Ingo Schweitzer, the possessive Prussian (Chapter 7)

Being Chapter 7 from Part 3 of "The Armed Forces" by Jan C. Zločin. 
Ostuda Press, Brünn, 1942.
Now in the public domain.
This excerpt translated from the German by the Targu Mures Historical Society.

Mures Valley in flames

Suum cuique

The Mures Valley stood in flames, and from the Flame a voice:

“What have you done, Ingo? What have you done? What have you done to the valley of peace? Oh, Ingo … What has the valley done to you?”

It was a grand vision. Fires rose from the Mare Gramada, rose as from hell itself. And from the darkest forest Ingo Schweitzer watched. He stood there now as a refugee, as a stranger and strange man – a wanderer lost, a child forgotten, a being otherworldly. To these other worlds his mind now traveled, but his eyes remained fixed on the unfolding inferno, to those cleansing waves of pure, bright power – of dark, red death.

So many chains bind us to the Earth. Fettered in struggle, imprisoned by responsibility or limited by joys (always fleeting). Pushed to some familial bosom, trampled under tradition. These were the chains Ingo would to break; these were the structures he now submitted to a fiery end. He had escaped them before, fleeing his father and city and country, but had grown much too involved in local politics and affairs since acquiring the Mures estate. His roots reached into Romanian soil, nourished him, but also fixed him firmly. “Free me, eternal flame, cut deeply, lacerate my mind!”

Break the circle

The Flame now spoke to Ingo as if in lullaby, sweet and civil, and the wild fire within him subsided:

Gutaniowi hailag,
gutaniowi hailag,
gutaniowi hailag,
Kurimjacove hailag

This was not the submission to wildness, a beastly surrender, that Ingo had intended when he lit his torch some hours before. Could violence bring peace? Could misery, pain and war be the key to his identity and the redeemer of his dying Queen, Europa? There was so much to learn, now, from barren, ashen fields, sprouting knowledge, nourished by hate.

Ingo Schweitzer, the possessive Prussian (the lost chapters)

Several chapters of The Armed Forces are lost, the last known copy destroyed in some great, hellish fire. What remains of the text is presented here.
"The Armed Forces" by Jan C. Zločin. 
Ostuda Press, Brünn, 1942.
Now in the public domain.
These excerpts translated from the German by the Targu Mures Historical Society.

Circle of the Ingaevones

Suum cuique

From the 3rd chapter

The foul creature opened his eyes. They beamed, and his face and entire appearance at once grew milder and light. Then his mouth opened, and his lips and his tongue rolled like golden rivers: “Ingo, we are brethren! Not by the same mother, no, yet our father is the same. Yes, our Heavenly Father is father of all man, but listen well dear brother! Your earthly father is my father also, for his name is Josef Becher, and from him you have that bold and strong spirit!”

Was it true? Was he no Prussian after all? Doubt fell upon Ingo like a shadow or a cold claw. His life, then, was a lie and a farce, his very flesh a perversion. It was no wonder then, that he found no home in the North. He was but a snake, and a liar.

As he withdrew the knife, the creature breathed no more. Ingo delivered his prayer: “And may your filthy, Slavic blood flow through these streets like the great Donau, and may it pool in some southern sea, so far away from my land and my people.”

From the 5th chapter

Oh Iselin, my love! In my childhood years, as I first looked upon you, I was struck with … With some feeling … A feeling I could (and can) not understand. Oh, Iselin of Ostsee, will I ever see you again? Shall we again segelglide upon that furious, yet calm See? I smile at you as from distant memory, and you reveal your milky maiden’s secrets and secretions … Those days are no more, fallen along with my virtue, forever locked in my closet at that foul Barracks for the sexually deviant.

From the 6th chapter

Ancient rituals of old Prussia
General, General!

From a chapter unnamed

Dear all who I have failed, abandoned or otherwise lost: Here is my Song to Sudovia.

Grey sea spirit!

Rise above the rising wave
Sail away without a sail
Sing your voiceless elegy
And mourn those not yet lost

Grey sea spirit!

