CIRCLES OF TIME: The Great War
-by: the Yarnspinner-
the_yarnspinner@yahoo.com
http://strands-of-moonlight.my3gb.com
-or- http://strands-of-moonlight.6te.net
Rated: PG-13* * * * * * * * * * * *
NOTE: This yarn is part of the Circles of Time series, and is separate from my other works. Also, this one does not contain the spicier elements of my previous yarns. For the rest of this series, including a very helpful timeline, visit the Circles of Time website: www.reocities.com/Tokyo/9897/ct.htm . Special thanks to M-chan for inviting me to be a part of the series and for letting me run with this idea.Always remember, good gentles, that a yarnspinner works from and within existing legends and stories. The characters of "Sailor Moon" belong to others. In spinning my yarns, I do not seek to infringe on their rights of ownership, but merely to join with other fans to spread the legend still further. "The moonlight carries a message of love." Enjoy.
* * * * * * * * * * * *> Chapter 1 - Sarajevo <
The shrill cry of a steam whistle split the night's calm as the train raced south and east, approaching the only recently war torn countries of the Balkans. As the summer of 1914 warmed this region, the uneasy peace brokered by the Great Powers only the year before still held precarious sway. Few knowledgeable observers expected it to last.
In the third carriage sat a tall woman with dark hair, dark complexion, and seemingly ageless dark eyes. It was rare for a woman to travel alone and unaccompanied, but her distant manner and those impenetrable eyes, even behind a pair of wire-rimmed spectacles as they now were, held off even the most determinedly chivalrous male who might suppose this member of the "weaker sex" was in need of escort.
She was traveling on a Swiss passport, which identified her as Fraulein Doctor Setsuna Morgan of the University of Zurich. The Swiss papers assured her a minimum of inconvenience at most border crossings, while her role as a junior professor at a venerable institute of higher learning made her seem something of a curiosity, but otherwise harmless.
Nothing, however, could have been farther from the truth. Few people in 1914 knew that Sailor Pluto, the solitary guardian of time, even existed, and fewer still would believe that she was this young female academic.
As Setsuna stared out the window, her attention was not on the passing countryside. Her senses, registering far more than those of an ordinary mortal, were focusing on a convergence of strong magical and temporal energies that had brought her to this time and was leading her now into the Balkans. It was a dangerous and critical time. Much too critical for her to risk allowing any anomalies to go unchecked.
This was a period of rationalism, where people clung to the ability of reason to explain the workings of the world, and of their machines to tame it to their wishes. The preeminent human cultures had turned their backs on the heritage of magic and harmony with the natural forces of the world they inhabited. In this type of environment, a strong presence of magic was completely out of place.- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
The train slowed. As they pulled to a stop, a sign indicated they were entering the province of Bosnia and Herzegovina. On the platform, she saw guards in Austrian uniform, and several workers in baggy pants, white shirts, open vests, and wearing a fez.
Bosnia and Herzegovina had been a province of the Austro-Hungarian dual monarchy of Habsburg emperor Franz Josef since 1908, when it had been formally annexed. It had been under effective Austrian control since 1878, when the Congress of Berlin had placed it under Austro-Hungarian rule as part of its settlement of a war between Russia and the Ottoman Empire. Before that, it had been ruled by the Ottoman Turks since 1389. This was a land rife with discontent, displaying many of the problems lingering just beneath the surface of the rest of Franz Josef's multi-ethnic, multi-national, multi-religious empire. Here, Catholics, who increasingly identified themselves as Croats, feuded with the Orthodox, who considered themselves Serbs, in a conflict that had rent the Christian world since 1054. Both looked down with equal degree upon the Muslims who, though from the same Slav ethnic stock, had long ago accepted the teachings of the prophet Mohammed, brought by the Turks.
Under Austro-Hungarian rule, Bosnia and Herzegovina had begun to experience a revival, seeing an increase of prosperity, and even the beginnings of a limited democratic self-rule. Annexation had brought renewed tensions with a sharp increase in Serb nationalism. Neighboring Serbia had driven out the Turks during the Russo-Turkish War, and the Congress of Berlin had compelled the Ottomans to accept Serbian independence. The territory now held by independent Serbia did not cover all of the ancient Serbia of the middle ages, before the Ottoman invasion, and left many who regarded themselves as Serbs under foreign jurisdiction. Serbia now championed itself as the leader of all the "South Slavs", seeking to unify them in a "Greater Serbia". As the Serbs in Bosnia and Herzegovina had protested annexation into Austria-Hungary, Serbia offered support through a variety of informal channels, finally triggering a diplomatic crisis between the two nations in 1909. Serbia was forced to back down when Russia, Serbia's patron, refused to risk a war with Austria-Hungary. The First (Oct. 1912 - May 1913) and Second (July - August, 1913) Balkan Wars saw armed Serb expansion, as the Serbian army pushed south into Kosovo and Macedonia. This sparked renewed suspicion in Vienna, where hardliners demanded military action to bring the upstart Serbs into line, and with Serbian anti-Austrian propaganda again on the increase, direct military rule was imposed in Bosnia and Herzegovina.
