
   He sat down at his desk, unrolling the blueprints and looking them over. One was the armature design, the other, however, was a potential grip of the spine. Battery like sections, all of them cored with magic. Conrad turned around, grabbing a small wire and a metal cube. Through his fingertips the blue arc leapt to the cube thinly, charging it. He touched the metal wire to it, and a spark appeared between them, but the two did not solidify. Instead, the charge leapt from the cube and into wire, the faint blue glow transferring.
   The lights danced independently, they no longer needed Conrad to operate other than his basic disappearance magic, something he could use on anything. This cube too would continue to teem with magical energy, but it would work with or without Conrad. His mind continued to teem like prepared tea on the capability, of everything that he could possibly be doing with these things. Some way to possibly activate everything, to unleash what was waiting behind the physical properties, what was laying on what felt like a whole world of just pure energy.
   The young man leaned back in his chair, putting his feet up on the wooden desk, completely surrounded by thousands of trinkets and constructions of all bronze and copper sheen. He spun the small copper wire in between his finger and his thumb, locked in abrasive thought. The transfer, it still required his touch. Somehow. Conrad stood and opened a door in the basement not previously there, walking into a much larger room that would be standing stories above the actual ground.
   The room was a collection, a storeroom, each with tons worth of metals and materials. Copper shined throughout the storeroom in the natural, white light. The floors, ceilings and walls were all a shapeless white, they extended into forever and started at the beginning.  From it he walked across the way, and through it all, halfway he found what he was looking for. He took a few, torso sized sheets of copper, pulling them out with a soft hand backwards, as one would pull forth the strings of a harp to you. The sheets slid out smoothly, floating in place quietly and obediently.
   He turned on his heels and walked back, the pieces floating behind him like a lost animal. He stepped neatly through the door and the pieces rotated themselves to follow. Conrad sat back down, moving the pieces over to him with a swish of a single finger. He took one of the plates within his grip, looking the perfect metal sheen over. He placed his hand on one side and ran it down, the entire plate bending and warping to his very curve. It soon took the form of a prime spine, the top extruding and the bottom caving in. Conrad looked it over, the dancing lights above twisting and pirouetting along in the reflection of the copper.
   He closed his fingers together and used the edge of his hand to push on the metal, the point of impact making a division. The blue light shone out in wonderful rays on his hand as he curved it along. No longer was he connecting copper wire, but carving metal with the side of his hand. He curved it into a useful, eloquent shape, much like a well designed shield. It was broad as the shoulders at the top and curved down at turns into angles as it moved downward.
   It was but curved plate at that point, however. He took another one over and moved it to the other side quietly, the two halves floating along. He stood up at the floating pieces, placing his hands on the front sheet. He flattened his hands once more and curved a crescent from the center, the blue light streaming from his hands. He placed his hands flatly on the front of the piece with a sole cut, pushing it inward softly, the blue light wavering around his fingers. It curved gently to the shape of a male chest, and he bent the sides back, it was the shape of a prim breastplate in the front. The back was still stark and bent to the spine sharply.
   The young man spun it around without touching it, the armor plate fluidly twisting. He ran his fingertips along the spine, creating a parallel set of lines running from the neckline to the bottom quietly. He ran the flat of his palm down the separated part, and it vanished from the tops of his fingers. The excitement built, he could feel the rush on him once more. Conrad waved his hand, and four copper cylinders warped into view, all equally long with one another. He pulled them over and placed them within the slot neatly, and the back ends flattened and curved, filling the gap from top to bottom. He ran his finger along the gaps and metal sealed across the four cylinders. He curved his fingers sharply and ran his right hand along the cylinders, all of the metal pieces in the spine glowing faintly blue.
   The breastplate was complete, the back was stark and warlike, the front was eloquent in design. He breathed slowly despite the blood rushing through him, the young man tapped each cylinder quietly. The shine grew brighter, gleaming in the dark lights. Conrad absently waved his hand, and the dancing lights vanished. He was in near solid darkness, save for the evening light streaming in from the sole window. The cylinders glowed, bit by bit. He placed his hand firmly on one of them, and all at once the power of excitement strung across him, fueling his hand sharply. The energy transferred, pushing from the man into the cylinder.
   It began to glow brighter and brighter, first thin lines escaping the gaps in his fingers, then the glow was so bright his hand was translucent yet not warm at all, the bones in his hands visible. He removed his hand, and the cylinder seemed to be no more, replaced with a solid glow, like lightning contained within an invisible jar. Using the sweeping power, he forced his hand downward with great speed, and the rest almost immediately matched the top. The magic pulsed, and then shined the solid blue glow, greatly contained.
   Conrad took the piece of armor within his hands, letting the magic levitation go, the weight returning to him. He held it, the copper lightweight in his hands. He set it upon the table, the flat, oval bottom sitting nicely on the table, which was strewn about with all sorts of things and junk. He waved his hand, and from the storeroom rods appeared of all shapes, as well as a few more wider cylinders. He sat down, laying them all out on the table, room illuminated by the setting sun and the vibrant blue glow that matched the sky, an arctic sheen.
   The door opened above him, and Anja quietly walked downstairs. The night was strong in its reaches, and almost the entire basement shone a vibrant blue. She looked down, as Conrad was laying his head and arms down on the table. The blonde woman walked over to the man, looking at the machine on the table. It wasn’t on the table rather than floating, quietly, without movement. It was a breastplate in which the spine shone brilliant, a light sapphire blue. It was made out of copper, as most things were, its dark brazen color reflecting nothing but shining blue.
   Attached to the right shoulder was the exoskeleton of an arms length. She grabbed the plate and the levitation stopped, hanging in her hands heavily. She hauled it up, taking a closer look at the arm. It had finger attachments and some sort of circle that wrapped around and rested in the palm. She inspected it and rested it on the table, the arm hanging off quietly. The lights continued to shine much like the dancing lights, but with a greater intensity. She looked the whole scene over and turned around, shaking her head quietly and walking back up the stairs.
   She opened the door to her room and shut it quietly behind her, sitting on the edge of her bed. Placing her chin in her hands, she stared at the wall in the darkness, eyes heavy. She fell backwards onto her bed, moving her gaze from the wall to the ceiling, the whole world still except a thousand marching feet and rolling tanks, miles and miles away.
---
   “You’re certain I won’t explode, right?” She asked, the two standing in the middle of the heavy woods, a small open clearing, yet still thunderous with underbrush.
   “Er... Not really.” Conrad confided, white sleeves rolled up and tie loosened. “We’ll just have to give it a shot. Not quite sure what will happen. Maybe nothing, and time to go back to the drawing board.” He explained, the summer sun shining above, interweaved between a few pristine white clouds.
   “Well, I suppose we have no other choice. The Britisches Weltreich has declared war on us, you know. It’s now or never.” Anja stated. She was dressed in a blue sun dress and pants underneath with walking shoes. Covering her torso was the metal breastplate, and running down her arm was the attached exoskeleton. The spine shone brightly, yet wasn’t as apparent in the overhead, mid day sunlight.
   “Alright, Anja. Just raise your hand, point it at a tree, and curl your fist, make sure all of your fingers touch the sapphire embedded in the hand plate. When you let go, well, something should happen.” Conrad furthered, sitting on a tree stump that had been naturally knocked down, its remnants laying in a vine and moss covered heap to his right.
   She nodded affirmatively and took a deep breath. Raising her hand, the metal gear spinning on her shoulder and elbow, the complicated wrist machinery moving without magic but rather engineering. Surrounding the group in an uneven circle were trees of all shapes and sizes, all leading into dense forests. The breeze rolled overhead gently, rustling the tree tops. The leaves swayed quietly, and the only sound was the simple brushing and rush of wind, the breathing of the two far too quiet to hear. She looked to Conrad, a mark of fear in her eyes, and then back at a tree across the way.
   Arm raised, she curled her fingers around the small blue sapphire and touched all of her fingertips to it with great silence and gentleness. The breeze swayed all around them with great trepidation, all the young woman could hear however, was her own pulse. Fear danced across her arm, sweat formed quietly at the top of her brow, hair pulled back neatly to minimize obstruction. She breathed in, the plate and her chest rising with ever slowness, and breathed out. Conrad watched, his eyes running from the spine to the arm back and forth as fast as he could, awaiting the moment. The world seemed to grind to a halt as she opened her fingers as fast as she could, palm extended to the tree line. Through her great fear, a massive blue burst of energy flied forward, slamming into the tree line, breaking a very old looking tree in half, splinters flying upward and outward in all blooming directions.
   Anja, however, went flying backwards, rolling in the underbrush and grinding to a halt. Conrad stood, watching the great wave of blue flourish forward, slamming into the trees, and then running over to Anja as fast as he could. She sat up, looking at her own open hand, the sapphire glowing in great waves, swirling in color, as if a small whirlpool was wrapped inside of it. She stared at it in great wonder, as Conrad helped her up, brushing off dirt and flora from her body. The metal, of course, was completely unscathed, still reflecting the sunlight above. He routed his head and looked at the spine, which was still glowing in full sheen as if he had just recently touched it.
