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.

Slaying the Nerich Bear

Coa_Romania_Town_Marosvásárhely.svg
Targu Mures Coat of Arms

During the harsh centuries ruled by the Nerich clan, many evil men and beasts had employment in the Mures Valley. Some argue that the most brutal of all was the bitter, but ruthless Torben “Bear” Nerich.

Torben, originally from the Principality of Hanover, traveled to Transylvania to harvest Almonds. However, once he arrived he found other tasks; those of violence and hatred.

The bitter bear was beloved only by the whining and very weak willed women of the windy Valley. But he was hated by any with strong will and opinion. United under the banner of Petru Major, the Mures mob slayed the Bear. His head pierced by the sword of a red rebel. The uprising is celebrated to this day…

nerich
The Nerich Bear

Targu Mures Historical Society

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.

Vanessa the Cow

Vanessa, oh my Vanessa.
Sweet milk from thine bosom.
Thine eyes.
Thine honor.
Let me milk you, Vanessa.

passage from traditional Transylvanian song, translated by Adrŷan Nerich

vanessa-the-cow
cow grassing in countryside

In the happy years following the banishment of the Nerich clan, the Mures folk had much to celebrate. One could hear song and music in the hills and the towns. Banners in red and gold clad every home, honoring old Roşu. For the first time in centuries, townsfolk could tell tales and sing songs of Vanessa the cow.

Along with drinks made from pears and everything Almond, tales and songs of Vanessa were banished by Peer and Gregorius. Misuse was harshly punished. But in the hills and towns, the Mures folk remembered. The legend of Vanessa lived on. And even to this day, songs of Vanessa is central to many feasts in the Mures Valley, and all of Romania.

Adrŷan Nerich – Historian –  Targu Mures Historical Society

The Almond spirit – fresh from the triple store

almondspirit

The everyday use of Almonds was, and still is, important in Transylvanian society. They are used as an ingredient in many dishes and they are distilled to make delicious liqueurs. One of the most popular is the Almond Spirit, first made by Jacob Becher (brother of the famous Josef Becher).

The correct way to store the Almonds that are to be distilled is in a Triple Store. This gives the liquerist the possibility to determine which Almonds are to be subject to 

There are three stages to the process (known as RDF),  Rafinat, Distilat, Finisat!

Rafinat

The Rafinat requires careful work. First only the best almonds are selected from the triple store. They are meshed and stewed, into a porridge, wonderful of taste; the Rafinat. One must always treat the Rafinat with utmost respect. The temperature and moisture must be exactly right, and the amount of pear concentrate (rieni) must not be too high, nor too low. The Rafinat should rest for 21 days and 21 nights.

Distilat

The distillation process differs little from that of other spirits. The best almond spirit is double or triple distilled. So said Jacob’s brother, Josef.

Finisat

When the distillation process is complete, the finished liquid is set to rest in wooden barrels. But one last task remains; this is called the staging process, in which validation is performed by a professional agent. The Finisat is tested for, for example, impurities or internal inconsistencies. If accepted, the barrels are inserted into another triple store and will wait until they are collected by a thirsty traveler.

Written for TMHS by Vasile Sandor, Alexandru Papiu Ilarian National College

The Unallocated

The Unallocated suffered severely under the iron hand of Jerna Nerich. While she swelled from fatty almond feasts, the poor thralls at the bottom of the feudal ladder had no sustenance but moss and moldy crumbs.

Lakes of Targu Mures

The matriarch took her biannual baths in the many ponds and lakes in our Mures Valley. In azure gown she would wallow like the Hippopotamus Amphibius of sub-Saharan Africii. Woe be to him of The Unallocated that was set on toweling duties.

Oh, what will thy next project be, Unallocated One? Releas’d from agony perhaps only in death.

Wise we would be never to forget The Unallocated, the unprofitable. From their caste would rise, in time, that great Red Rebel!

Have you met my friend, the Krimean?

Almond under microscope
Almond under microscope

Folk song from the Nerich valley. Traditionally performed by drâgospel/jew harp quartet in late-Transylvanian waltz-beat.

Have you met my friend,
the Krimean?
No, for he is
no friend of mine.

Have you met this stranger,
The Krimean?
No, for he was banished
from the valley

Have you met my enemy,
The Krimean?
Yes, I have seen him
in nightmares

Have you met my friend
The Krimean?
Leave me now,
I tire of your joke

Almond Grove
Almond Grove

Picture of the Transylvanian Circumvolution

This picture was sent to us by Colin Rodgers from Edinburgh. It shows the mythical symbol of the Transylvanian Circumvolution, a symbol strongly connected to the mysterious Krim-Jacob algorithm.

The picture is taken near the top of Arthur’s seat, a hill near central Edinburgh. This picture will indeed confirm a possible Krim-Jacobian presence in Scotland and Great Britain, and we will of course continue our investigation and  research in this field. We will also thank Colin for his contribution, help from the public makes our research much easier.

Adrŷan Nerich – Historian –  Targu Mures Historical Society

Peer Nerich – A Soul of Eternal Violence

During the dark years of the Nerich reign, few men were feared more than the vicious Peer “Mountain” Nerich. As the commander of the castle dungeons he became the most experienced and gruesome torturer the Mures Valley has ever seen. As the nephew of Lord Gregorius, he obeyed his uncle and master in every task. He happily did his work with great joy and fantasy. His methods ripped many soul apart, making them scream of agony, suffering in both body and mind.

His methods of torture were many, some aimed at the mind and soul and many at the flesh and gut of his subjects. But at his worst he ripped it all apart, sucking and squeezing  every trace of life out of his victim. The agony of the victims lasted for days, or maybe weeks, before the relief of death. One could tell Peer both true and false, good or evil, but his  work would not stop, and ones body and mind were mistreated until the very end.  The very fear of Peer made the Mures town folk silent and submissive.

The Mures town folk still dread Peer Nerich and his wicked ways, although he is believed dead. But his body was never found after the Krim uprising, and there is whispers that his evil soul still lurk in the darkest forests, waiting for a new opportunity to serve his master and rule the Mures Valley.

It is still said that his blood was not red, but black as the darkest moonless night.

Adrŷan Nerich – Historian –  Targu Mures Historical Society