Were I not Ingo Schweitzer
If I were someone else
I’d join you, grey sea spirit
And free my inner self

Grey sea spirit,
great Ostsee,
all Oceans grande!
To feel your violence,
your salt and haze,
to see my home again!

Oh, to pass away
in your cold embrace,
in any other way …
Not in this cruel, black puddle

Ingo Schweitzer, the possessive Prussian (Chapter 1)

Being Chapter 1 from Part 3 of "The Armed Forces" by Jan C. Zločin. 
Ostuda Press, Brünn, 1942.
Now in the public domain.
This excerpt translated from German by the Targu Mures Historical Society.

Ingo

Suum cuique

Despite his family name suggesting Swiss or Austrian origin, Ingo Schweitzer had always been (and ever would be) a Prussian in soul and heart. Indeed, his body was cut from that firm and strictly northern stock that in more ancient times so terrorized mighty Rom herself.

A weathered, leather-bound notebook (which I acquired in what is likely the muskiest of all bookstores in temperate Europa) bears his name on the first, second and final page. Its narrative ends on these words:

I have traveled the ever-expanding recesses of this state since its modern inception and never have I felt more lost than I am now.

How does it begin, you ask? In time you will know, but for now we must step even further back and examine the somewhat peculiar circumstances that would later propel Mister Schweitzer onto his unfortunate wanderings. To properly admire a painting, I find, one should always start with the frame.

Ingo suffered through an unusually slow and long adolescence in an unimportant town of exactly average size. At 17, he refused to follow his father Aloys (as Aloys had once followed his own father, Johann, and as Johann had followed his father, Martin, and so on) in the moderately prosperous family business of tailoring and cobbling. Instead, Ingo opted to join the local regiment in the city of Elbing. Aloys passed away two years later; with him crumbled also the family business and, ultimately, his stubborn branch of the long Schweitzer lineage. Content with being a disappointment to his kin, Ingo never returned to his hometown, instead focusing all his youth and effort into a budding military career. Ingo stood tall, a young man in flower, but all that shines must dull in time.

At the age of 21, Ingo was expelled from the Akademie for reasons that have never have become quite clear. Explanations and rumors among his acquaintances varied wildly: boredom, involvement in some petty crime, even an unhealthy interest in the occult.  Some suggested the expulsion as something of a mutual agreement between the senior staff of the Akademie and Ingo himself.  No matter the motivations, we know that in the very same year, one Ingo Jakovius Blestemat Sweitser purchased the estate Mare Gramada near the city Targu Mures (now in Hungary [Translators note:  Romania since the end of the second world war]) from its previous owner, Igal Migdala, head of the recently impoverished Migdala family.

The local populace did not at all welcome its new citizen (“Lord”, some mumbled bitterly). Tensions were high in Europe at that time, as they are today, and a German controlling one of the primary estates of the region was not at all agreeable to the stubborn inhabitants of the Mures valley. Claims were made, some say fabricated,  that the land was stolen from Migdala, or that the initial negotiations had involved some kind of trickery, and even that Blestemat had the aid of supernatural  forces and intended to use Mare Gramada in ceremonies of sacrifices to the heathen deities of the old north; the mighty sky-gods once worshipped in his homeland, long before the Baltic crusades: Nerthus, Wodanaz, Kurim Jakos, and that Ingo was loyal to Widewuto, mythic king  of the Pomesanian clans

Widewuto and crew

While wildly imaginative and greatly exaggerated, we can not deny that in these rumors there is a kernel of truth, albeit obscure, an almond enshrined or entombed in protective bark-like layers. Among the vague scribblings of the first pages of his notebook we find a prayer of invitation in old-Sudovian, beckoning Kurim Jakos and his host to visit the world of mortals again:

Beigeite beygeyte peckolle
Kails naussen gnigethe
Beigeite beygeyte peckolle
Kails naussen gnigethe Kurim Jacove

We will find that even though Kurim might not have visited ours, this plane of base physicality, Ingo certainly did visit Kurim’s. For better or worse, for doom or salvation, Ingo was to be a man both possessed and possessing.