The Ghostwriter, and the Playwright    

The further you go north the greener the landscape becomes. Back in Avaios there were signs of winter’s touch outside of the city. This train traveled on farm landscapes. Orange tinted skies that were shading the golden wheat in its color. A trail of smoke followed as the steam engine passed through the countryside. The train exited out of the borders. Its carriages shaking. Once in a while the train would stop on water stops to refill the water.

Inside the cabins there were two passengers sitting across one another. A man and a woman. The mad had a lean muscular build, brown hair, intense green eyes with a clean shaven face. He wore an overcoat with gray linings and a belted back with no buttons. The woman, opposite of the man, was a woman with a shapely appearance. Her eyes are blue. She has long braided hair resting on her shoulder. She wore a blue coat and a long gray skirt. Her eyes were on her book.

The man was called Karl. The woman’s name was Alicia. The two were strangers before this. After spending a few hours together, become acquainted with each other. They talked about who Arthur Delaware is and what Alicia’s role was in handling the famous client. Karl was here as a physician and Alicia’s bodyguard. To Karl’s surprise Alicia had a pistol. It was in her luggage that was concealed. Karl wore his iron around his waist. Karl was getting stares, but he mostly ignored them as he minded his business or watched the scenery change. Alicia read a small pocket book with one hand.

Meanwhile, the train entered the outskirts of Sapirtsa. Because of the location of Sapirtsa there was a view of the sea that overlapped with rock formations. The train slowly came to a halt at the station of Sapirtsa. Karl and Alicia got out of the train station. They followed a boulevard which leads straight to the white beaches. The houses in Sapirtsa varied. There were two-story limestone houses and houses with flat roofs and adobe walls. Unlike in Avaios there was no mixture of automobiles and carriages. Karl hailed a stagecoach. The stagecoach let them in, asked where they were going. Karl informed the driver to take them to the mansion of Arthur Delaware, knowing that the driver would surely take them to his home.

The stagecoach drove forward then took a left onto this avenue corralled with buildings and storefronts with colorful signs. There were stalls on the side of the street. The stagecoach continued on this road and entered a parkway lined with trees on both sides of the road. Finally, after some time, the stagecoach entered a one-way-lane heading to the mansion of Mr. Delaware.

From the stagecoach’s window Karl saw a view of the mansion. Three-story tall and wide enough to occupy a side of a hill overlooking the sea. Along the way they saw citizens in small communities passing by with their wagons. Some were dressed in coats and others dressed as if they had just drenched themselves in the sweat of their hard work.

The stagecoach came to a stop in front of the mansion’s iron gates. A half-asleep guard holding on to a bolt-action rifle approached the stagecoach. The guard chatted with the driver before speaking to Alicia who told the guard of their intention. Karl spoke to the driver to wait until they get a confirmation from the servant of the mansion.

A butler came out of the mansion’s double-door. The butler approached. He asked for the letter sent by Sir Arthur Delaware. Alicia handed the letter and explained that Karl was with her. After it was confirmed. Karl paid the stagecoach his fare and left the mansion's entrance. Karl and Alicia followed the butler into the mansion. The first thing one would notice of the mansion was the wooden wall furnishing. The interior was dutifully clean. The entrance alone has maids cleaning the black and white square flooring. In front of the mansion’s entrance was a two-sided staircase.

The butler made the two wait while he went to the mansion’s master. Karl and Alicia waited without walking around. Karl’s eyes were on the wooden furnishing while Alicia checked on her luggage. After waiting for a minute or two. A man with silvering hair sitting on a wheelchair wearing a lounge suit. He examined Alicia before inspecting Karl.

“A Soldier, a Ghostwriter, and a Playwright… we have an interesting group right here. Or am I wrong, Sir?”

“No. I was a soldier.”

“Was a soldier? Do you work as Ms. Gardenia’s bodyguard instead?”

“I am a physician and a soldier.”

“A Physician and a soldier. Outstanding. Ah, I was hoping to invite a soldier. That won’t be necessary now, is it Einz?”

“Yes, Master,” Einz said.

“I am Sir Arthur Delaware, playwright, writer. I thank you for accepting this task despite the recent threats to my life. I hope that no such tragedy comes while you are at my home.”

The man was subdued, Karl thought. Then again there was a feeling that the man felt like he had no right to brag when he was in such a state. After the introduction they were led to the drawing room where they were invited to some refreshments. At the same time Alicia discussed the arrangement for the work. Sir Arthur Delaware argued that instead of two weeks. It would be three weeks since his health was failing. He was rather straight with his condition and from the looks of it he would like to understand the war. He simply wanted to make an ode to those who have fallen, but at the same time he was wary of the threats to his life. Karl did not understand why anyone would threaten a man who was looking at the sight of death approaching step-by-step. After the discussion in the drawing room, the butler led them to their assigned rooms.

