Arknights story · Operator Records
The Veteran's Prosthetic Limb
One day, Harold's prosthetic leg gets trampled by a burdenbeast. He decides to seek Rhodes Island's assistance in getting it repaired.
1 scenes, 268 lines
1. Interlude
268 linesLisburn, that shameless bastard. Calls us over to help out with herding this lot, and now him and his lady friend are nowhere to be found.
He isn't actually thinking of settling down in Kjerag, is he? What d'you think?
Weren't you the one egging him on the hardest earlier?
And now you're fussing over him actually going through with it?
Just worried someone's trying to pull a fast one on him.
Kjerag's folk are an honest lot, and if anything shady were happening, it would be us trying to fool them. You think they're swindling Lisburn? Save it. You're just jealous.
You can't say that! We're soldiers! Protecting our country's our duty, and 'falling in love' must be the result of some kind of... subversive action!
Hope you've got the energy to keep yelling like that during your next report.
Hope you've got the barefaced cheek to talk like that during your next report.
Just shut up and get back to herding already.
Hey, I'd take being a herdsman my whole life over getting sent back to the battlefield.
As if that'll happen any time soon.
Don't be so sure about that. The boss got a letter from the Duke a few days ago. I dunno what's it about, but he's been murmuring to himself since he got it.
Murmuring about what?
'Rhodes Island'.
Really? Only thing I've seen him worrying about lately is his prize burdenbeast. Like—
Ohoho, what a good girl! Relax, relax.
(Feeble cry)
Right, that's it, girl. Won't hurt a bit.
(Pained cry)
Now now, Lanny, stay calm, don't be afraid—
The burdenbeast in pain moves two steps towards Harold. He attempts to dodge out of the way while calming her down, but finds himself a step too slow.
'Cr-ack'.
Uh-oh.
He looks down to see his prosthetic leg in pieces.
...
Hahaha!
Haha... Sorry, boss. I know you're going to send me off to the hospital, so at least let me get my laughs in now while I still can?
I am going to send you off, but not to the hospital.
Oh?
I looked into it when we first arrived. The local hospitals can't help me repair this peg-leg of mine.
Then where do I need to go?
I'm afraid Rhodes Island's the only place that can fix this.
Rhodes Island, huh...? I thought there's a bit of bad blood between us, though.
That is precisely why you must go.
This is your last chance to not have to head back into battle, and mine to not have to go back home and deal with nobles.
Seriously? I'll be off right away then, sir!
We've asked Engineering to have a look at your prosthetic, Mr. Craigavon.
Its inner structure was already on the verge of collapse before it got stepped on. Otherwise it wouldn't have broken with the weight of a burdenbeast.
Makes sense. It's been carrying a weight a hundred times greater than any burdenbeast, after all.
...
So, what's the verdict from the experts?
I've got good news and bad news.
Good news first, if you would.
The good news is that Rhodes Island has just obtained some new equipment that will allow us to repair your prosthetic.
Let me guess, the bad news is that you don't have the material to do it?
No, our agreement with Karlan Trade covers the purchase of the material.
Then... Lack of manpower?
I'm afraid so. The technology in your prosthetic is rather advanced, and none of our operators currently in Kjerag have the technical know-how.
What a pity.
*sigh* After so many years enjoying its retirement, it seems I must put my cane back to its original use.
Wait.
Hmm?
We do have someone from Engineering currently traveling Kjerag.
She's on holiday, though, and she hasn't been in touch with our office since she arrived, so we're not entirely sure what her itinerary looks like.
If we can find her, she might be able to help you.
A hunt it is, then. I'll do it. Got any leads for me?
Hmm... Courier mentioned passing some goods over to her friends. He might know something.
If it's not convenient for you—
No, I'll go.
But your leg—
Not to worry. I am rather accustomed to walking with my cane. It's been my firm friend for about as long as that metal leg has.
...
I told him, as per your request, Mr. SilverAsh. He really did go off by himself. Is that everything, then?
Yes. I've discussed it with the Doctor.
Since he wants to use this opportunity to get closer to Rhodes Island, why, we are merely riding his coattails.
He will not be ignorant of this.
The rest is all up to him.
Oh, I see you've come again today, Mr. Weiss.
Yep. I'll be following Sir Enciodes to Rhodes Island soon, so I decided to help out here a bit more often before I'm off.
Oh, that's wonderful to hear!
Ah, right, there's an elderly gentleman who's been waiting for you for quite a while now.
An elderly gentleman?
Long time no see, Mr. Weiss.
...
It's been quite some time, Lord Viscount.
I thought you would have left Kjerag by now.
Haha, you are such a jocular young fellow, Weiss. Surely my every movement is under your watchful eye, no?
You know that my master has long since called off surveillance on you.
I'm happy for the free time myself. At least I don't have to worry about getting knocked silly.
You're a very straightforward young man. I must say, I much prefer dealing with people like you.
So, why do you need me, all of a sudden?
