Cross Conviction

"Whatever your inclinations, we have wasted enough time with these distractions," said Magnolia.

"I have to agree," added Gustavo, "We'd better get moving before another enemy catches up with us."

Although he prayed that he wouldn't be forced to turn his blade against his captain, Sturm acknowledged the necessity of reaching the designated rally point. With a deep breath, the swordsman plucked his scimitar from the ground and pulled his shoulders back, stretching his sore muscles.

After cracking his neck, he beckoned to Max, "Hey, which field are we headed to, exactly?"

Max blinked, gazing forward absentmindedly. "Uh... Well, we're the Third Hunter Team, so number three, right?"

Shaking his head, Gustavo started through the grass. "The alarm said number four. Pay closer attention."

"Hey, come on man..." Max grumbled, brushing a piece of broken, calcified shell from his shoulder, "I've been through a lot this morning, alright?"

"Then just say you don't know instead of making things up," snapped Magnolia as she followed behind Gustavo.

Max murmured something under his breath in response response but, by then, the girl was already out of earshot. Passing by his friend, Sturm patted Max on the back, urging him onward. Due to their earlier injuries, the boys lagged behind their teammates a fair distance. Taking note of this, Gustavo would stop every so often to avoid becoming too separated. These frequent pauses left Magnolia visibly aggravated but, for now, she managed to hold her tongue.

At some point between his battles with Grizzler and the mysterious cloaked knight, the seam in the side of Sturm's right jackboot had split. Each step through the grass caused the inside of his footwear to become increasingly damp with the morning dew. Their hurried exit meant that the candidates did not have the time to properly dress themselves and, as such, Sturm had been unable to don a pair of socks before beginning the extended ordeal. Though such trivial discomfort was certainly the least of the young knight candidate's worries, it was an unpleasant feeling that he would have felt guilty to admit was bothering him.

Partially out of an attempt to get his mind off of this irritation, Sturm took the opportunity to inquire as to the apparent injury to Max's lower left torso, which he had noticed earlier but not had the chance to address. "It looks like you were bleeding pretty bad," said the young swordsman, "Was that Grizzler?"

"This?" asked Max, running his hand over the blue stain on his trunk, "Nah, that was from when you stabbed me."

Sturm shot Max a confused look. "I stabbed you?"

"Oh, uh... I mean the fake you. I thought you were being mind-controlled and..." Max's eyes lit up mid-sentence. "Wait! I forgot, there's something I gotta tell you guys!"

Just ahead, Gustavo and Magnolia came to a sudden stop being lending their attention to their teammate.

"This guy- the bad guy..." Max explained excitedly, "He was SS! It was like Käfer all over again!"

Crossing her arms, Magnolia challenged the claim. "SS? I thought we had already established that this was a Communist attack?"

Max shook his head. "That's what I thought, too. I mean, that's what the fake Sturm said. But as soon as he went down, his disguise broke."

"Broke?" Magnolia inquired, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah!" Max reaffirmed, "Like I said earlier, he changed back into his regular self and he was totally SS! No mistaking it!"

A troubled look came over Gustavo's face. He turned to the open garden in thought before removing his cap and ruffling his hair. Under normal circumstances, Gustavo might have challenged the eccentric Max's reliability. However, given the chaotic nature of their current situation, it was in the group's best interest to take any such report as a real possibility.

After a moment of reflection, Gustavo turned back toward his allies and placed his cap back atop his head. "If that's true, then this could be some sort of false-flag attack," he explained, "There could be a conspiracy at play. We should be extremely cautious of anyone else we come across from this point on."

Magnolia raised her hand and took a step toward the others. "I'm quite sorry for restating a fact we're all well aware of, but there are no exceptionals in the SS."

Offended by Magnolia's assertion, Max clenched his fists and began to shout. "Yeah, well you weren't there when we fought Käfer, were you?! That's complete bullshit, they definitely have exceptionals!"

"My lord, are you ever going to grow up?" Magnolia groaned, "You're being ridiculous. Why would our own allies-"

"Our allies?" snapped Max, "Speak for yourself! You haven't seen what those guys'll do to people in a dark alleyway!"