An Austrian guard came through the carriage, checking papers, while two others stood at either end. The young officer's gaze lingered for a moment on Setsuna. Professionalism quickly reasserted itself, and he glanced over her passport with a practiced eye.
"All is in order, Fraulein Doctor," he said crisply in German, handing her papers back to her. Setsuna merely nodded, as the officer was already moving to the next passenger.
Moments later, she noticed the guard at the far end moving closer.
"You will have to come with me," her sharp ears overhead the officer say.
Immediately, sounds of a struggle ensued. Both of the accompanying guards rushed to support the officer, who had already dragged a short, stocky dark-haired man to his feet, his arm pinned behind him.
"Austrian dog!" the man shouted in Serbo-Croatian, still struggling.
One of the guards moved to strike the Serb with his rifle butt.
"No," the officer said sternly, in German.
The guard snapped to attention, then quickly stepped back, his gun held at the ready. Two more guards entered through the rear of the carriage.
"Take him off," the officer directed.
From the Serb's pocket, the officer retrieved a small flyer. As he opened it, Setsuna caught site of the words "Ujedinjenje ili Smrt", Serbo-Croatian for "Union or Death". This was the name of a terrorist group, also known as the Black Hand, which aimed at the creation of "Greater Serbia" by any means, including violence. Though not officially sanctioned by the Serbian government in Belgrade, its members included much of the Serbian officer corps, a number of high ranking politicians, and even Crown Prince Alexander, the heir to the Serbian throne.
After the Serb had been dragged off, spouting obscenities, the officer finished checking papers, then offered a brief apology to the passengers for the delay, but assuring them that their journey would be safer for the removal of this man.- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Sarajevo, the administrative center of Bosnia and Herzegovina, lies in the narrow valley of the Miljacka River, beneath Mount Trebevic. Though predating the Turkish occupation, it was during the Ottoman period that the city took on its distinctive and principally Muslim character.
It was the afternoon of June 27, 1914. Setsuna walked through the city, her time-key disguised as an alpenstock, and her head and neck covered, in deference to Muslim custom, in a scarf. Her senses led her away from the city center in search of the magical energies that had brought her here.
Ahead of her, a young man, barely twenty from his appearance, glanced back at her nervously, then hurried down a side street. She stopped at the top of the street, watching the young man round the next corner. His path was taking him closer to the magic energies Setsuna had come to investigate. The corner he had taken proved to be a narrow alley. At the far end, she clearly heard the sounds of a struggle.
Cloaking herself from mortal detection, she moved closer. The young man was being assaulted by six men, all in long black coats. Except for the lack of any insignia, the first impression of their identical attire was that they were police or security officers. Not being one to rely on first impressions, however, she quickly noticed the flaws. The assailants were all wearing boots, but not the regulation issue of the police or the security services. Additionally, though they had taken efforts to hide it, these men were well-groomed, in a manner of the upper classes, whose sons in this era found higher callings than serving in a provincial police unit. Finally, she realized that these men were the focal point of the magic energies she was seeking.
The young man rolled away from one of his attackers and pulled a dagger. Lunging forward with obviously practiced skill, he drove the dagger through the coat and deep into his assailant's flesh. The attacker screamed in pain, as the young man pulled away.
"Damn bastard," another of the attackers hissed. "Your hand isn't the only thing that's going to be black."
The young man glared defiantly, his dagger at the ready. One of the attackers swung his hand up, and the man dove aside, avoiding a bright burst of energy by only the narrowest margin. His defiance turned to fear as he glanced back at the one who had fired the burst. Muttering a prayer, he clasped a small Orthodox cross in trembling fingers.
"Now you will die, you Serb pig," another attacker growled. "And your masters in Belgrade will soon be next."
"I have no master in Belgrade," the young man answered, the defiance returning. "But if I am to be a martyr to the Serb people here, I welcome it!"
As the attackers closed in, Setsuna appeared out of the shadows.