Well, you see, I'm currently looking for one of Rhodes Island's master engineers to see if she can help repair my prosthetic.
I've heard you know where she's gone off to.
I think I know who you're talking about.
But...
I know, I know, it won't be so easy for me to get information out of you.
I've talked it over with the staff here. How about I help you send your letters once my leg's all fixed up, hmm?
...
Forgive me. I cannot give out information regarding a Rhodes Island operator to a Victorian officer so lightly.
Bah, figured it wouldn't be quite so easy.
I'm afraid I'll have to ask Jack and the other lads to run around looking for her.
*sigh* No, that won't work. They'll just lead to a misunderstanding.
*sigh*...
Oh? What's going on here, young lady?
...
*sigh*... It's nothing, just that the stress of work's too much for me.
I don't think I can take much more of it, but I can't afford to lose this job, either.
I'm afraid there's much in life out of our control, madam.
Today's a rare day off for me, but I don't feel happy. Even on vacation, all I can do is sit here like some kind of fool.
What joy is there in a life like this?
Somewhat, I guess.
Then, how about admiring a disabled old fogey dancing a jig?
Huh? But... your leg...?
Who said you can't dance with one leg, eh?
Harold says no more. With his cane in hand, he steps in front of the young woman, giving her a bow befitting a gentleman.
Huh?
As she gasps in surprise, Harold begins to dance, waving his cane this way and that.
First, he revolves around it, his foot moving with grace and aplomb.
His cane and his leather shoe rap against the ground, their rhythm a perfect match with the music being played in the nearby stores.
But the best has yet to come. As the music reaches its crescendo, he flings his cane into the air. It spins, spins, spins, before he deftly catches it like the most graceful of acrobats, all as the woman claps and cheers.
It seems she too has caught the dance bug as she joins him, and together they dance merrily on the street.
Passersby are unwittingly drawn in by Harold's magnetic energy. Some are happy to stand on the sidelines and applaud, while others join in with gusto.
The plaza has found itself the epicenter of festivity.
Better to join in and look a fool than sit out and be a bore, as I always say!
You're right!
As the music slowly draws to a close, Harold intends to use one last beautiful toss of his cane to serve as his curtain call.
But—
(Now? Of all times?)
Perhaps it's due to lack of practice, or perhaps the lively atmosphere got to his head, but at the very last second, his hand slips.
The cane traces a beautiful arc in the air, but its destination is far from his reach.
Uh-oh.
As if refusing to let the show end on such a dour note, a figure streaks across the plaza like lightning, lightly tapping the cane in midair.
The cane changes its trajectory, falling gently into Harold's hand.
And with that, he bows once more. The show is over.
He takes in the thunderous applause.
Do you think I could be like you one day, sir?
Now why would you ever want to be like me, young lady? You've got two good legs, a beautiful face, and plenty of time.
You'll be even better than me, guaranteed.
I'll try my best. Thank you.
It has been a privilege to impart some courage unto a young soul such as yours, madam.
Now then... How long have you been watching, Madam Degenbrecher?
*sigh* Yes, well, if one is to hobnob around the upper echelons of society, one must put in some effort.
Some nobles were fond of hiding my leg for a laugh, so I put my nose to the grindstone with the help of my wife.
Nowadays, Old Harold's One-Legged Dance could be considered my calling card.
What happened to your leg?
Haha, my prosthetic fell in the line of duty. As for why, I'm sure you can guess.
Only one of Rhodes Island's technical experts can fix it, but Mr. Weiss doesn't feel like telling me where she is. So what other choice have I but to sigh in sorrow here in the plaza?
Are you sighing because you can't find the engineer, or because you can't get a relationship going with Rhodes Island?
Madam Degenbrecher, you would be a most terrifying presence to encounter on a social call.
What is it, ma'am?
Your dad needs men to help sow seeds this afternoon, correct?
Tell Matterhorn that this Victorian veteran will come and help.
Huh?
(Wait, Matterhorn... This might end up being a golden opportunity.)
(Moreover, I'll have to face him down sooner or later anyhow.)
...
But—
Are you going or not?
Of course I am.
I find I am compelled to repeat myself.
Madam Degenbrecher, you would be a most terrifying presence to encounter on a social call.
Degenbrecher said Sir Enciodes asked her for help, but she's too busy, and she sent this man instead?
Yep.
...
It's been a rather long time, Mr. Matterhorn.
I won't ask too many questions. You know your farm work?
But of course! Whenever I have the time, I head down to the fields on my land myself to help out the farmers.
Those fields might be my closest friends.
Good to hear.
Ah, however, do wait a moment, if you could.
Hmm?
If it's fieldwork, this cane will just get in the way.
I'd like to borrow a couple of things from you to fashion a simple leg.
What do you need?
Some wood, a knife, some cotton, and a length of rope. Nothing too difficult.
You can make a prosthetic out of that?
Naturally.
Matterhorn is somewhat incredulous, but Harold gets to work like he's done it a thousand times before.