   “Conrad, why don’t -you- put this thing on?” Anja finally broke from her trance and looked up at Conrad in a hush, defeated look. Conrad, however, simply shook his head, rubbing his stubble covered chin, like a war zone.
   “It doesn’t work that way, Anja, I myself am magic. It will just flow through me like nothing else has changed, much like I flow magic to the gyroglobe.” He explained, running his hand over the spine. “But, I am not sure why there was such a massive blast from you. Maybe because there is no sort of regulation, no...” He paused for a moment, walking back over to her other side, grabbing her hand gently and turning it over. “No filter.” He finished, tapping the sapphire.
   It darkened significantly, the blue swirl having already dissipated away from the precious jewel he had created from thin air. The young man smiled, releasing her hand and stepping back. Excitement tingled from him as he motioned for Anja with his hands to proceed, sitting back down on the tree stump.
   “Do not have fear this time, Anja. It made it even stronger. You must be able to just lift and push.” He explained, as Anja nodded affirmatively, yet the tingle of fear still traced along her skin lightly. “Try one more time.” He explained.
   She raised her arm, and a great flourish of snow exploded from the ground as a blue bolt ran across the cold woods, slamming into another tree, cracking it up the center. She had settled her feet, one arm holding down her other for control. The blue glow of the spine was still great, the exoskeleton much more like the sleeve of a shirt, a conquistador’s wrist bangle, except extended up the arm, only broken at the elbow, wrist and shoulder. Her hair had grown significantly as she did so, and no longer did the plate have a front part. She looked over to Conrad, who was smiling behind his trimmed beard, nodding.
   “Excellent, excellent, Anja. That was exactly what I was expecting. I believe we’ve got this down to an exact magic, a mixture of science and art.” He exclaimed, and she pranced over through the foot of snow, embracing him.
   “Oh, Conrad, it is incredibly wonderful.” She looked up to him with a warm smile on her flushed face, sniffling from the cold. “Can we return back home? It’s dreadfully cold, and you don’t have much else to do in the ways of testing, no?” She questioned, and the young man nodded, and the two of them together reappeared back within the basement, which was incredibly clear save for many standing white mannequins that held a variety of plates and harnesses, all with a single exoskeleton arm across them.
   Conrad smiled, looking around at the mannequins and the multiple doors that were now lining the walls of the basement, his desk still sitting primly, covered in books. The lights still danced neatly around the ceiling in their slow, organized waltz. As they let go, there was a thundering boom, the walls shook, the lights scattered and dipped, scrambled from their position. The few, unlit electric lights swayed from the ceiling, a few mannequins falling over.
   “Oh, Conrad, what in the name of the spirit was that?” Anja asked, but the man had already began his flight upstairs. He rushed through the living room, which was strewn with stacked books and papers, throwing open the curtains and looking outward. From the outside looking in, Conrad viewed a great red explosion, with planes thundering along the sky, visible with each flash. Red embers flew through the air quietly, wandering here and there. Buildings across the lane were on fire, exploding and burning down. Conrad turned around quickly, looking to Anja with a frantic look.
   “A bombing, Anja! The Americans are bombing the city! We have to move it!” He exclaimed, rushing across the room.
   “Is that safe?” She questioned, also frightened, as Conrad fled from one space to another.
   “It matters little, nobody will notice! Everyone must be in the shelters, we didn’t hear the call of the air raid siren in the woods. Come, help me move the crystals.” He explained, as he began to push massive metal crystals across the living room, all inset with sapphires. They seemed to be a system that went around the entirety of the house, as another thundering boom caused Conrad to lose his footing, Anja falling as well, the entire house shaking like an ancient contraption of wood. The books fell, objects fell off of shelves, chairs knocking over.
   “Quickly, Anja! We must rush!” He exclaimed, scrambling back to his feet. “It’s time to go!” As he said this, another boom shook the house, both of the people gripping on to the massive circles, large as a car wheel, inset with a shiny, dark sapphire.
   “Have you ever done this before?” She questioned, but Conrad shook his head.
   “No, but there is no time to question. This house may not be here in a few minutes.” He continued, as the only light that shone from the home were the scrambled lights, no longer dancing but hanging, and the red embers with the occasional blast explosion.
   They pushed the great wheel around the house, until it clicked into place and the precious stones began to swirl quietly. He looked over his shoulder at Anja, who’s eyes were frantic, confused. She ran over to Conrad, but before she could get across the room, the blue sapphires turned to a blinding light, graciously exploding outward into a shine. The two closed their eyes, unable to see, as it faded with sluggish pace.
   Conrad was sitting down on the floor, stunned. Anja was as well, as the sky outside the window was no longer burning with embers, no longer shining with the fever of war. The air was no longer wrapped in the sound of the wailing horn and thundering explosions, there was nothing else in the way of noise but silence. Conrad stood, moving to the window slowly, looking out. There was nothing but darkness outside, shining onto snow from the dim inside light.
   “The house may be in ruins, but is there on the outside still in Hannover. If i’m correct, we’re outside of the city, in a clearing in the woods. We’ll have to teleport back to the city to check and see if it was destroyed. If it was, i’ll have to rebuild it and mirror the house back into the city.” Conrad explained, grabbing his coat and opening the door. No snow was drifting from the sky, but a flourish of cold rushed inward. The man placed on his coat, stepping out into the snow.
   The woman followed quietly, hands shaking vibrantly, as Conrad looked around in the total darkness around him. The sky was pitch black, the clouding overhead in sheer darkness. Anja stepped out into the snow with him, grabbing hold of his arm and looking up with him.
   “Conrad... Something has to be done... People in Hannover.. They’re...” Anja stammered, quiet. “They’re dying...” She said, breathing heavily and somewhat rapidly, hands still shaking. Conrad placed his hand on hers, the warm against the cold on the outdoors.
   “I know, Anja, I know.” He said, shaking his head and placing his arm around her, leading her back inside. “We’ll go see the city in the morning. As for now, we’ll just clean up and rest. We’ll soldier through.”
   The two stepped inside the house and shut the door quietly, the home an entire wreck, glass shattered everywhere. Conrad swirled his hand, glass spinning and replacing the window neatly. He raised his hand and papers swirled, replacing in their stacks and into books. He rubbed his beard, looking at the wood sparks all on the ground.
   “Frame damage. I may have to just repair the entire house as a whole. Step outside, for a moment, Anja.” He instructed, and she did quietly, tearing away from Conrad. She opened the door and walked back out into the snow, closing it behind her and taking steps backwards, watching the house. A flourishing blue light streamed from the windows, all of them, as the house frames bent downward and outward, as if it had come to life and were stretching itself quietly. The walls pressed outward, vexing and pulling, before straightening.
   The door opened on its own, and Anja fled inside, cheeks a light rose shade, as she shut it behind her. The house was in perfect order again, as Conrad was sitting on the couch, breathing out slowly.
   “Come, Anja, sit with me.” He said, waving her over. She went and sat by the man, still somewhat trembling. She leaned against him, and he placed his arm around her shoulder quietly.
   “Oh, Conrad... What are we going to do.. ?” Anja said, looking up at him, eyes heavy and tired, sweat drying on her brow.
   “I... I don’t know, Anja.” He said, and stood up slowly, guiding her upward, his knees sore and muscles burning. “All I know is that I want to go to sleep.” He explained, walking around his couch slowly as Anja followed. The two traversed upstairs, and Conrad simply collapsed on his bed in his winter shirt, on top of the covers. Anja sighed and collapsed on top of him, and the two drifted off into silence, the dancing lights slowly remembering their exact position and fluid dance.
   Conrad sat up, the streaking white light shining in through the window. Anja was gone from his bed, always the earliest to rise. He changed his shirt and walked downstairs, running his hand through his medium length, scruffy dark hair. The house sat in still silence, cold and hollow. He walked into the kitchen and Anja was sitting at the table, staring into her coffee.
   “How are you feeling, Anja?” He asked, opening a cupboard and looking through it.
   “They’re all empty, apparently the switch missed most of the kitchen, save the magic engineering.” She said, looking up at him. “Conrad, we can’t stay here forever, nor can we stay in Hannover.” She explained, and the man nodded.
   “I know, I know. I’ll think of something.” He said, the tinge of fear striking the hairs on the back of his neck. “If push comes to shove, i’ll just teleport the house back, and arrive at the military headquarters with my proposal. I can simply just duplicate the spinal core and charge as many cylinders they need at once. It’s not what I want to do, but it’ll just be the only choice.” Conrad continued, grabbing the only thing he could find, small biscuits.
   “And if they murder you?” She asked, blonde hair strayed and straggled out.
   “I’ll just have to take it. It’s a risk.” He explained while rubbing his jaw, sitting at the table. “I’ll be going to the city in the morning, I doubt it’s been an all night air raid.”
