Bastian
Chapter 22 - Traces of Violence

✧Traces of Violence✧

*.·:·.✧.·:·.*

“Ah, the beauty of youth,” Dr. Kramer beamed, as he neatly tucked away the chart. “Not a single red flag to be found. This checkup was a mere formality, just like the one last month.” The doctor marveled at the remarkable progress his patient had made since his last visit. The surgery on his left shoulder, to extract shrapnel, was a distant memory, and the telltale signs of a previous gunshot wound were almost imperceptible.  sᴇaʀᴄh thᴇ Nʘvᴇl(F)ire.nᴇt website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of nøvels early and in the highest quality.

“You’re good to serve in the front lines again, but I wouldn’t advise it,” Dr. Kramer warned, as he leaned leisurely against his desk. Bastian, however, was unfazed and merely flashed a grin before getting dressed. Scars, big and small, littered his body like a roadmap of battles fought and won, but with a deft hand, he expertly covered them with a smartly pressed dress shirt. Though, the scars disappeared, but the warrior within remained.

“I have faith that the Admiralty shall only be privy to the bare facts, devoid of any personal biases,” Bastian stated, as he meticulously fastened his cufflinks. Though a smile graced his lips, it was one of mere politeness, a fleeting facade to mask his unwavering resolve to venture forth once more.

“Bastian,” Dr. Kramer sighed, his voice carrying a note of concern.

He initially encountered Bastian in this medical clinic on a late spring day like today. The air carried the aroma of roses as it drifted through the open window on a weekend afternoon.

Bastian, Sophia’s son, looked just like her late husband Jeff Klauswitz, the man who had killed her. However, Bastian’s inability to avoid a fate similar to that of his mother made Dr. Kramer even less optimistic.

Carl Illis stormed into the hospital, his grandson Bastian in tow, determined to unearth evidence of foul play. With fire in his eyes and tears in his voice, he spoke of how he had just rescued Sophia’s son from a dangerous household. The old man declared Bastian as the newest member of the Illis family, vowing to protect the child from any further harm.

This was a feud that had simmered for years, ever since Sophia’s passing. The Klauswitz aimed to eliminate Bastian, the surviving son of their late daughter-in-law, while Carl sought to honor his daughter’s memory by making Bastian his heir. In the end, the Klauswitz emerged victorious much to Carl’s frustration.

Dr. Kramer, tasked with examining Bastian that fateful day, was taken aback by the twist of events. Twice over, he was left stunned by the family drama that had played out before him.

As little Bastian was undressed, Dr. Kramer was greeted with a shocking sight. The boy’s body was covered in a tapestry of scars, both old and new, testament to a life lived on the edge. Recent wounds, inflicted by a ferocious wild dog, were still raw and red, a painful reminder of Bastian’s bravery.

But it was the story behind the scars that truly took the doctor’s breath away. Bastian regaled tales of tumbles from horses, sword-fighting mishaps, and daredevil hikes gone awry. Each scar was a badge of honor, a symbol of his daring spirit.

Or so it seemed on the surface. For in reality, these scars were far from accidental. Each one was inflicted during the “successor class”, a twisted excuse for the abuse of young Bastian by those who sought to break him. 

“You’ve earned your stripes on the battlefield, my boy,” Dr. Kramer said, removing his spectacles and rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Why not hang up your sword and retire? I cannot in good conscience sign the papers that would send you back into harm’s way.” The doctor sighed heavily, the weight of his responsibility evident on his shoulders.

“Peacekeeping and vigilance always come first, even on the frontlines,” Bastian declared confidently, leaning against the desk. The spring sunlight filtered in, casting a golden glow over the two of them as they locked eyes.

“It’s quite remarkable, considering the state you returned in,” Dr. Kramer noted.

“Ah, but that was an exceptional situation,” Bastian replied,

“And what if, heaven forbid, something like that happens again?” Dr. Kramer asked, concern etched on his face.

Bastian chuckled, “Why, I’ll just get myself another medal for bravery, of course.”

Dr. Kramer let out a hearty laugh at Bastian’s audacious quip.

Bastian wore a peaceful smile, but his eyes remained unreadable, just as they had been 14 years prior.

Despite Carl Illis’s tireless efforts to bring the Klauswitz couple to justice for their cruel and hidden abuse of his daughter’s son, he never saw the fruits of his labors. The cunning perpetrators had covered their tracks, leaving behind not a shred of evidence of their wrongdoing.

They masked their abuse behind the guise of “Succession Education,” hiding behind a grandiose facade.

With lightning speed, Jeff Klauswitz tied the knot again after the untimely passing of his former spouse. His new bride soon gave birth to a premature baby in the seventh month of their marriage, but that didn’t stop Jeff from putting his ex-wife’s son front and center as his heir apparent. This bold move was his attempt to silence the whispers and dispel the dark clouds that had descended upon him following a mysterious occurrence.

The Klauswitz couple tasked a select group of highly acclaimed educators to mold Bastian Klauswitz, their prized heir, into the perfect successor.  Though the expertise was undeniable, the training was a ruthless regimen that pushed the child beyond his limits. 

As dawn broke, the young heir was already awake, dressed in pristine attire, ready to begin his day. The heavy workload and grueling physical training, reminiscent of military boot camp, left no room for rest.

As a child, Bastian Klauswitz lived a life of relentless hardships. His days were filled with an endless stream of reading and writing, until his eyes were bloodshot and his hands swollen. 

Despite falling off a horse and nearly breaking his neck, he pushed through and mastered the art of horseback riding. At night, he was left to fend for himself in the forest, armed with only a gun in his still-developing hand. 