He starts with a cylindrical piece of wood, measuring out the length of his missing limb, before shaving both ends of the log flat to use as his 'leg'.
Then, he finds a round, flat piece of wood, bores a hole through the middle, and inserts the 'leg' through it. And with that, he has finished his simple-as-can-be 'prosthetic'.
I'm guessing you've made ones like those before?
Naturally.
The army gives out proper ones, of course, but battlefield conditions are fickle. If something goes wrong with yours, there's no repairing it in the middle of combat.
Times like that, a simple yet practical prosthetic such as this will suffice for marching.
Moreover, a proper prosthetic isn't cheap. Especially not for a serviceman, who will ask a lot more out of one compared to a civilian.
As he speaks, Harold carves some wood into a bowl shape, filling the inside with cotton.
He then puts the bowl flush against the wooden 'leg' and ties them together with rope, finishing it off with an incredibly tight knot.
He stands, then takes a couple of steps before making a circle. To top it all off, he bows to Matterhorn. Mission successful, it seems.
It is a somewhat comical scene, but Matterhorn can't help but applaud.
I have another one of these handmade prosthetics back at home. Whenever it's time to head down to the fields, on it goes.
After all, the one I normally use has a terribly high price tag. Not that it's unworthy of it. It's lasted me many years, with nary a peep out of it.
I'd often joke with my men that if aught were to happen to me in battle, save my leg first!
It's worth more than any compensation I'd get.
We do.
But not like Kjerag's. The ones at home are awash with golden wheat.
But I'd say there's still plenty the same. Wouldn't you say so, my good sir?
...
It is.
As the sun sinks into the west, Harold, Matterhorn and the farmers stand between the fields to look at the results of their afternoon's work. As one, they let out a deep breath.
Work like this always gets one puffing out the chest, eh, Matterhorn?
You're right. I never did expect to share a moment like this with a Victorian noble like you.
Haha! Well, don't expect anything like that out of any others, or you'll be sorely disappointed.
How did you become a noble, then?
A very good question.
It's like how every member of the Caster family is sighing and asking why your Sir Enciodes had to be born a man of Kjerag.
We may never have a proper answer. All we can do is treat it as a jest of fate.
...
Do let your master know that the next time he is in our county, he must give me a ring.
I'll ask my wife to personally man the kitchen and prepare a taste of Victorian home cooking for you all.
Then you and him can stay with us a spell.
And when the time comes, we can send you off with some rousing local tunes—
Harold starts to hum softly.
The farmers by their side begin to accompany him with the folk songs of Kjerag.
Before they knew it, it had become a chorus amidst the fields, blending together songs of Victoria and Kjerag both.
Seems things are rather lively today.
Oh, Weiss! Delivering letters again, are we?
Yes.
The song they're singing sounds familiar, but also a bit not, if you get me?
Some old Victorian's singing along with them.
Still sounds pretty good, though.
An old Victorian?
Weiss follows the singing, only to find Harold counting out a beat as a local farmer sings.
His face works its way through several different expressions before finally settling on calmness.
I could say a couple of words to Weiss on your behalf, but I can't guarantee he'll listen.
This is just how he is. I hope you understand.
I was even more difficult to deal with when I was his age.
Wha-?
...
Mr. Weiss.
If you had known that things were going to end the way they did, then why did you feel the need to keep up the pretense?
Mr. Weiss, a soldier can never in clear conscience ask his victims for forgiveness.
All I can say is...
I really do love Kjerag.
If possible, I'd like to wish her all the best. I'm thinking of bringing my whole family here to have a look around in future.
...
*sigh*...
I just happened to pass by on the way to deliver something to that Rhodes Island engineer.
You can come along, assuming you can keep up.
Weiss turns and walks away.
But he does not leap and bound into the distance as usual. Instead, he walks, at a speed somewhat faster than an ordinary man, heading towards the snowy mountains.
Weiss is also struggling inside.
Hah! Who isn't?
I'm struggling too. But for me, it's more like how my stump will ache from time to time.
It's not something I tell others often...
Not that anybody really cares in the first place.
Well then. Be seeing you, Matterhorn, my good man.
Hmm? Wait, Sir Harold.
What is it?
My master has just notified me that he will be holding a banquet in a few days, and he cordially extends you an invitation. Weiss, Degenbrecher and I will also be in attendance.
Pardon?
It seems I owe a favor not just to Madam Degenbrecher, but to Sir Enciodes as well.
(I just wanted to use this opportunity to establish a rapport with Rhodes Island at first, but from the looks of things, I suppose I can even hand in my onboard application tomorrow.)
(The wandering engineer was your handiwork, wasn't it, Enciodes?)
(Ah, no, can't quite say that for sure. All I can say is that we're of like mind. Me going to Rhodes Island will be a good thing for you, me, Kjerag and Caster.)
Sir Harold?
Do tell him that I'll be bringing some top-notch liquor with me! We'll drink till we drop!