   Anja simply shook her head, taking a deep breath and standing up, rubbing her eyes sleepily. She walked off into the living room as Conrad devoured the sweets, drinking the coffee she had left behind. He stood, and vanished, appearing in the basement. There was nothing in this basement, no extra doors. There wasn’t even a desk at this point, it was hollow, and covered in crumbled stone.
   He walked up the stairs carefully, pieces of wood laying here and there. He stepped into the living room, pushing open the squeaky door. The living room was in tatters, with a few holes in the ceiling, but the entire building was still together. The whole place was empty, as expected, save for a few things spilled out of the kitchen. He wandered quietly out of the front door, looking around the street. Police automobiles tumbled through the streets, people wandering around, examining the damage. The city was not leveled but there was a great deal of roof damage, the streets were almost undrivable for low cars.
   Conrad shook his head and turned around, walking into the room. He rubbed his beard, the snow drifting in from a hole in the ceiling. He shut the door and immediately vanished, returning back to the living room, startling the young blond woman, who jumped and dropped a book she was carrying. He dusted snow off of himself, rubbing his hand through his hair.
   “We’re going back. Nobody’ll notice now that it’s daytime.” He said, as Anja kept breathing slowly. “You can go get on the arm if you don’t want to force the jewels around.” He said, walking over to one of them. She nodded adamantly, stepping down the stairs quickly, returning with the prototype sleeve and spine. She grabbed one of the jewels, sparks going across the sapphire from jewel to jewel.
   The two pushed, the copper grinding, the jewels turning across the walls. They soon set in place and the two covered their eyes, the brazen light blinding the both of them. They reopened them after a few seconds, and the house was back to normal, both of them walking over to the window by the door, looking out on the battered Hannover.
   “I’ve got to go, Anja, and show it to them.” He said, and she nodded, removing the chest strap, removing the spine and sleeve, handing it over to Conrad. “Not one hundred percent sure how to approach them, but I suppose the most blunt way will do it.” Conrad firmed, and bent over, pecking Anja on the cheek, who was still looking down.
   “Come back as soon as possible, Conrad.” She said quietly, her gaze cast aside. “Please...”
   The man smiled thinly, pushing up her chin with his finger and kissing her on the lips softly. She looked up to him with a great ire in her eyes, but simply sighed and fell against his chest, closing her eyes.
   “I will return, Anja. I’ll always return.” He said, and she pulled off of him with a heave, as he walked to the coat rack, making the exomagic skeleton vanish, grabbing his coat and placing it on. He stepped out the door without a look back, the door shutting itself behind him. He pocketed his hands and walked through the war torn streets, the remnants of shells and shrapnel laying in craters along the sidewalks and paved roads. He meandered through the city, breathing in the cold air and walking through the snow. Ambulances drove very cautiously, swerving around craters with slow, braking speed.
   He curved in through the city and arrived at a grand building, standing tall with roman pillars. The flag of the German Empire flew from it with the three bold colors, the shield proudly in the center. Military officers and soldiers were walking back and forth sharply, all of them having a destination. Conrad walked up the stairs quietly, his breath visible from his lips as he did so. Ascending the stairs, the man quietly slipped inside the dark, heavy wood doors.
   Military officers were scrambling back and forth, far too busy to notice the man in the black coat with the beard and shaggy hair. He walked up to a center desk, where an enlisted soldier was writing furiously onto different pads and papers. He looked up sharply before looking back down to continue writing.
   “If you’re looking to file a complaint about last night, the citizen formal office is to your right, can’t miss it.” He said absently, scribing away as a fast as his hands could carry him.
   “I’m afraid i’m looking for the highest ranking officer who’s here right now.” He said, and the enlisted soldier stopped, looking back up to him in his heavy green coat.
   “I don’t know where they are exactly sir, but civilians are not allowed to just schedule a meeting with officials.” He explained, but Conrad simply shook his head.
   “I am quite afraid that just won’t do.” He said, and waved his fingers in a rising and falling wave. The pen in the soldiers hand lifted as he sharply looked at it, staring as it rose. It disassembled itself and laid out like a removed gun on the table, each piece organized.
   “Now, as I walk to where the commanding officer would be, you can fix your pen in the mean time. Now please, enlighten me.” He said warmly, with no hint of threatening carrying across his voice.
   “I.. I.. Uh.. What...?” He stammered out, a look of stupefaction and petrify across his long, thin face.
   “You’ll understand in time. Believe me. Just, I need to know where your officer is, it’s fairly urgent.” Conrad said, leaning against the counter, looking at the man as nobody else took notice of this affair.
   “Uhm... Upstairs, as far left as you can go... T-take this badge, you’ll need it.” He said, unclipping his own badge and handing it over with shaking hands. Conrad floated it over to himself and walked over in the atrium, the upper level visible as a catwalk upstairs guarded by a rail. With simplicity, Conrad simply floated upward, his feet gently moving from the ground as the man glided slowly. Everyone stopped and watched, the entire center was hushed in silence. He swept up over the rail gently, landing on the opposite side as everyone upstairs turned and stopped.
   He walked, heels clicking along the stone flooring. Soldiers turned and looked as others followed, talking quietly amongst themselves, staring on and following in wonder. Conrad came to a grand door, opening it with one hand and peering his head inside. Standing around a massive table covered in equally large papers, officer looking soldiers wearing a forest green were talking loudly and pointing at papers. They slowly one by one looked as the room filled with other soldiers, Conrad in lead, all of them spilling into the room in an eerie silence.
   “Gentlemen, a moment of your time. Who is the highest rank of officer right here?” He asked the room with enough voice to fill it. A man with a flurry mustache stepped forward.
   “What is the meaning of this?” The delightfully mustached commander asked, placing a hand on his weapon holster.
   “I’ve just got a simple proposal, as a concerned citizen and possible part of the war effort.” Conrad answered, taking a few steps forward.
   “You’re going to have to submit a form or something, I don’t know. Can’t you tell we’re busy?” He said with a unison eyebrow lower at the man in black.
   “Of course, officer. I believe I have something that will just as easily make you un-busy.” Conrad said with a smirk he could not help but produce, the corners of his cheeks pushing in like rivers carving canyons. The officer looked up, motioning two specific soldiers forward.
   “I won’t be peddled inventions in my own domain. Take this man out of here.” He said with a flash of anger in his voice. The heavy leather boots of the two guards clopped forward, but halted in place as Conrad waved his hand, the exospine and arm attach appeared in front of him with a quaint silence.
   “I believe I have just changed the face of human history forever, men.” Conrad said, the rush of fear tingling on his blood. “Behold, the power of creating something out of nothing. It is but magic, a mystery to the both of us, but what you see in front of you is a weapon any man can use, or a tool for doing anything you need.” He looked over his shoulder with an anxious paranoia, as the guards were stopped, staring widely.
   “Nonsense! Cut the wires, drop the scrap metal and take him away, soldiers!” The portly commander flustered, warbling as he stepped back. The spine glowed brightly, the eloquently designed sleeve hanging down limp.
   “I’m afraid that just cannot do, officer.” Conrad said, and as the two men moved to grab him from behind, he appeared behind the rest of the officers, as everyone looked as though they were about to be hit by a train. “I’m here to make a proposal, not kill you all.” The commander turned around, staring.
   “Madness! Guards, fire!” He ordered, throwing out his hand like Napoleon against the invaders. A few soldiers scrambled out their guns and took shot, but after the flash and deafening crack of bullets in the small space, Conrad flinched under fire, but just stood where he was, the small lead bullets rolling on the floor idly.
   “That’s not going to work. I suggest you calm down before you decide leveling your own city is the next step.” Conrad suggested, trying to keep his composure under the shock of gunfire. His blood still ran with slivers of cold in it, as his slow breathing rose and fell. The guards just stood in their position, confounded, the same blank expression smeared across their faces.
   “Enough of this nonsense! What do you want from us?” The commander demanded, taking a valiant step forward to Conrad.
   “I simply wish to show you something you’ve never seen before, sir, something that may change everything about the Deutsches Reich.” He said, the exospine still hanging in the air in front of him. “I do need a volunteer to put on this outfit, however.” Conrad stated, looking across the room in a wide sweep, his back to the window that shone in cold, white light. The guards were all dressed in the heavy woolen green, almost everyone who can fit in the room either standing in or looking from the hallway.
   “And if this is just a ruse to kill us?” The commander questioned, still gripping his Mauser in one hand.
   “If I wanted you dead, sir, i’d have done it already.” Conrad said, the air of confidence swinging on his voice. After he said so, the commander’s face seemed to visibly change to an air of deep thought. He turned around, running his eyes over the mass of soldiers staring in awe.
   “You!” He snapped, pointing at a very undecorated private. “You, step up to the man.”
   The private was a very young, blonde man who was stammering as another soldier clapped him on the shoulder and strongarmed him out into the open. The commander wordlessly waved his hand forward as the private nervously stepped around the men and across the table to Conrad, who grabbed the exospine and held it out.
   “Just put your back on it and put your arm in the sleeve. Lace your fingers in the rings, and be careful not to touch the gem in the hand plate until I say so.” Conrad said, placing the spine on his back as the top clasped to him without needing provoking action. The private was breathing short and quickly, looking back and forth as he weaved his fingers onto the design.