Rolling her eyes, Magnolia turned her back on the boy. "Oh yes, I almost forgot," she hissed, "You're one of them. You really shouldn't be here, you know..."

"Hey, what the hell is that supposed to mean?!" Max fumed, his face shifting blue with anger.

Forcing a fake chuckle, Magnolia glared back toward him over her shoulder. "Well, perhaps I don't quite trust you. After all, it was your people who created Bolshevism in the first place. Perhaps you're part of this supposed conspiracy."

"That isn't true, you bitch!" Max raged, "What the fuck is wrong with you?! What did I ever do to you?!

"Deny it all you'd like," said Magnolia, "Once this is all said and done, I have half a mind to report you."

Sturm had heard enough. The line that Magnolia was repeating was common in the various speeches of Nazi officials. While the opinion was far from unpopular, Iron Knights were strictly prohibited from being affiliated with any political entity. Beyond that, the short-tempered blonde was threatening Max's continued safety and Sturm was not going to allow such a boast to go unanswered.

"Alright, you need to stop!" Sturm exclaimed as he stepped between the two. "Magnolia, you know better than to even bring that up!"

"Fine!" the girl snapped back, turning toward the swordsman "But don't you dare act like I didn't warn you when he finally shows his true colors."

Unwilling to accept such a conclusion to the argument, Max opened his mouth to challenge his unruly teammate once more, but Sturm quickly stopped him.

"She's stressed, Max, let it go."

Though there was no way to verify Max's claims about the shapeshifter's affiliation at the moment, Gustavo was present during the confrontation with Käfer. As such, he could attest to the fact that Käfer was, in fact, an SS Senior Assault Leader, and almost certainly an exceptional. The boy mulled affording Magnolia this explanation, but by the time he was prepared to offer it, she had already continued along the academy's outer wall and toward the training field. Accepting the silence as an appropriate resolution, Gustavo followed suit. After a brief moment, Max and Sturm continued on as well.

The Third Hunter Team remained quiet as they approached the rally point. With the training field in view, it soon became clear that no candidates or staff had made it this far. Unnerved by this, Sturm remained alert, scanning the tree line and surrounding area for any sudden activity. It wasn't long before he spied, through the light morning fog, a tall figure standing motionless atop a large boulder at the far end of the field.

"There!" Sturm urged his allies, pointing toward the unknown person, "On top of the rock..."

Cautiously, the group advanced. Cutting through the middle of the field, they pushed on until they were close enough to identify the stationary individual. Though the man's back was turned, his army officer's uniform and coal-black hair made it quite clear that the team had reunited with none other than their deserter captain.

"So you managed to get past Grizzler, did you?" Scharf inquired, still facing the densely planted forest.

Magnolia exhaled sharply and took a step toward the boulder. "No thanks to you," she growled.

The captain turned and beamed down at his haughty student with his one, piercing blue eye. "Do you know how they trained us for the Great War, Ms. Wald?"

Magnolia said nothing. Considering all that had happened until this point, it was a miracle that she was capable of composing herself at all. 

"They started by giving us a chick," Scharf explained, "A hatchling, just a few days old. At that age, they take to you like you're their mother. They can't fend for themselves at all and end up relying on you for food, warmth, and general attention. Strange as it might sound, you do form a bond."

Confused by the captain's contextually-inappropriate story, Max furrowed his brow and cocked his head. "What does that have to do with anything, Captain Scharf?"

Scharf, failing to acknowledge the question, continued with his story. "We ate with them, slept with them, and raised them until they were close to fully grown. We did everything with them," he went on. "And then, we killed them."

The young candidates exchanged anxious glances, silently inquiring as to the implications of Scharf's tale. The captain then inhaled deeply before jumping down from the rock and landing several meters in front of his students. He took one last draw from the cigarette clasped between his middle and index fingers and flicked the smoldering stub at Sturm's foot.

Palming the black leather holster on his side, Scharf slowly panned his focus across each of the candidates, extrapolating their mental state based on their expressions and body language. To the veteran captain, their anxious twitches and unsteady lungs made it clear that the young trainees were not prepared for this fight.

"I hated that part."