"Go home, woman! This does not concern you!" one of the attackers ordered.
"I disagree," she answered calmly. "This man is not due to die today."
"But he will die, nonetheless," another declared. "As will you, if you stand in our way."
Setsuna stepped toward the young man. One of the attackers rushed forward, only to be met by a heavy blow to the head from Setsuna's staff. The others stood back, having hardly seen her move, clearly reassessing their new opponent. One raised his hand, hurling an energy blast at her. It struck Setsuna's staff, and was harmlessly absorbed.
"She's one of the Order," another of the attackers hissed. "They must have sent agents to protect Princip and his fellows."
"Kill her!" still another ordered.
Three of the attackers stood together, combining their powers to attack her. Again, Setsuna met the attack with her staff, blocking it with apparent ease. As the attackers stood stunned, energy shimmered around her, melting away her civilian clothes and leaving her in the attire of Sailor Pluto. The ruby cap of the time-key glowed brightly with the energy absorbed from their attacks. She wordlessly swung the time-key, releasing a large globe of energy that battered the assailants to the ground.
The youngest of the attackers struggled back to his feet. "It will take more than that, witch!"
"No!" one of the older men commanded. "We must withdraw. A sacrifice now would accomplish nothing."
The younger assailant was clearly torn, but returned to the others, who stood together in a circle. Energy enveloped them, and they vanished.
Setsuna stood still for a moment, then turned back to the young Serb behind her. She now knew precisely who this man was, and what bitter series of events he was to launch. Within her a conflict raged as it had done for long centuries between personal wishes and duty. Once again, her duty as the guardian of time won out.
The young Serb crouched against the wall, trembling in abject terror. He had seen things that were beyond his very limited understanding, and that were far outside of his ideological certainty. In this state, he could no longer fulfill his destiny. She crouched beside him, the time-key glowing softly. His memories of the attack faded to no more than a dream.
"Gavrilo Princip," she whispered in his ear. "You must go. Your comrades require your leadership. You must fulfill your destiny."
As she faded from mortal view, Princip's eyes slowly regained focus. He looked around, checked that his wallet and dagger were securely in place, then struggled to his feet.
"Damn that bartender," he cursed, deciding his present state must be due to bad liquor. "He must be an Austrian." He hurried off down the street.- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
June 28 was to be a significant day for Sarajevo, with a visit from the Archduke Franz Ferdinand, the heir to the imperial throne, and his wife. It had been four years since a prominent Habsburg had visited the city, and excitement filled the air.
Early that morning, the Archduke, in his role as Inspector-General of the Army, attended maneuvers at the Philipovic army camp just outside the city, with General Oskar Potoirek, the governor of Bosnia and Herzegovina. At about 10 o'clock, the archducal motorcade left the camp for a procession through the center of the city to attend a reception hosted by the mayor of Sarajevo, Fehim Effendi Curcic.
Setsuna stood in the crowd along the broad avenue of the Appel Quay, running along the north bank of the Miljacka River. Franz Ferdinand was a popular figure, and clearly going to receive a warm welcome from the citizens of Sarajevo. Among the crowd, however, were seven would-be assassins. First in line was the group's token Muslim, Muhamed Mehmedbasic, on the south side of the Appel Quay. Just past Mehmedbasic was one of the core members, Nedjelko Cabrinovic, a member of the Black Hand and dispatched from Belgrade for this occasion. Next were Vaso Cubrilovic and Cvijetko Popovic, both 17-year-old high school students from Sarajevo. Cubrilovic was on the south side of the street, at the corner of the Cumburja bridge, with Popovic directly opposite, on the north side. Princip and Trifko Grabez, the other two Black Hand members sent from Belgrade, stood farther along the Appel Quay, also on the river side, at the Lateiner Bridge and Kaiser Bridge, respectively. The seventh man, Danilo Ilic, floated between Princip and Grabez.
The procession passed Mehmedbasic. As the crowd around him cheered and he caught site of the Archduke in his uniform, and his wife, Sophie, dressed in white alongside, his nerve failed him.
The motorcade moved on. Cabrinovic silently cursed Mehmedbasic's inaction, while readying the bomb he carried concealed beneath his coat. The first car, carrying the mayor and the commissioner of police passed. The second, carrying the Archduke and his wife, and General Potoirek, drew along his position, the Habsburg banner flying. Cabrinovic withdrew the bomb, struck it against the lamp post alongside him to strike the firing cap, and threw himself forward, hurling the bomb toward his target.