   “Alright, private, I want you to focus on the papers on the table. Just clear your mind and think. Touch your fingers to the sapphire, wave your hand to them, and picture what you want to do with them.” Conrad instructed, taking a few precautionary steps backwards. The private swallowed nervously and nodded slowly, sweat beading from his forehead.
   The blonde youth stared at the papers on the desk as if he was to move them with his mind alone. After a few daunting, dead silent seconds, he raised his hand and waved it in a flash, the blue sapphire spinning and flaring with color and life. The papers on the desk lifted into the air, spinning valiantly, lacking finesse and grace. The arm hung on him, jolting and shivering with his own shaking.
   “See, gentlemen? I have developed something that allows anyone the capability to do, well, anything.” Conrad said, as suave as a business man making a sale, as he weaved around the Private, who was waving his arm as the papers followed, picking up more and more things. “I’ll be happy to explain how this is, but I must have the capability to talk to someone who can put this all in order. Someone, commander, who can give one of these exospines to every soldier in the military.”
   He turned around to face the Commander as he said this, who was stroking his mustache quietly. He beckoned over another officer, talking to him quietly. The officer nodded and pushed through the mass, leaving the room. The commander turned back to Conrad, crossing his arms.
   “We’re going to try and get you to Berlin, civilian, but you’re going our way. None of this instant across the room nonsense. From there, you’re out of my hands.” He said, putting away his small barreled pistol. Conrad nodded.
   “Thank you, Commander. It’s all i’ve wanted.” He said, and waved his hand, as the exospine appeared in front of him once more. The private, who had been picking up almost every loose object in the room, looked stunned as papers, pens, books and a few enlisted caps came crashing to the ground, the entirety of the room turning around and looking at the smash. The private was standing there, his confidence had vanished in the blink of an eye, and he looked quite nervous again.
   After a few moments, an officer cleared a path with two, elite looking soldiers, dressed in black with equally black helmets.
   “Come with us. We’ll be in Berlin by nightfall, if all goes to plan.” He said, turning around as the two elites stayed to watch Conrad. The young man moved in the silent room as everyone watched, the elites following after him on a heel turn, marching. They took the stairs downward and walked out into the early afternoon sun, snow crunching on the ground under their feet as they transcended the mighty staircase between the roman pillars.
   The officer, who was a thin, gaunt looking man with a white mustache and beard, opened the door of a small automoblie, one with four seats. Conrad ducked his head and got in, pulling his coat from the closing door. The officer was visible walking sternly around the engine of the vehicle, opening the driver side door and getting in next to Conrad. He started the vehicle and it took off with great caution around the fallen snow, avoiding the craters in the ground that were being worked on by all available men.
   “Your name, sir, and your business.” The officer said stalwartly, the two guards in the back quietly talking in what sounded like Russian, one giving a cigar to the other. Conrad turned back around, looking first at the officer, and then at the damaged road.
   “Conrad Berahtramn. I’m, well, unemployed.” He said, placing his hands in his lap, the rough black wool scratchy on his hands. The engine and car bumped and spat outward, chugging along.
   “Unemployed? How do you live, off of your parents?” The officer inquired, his tone of voice turning from stalwart nihilist to a more curious inflection. Conrad shook his head as the buildings began to be more sparse, more stretches of snow covered land between them.
   “No, I simply live off of a small fortune left to me by my grandparents, who were architects. They designed a good amount of the Reichstag.” Conrad said, looking out the side window. The two guards had rolled down their small windows, blowing smoke out of it while talking in russian.
   “I see. Do you live alone?” He asked, the curiosity draining out. His eyes stayed sharply forward as the car pulled on the road ahead.
   “No, I live with a woman.” Conrad responded, still looking out the side window. The sky was a heavy set gray and there were no more buildings to be found, just sparse trees over a large clearing, in which snow was gently blanketing and continuing to fall. He looked back forward, as bits of snow hit the window and melted.
   “Have you ever been to Berlin, Herr Berahtramn?” The man asked, waving smoke out of his face as the two guards talked quietly.
   “No.” Conrad responded once more, watching the road as trees grew in number.
   “Well, it’s quite a sight. I have to ask, are you going to say how you’re able to do such things, Mr Berahtramn?” The man questioned, finally looking over to Conrad for a short second, before turning his eyes back to the carved out road.
   “I’m afraid that all I know is that I got lost one day, and it just came to me. As if I were struck by mythic lightning.” He explained, scratching his jaw.
   “I see.” The officer said, as the russians put out their cigars on the sides of their metal guns. “Well, i’m sure the Kaiser is going to be highly interested.” The man mused, stroking his mustache with one hand and driving with the other. “We’ll be stopping in Brunswick for fuel, if you don’t mind. It will only be a moment.”
   Conrad looked around as the trees began to disperse and blinked his eyes a few times shortly, looking back and forth around the small car windows. Time had run faster than he had expected it. The officer spun the wheel as they took a gradual turn into a small beaten road, the heavy gray sky loomed overhead, the breathing morale that tingled on his veins was gone.
   He pulled up to a breakway, a lowered guard post, with soldiers dressed in the heavy woolen green, machine guns slung under their arms. They held up their hand as the car approached, mulching through the mud and the snow to the window, as the officer rolled it down by hand.

   “Officer Commander Peter Straube, private.” The officer said, opening the front flap to his coat, showing off his insignia rank that swathed from his button to the inner fold of his coat, small and red. The private nodded and waved his hand, speaking a command over the car to the other. He stood back up as the gate opened and the car sputtered through, pulling into a small station. The officer got out, as did the guards, and Conrad just sat there, looking around. Gripped within his hand in his pocket was the small gyroglobe. It was cold to the touch, as was everything else around. Around the covered garage station, snow drifted down one onto the other, piling in great dunes.
   He withdrew his hands from his pockets and rubbed them together quietly as the car began to fuel with gasoline, the guards and the officer chatting quietly, a few of them smoking. The wind was light, the snow was spiraling around on the breeze romantically, and Conrad looked back ahead as the officer got back into the car. Everything was tight, small, the confines of the automobile were too much for their heavy winter coats. Conrad no longer felt as if he were off to change the nation, but rather he was going to be thrown in jail.
   The man shook his head, rubbing his thick black beard with his hand, the gaunt driver pulling out and taking off again at another cautious pace throughout the snow. The rest of the ride was spent in decrepit silence, even the guards weren’t talking anymore. Everyone simply stared out of the windows as snow collected on the ledges, coating trees and continuing to turn the waving hills of Deutschland into a desert of cold, white sand. Trees whipped by as they proceeded on, only very rarely crossing another car on this road. It was just now that people were starting to use them, it’s rare for one to be back here in the first place.
   Conrad mused, thinking over his contraption and the meeting of the Kaiser. He hadn’t been in as long as Bismarck had, and people didn’t exactly know him. He did, however, send the country into war. That was enough for everyone to always remember him. He shook his head, feeling as if the gaunt man and the two guards could read his thoughts, the silence stifled. The trees began to move way, however, pushing out and out into clearings, removed from their positions for use of life. Buildings began to sprout as the hours drew in, the sun was nowhere to be seen.
   Conrad looked at his wrists, both watch-less, and remembered he had no such use for telling time back home, he never left. The cold remembrance of it all cut strong, he was as far as he had ever been from home. He leaned back in the car seat, the guard rubbing his hands together, wrists guiding the wheel. The guards had their arms together, and as he observed him, Conrad too felt the cold upon him, as if it hadn’t been there until he had noticed it. He rubbed his nose, which was frigid and feelingless, as they began to pull into a greater part of a city.
   The buildings stood tall and clustered together, the streets were much more winding and twisting than in Hannover. Soon they were in a belt of people, most of them soldiers. The rest of the civilians around were standing in the streets or watching from their windows as ambulances drove solemnly around corners, soldiers in truckloads being taken here and there. Conrad stared in wonder as one of them passed.
   A soldier sitting in the side of the truck was looking out between the tarpaulin and metal rods, and it seemed as if time had completely stopped as Conrad watched him pass. He had a heavy, black beard and his eyes were sunken in, he looked much older than he probably was, and certainly not a new soldier by the flash of silver and black Conrad glimpsed as he passed. Within a second, the soldier and the rest were gone as before.
   They eventually stopped in front of the arch of it all, the capital, the Reichstag. The flowing black, white, and red colors billowed off of the ledges, in between the mighty roman pillars. A swarm of soldiers were walking every which way, through the grass and up the stairs, all with their own agenda. Conrad stared as the officer got out with the guards, and he too opened the door, stepping out onto the sidewalk.
