Dlyvuk: Chronicle the First
By: Dustin Mitcham,
Staff Writer
Are fortunes set in stone? Or are we meant to take a chisel and hammer, and carve our own fates? These are the questions that had played over and over in Dietrich’s head for the past seven years. Finally, he had decided to try to find his answers outside of his childhood estate.
The Van Oswald manor had been built thirty-six generations ago in the southern half of Austria. Dietrich’s father, Lord Lothar van Oswald, knew every bit of its history. The Lord van Oswald had never expressed any desire to leave growing up, but that’s where he and Dietrich were different. Dietrich wished for something new, something exciting, and had longed for the day he would leave the manor since he was nine years old.
Today, that day had finally come, now that his sixteenth birthday had come to pass. He had never been more ready for it. He would miss his home of course, but he wished to leave as soon as possible. So that morning he packed up everything he felt he would need. This included two works of Aristotle, Dialogues by Plato, three empty journals, provisions and foodstuffs for seven days, a flintlock carbine, and his sabre, which he kept sheathed at his waist.
After he had packed, he walked down the hall to see his tutor, Leopold, who had taught Dietrich for ten years. He came into the study, where most of their lessons had taken place, and spoke to his childhood mentor for what would probably be the last time.
“Lebewohl Leopold, I hope your future years are as prosperous as mine,” Dietrich said sadly.
“I have seventy years behind me, Herr Dietrich. One cannot say whether or not I shall have any future years. Even if I do, there is no guarantee yours should be prosperous at all. So be kind and say not lebewohl, but auf wiedersehen.”
“Auf Wiedersehen it is then.”
After this, Dietrich went to the stables to retrieve his horse, Lüdwig, and they walked together, with Dietrich on the ground holding Lüdwig by the reins, to the courtyard. It was here Dietrich’s father and sister waited for him.
Once they got there, Dietrich’s sister, Sabrine, approached him first and asked how long he would be gone.
Dietrich responded, “In a few years or so I shall I come back to stay for a short time. But I’ll only stay for a few months, and then shall have to leave again.”
“A few years,” Sabrine repeated, “Will you give me your word that you will come back within a few years?”
“I swear it on my life, I’ll be gone no longer than a decade before I come back.”
“Lebewohl then, Dietrich,” said a teary Sabrine.
“Not lebewohl,” said Dietrich, “auf wiedersehen.”
Dietrich mounted Lüdwig as his sister retreated. His father approached now and said, “Tell me once more what it is you seek.”
“An unconventional life,” said Dietrich, “so that I might not be bound by the chains of normalcy.”
“Take this then,” said the Lord van Oswald as he handed his son a gift wrapped in a cloth. Dietrich opened it to see a marvelous snaplock pistol, made of ivory with a silver barrel.
“A masterfully crafted gun, but ancient nonetheless,” said Dietrich in awe.
“That pistol was given to your grandfather by your great-great-uncle, Lukas van Oswald. Herr Lukas lived a very similar life to what you intend to find, and was like you in many ways. The gun is called Dlyvuk, and while it may be out of date, it will serve you just as well as any flintlock you’ll find. Lebewohl my son.”
“Auf wiedersehen,” Dietrich corrected.
“Lebewohl,” his father repeated stubbornly.
Dietrich nodded to his father out respect. He said nothing more, but simply turned his mount to the west. He rode away from his childhood home, waving until he could no longer see it on the horizon. He was off to start a new life, and his new adventure would begin in France.