The Mobian Chronicles Book I Chapter VII Sidestory
“Tales from the Great War”
[Author’s Note: These excerpts from the late Mobian historian Dr. Maithiu Althan’s research and interviews did not make it into his ‘Tales from the Great War’ series. As a friend of the family, they were left to me and I found this passage of particular relevance to my Mobian Chronicles.]
I found the white wolf I was searching for standing on the doorstep of his meager, but pleasant home, hugging his grandchildren goodbye as they concluded their visit. He waved goodbye to them with his mechanical right arm as if it had always been a part of him. Upon seeing me, he extended a coarse-furred white hand. I shook it as I attempted to pronounce his distinctly wolven name. He corrected me and invited me inside. The inside of his home was warm and quiet, with a number of old photographs adorning every wall and desk. He offered me some tea, and we began the interview.
Dr. Maithiu Althan, recording. Please state your name for the recorder, Corporal.
Corporal Kael Hragfenr, Retired. Serial number G-857-859-72.
Thank you. Now, please tell me a little about your life before the war.
Ah, let’s see… I was born in the year 598, old calendar. I was born in the wastes of the great north, White Fang Tribe. About two-hundred of us there; this was long before the tribes all consolidated under the Wolf Pack... we were all around back then. I had a normal enough life for a tribal wolf, I suppose, until I was twelve; that's when the war came to me.
Really? That far north and you still saw fighting?
I didn't understand it at the time. Keep in mind, I was twelve years old. My parents had been dead for years; it was just me, taking care of my younger sister, Vesna. To me, the war was something for the city-people. Overlanders didn't come here; they didn't fight here. All of that was far away and far from my mind, living day-to-day. I found out years after the war from an old friend in Intel why they came to my village. What happened was the Overlanders needed an out of the way location to create a secret weapons test site, something far from prying Mobian eyes. They built it in the mountains not too far from my tribe's winter campsite. To keep their secret, they decided to genocide my people.
They launched a full-scale attack on you? Weren't you neutral at the time?
I think so. A lot of the tribes up north were neutral. A few joined up with the rest of the Mobians, and a smaller few actually traded regularly with the Overlanders before the war, and joined them. I don't think we had a side, but they didn't care. The night they attacked, an entire division of Overlanders came down on us. The 224th division. I saw the number on their arm plates. They looted everything, and burned what they couldn't take. I'm not sure why they took so much, actually: Maybe they were low on supplies that far north and needed our food, or our animals' skins. Maybe they were just mad at being stationed in the cold and took that out on us. I'd never seen an Overlander before that night. I thought they were some sort of faceless machines, marching in line, in that featureless body armor, guns firing away. They eradicated my entire clan and all of it's thousands of years of history in a single night. As far as I know, none of them were killed.
How did you survive the attack?
Luck, probably. I remember being in my hut. I confronted them, trying to save my sister. I came at the first one who entered the tent, sunk my claws into him and they bit through the heavy fabrics at the joint where the shoulder plate met his chest plate. I was young, and stronger than him, but he was still bigger, and he had a weapon. He clocked me across the jaw with the butt of his rifle, and I fell, half conscious. I think he must have thought I was dead, because he ignored me from then out. The last thing I remember before I passed out was him reaching down and taking my grandfather’s necklace from around my neck. It was gold, and probably caught his eye. I woke up to the smell of fires. My sister was dead, and so was everyone else I came upon as I fled my tribe's camp. The Overlanders were long gone, but the fires were still going strong. I went south, and never looked back. I guess it sounds cold to say it like that... but it's just... Sorry, sorry.
Oh, no, it's my apologies, really. Do you want to stop the interview?
Hmm? No. No, that's fine. I just needed a second, there. I don't think a lot about that night. I, uhh. I went south. Just sort of wandered until I found a city. Wound up at a recruiting station with nothing to lose and a lot of anger and hate for the Overlanders. Before I knew it, I was in knight training. They gave me the really rough stuff, me being a wolf and all. Six years of the hardest training they had, and when I was done, they gave me a suit of platemail, a battleaxe, and my pick of postings. I'd known for a few years, by then, where I wanted to be. I signed up for the Knave Knights.
Ah, you mean you served under Sir Geoffrey St. John. I've rarely heard his corps called that outside of interviews with members of it.
Oh, yeah! We called him Suicide St. John. Other knights called us the Knave Knights because we didn't adhere to the knight's code. We didn't surrender, for example. Also didn't take prisoners, period. St. John had a rule called 'Done or Dead' we lived by.
Done or Dead?
It meant that if you received a mission, you didn't stop until it was done, or you were dead. If the mission was a failure, it meant the entire team involved died in action, trying. And that meant that every man and woman I served beside in the Knaves had never once failed.
Were there many women in the Knaves?
Yeah, quite a few. They couldn't get in the other knight corps because of the code. Had washouts from some of the other orders, a few Royal Guard, even some mercenaries that decided to stop doing it for the money. Didn't matter if you had a criminal record, or anything. Didn't even matter if you were an actual criminal at the time, in fact. If you were good enough for St. John, and you either wanted or were willing to die on command, you were in.
Did St. John often put you in a dangerous position?
That's why he was 'Suicide' St. John. I once charged into a wall of automatic fire to flank a position for those Royal Guard boys. That was before the bullet-resistant armor was in use, mind you. Fifty of us started that charge, and by the Harvester, four of us saw it through. Just me and three of my buddies. Nobody else! Everyone else is strewn from there to the Overlander position, and not even a dent in my armor.