Karl settled down his things before he went to check on Alicia. Alicia on the other hand prepared her typewriter. It was a decorated typewriter engraved in silver and gold lining. It was thinner than most of the typewriters he saw. Karl examined the typewriter and asked Alicia on what she plans to do for the day. Since she needed to prepare for her task. Karl left Alicia and sought out the playwright.

Karl found Sir Delaware in the garden accompanied by a maid. The bob haired maid noticed Karl and whispered to Arthur. Sir Arthur Delaware turned. He gestured for the maid to move him next to the round patio table.

“Please sit,” Sir Arthur pointed to the rattan chair padded with a cushion. Karl twisted on the cushion and leaned his elbows on the armrest. The maid took a device that recorded sound on the tin foil coated cylinders. It was a phonograph that could record and playback. The maid started recording.

“Have you seen such a device?”

“I have. We have devices in the frontline. It was more of a listening device that recorded the sound of airplanes passing by.”

“Interesting. In war there are many devices like this?”

“There is. Though we use gramophones to soothe ourselves from the tragedy that we are in.”

“Music heals hearts and minds.”

“Or make us miserable. We mostly played joyous tunes or patriotic ones. There is actually a rule that we don’t play sad songs or romantic ones.”

“How come?”

Sir Arthur raised a brow.

“Because it makes them miss their loved ones.”

Karl said placidly. Sir Arthur nodded slowly.

“Romance is a form of sadness, eh.”

“It’s to prevent people from deserting or hesitating. There were cases where the deserters were executed because they wanted to go home. Eight years of fighting.”

“Did you fight the whole war?”

“I did. But it wasn’t always a battle. Most of the time we were standing guard or waiting for a siege to be over. It’s a roulette where we wait for things to happen. Whether we’d get killed by artillery or a bullet finds its way in our heads.”

Karl’s speech was subdued. There was a rather dark face he was wearing. As if he was recollecting some of the awfulness of what he saw.

“Mr. Karl, would you mind if you tell me what you saw? I understand if you don’t want to.”

Karl quieted.

“Sir, would you mind me asking why you are being targeted? To the point of wanting them to kill you?”

“Indeed, they think of me as a coward. An old fool capitalizing on the sacrifice of others to acquire more wealth. Ah, they think of my work as… silly and nonsensical. Catered to the rich. In a way, there is truth in their words. That I am doing this to somewhat make money. It is my job after all and… I intend to have this final piece before I leave this world.”

Karl folded his arms. He nodded his head slowly. “Then I shall tell you what I saw in the field. I will not be coating my words. Are you okay with that?”

“I am.”

“Then let me tell you,” Karl cleared his throat. “What I saw in the eight years.”

Karl recalled what he saw and experienced in the past years. The quiet moments where he looked at the view of the field. He recalled the first day in the field where he was in a bucolic hamlet watching the villagers evacuate.

He recalled a kid and an old woman leaving their small cottage behind. Bringing nothing other than the sack stuffed with their clothing. He recalled being in battle and how he almost got hit by a loose shrapnel that fortunately hit his belt buckle.

Karl spoke of how awful the rush was. His first act of killing and how he was just glad that he was alive. Where he felt relief instead of guilt. How he became good at shooting others. How he mechanically did what he could and how he wished that it was over.

Sir Arthur Delaware listened attentively. The maid who stood at her side was listening as well. Karl sometimes found his voice stuttering and breaking. Karl spoke hatefully. He spoke with so much coldness that it made the maid swallow at how much violence he had seen in the past eight years.

“So you were at the decisive battle of Gustav Sallen?”

“I am. It was a horrible charge. Many died because of how desperate the Wiesenians were. They knew they were losing the war. They know what we will do once we get to them. We know what they are. We know that they are just like us, protecting what we believe in. For them it was the same. Wiser men would have understood and spared a few. But when you’re exhausted, tired, and battle-weary. You instinctively want to find the easiest way to do it. No one would care if you shoot them. Everyone was so tired that they’ll only realize that they’ll feel guilty about it later.”

Karl locked his fingers together. “And when they do realize what they’ve done after a moment of peace. They’d think that it was awful and they’d drink to it. But for a few people like me, we felt like it was war. That we did as we did. And that every time we did pull the trigger. We felt the recoil and saw the smoke coming out of the barrel.”

Karl said with a tragic certainty. Sir Arthur Delaware held a hand on his chin. He pondered on what Karl said and looked at the flowers in the garden. It wouldn’t be long until winter comes.

“It must have been hard, son.”

“Sir, even though I said what I said. I hope that you make them sound like heroes in your ode. I don’t know why people are trying to kill you. But I do hope that your ode is dedicated to those who have fallen.”

“I will try my best, son.”

Karl hoped that he would.