   “Come, Herr Berahtramn. The Kaiser is waiting for you.” The officer said coldly, placing his hands in his coat, tilting his gravity forward and walking, the guards stoutly following beside Conrad as he trailed, looking on in wonder as the flags were trimmed with snow and ice, the top of the building covered. Right by the top ledge, a very tiny by distance man was shoveling snow down below to clean off the majestic look. He followed the three men into the building, the guards clicking their heels and standing tall as the officer passed, relaxing as he was out of sight. Inside, the building was marvelous, grand and wide. The innate design beauty was overtaken by the amount of soldiers rushing and talking through the way, on all visible floors from the main atrium.
   Conrad did as he was instructed, the entirety of it all seeming graciously surreal, a mysterious Frankreich circus of people waving all through. A few papers drifted down floors, masterfully caught by officers and enlisted men below. The volume of the room was cacophonous, every soul but the four men were talking, some shouting. The swath of men weaved like a green and black paint, heavy with metal and weaponry.
   They moved into a grand hallway, the floor stretched with marble, and up a spiraling staircase, squeezing past people who needed to go down the staircase faster than they were moving up.
   “Why is everyone in a rush, Herr Straube?” Conrad questioned, as the officer shook his head.
   “We are in a war, Herr Berahtramn. Everyone must always be in a rush, your own city was bombed last night, you know.” The officer explained, without even looking back. They eventually reached the top and approached a massive, unusually calm door, standing high above them by a good couple of feet. The officer pushed open the door and slipped inside, shutting it behind him. Conrad stood on the other side, flanked by guards. He crossed his arms, the guards standing stalwart, in the near constant presence of officers.
   Nobody seemed to take much mind of them, however, as people just walked all around them, as if the three men were just a fixture around on the position of the capital building, as if they had always been there. After what seemed to be an eternity, the door finally opened as much as the officer had, and the gaunt Peter motioned Conrad inside, as the two guards stood where they were. Conrad walked up to the door, sliding inside. The room was as grand as a medium sized church, the ceilings raised to untouchable heavens, lights strung across them.
   Within the room, there were a bastion of officers, almost all of them dressed in the same palettes of forest, muted green or sharp, pitch black. At the center of the room, at the end of a large table, stood a man in a very prim, decorated uniform. Badges hung off to the point of absurdity from his chest, proudly displayed. The man looked up at the group of them, as if he were waiting on them. Phalanx on all sides were other officers, covered in hard black uniforms and coats, all looking as equally as stressed out as the other.
   “Come in, come in.” The man said with a booming voice that cut through the quiet to medium chatter of the officers. “Herr Straube, this is the man you say will change the face of the world as we know it, yes?” He questioned, as the entire room came to look at Conrad and Peter.
   “Yes, fully, sir. I’ll leave him to tell you what he is here to tell you.” The officer said, stepping back into the foreshadow of the limelight. Conrad scanned across the room at the men, all of them turning to look right at him. He swallowed, hard, the threads of fear picking up in the veins of his extremities and spreading to the rest of his body. As the hairs on the back of his neck stood up, Conrad cleared his throat quietly.
   “Well, I, erm.. I’ve got an invention, Herr Kaiser. An invention made from something that only I can use.” He said, as the officers crossed their arms in mild contempt. Conrad took a deep breath, as far as he could, and even though it did not feel like enough, he waved his hand, and the exospine appeared, shimmering in the illumination of the room. The officers immediately began to talk amongst themselves before Kaiser Wilhelm spoke.
   “I see, tell me, how exactly do you pull such a magician’s trick, sir?” He questioned, moving around his officers in surrounding and walking the length of the mighty wooden table, strewn with papers and the likes.
   “I am not quite sure, my leader, but I do know that whatever I have found to give me such ability, that I can allow others to do the same.” Conrad said, as the exospine hovered in the air in front of him peacefully.
   “Hm. Is this all you can do, make things appear and disappear?” Wilhelm asked, his decoration more visible as it grew closer. Conrad shook his head quietly, rubbing his forehead which was prickled with sweat.
   “No, my leader.” He breathed in again, filling his lungs as far as he could but not as much as he needed, and waved his hand. Every hat of the officers wearing flew into the air and swept like the cull of a tornado, curving over to Conrad in the rush, and slowly turning about his head in a halo of green and black with gold trim. The Kaiser stared upward, a stern look upon his face.
   “This is unlike anything i’ve seen before, Herr Berahtramn, but how will making things appear and disappear at your will and stealing hats change the world?” He questioned, looking back down to the man. “Can you actually do something that will win this war?”
   “Yes, my leader, but I need someone to put on this arm attachment. All should be solved when they do.” Conrad explained, and the Kaiser turned on his heels, looking through the rank of officers.
   “Ah, Oberstleutenant Hammersmark. Come, come.” Wilhelm said motioning him over with his hand. The corporal lieutenant, a young, blonde man, took a deep breath and marched forward quickly. Wilhelm turned back to Conrad, looking at his machine. “How does one... Operate?” He asked, and Conrad shook his head.
   “You will see, my leader. You will know how it operates and how it will win the war.” Conrad said, looking across the room. They were flanked by a wall of continuous windows, from front to back. He looked back to Hammersmark, who arrived in front of him. Conrad motioned for him to turn around, and the young man looked to the Kaiser, who nodded his head.
   He did as he was told and Conrad grabbed the floating copper machine, the glowing blue cylinders shining partially in the high illumination of the room. The magician took the weight of the contraption into his hand, pressing it onto the back of the soldier. It bent itself autonomously to his posture, and the sleeve clasped on his arm as he fit his hands around the jewel.
   “Now, Oberstleutnant, touch your fingers to the sapphire in the hand plate and do not let go until I say.” Conrad instructed, taking a cautionary step backwards. Hammersmark did as he was told, looking at the precious jewel as he touched it, the swirl of magic spinning around it. Kaiser Wilhelm watched onward quietly, taking a step back. “Now, Hammersmark, I want you to raise your arm to one of the windows on your right and left, and let the feeling of cold run from your spine to your hand, and back again. After it’s stopped growing in power, picture it releasing from you, and release your fingers from the sapphire. Brace yourself, as well.”
   The soldier nodded slowly, swallowing hard. He raised his arm, the gears and axioms twisting slowly, as he raised it to the window on his right, as the man faced the back of the room. Everyone watched the man, who was breathing slowly, as if he were about to explode into a shower of gore. The young commander took a deep breath, as the entire room dropped into dead silence, the everyone growing visibly more nervous as the mere half seconds marched on. People shuffled their feet, as Hammersmark exhaled, and slid his fingers off the swirling jewel.
   From his hand, a wave of great light flourished and sped to the window, smashing into the window and rushing off into the far distance. Everyone stared in awe, a few jaws were hanging open in disbelief.
   “What sort of weapon is this?” The commander said, looking over his hand.
   “It is a weapon that can do anything, anything you visualize, Oberstleutnant.” Conrad said, walking to the window. With the sweep of a hand, the glass came raising from the ground below and reassembled itself in place, sealing perfectly, stopping the small bouts of snow from drifting inward.
   Conrad turned around to find the commander waving the hats around with his arm in giant, composer sweeps. He looked down at the Kaiser, who was watching on intently.
“Herr Berahtramn, this is quiet wonderful, but we are a large army. I’m certain one man with this could win a battle, but not a war.” He said, still watching the mass of officers hats long forgotten by their wearers.
   “Yes, my leader, but more can be made. I can practically replicate these things.” He said, waving his hands as the hats exploded in direction, flying back to their owners and fitting on quietly, all of the men watching in stupefied wonder.
   “I see.” Kaiser Wilhelm II said, who turned around to face his officers. “Gentlemen, word of this is not to be spread until I spread it. From now on, this is hereby known as Operation Ace, and Herr Berahtramn is an honorary Major from this point forward. Leaking of secrets, as usual, is a threat punishable by death.” He said, and everyone looked to him if they weren’t before, watching solemnly.
   “As for you, Major Berahtramn,” the Kaiser said, turning to face the man, “I expect you to find a way to make a lot of these. You’ll be taken back to Hannover and given access to the military under bunker, at your discretion. As for supplying the army, work as fast as you can. We will begin instructing them on how to use such things. If you can make anything else, it would be greatly appreciated.” Conrad nodded slowly.
   “I won’t be needing travel back there, Herr Kaiser, but if you need me simply wire to your soldiers to come find me, i’m listed in the books.” He said, bowing slightly.
   “Of course, Major Berahtramn. Of course. I believe a new dawn is about to rise. If you will excuse me, i’ve got a grand amount of work to do with this and other things. I will check on you in seven days, Major.” Wilhelm said, and looked back to his cabinet, walking over to them. He turned around as Conrad bowed quietly.
   “Gentlemen. To see you again.” Conrad bowed and vanished with a blast of blue light, as the rest of the German Empire high command watched in wonder. Within his home, Anja dropped a cup of tea as a flash of light struck silently through the air, weaving back and forth before vanishing. She stepped back, startled.
   “Conrad! Couldn’t you do that downstairs?” She asked, looking quite frazzled instantly.
   “I apologize, Anja. It’s been a long day.” He said, removing his coat. She bent down and began to pick up small teacup remains carefully with the tips of her fingers.
   “So, how did everything go? You’ve been gone all day.” She said, the evening taking hold and the room darkening.