He laughed suddenly, here, and smiled at me. As odd as it seemed, this appeared to be one of his happier memories.
Things like that made you feel invincible. And that's how you had to feel, to keep going. That was the power of hatred. I never met anyone who hated the Overlanders as much as St. John did, and he taught us to use our hate to kill our fears. That's the real thing that everyone in the Knaves had in common. They all hated the Overlanders. All Overlanders, for whatever reasons they each had. What about Geoffrey St. John himself?
Ohh, nobody can tell you that one. I wonder why he hated them so bad myself. Some of the troops said he'd been captured once, tortured, escaped. Some others claimed the Overlanders killed his children, if he even had any. He never told us why, that's for sure. I think he'd just seen enough barbarism and violence to pass judgment on the whole lot of them. We didn't ask him, he didn't ask us. Your hatred was your own until you got revenge, and then you were out of the Knaves, and the whole army if you chose, with an honorable discharge. If you felt like it, you could tell them then, but not before. That's how I got out, actually.
Please, do tell me more about that if you don't mind, it's perfect for my notes.
It was in the last year or so of the war. Some of the Knaves were going to be doing another suicide charge, this time on defensive line for some Overlander research base. I wasn't part of the operation at that point. But I looked through my binoculars and saw that 'Two-Two-Four' embossed on the Overlanders' armor and I knew this was it. I'd looked for them for years. I'd waited for them, for years, looking at the number on every Overlander I killed, hoping I'd just taken on the division I was really after. Before the Knaves went out, I told St. John I had to be in the charge, and that it was a personal matter.
And he stopped and drew you in to the battle plan, just like that?
Those were the rules in the Knaves. We all knew that every member had someone, or a few someones out there they had a personal vendetta against. All you had to do to opt in to a mission was to tell him it was a personal matter. That was our little code for saying we'd found the ones we were after. And just like that, you'd be in, no matter what. I charged beside St. John and the finest soldiers I ever knew. I heard a lot of them die around me as we ran for those 224s. I took two bullets in my right arm that ruined it forever, but I buried my ax to the hilt in the chest of one of those Overlanders and heard him scream. When it was all over, the 224th no longer existed. We'd wiped them out to the man, and avenged my tribe. I stood over the scene and felt the years pour out of me like the blood from my wound. My hatred, my strength drained away, but I needed to make sure of one last thing before I could let it all go.
Of course. The one that killed your sister?
I went back to the one I'd killed at the moment our charge had hit them. There was the scratch marks in his shoulder armor. I tore the plate away and looked at the scars in his shoulder; the ones I'd given him that night in my hut, years before. I took the necklace from around his neck and put it back on; the last little bit of heritage my tribe had left, and the war ended for me. I was no more use to the Knaves without my arm, without my hatred, and they sent me off with honor the next day as my friends. That was the last I saw of most of them. With my sister and my people avenged as best I could, I started my life, and now I’m the old grandfather you see here today, drinking tea and sitting around playing cards in my house. I don't miss the war. I don't miss all the hate. There's a certain forgiveness that finds you once you've carried that much emotional weight so long, and I'm glad to be rid of it all.
Thank you very much, Mr. Hragfenr. I believe I have everything I need for your chapter, so I should be going soon. Is there anything else you want to say for the recording?
Just one thing. When I took back my family's necklace, I had to do one other thing. I had to take off his mask, and see him, face to face. Even if he was dead, I needed to see him, to look into his eyes and try to understand him before he was gone from my life forever. I'd stared into that black visor every night in my dreams for years, and I had to know what was behind it; what I was so afraid of. I'd never seen an Overlander's face before, actually, I'd never cared to; it was his specific face that personally interested me. I took that mask off of him, doctor, and I looked right at him, expecting to see the monster that I'd been so scared of, deep inside for all my adult life. I took it off, and I saw. What I saw put an end to my nightmares; never had them again.
What did you see?
He smiled at me here, and looked out his window, staring back into the past. When he spoke again, it was quietly, thoughtfully, but his smile remained.
(You should read the chapter before reading this description! Think of this section as a 'director's commentary' of sorts.)
Here's a very different one for you guys. Getting as meta as I possibly could within my universe, here is an interview that didn't make it into the book that was written by the contemporary and friend of my fancharacter, who is writing the main story. I don't know how I came to format it this way, but it was worth putting up as a sidestory. I hope it sheds a little more light on the Great War as it happened in my universe.
This sidestory is bonus content for the main story. Click here to return to the parent chapter.
(Sonic and co. are the property of SEGA. Thumbnail icon graciously made by
I was actually worried people would find it distracting due to the weird format and out-of-place nature. I'm glad it held your attention and that you enjoyed it so much! Thank you as always for the awesome comments.
I was actually worried people would find it distracting due to the weird format and out-of-place nat
Weird format? WEIRD FORMAT?! My good sir, I must recommend you read World War Z, another interview-style story concerning the survivors, and ultimately victors of a Zombie Apocalypse. This was excellently done, and hardly strange or out of place. First-hand accounts make for some of the most intriguing stories as official information is often 'sanitized' for 'public consumption' if ever released at all...
Weird format? WEIRD FORMAT?! My good sir, I must recommend you read World War Z, another interview-