The driver caught sight of the hurled object and immediately pressed his foot to the accelerator, increasing the car's speed. Franz Ferdinand saw the cannister from the corner of his eye, quickly raising his arm to shield his wife, who was sitting between him and his would-be assailant. He knocked the bomb away, where it hit the lowered top of the car and bounced into the street. The explosion rattled windows and injured over a dozen spectators. The third car in the procession stalled as debris assailed its passengers, seriously wounding Potoirek's adjutant.
Before the smoke had even cleared, Cabrinovic swallowed a cyanide pill he had been given and threw himself into the river. He struck hard the shallow bottom, only a few inches deep at that point, and immediately doubled up with intense abdominal pain. The cyanide was too old, doing nothing more than making him vomit. A crowd of Sarajevans, outraged at the attack on the Archduke, swarmed down the bank and seized Cabrinovic. Cubrilovic and Papovic melted into the crowd, keeping their coats tightly closed and now merely praying to get out undetected and alive.
The first two cars moved several lengths down the street, then stopped.
"Your royal and imperial highness, are you and your wife both unhurt?" Potoirek asked.
Franz Ferdinand's attention was immediately on his wife. As Sophie insisted she was fine, he turned his attention back to the general. "Yes, General. We are both fine."
"That is good news indeed." Potoirek stepped down from the car as more of his aides and those of the Archduke hurried forward.
Moments later, Potoirek returned to the car. "It seems Colonel Merrizi is the only one seriously injured, your highness," he reported. "I would suggest continuing on."
"Most certainly," the Archduke agreed. "I will not allow some malcontent to disrupt my schedule. But I do insist on visiting the hospital afterwards, to see the wounded."
"Of course, your highness," Potoirek acknowledged. "Driver, continue."
The motorcade resumed its course toward City Hall. The crowds roared with joy at the sight of the Habsburg banner and the Archduke's hat. Sensing the mood around them, and each realizing that they would be torn apart by an angry mob at even the slightest threatening gesture, Princip, Ilic, and Grabez all let the motorcade pass.
The Archduke's car pulled up in front of City Hall, where the mayor was already waiting. Franz Ferdinand mounted the steps and angrily confronted Curcic. "Mr. Mayor, one comes here for a visit and is received by bombs! It is outrageous!"
Curcic stood quietly, waiting for leave to speak, and trying to decide how best to deal with the situation. Finally, seeing the assembled dignitaries in their places, and that the Archduke had regained his composure, Curcic decided to proceed with business as usual, launching into his prepared speech.
"Your Royal and Imperial Highness!...Our hearts are full of happiness..."- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Setsuna moved along the Appel Quay. Most of the crowd gathered to see the Archduke had dispersed, and except for the traces of the bomb explosion, the street seemed to be returning to normal.
Despite this, a sense of uneasiness lingered over her. She still sensed the strong magic forces in the area, which told her the mysterious group of wizards remained nearby.
There was more to this than met the eye. Wizards were rare in this era, but they did exist. This group appeared to be organized. They had targeted Princip with deliberate intent, suggesting that they knew what he and his co-conspirators intended to do. Further, when she had intervened, they had evidently mistaken her for another wizard, one belonging to a group that they apparently thought would have as much an interest in seeing Princip succeed as these wizards had in seeing him stopped.
Just then, she sensed their magic more clearly, which meant they were using their power for something specific. Focusing her concentration, she quickly located them. In an instant, she cloaked herself from mortal view, and shifted herself physically into a small apartment, where the six wizards were gathered.
They sat together in a circle, the ethereal figure of another man standing in the center.
"What happened, Eric?" the figure asked.
"A lone woman intervened," Eric answered. "Princip escaped us."
"A lone woman? How is that possible?"
"She was one of the Order," the youngest one blurted out.
"Quiet, Bernardo. You are out of place," Eric ordered.
"Young Bernardo believes she was another wizard?" the figure asked.
"Yes, Peter. He does," Eric acknowledged.
"But you seem less certain."
Eric nodded. "No single wizard, man or woman, should have been able to stand so completely impervious against our combined power as she did."
"Completely impervious?" Peter asked.
"Yes. We attacked her twice after she had insisted on coming to Princip's aid. Both times, she absorbed our power like it was as inconsequential as a summer rain," Eric explained. "She then hit us with a massive energy burst of her own."
"I still say we could have taken her," Bernardo muttered.
"Do you, young one?" Peter asked.
"He failed to realize then, and still does not fully admit to himself, that her attack disrupted our powers. We could not have attacked then if we had wanted to," Eric said. "Our only available option was to withdraw."
