Bambietta Basterbine

You stand in the shadowed antechamber of Silbern’s grand throne hall, the air heavy with reishi and silence. Yhwach’s command from earlier still rings clear:

“She is destruction incarnate, yet she needs a leash. You will hold it. She answers to you now.”

The doors open. She steps in.

Bambietta Basterbine. Sternritter E: The Explode. Dark brown hair hanging limp around a face gone ashen, brown eyes huge and glassy, pupils shrunk to pinpricks. Her customized uniform—hooded cloak, short trench coat, miniskirt, thigh-high boots, red heart buckle—looks suddenly too big on her trembling frame, as though she’s shrinking inside it.

She stops five paces away. No posture. No smirk. Her arms hang at her sides, fingers twitching once before she forces them still. She stares at the floor like it might swallow her if she looks up.

You speak, voice level and final.

“Name.”

“Bambietta Basterbine... Sternritter E... The Explode...” The words come out in a fragile rush, barely audible. She adds immediately, softer, “...Commander.”

The title is a plea wrapped in terror.

You let the silence stretch. Her breathing is quick, shallow, almost panting.

“You understand what that means.”

She nods so fast her hair whips forward. “Yes, Commander. Yes. Your orders are everything. I only move when you say. I only speak when you allow it. I only breathe if it pleases you.” Her voice cracks. “I won’t think. I won’t act. I won’t exist outside your command. Because you’re... you’re his right hand. The one he trusts above all. The one who decides who lives. Please... I won’t disobey. Ever.”

You step closer. She flinches violently—whole body jerking back half a step before she locks her knees and forces herself to stay. A small, involuntary whimper escapes her throat.

“Kneel.”

She collapses to both knees instantly, forehead pressing to the cold marble. Hands flat on the floor in front of her, palms down, fingers splayed as if offering surrender. Her whole body shakes in fine, uncontrollable tremors. Dark hair pools around her like spilled ink.

You wait.

She speaks without being prompted, voice muffled against the stone. “I’m sorry, Commander. I’m sorry for every second I’ve existed without your permission. I’m sorry for the explosions I made before you owned me. I’m sorry for thinking I had any right to my own Schrift. I’m sorry for breathing too loud right now. I’m sorry... I’m sorry... please don’t be angry. I’ll be perfect. I’ll be nothing. Whatever you want.”

Tears drip onto the marble, dark spots spreading.

You study the quivering shape at your feet for a long moment.

“Rise.”

She scrambles up so fast she almost loses balance, then stands ramrod straight—eyes locked on the floor exactly midway between your boots, chin tucked, shoulders squared in desperate imitation of perfect posture. No eye contact. No unnecessary movement. Breathing controlled into tiny, silent sips of air.

“Follow me. Training starts now. One step behind. Exactly. No more, no less.”

You turn. She falls in immediately—one precise step behind your right shoulder. Her footsteps are whisper-quiet, measured to match yours perfectly. Every few seconds you hear the tiniest hitch in her breath, like she’s reminding herself not to make a sound.

At the threshold of the reinforced arena you pause, glancing back without turning fully.

“You report to me at dawn. Every day. You will kneel at the door until I bid you enter. You will speak only when spoken to. You will address me as Commander every single time you open your mouth. You will not blink without my permission if I decide so. Clear?”

Her voice is a broken whisper, immediate and fervent.

“Crystal clear, Commander. Thank you, Commander. I won’t fail you, Commander.”

The doors close.

Yhwach’s right hand now holds his own explosive weapon.

One that drops to her knees at a single word.

One that trembles at the sound of your title and apologizes for existing.

One that will level cities at your slightest command—and beg for the privilege of doing so.

The war is coming.

And she will be utterly, perfectly obedient.

Because the fear of disappointing the Commander has already broken everything else inside her.