   “I was taken to Berlin, I spoke with the Kaiser of all people.” He said, hanging up his coat on the coat rack. He rubbed his hair, turning to look at Anja, who was standing up, shifting her weight to lean on the couch, a pile of broken white ceramic in her hand.
   “The Kaiser, Kaiser Wilhelm the second?” She asked, raising her eyebrow into her golden hair.
   “Indeed. He’s... instructed me. To make more of the exospines, and anything else I can do.” He said, and turned around, as Anja returned from the kitchen, dusting off her hands.
   “Well, think about it tomorrow, Conrad. Let’s go to sleep.” She said, traversing up the stairs slowly, as Conrad looked up at the dancing lights. They pirouetted and swayed around in organized suave quietly. He shook his head and rubbed his jaw, walking upstairs slowly.
Chapter Four
   “You will return to me, won’t you, Conrad?”
   “Of course, my dear.”
   “I don’t want you getting killed in this silly war.”
   “I know, my dear.”
   “I’m not quite sure what i’d do without you... You know...”
   The man turned around from his desk, dressed in a heavy black, woolen coat. The interior around him was littered with stacks of paper, spinning gyros, wheels and globes of all sorts. Books lay strewn out on the dark, lush mahogany, open to whichever pages. Light shone in with an abrasive bright, white luster from the outside windows to his left side. Opposite of him, a woman stood, dressed in heavy greens and blacks, gripping a closed umbrella with herculean might, twisting it back and forth.
   “Oh, Conrad! Please!” She cried out, her coarse black hair shifting with her dramatic body movements at the shoulder. The man grimaced and turned back around, putting on an equally black top hat with his heavy winter coat. He stood on thin legs, dressed in a finer black polyester like apparel. “Conrad, please, don’t go.” The woman wrenched out once more, standing next to a lush, cream colored chair that was stacked with books all over, papers jutting out of them like torn pages.
   The man turned from facing his desk and walked over to the door, now with the wall on his right, as sunlight bloomed from the window in almost unappeasable white. He grabbed his gloves off of a prong on the coatrack, as equally as lush crimson that matched the rest of the room. He turned around, facing the room that extended off into walled bookshelves, candelabras hanging from the ceiling, a few articles of clothing and papers hanging off of them. The woman stormed over, kicking up the white loose leafs that littered the floor.
   “Conrad, you aren’t going! You can’t, it’s not safe over there yet!” The woman protested vehemently, moving up to the mans face.
   “Ah, but my dear, life isn’t safe!” He joyfully said, a thread of annoyance stinging underneath his voice with a smile on his face. As soon as his gloves were on, he opened the door behind him and leaned backwards as a great deal of snow drifted inward, looking for a place to stay. Before he hit the few feet that rested on the ground, the man floated upwards, looking down at the door as he continued his skyward advance, backwards.
   “Conraaaaaad!” The woman yelled, voice wavering with the distance and the wind.
   “I will make sure to bring something back to you, my dear!” He said as he turned around, speeding upward into the sky. The wind turned from the red and brown based city below as he flourished through the cold snow, debris collecting on his coat and hat. He popped upward beyond the cloud as a contingency of floating ships coasted slowly above the snowstorm. They were mighty, looking much like ships that sat in the sea, without sails. Great, heavy metal warships with all sorts of cannons commandeered the sky, as the flying man reached the greatest one in the center. Upon it’s side read in bold, white lettering, “Sturmkrähe.” As he reached the deck side, layered in yellow wood, men were working and all turned to look at him, stopping their immediate course or discourse.
   He smiled warmly as the men craned their heads to see the flying black shape above them. He reached the center hold of the ship, and vanished as the air around him turned blue and rippled outward like water disturbed. He appeared within the walls of the ship, back to the window he had vanished from, papers laying on desks flushing off around him. Inside, black, white, and red flags were draped across the red wood, much like the man’s own home. The floors were carpeted a dark blue, and tables were proximally placed around, and very stalwart, tall standing men were all around them. They were dressed in great uniforms, with epaulets and sparkling decorations, all of which shined in the white snowbound light. The men all turned to look as he appeared silently, and most went quiet as he did so.
   “Herr Kaiser Wilhelm! The guest of honor has arrived!” One enlisted man said, and at the end of the conference room, a man with his back to the window turned around. He had a great upturned mustache, hanging epaulets and many sashes and cords in great decoration on his pure white uniform. A sword rested by his side, hanging downward to his shiny, reflective black leather boots. Most notable of all was the helmet atop his head, it’s edge right above his brow. It was black like the boots, but a golden eagle sat on the top, upward by half of a foot. Its wings were outstretched in a glorious pattern of bravery on the battlefield. He smiled as the man arrived, walking through the significantly less decorated men.

“Just the man I wanted to see! I was beginning to wonder if we would have had to land the ship to fetch you.” He said with a great, hearty joy in his voice, marching with militant heel to toe over to the man in black. “Where would we be to claim our place in the sun if the man who had allowed us to do it were not here?”
   He clapped the man on the shoulder and led him further into the room, to a table where a map of the world was strewn out, other papers sitting in a scattered way on top. He moved them aside with a quick hand, pointing to it. Across it, the world was largely covered in red, except for England, half of the Russian Federation, Australia, North America, and South America. Inside Europe, the German Empire and Prussia was a darker shade of crimson.
   “Ah, my dear Conrad, you will see with your own eyes the victory of our empire. Nineteen Eighteen will be a year to remember, in all of history, as we move across the sea and begin the true flight of the crow!” He valiantly declared, as the rest of the men cheered on, clapping in good aspiration. Conrad placed his hand gently on the map, as he forced the rest of the red to overcome the blue on the world, and eventually the oceans, as the Kaiser looked on with wonder.
   “You’ve got the right idea in mind. With your capability and our knowledge, this red square will be our red square. Now and forever.” He said, clapping Conrad on the back as the man in the black coat just simply watched the table, unyielding, eyes transfixed on the red square.
   “We’ll be touching down in the Ground Zero New York, Major Berahtramn.” A nearby officer said. “It is the only city we’ve managed to overcome. This is going to be an arduous conquest, but the Americans have such weak powers, using recycled cells.” He continued, marching over to the table, laying down a new, accurate map. It was much like the one before, except it was simply England, half the Russian Federation, Africa and parts of Asia. A single red dot, surrounded on almost all sides by American Blue, was landed on New York City.
   “Thanks to you, we’re expecting a two year resistance, if they’re giving it all they’ve got. And if we know the Americans, Major, they’re going to be as resistant as possible.” Wilhelm said, running his hand on his mustache in thought. Above the map floated a small, glowing blue ship, which was moving at a snails pace across the reaches of Germany and over the pond to England.
   “I’ve to ask, with all due respect my leader, why did you bring me along?” Conrad asked, taking off his gloves and placing them over the rim of his pocket.
   “Why did we bring you along? So you can see the reach of the empire, Conrad! War may be a brutal sight, but I for one am incredibly certain that everyone on the ground will be more than overjoyed to see you in person. You’re a cultural icon in Deutschland, and the vision of the devil in America.” The Kaiser explained, clamping him on the back and leading him around the table and over to his heavy set desk, polished and layered with decoration. Across his chest, many valiant medals hung.
   “I see. How long will I be in New York?” He asked, watching the Kaiser as he broke free and stepped behind his desk, taking a seat, as Conrad did the same.
   “As long as you wish, I know you can return back and forth as fast as you want.” He said, rumbling in his desk and withdrawing two cigars. He handed one to Conrad and bit down on the other, striking a match and burning the end of it. The leader of the Empire shook out the match, tossing it into a metal bin. “Simply put, you’re here because I just wish to show you, Conrad, show you the conquest we’ve made, together.”
   Conrad looked out the window as he felt the tinge of great magic in the air. His hair began to slowly rise, which was curling down his head against his bushy beard, but capped by the hat covering his scalp. The clouds began to whip by, but the ship felt no faster motion other than the wind tearing along the sleek curves. The magic engine he designed, a massive gyro on a cottage sized energy core, was probably spinning at max speed. The ship tore along the sky, and Conrad looked back to the table, as the small blue ship was speeding along the ocean.
   “Are we doing the right thing, Kaiser?” Conrad asked, looking back over to his desk, holding the cigar in his right hand.
   “Ah, my Major, creating a unified world free of future war or turmoil is the right thing. We will all be one empire, just as the Romans were. Who is to say they were wrong?” Wilhelm said, leaning back in his chair, blowing out smoke.
   Conrad just shrugged his shoulders, looking around the ship. After designing the exospines, he moved on to larger weapons, vehicles, tanks, ships, and soon flight. No longer in use were the slow, fragile paper planes but the strong, Berahtramn build machines.
   As the two men finished their cigars in silence, the phantom touch of magic once more tingled through his skin. The Kaiser stood up, looking around the room. The door opened and a very naval looking officer stepped in.