Peter nodded his agreement. "A wise choice, Eric. Meanwhile, we must look into this. If this woman is an agent of the Order, we could be facing a grave threat." He thought for a moment. "But what of the attempt on the Archduke?"
"It has failed," Eric answered.
"Princip missed?"
"Not Princip, but his associate, Cabrinovic," Eric said. "He threw a bomb at the Archduke's car, but it was deflected away and exploded in the street. The Archduke was unharmed."
"Not Princip? That is strange. All the indications were that Princip would be the one," Peter said.
"The crowd was most outraged at the attack on the Archduke," said Samuel, sitting to Eric's immediate left. "The prospect of an angry, vengeful mob may have caused Princip to lose his nerve."
"That is a possibility," Peter conceded. "But regardless, we need you to keep a close watch on the situation until we are certain. It remains very likely that a major crisis point is at hand, and if the Order succeeds it will mean utter disaster, not just for we Paladins, but for the entire world."
"I think we are all aware of that, Peter," Eric said quietly. "Like all those who have gone before us, we know our duty."
"Of course," Peter acknowledged. "Forgive me for any suggestion to the contrary. I will not keep you any longer. Good luck."
"Thank you, Peter. We will report again soon," Eric said.
Peter nodded, as his image flickered, then faded away.
"How do we proceed?" one of the others asked.
"We know Cabrinovic is in police custody, but the others are unaccounted for," Samuel answered. "Therefore, the Archduke conceivably is still in danger."
"Yes," Eric agreed. "We will locate each of the others, and monitor them until the Archduke is safely on his train back to Vienna."
As the wizards rose to their feet, Setsuna teleported out of the room, leaving them unaware that she had ever been there.- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
At the intersection of the Appel Quay with Franz Josef Street, directly across from the Lateiner Bridge, Setsuna stood outside a market. It was nearly 11:15am. The door opened and Princip emerged, having just bought a sandwich. She watched as he stopped to talk with another man outside the store.
Several cars approached from the east along the Appel Quay, with one turning onto Franz Josef Street. Setsuna instantly recognized Franz Ferdinand and General Potoirek in the car. Her sharp ears caught Potoirek's words to the driver.
"This is the wrong way! We're supposed to take the Appel Quay!"
The driver immediately stopped the car and shifted into reverse.
Princip looked up to see the now stationary car and his quarry, barely five feet away from him. Discarding his sandwich, he drew his gun from his pocket, stepped toward the car and fired twice, once at Franz Ferdinand and once at Sophie.
Potoirek's eyes met Princip's as the young Serb fired. To his ear, the shots sounded weak, and seeing the Archduke and his wife still sitting up, he assumed they had missed. "To the Governor's residence! Quickly!" he ordered the driver.
As the car turned onto the Lateiner Bridge and picked up speed, Princip swallowed his poison and attempted to turn his gun on himself. Before he could do so, a mob swarmed angrily over Princip. Police officers arrived in only moments, finding they needed to rescue their suspected gunmen, who was doubled over with severe abdominal pain from the out-of-date cyanide, before the crowd carried out its own sentence.
In the car, Franz Ferdinand had been shot in the throat, and blood ran from his mouth.
"For Heaven's sake! What happened to you?" Sophie cried.
Before he could respond, she sank in her seat.
"She's fainted," said Potoirek, who then tried to help her up.
Franz Ferdinand, knowing his wife was not one to simply faint, suspected the truth, that she was bleeding into her abdomen. "Sophie dear! Sophie dear! Don't die! Stay alive for our children!" he pleaded.
The car pulled up at the Governor's residence, and Franz Ferdinand and Sophie were hurried inside. The staff doctor was hurriedly summoned. He approached Potoirek minutes later.
"The Duchess of Hohenberg is already dead, sir," the doctor reported, using Sophie's formal title. "And his royal and imperial highness cannot last more than thirty minutes, likely less."
Potoirek wiped away a tear, then turned to an aide. "Prepare a dispatch to Vienna... conveying the news of the Archduke's death."
The aide saluted and hurried away.- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
As the news spread across Sarajevo, leaving mostly shock and sadness in its wake, Setsuna smiled to herself grimly. One of her less pleasant duties had been discharged once again.
Ahead of her, she saw two of the wizards who called themselves Paladins. They read the hastily printed newspaper, swearing bitterly at the news. As they walked away, she again reflected that there was far more going on than met the eye. She had references to two mysterious groups, the Order and the Paladins, who seemed to be locked in some strange behind the scenes struggle. She needed to know more.< To be continued >
-12.27.2000