Success meant a return to the cold, quiet emptiness, but failure meant a questioning of his very existence. For six long years, from the death of his mother to the day he arrived at the hospital with his grandfather, Bastian was trapped within the walls of the Klauswitz family, struggling to survive in a world filled with relentless challenges.

“Your efforts are futile, my boy,” Dr. Kramer declared with a sad smile. “The Admiralty’s verdict will remain unchanged and I won’t be signing any papers till fall. My hands are tied.” 

The truth behind Sophia’s death weighed heavy on Dr. Kramer’s conscience. If only he had kept it shrouded in secrecy, Carl Illis wouldn’t have been consumed by vengeance. But now, it was too late for regrets. The path of revenge, once set in motion, was now an insurmountable task for the young Bastian.

With a heavy heart, Dr. Kramer donned his glasses and gazed upon Bastian. The memories of the past weighed heavily on the doctor’s mind, as he beheld the young man before him.

Every act of violence leaves a mark, and the invisible abuse inflicted upon Bastian was no exception. Despite his best efforts, Carl Illis was unable to bring the Klauswitz couple to justice and finally, tears of anger and frustration streamed down his face. Through it all, young Bastian stood by his side, steadfast and unperturbed, a silent guardian to his grieving grandfather. As Bastian and Carl Illis stepped out of the medical room, Dr. Kramer couldn’t help but notice the scars left behind by the quiet torment he endured. 

“What do you think about settling down, finding a partner and starting a family?” In a sudden moment of impulsiveness, Dr. Kramer posed a question, “I’m not suggesting you accept the Emperor’s arranged marriage, there are many other eligible women. Try to find someone who you love, not just a transaction.” 

“I’ll consider it, thank you for the advice.” Bastian replied with a smile, 

Although the doctor was aware that he didn’t intend it, he was at a loss for words. Dr. Kramer suddenly thought it was absurd to offer such counsel when he had long since buried the unmet love in his heart.

Bastian gave his customary gracious goodbye. The doctor’s office was engulfed in a lazy afternoon silence following the last appointment.

Dr. Kramer gazed out the window, his eyes fixed on Bastian’s departure. The young man strode confidently forward, his jacket slung over one arm and his gaze unwavering. Despite his simple attire, his posture was that of a seasoned soldier, commanding and sure. 

As the golden rays of the spring sun danced through his blonde hair, Dr. Kramer watched him until he was nothing more than a distant memory. In silence, he marveled at the grace and poise of the young man who had just left his sight.

*.·:·.✧.·:·.*

Odette spun on her heel and peered at her reflection in the window of the café across the street. With her hair styled and her blouse and skirt neatly pressed, she appeared presentable, but not quite fit for a formal occasion. The appointment was far too pressing to wait for Countess Trier’s assistance.

Her mind raced as she wondered where Bastian was headed and what he had planned. The letter from Bastian, sent via personal courier the night before, contained only a cryptic note specifying the time and place of their meeting:

 “We will meet tomorrow at 3 PM in front of the fountain in City Hall Square.”

The curt, final greeting of just the letter “K” did little to ease her growing unease.

It wasn’t like she was heading to a fancy party, judging by the time and location. She made sure to dress appropriately, but as her appointment time drew near, she began to feel nervous.

Suddenly, a black car appeared from across the street, slowing down and finally coming to a stop near the fountain. Odette watched warily, noting that it was not the same car that she had arrived in that day. She steeled herself, ready for whatever lay ahead.

“Lady Odette.” 

Bastian’s voice echoed through the busy street, jolting Odette out of her thoughts.  She looked up to see a sleek black car rolling to a stop beside her, and out stepped the man she had been waiting for. 

Confidently, Bastian stride towards her, his piercing gaze unwavering as the bustling crowds of onlookers seemed to fade into the background.

 “Hello, Captain.” Odette greeted him politely, trying to hide the surprise in her voice. Bastian stopped in front of her, his eyes sizing her up from head to toe. He scrutinized her with a cold, calculated gaze, leaving no detail unnoticed. The intensity of his scrutiny sent shivers down her spine.

With a haughty leer, Bastian cast his eyes upon Odette, his evaluation of her blatant and infused with aristocratic disdain. And with a smirk that hinted at his thoughts, he offered her his hand, inviting her to follow him.

Confused and caught off guard, Odette gazed at him in disbelief, searching for an explanation for his sudden appearance. But as Bastian deftly took her parasol and tucked it away, she found herself being swept towards the waiting car, her mind racing to make sense of what was happening. And as she settled into the plush seat of the vehicle, she realized with a start that she had just become Bastian’s latest conquest.

“Where are we headed?” Odette bravely inquired, but Bastian disregarded her question with a silent shut of the car door. With a furrowed brow, she watched as he calmly settled into the seat next to her, unfazed by his rude behavior. The driver respectfully opened the opposite back door for him, and Bastian slid into the car with composed ease.

“Let’s go.” Bastian’s voice, calm and collected, echoed through the car as the driver begins the journey without question. “We’ll be around shortly,” With a hint of insincerity, he offers Odette the parasol, which she gracefully accepts, concealing any trace of discontentment. 

As she was admiring the intricate design etched upon the parasol, the vehicle weaved through the bustling city streets. The car pulled up to its final stop just as Odette discovered a loose strand of lace adorning her hem. Swiftly, she tucked it away. As she looked up, she saw Bastian’s hand reach out, offering her a glimpse into a world of glamour and opulence. 

The shop windows of the esteemed Sabine dress shop sparkled like stars before her, recollecting the memory of the clever test that the Count Brand’s daughter had posed to her.

*.·:·.✧.·:·.* 

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