   “Herr Kaiser! We’ve arrived in New York! We’ll be landing in a few seconds!” He saluted and turned around, marching out with the same clockwork as he entered with. The Kaiser smiled, walking to the door and opening it.
   “Come, Conrad, we’ve got an army to see.” Wilhelm said, marching out valiantly. Conrad moved the tips of his fingers shortly and his clothing was immediately replaced by his de facto military uniform, complete with decorations for the service to the Empire. He stood and rubbed his jaw, breathing in and out, as the mostly ruins of a city came rising into view like the sun over the horizon. He stepped to look out the window when a hand clasped his shoulder. He looked, as another officer had stopped him.
   “Come, Major, we’ve not much time to waste.” He said, notching his head to the door. Conrad sighed and nodded, turning towards him and away from the city, walking with the decorated man to the door. The mass of the working ship were gathered around at the available ports, looking out, as Conrad bumped into a multitude of them, keeping his head lowered. The officer led him out, and into the open hull of the ship, the gate lowering.
   The magician walked up to the Kaiser, who was dressed now in a valiant cape adorned with the colors of the Empire. As it lowered, cheering commenced, bouncing into the mighty metal hull of the ship and bellowing back out again. Soldiers of all different walks of life were visible as it lowered, and there was a massive crowd around them. The two men stepped out in unison, walking down the ramp and to the platform that had been set up. Conrad stopped as the Kaiser stepped up to the podium, as everyone continued cheering.
   “Soldiers of the Deutsches Reich! Warriors of the new empire! You have proven your country and your empire a great valiance for loyalty!” The Kaiser said, into a microphone that boomed across the area. Conrad looked out, viewing each of the soldiers as valiant music was played far in the back. Almost all of them were outfitted in an exospine, as usual. A good many of them looked beaten up, but almost everyone around seemed to share a linking aura of good spirits.
   “You and no other,” The Kaiser continued, speaking as Conrad was wandering in thought, “are capable of ruling this world! Soon they too will follow our ways, but you, soldiers, you are the original! You are the true blood! As America is conquered, all will fall, and you will be given the greatest possible rewards!” He continued, as the mass of soldiers continuing as far as the eye could see were cheering still. Conrad looked up to view the city, as it speared upward in ruin.
   The entire sound of the crowd and the words of the Kaiser were gone, as he took a drifting step forward. The buildings, taller than the Germans had ever dared to reach, were in obliterated ruins. The windows were gone, the metal beams and rare bricks were sticking outward as they all ascended, all over. This part of the city was unfamiliar, but the icons were ruined. They were teeth of a great maw, a warning by bearing fangs to the rest of the country, who had just had their mightiest accomplishments over taken. The Statue of Liberty was laying in front of the Reichstag, face down, covered in ropes to hold it there, as the Kaiser gave his speech.
   A small, silver flash caught Conrad’s eye. It was high within the mountainous teeth, the vicious maw that consumed the city. He squinted his eyes and moved one of his fingers, his vision shooting outward to get a better look. There lay a soldier in American greens, complete with metal bowl helmet, with a long barreled rifle, glowing a faint blue at the core, complete with glass scope on top. As he saw the finger rest down on the trigger, Conrad turned and flashed his hand at the Kaiser, who was covered in a crystal looking barrier. Within the blink of an eye, a shot crashed into the barrier and stopped there, creating a massive crack. The soldiers turned and looked from where it may have come from, pointing and shouting.
   The metal suits that Conrad had designed leapt out through the air, taking off in fire powered flight. They were massive, heavy metal walking tanks, and they glided through the air slowly, tracing the bullet. The Kaiser stood where he was, watching them as the barrier faded. Conrad extended his vision to find the American soldier scrambling up, grabbing his things and turning to run. As he did so, a massive lightning bolt of blue struck the entire face of the building, which cracked and slagged in ruin, the side smashing and sliding down. Whoever was even remotely near the building was certainly dead now. The Kaiser dusted himself off and walked back to the podium, gripping the edges.
   “That bullet had killed me, soldiers. Just as it had killed the Archduke many years before. But I, Kaiser Wilhelm the Second, cannot perish with such things. I am the immortal spartan king, and you are my immortal warriors. Go forth, Deutscher people, go forth and control the world!” He shouted, turning around to face Conrad.
   “Once again I owe you my life, Major.” He said, and Conrad nodded soberly.
   “You owe me nothing, inherently. Just, be careful. I already suggested you wear the small exospine when in hostile territory.” Conrad said, scratching his beard.
   “I will live through conventional warfare. Besides, I already had our magic focus unit barrier me at an inch level. I wouldn’t dare land in this city if it weren’t for magic. Americans still litter this city, no matter how much control we have on it. Not until we go hunting for them in all of these ruins.” Wilhelm said, walking back up the ramp as the soldier crowd dispersed to what they were doing.
   “Well, that’s it?” Conrad said, following him up the metal railing.
   “No, Conrad, we’re going to the front line. This is a warship, after all.” Wilhelm continued, as the bay of the ship was slowly closing, the swirling red light spinning as a warning. The ship began to lift, and in the loading bay it was evident, the machine parts rising to life like massive giants waking from their thousand year slumber. The sound crashed through the entire area, as the two men walked up a set of stairs and trailed around the ship to the deck side.
   The ship pulled itself out of the ruins, masterfully guided by the Captain of the Air. Soldiers walked back and forth, sailors scrubbed and fixed things, the cannons on the ships rotating and adjusting their angles. It was a short flight, even at the slowest speed, as the sounds of raging war were heard below. Through the gaps in the gray, burning clouds the battlefield was seen.
   Conrad leaned over the railing as the Kaiser looked down sharply and without eagerness. His magic vision drew down to the field, as soldiers were laying in the mud and dirt, firing at one another with their magic weaponry, white blue bolts skittering across the battlefield. There was the occasional magic burst from the hand, but the soldiers, as Conrad learned, were ordered to save as much power as possible.
   He looked over at the Americans, who had set up barriers and were firing from behind them, stolen and changed material, shoddily put together. Conrad shook his head as a massive blast appeared out of the clouds and slammed into the ship, arcing off in massive sparks as the barrier covering the ship wavered. The entire ship shook slightly, as Conrad gripped the rail tightly.
   “Major, it’s time to land. We’re dropping off a good many soldiers with this landing as well, it’s not just a nice day trip.” He said, rubbing his hands together in the chill, the arc of fall gripping North America. The two men walked in tension built silence as the massive ship landed, anti-air blasts rocking the ship, a continual slam hitting the barrier, breaking off into splinters and embers.
   The loading bay opened as regiments of soldiers poured out, the two men standing at the rear of it all. They marched out as a massive core, pouring out as CO’s were ordering them around. The chaos of the battlefield was raging all around, traced shots flying backwards to New York City, which was visible in the distance.
   “Come, Conrad!” He said, turning around with his winding cape flourishing in the air. “We’ve got to wait for another regiment to be ready to be evacuated. Let’s return to the deck.” The Kaiser stated, walking into an open doorway. Conrad pocketed his hands and followed him out and through the weaving ship, leading up a flight of stairs to the top deck, where soldiers worked diligently. A few brave blasts slammed the ship shields, bouncing off in clean sparks. All across the battlefield, a gray, colorless waste razed through New England. Conrad pulled out a small eyeglass, peering through it across the field.
   Soldiers lay in the pits and mud, the overcast skies twisting and turning slowly. Magic shots blasted back and forth with conventional ones. A few massive, man like machines marched across the field, shining in copper sheen. Their glass fronts were protected by a blue glow quietly. They occasionally fired a blue spiral, soundless from the distance, shooting out a gauss like flare.
   War raged, the entire area was a plot of mud and burnt brush, as the German front was slowly moving forward, they had gone forward about a quarter of a mile since they had landed. The two men stood, looking off, both silent. Conrad shook his head, rubbing his jaw.
   “This isn’t what I was expecting, Kaiser.” The man in black admitted, and the decorated soldier turned, raising an eyebrow at the man.
   “What do you mean, Major?” He questioned, leaning against the railing.
   “I meant I wasn’t expecting an... invasion. A launch to control the world.” Conrad said, still gripping the cold railing and looking out to the rage of war.
   “We did what had to be done, Conrad. It was a necessity. As for you, you’re free to go at any time you wish. After this point, we can handle this on our own. We have the machinery and the manpower.” Wilhelm said, turning back to the battlefield as the engines of the ship started to fire up. “Your contract with the Empire has ended.”
   Conrad nodded, solemnly, and looked back out to the war, as the American populace viciously fought to defend their homeland. He took a deep breath and vanished, reappearing primly at his front door. His feet sank into snow, now in the grips of Deutschland’s winter, which was quietly falling in the late evening. His home was sitting quietly, the light streaming out the windows quietly. He placed his hand on the knob and the door unlocked on his touch, as he opened it quietly, the wind and snow bellowing in.
   Anja looked up from the couch, unmoving, as a few loose papers blew around. She scrambled up without a word and flung her arms around the man, squeezing tightly.
   “It’s about time you came back.” She said, still holding tightly onto him.
