During the occupation, Greta went into hiding in one of the shelters near the Perkin's. She crowded into a small space with over a thousand others. Each impact shook the dust and she watched as the metal girders holding up the concrete ceiling groaned. As the bombing and shooting lessened they quietly waited for a sign it was safe, but instead the bunker doors swung open and a crack of a machine gun over their heads signaled for them to exit.
They filed out into groups and were processed as quickly as they were found, they were released with new papers and instructions. Four teams of soldiers huddled around makeshift desks made quick work. The team processing Greta Knutmudsen took pause. She was singled out and escorted by a pair of soldiers to her home.
An officer in a dark uniform was standing out front. When the soldiers overran the city's defenses they began plundering the homes, but when some soldiers entered the stationary shop of K. Knutmudsen and Son they felt a great unease and a fright at the images and photographs of the Knut hanging on the walls and in the second floor living quarters.
Greta confirmed it was her family home and her brother was Karl Knutmudsen. The name on the shop front was of their father Kurt Knutmudsen. They already knew it and Greta confirming it made them relieved they did not dare touch a thing. She was allowed to return to her home, the only building on the street not ransacked.
Guards stood watch and she kept to herself and avoided the windows. The officer would arrive every few days to check-in and offer her some food and basic supplies. She shunned them and would go out to queue in line with everyone else.
She contemplated setting fire to her family home. It would wound them, the Artesians who worshiped her brother. The occupation dragged on and she felt the weariness and growing frustration. Her only interaction was with the young officer who patiently arrived every few days.
His name was Hugh and he had spent time in the Infantry then was injured and reassigned to an Administration brigade. He spent his days behind a desk, he used a special elevated shoe to hide his limp. A bullet had shattered a bone and when the doctors stitched him back together his left leg was a few inches shorter than his right. Hugh considered himself fortunate as most would have lost their leg entirely.
With no one to talk to, she begrudgingly allowed Hugh to share high tea. They at first sat quietly pouring hot water from a metal carafe. In time, she opened up to him and described her childhood and of her family and of being a teacher. She was surprised he didn't ask about Karl and was more interested in her story.
He shared his own and that he was from a military family and the youngest of four brothers, all of whom were distinguished generals. He reluctantly enlisted and while they lacked family names, he was afforded the same courtesies and promoted quickly to a field commission of Captain. He earned his injuries from a battle where many of his unit were wounded or killed including his commander officer.
Captain Hugh did not believe the occupation would last and there was word while the entire country had been overrun and Politiburo's being established from gutted ruins, the foreign population were still defiant. He said it calmly that they would begin the re-education at a quickened pace and frenzy and it was his reason for spending time with Greta to mark the Knutmudsen home as an exception.
It's a bit of an irony. A land with no last names worshiping a man named Karl Knutmudsen and to avoid this contradiction calling him the Knut. We are all now Knutmudsen's, an extended family now numbering in the tens of tens of millions.
Hugh was correct and the horde was defeated. He and the few who were fortunate to be left behind in the city retreated back across the sea. Greta kept in touch with him and years later rekindled their friendship when she was invited to the Great Hall to see all of Knut's things on display.
They later married and had a son. He grew up with no need for wanting and was a minor media sensation as a relation of the great founder. But to avoid too much publicity he was not named as tradition would dictate and went by Bertrand, only Bertrand.
A few teased and conferred the title of Prince Bertrand and he held court in his family home with his playmates and small fan club. He grew out of those childhood antics and joined the Politiburo when he was of age, attaining the rank of Bureau Chief.
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