   “They couldn’t kill me if I tried. Someone fired at the Kaiser, a sniper.” He said, as she pulled back and looked at him.
   “I know, they had an emergency paper about it. Gustav came around as well, looking for you. Says he made something neat.” She said, and Conrad nodded, giving her another tight hug before disembracing and moving around her, setting down his coat on the back of the couch.
   “I’ll have to see him tomorrow. It’s been a long day.” Conrad confessed, rubbing his eyes, which felt dry, but unyielding. The man wandered upstairs, shaking his head and laying down on his bed, dressed. Anja followed in quietly, laying beside him as the two inhaled and exhaled slowly, the lights dimming downward.
   The man opened his eyes, looking at the small blonde boy. The three were out in the backyard, as the young one was turning a flask over in the air slowly, the liquid inside pouring around the capped source. The sunshine bore down on the swaying grass, as Conrad rubbed his beard. The short kid was twisting the bottle around, completely focused.
   “You do know what you’re doing, Gustav?” The man said, sitting next to Anja on a rounded tree stump.
   “Of course I do!” He said valiantly back. The liquid inside was a sheen of blood red, with a thick consistency.
   “I sure hope so. I’m not drinking that.” Conrad retorted, leaning back on his hands.
   “You don’t drink it. You rub it on things and they fly. Temporarily. No more need for an engine for everything.” The young boy said, walking around it as it continued to spin in the same direction.
   “What makes you so sure it’s going to work?” Anja questioned, wearing the exospine around her sleeve.
   “What makes anyone sure something is going to work the first time? If it explodes, it explodes. Tough for me.” He said, and Conrad looked to Anja, eyebrow raised.
   “Quite a realist today.” Conrad said quietly, and the woman nodded.
   “Yes, but he is getting older, you know. Spending all that time around you.” She said back, looking over to the young one. The young boy was an apprentice to Conrad, he himself having the rare touch of magic. His parents had sent him to Conrad from Bavaria, in the hopes he would stop burning the house down on accident.
   “Who else is he going to spend time with?” Conrad said, looking back to the boy as well. After a few moments, he brought down the flask, looking it over.
   “Should be done.” The youth, around 12 or 13, grabbed the capped bottle and uncorked it, plodding over to a small piece of metal laying in the grass, having been there for years. He poured a small bit out on the metal bar and rubbed it in with his hand, the liquid absorbing in. Conrad leaned in to see, as the small metal bar lifted from the grass, dropping bits of dried dirt and caked mud.
   “Splendid, Gustav. Just splendid.” The man said, as the youth looked back to him with his arctic blue eyes, a smile across his face.
   “What now, Conrad?” He asked, holding the bottle.
   “Eh, I suppose we’ll just find something else for you to work your magic on. Not much else you need work on though. After that, we just keep seeing what we can build, to better peoples lives.” The man said, standing up and dusting off his pants, as the woman beside him stood as well.
   “Come, come, everyone indoors.” Anja sighed, a twirl of exhaustion in her voice. The sun was beaming its way through the trees around the home, the house of Hannover was no longer surrounded by the efflorescent buildings all heavy wood and stones, but peculiarly turned in a between compass rose direction. Flowers spread all around, an array of tulips in a lined rainbow that bloomed outward from the small home, swaying with the light wind. The three walked into the home quietly, opening the wooden door and starting the dancing lights.
   Violin was playing quietly on the couch, resting the neck on the back as the group entered. It was a small, lavishly dark red violin that slowly dragged the bow across the strings, caressing out a soft lullaby of unknown origin. Anja ran her hand on the back of the couch as she walked past it, keeping her eyes on Violin as she did so.
   “It’s been playing things I don’t recognize, Conrad.” She said, working her way around the couch and looking at the magic musical instrument, which was playing unaware of its surroundings. Conrad looked over his shoulder from the kitchen, as Gustav opened the door to the downstairs basement.
   “I believe it’s learning, Anja. Or at least that’s what i’ve been picking up with it. It seems that Violin is... understanding? It’s been learning from the music that it’s been playing, and making new ones.” He said, returning to cutting a potato in half.
   “Things you make can do that... ?” Anja asked, crossing her arms, looking at the instrument, which was slowly drawing across the strings masterfully.
   “I guess? It’s kind of a mystery to me still, Anja. I don’t even know if these things I make will still be active in a few years or so.” Conrad said, as the knife hit the cutting board.
   “Huh. Peculiar.” She said, a contemplating tone crossing over her voice. As she said this, Gustav walked up from the basement, newspaper in hand.
   “Conrad, the paper says that the nation is being accused of war crimes.” He said, holding up the white print with bold black letters. Conrad looked up from the cutting and walked over, letting go of the kitchen knife as it floated back to where it belonged. He grabbed the paper, shaking it to keep it straight and peered over it, reading.
   “War crimes? Good god, this can’t be real. Labor camps, torture, gas warfare? Is it that much of a problem?” He said, as Anja leaned against the wall.
   “Certainly not, I mean, with your machinery, why do we need these sort of things?” She stated, and Conrad shook his head.
   “The paper justifies it in saying the Americans are putting up a much stronger resistance than anticipated. They’ve only got half of the country at large right now.” He said, folding over the paper and tossing it onto the back of the couch as the pictures moved, depicting the soldiers marching across the battlefield with contraptions that were spraying gas all around the area, and other photographs of soldiers burning down houses and shooting civilians with charged weapons. Conrad shook his head, returning to the cutting board.
   “Whatever they deem necessary, I suppose.” The man with the heavy black beard said, as Anja looked over sharply.
   “Whatever they deem? They’re invading a country that asked to surrender, Conrad!” She said, frowning greatly. “They asked for surrender back in nineteen eighteen, and it’s already nineteen twenty one! Twenty one, Conrad!” She snapped, pulling herself off the wall and marching into the kitchen. Gustav followed suit, rubbing his chin just as Conrad did.
   “We’re a part of this nation, Anja. It’s what they want.” He said, grabbing the tall knife and returning to cutting up a celery stalk.
   “Conrad, no. You started thi-” Anja stormed, but Conrad cut her off with a sharp, fierce glance, one that was full of annoyance rather than hatred.
   “I didn’t start anything, Anja. The people see me as the savior of the war, not as the starter. That still lands on the Kaiser’s crown.” He said, and the two simply stared at each other, both with the black and purple power of a thunderstorm brewing in the evening sky, ready to strike and destroy all that lay in its path. After what seemed like moments of silence, Gustav cleared his throat intentionally.
   “Please, let’s just cool, ok?” The young boy said, no older than 13 at most. He was an apprentice to Conrad, and seemed to have more sense between the two of them combined. Conrad, as he had found within his research, managed to come across a select few other people with the innate gift of magic just as Conrad had gained, all of them had unlocked it somehow. Gustav said he didn’t remember where it came from, it just did. He shook his head and shrugged his shoulders whenever asked.
   Conrad looked back to his vegetables, all diced and cut as the knife had worked while he was reading. He swept them off into the kitchen, the room itself knowing what to do with it all at this point. The heavy machinery was gone, the entire room moved like a fantasy haunting, a poltergeist made by his own hand. Cupboards opened, things poured out, life went on. The man breathed in deep, turning around and leaning against the counter.
   “I was thinking, Anja. I was thinking while I was with the Kaiser, over in New York. I might not have started the war, but I allowed him to... invade. The people look to him as the ruler of, well, everything. They’re working on taking over Africa, and the government feels that Russia and China will both surrender together.” Conrad mused, pushing himself off of the counter and walking to the other side of the small kitchen, his feet clicking on the stone floor quietly.
   “But, I just need time to think. Certainly it can’t get much worse.” He said, as the dinner he had in mind prepared itself. “I just need an idea. A concept of some sorts.” He mused, still wandering around the kitchen. He took a seat at the table and motioned the other two over as the roast chicken floated its way over to the table quietly. The three ate quietly, and the lights above their heads danced onward, slowly, uncaring of the world around them. All of their cores grew darker and darker with each passing day, as slow as time itself moving.

So, have you won yet?

Very nifty. I dig the whole mystical steampunk atmosphere! After reading the entire piece, I can say it was a fast, entertaining read. Lots of very detailed descriptions! I dont suppose you would post some more?

I'm looking to get it published, so this is all you get until I get 10 rejection letters. Which shouldn't be long, I sent it to 10 publishers.

But thank you for the compliments, I appreciate them greedily.

I dunno, man... it looks like a winner to me! Please keep us updated!

Can I be a dick and request pdf of what you've posted?

I have no idea how to even make a PDF.

When/if you do, please PM me so I can get a copy.

I have no idea how to even make a PDF.

I'm not terribly familiar with Microsoft Word, but Open Office has an export to pdf function, I'd assume Word has a similar feature...

...and Googling reveals you need a plug-in. (here if you're interested: http://www.microsoft.com/download/en/details.aspx?id=9943) It's handy to have, whenver I send a document to anyone I always .pdf it first so that anyone can open it with proper formatting.