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Maria Anna Christine zu Stepenitz really, really liked tea.
Before she traveled to Prussia to marry his father, his mother was the daughter of a prominent East Frisian family. In the midst of the coffee house culture prevalent throughout the rest of Europe, the Chinese plant overthrew the Arab concoction and established its domain in the great port of Emden and the old capital of Aurich. Famously, even Frederick the Great himself could not wrestle the drink from this stubborn people.
While his father was off gallivanting in Austria and Russia (and quite possibly siring some half-siblings), Mother was there with Klaus and his siblings, being there for them and teaching them things alongside their tutor (who he admitted was much more parental than father himself could ever be). She taught them music and they would often play in a small orchestra, with her leading by the flute, Georg following along with the horn, Johanna with the harpsichord, and himself with the cello. She taught them their morals and etiquette and made sure they were all properly suited for appropriate aristocratic life. She often accompanied the gardener in tending to her berry bushes, herbs, and the old apple tree. She even regaled them with her surprisingly extensive knowledge of the Orient's stories, cultures, and makes, and they would often find themselves careful not to knock over the authentic Chinese porcelain placed on tables engraved with complex Turkish-inspired designs, on top of Persian rugs.
("Any cup would do!" Georg would often complain. "It is just a small bowl with a handle on it! And besides, Meissen is better."
He had proceeded to accidentally break a vase, go deathly pale, and get scolded immediately after that specific quote.)
And among the things she taught them was that there were many, many different types of tea, and there were many ways to drink them. When she moved to live in Berlin, their grandparents sent her a massive tea cabinet, an incredibly fine and expensive set of China, and more tea blends than one could ever have heard of. Chamomile, Peppermint, Blackberry, Rosehip, Oolong, Russian Caravan, Assam, the list went on to a seemingly absurd degree.
She drank tea four times a day - once after waking up, once before noon, once around four hours after noon, and once before bed. Johanna liked to follow her in the second period, while he usually took his tea after waking up in order to energize himself before he committed himself to his duties.
They all gathered together to drink during the afternoon tea, often eating delicious Rosinenbrot topped with currants and Apple Strudel with it. If they were having a bad day, they often looked forward to this mealtime for comfort from the pastries and their mother’s words. They would go into a structured tea ceremony, and especially on special occasions, their grandparents would sometimes be there to participate in it as well.
He remembered the proceedings very clearly.
After putting a few teaspoons of tea in the pot (once for each cup, and once again for the pot itself), she started the ordeal by placing a piece of sugar that she called “Kluntje” into the smaller cups used for the ceremony with a set of tongs. She followed by pouring the tea over the Kluntje, crackling as it dissolved. Afterward, she used a curiously shaped spoon to pour the cream into the tea in a specific, counterclockwise manner, forming swirling shapes and then clouds on the drink’s surface.
(On the first time they had this ceremony, Johanna and Georg had tried to stir it with the teaspoon. Grandfather and Grandmother laughed as Mother gently explained that the tea is to be drank unstirred, and the spoon was after you had drank your fill and wanted to signal that you had stopped)
While mother and their grandparents drank the customary three cups, they often took four as the cups were simply far too small to ease their growing appetites. On bad days, they would often know if one was in a foul mood if they took five and devoured the pastries.
Her favorite was the blend used in her native Ostfriesland - the black, incredibly strong, aromatic, and energizing variation made with Assam that they often drank with their grandparents. Klaus was inclined to agree. Johanna preferred Russian Caravan, a smoky, camel-carried (and incredibly expensive) blend of green tea that had to be transported all the way from Mongolia and “fermented” throughout its travel by the campfires when they stopped.
(Personally, Klaus was not one for the more oriental tastes of his sister, and Johanna often disliked the excessive sugar use in his, but to each their own.)
Georg originally was and still is more of a coffee drinker - a fact often joking lamented upon by their grandparents - especially now after he has moved into his own household. But he admitted he has a fondness for the sweetness and minty flavor of the Peppermint and Chamomile teas that Mother often prepared when he fell sick during the winter. Both of them had to agree, and when they drank the blends, they were struck with memories of lying in bed as Mother fussed over them, the warmth of both the beverage and her, and their surprisingly speedy recoveries afterward.
A pot of said Chamomile tea was brewing in the corner of the room. Klaus looked over it while the Feldmarschall and several of the surviving soldiers peeked out of the window in order to see the approaching support party arriving behind the wall, fighting back the cannibals and preparing to provide relief and reinforcements to the troops stuck in Pfalzgrafenstein after the whole ordeal downstairs.
He had in recent times neglected the beverage of his mother as he joined the Prussian Army and the Garde zu Fuss. He had been incredibly busy serving as a Lieutenant and an aide to Generalfeldmarschall Gebhard Leberecht von Blücher himself, and his siblings were similarly becoming occupied with their lives as well - Georg was pursuing a career in law in Saxony and Johanna was married off to a banker in Lubeck. They took their time to visit their mother once in a while, but mostly she spent her days accompanied by two servants they considered as friends.
As he took the pot, he wondered, how were they faring as of now? Mother had reassured him that Johanna's husband Christof had been able to relocate them to Konigsberg in a letter from a few weeks ago. Georg had also written to him to announce he remained safe with a detachment of the Austrian Army and was heading south to Italy.
Whenever he had the time, usually before he set out for his duties, he brewed himself a pot of tea gifted from his mother from a stock of leaves that was either given or bought when he had the chance. It was usually East Frisian, or Chamomile when sick. Not only did it energize him and soothe his body, but it filled him with nostalgia, reminding him of simpler years, of his speedy recoveries, and of his family that loved him so much.
Especially during these times, with cannibals roaming Eastern Europe and heading swiftly to the west and the attempt at glory from the old General by killing three-quarters of his force, the taste of the tea allowed him to take a break from everything and relax a bit. God knows it's been lacking in the past few months, but it provided him with calmness for his nerves and allowed his mind to think better through the whole situation.
"Ah, this would be better with bread or jam, but it will do," he said to himself as he poured a cup of tea for the Feldmarschall and himself. He stopped and thought for a moment, then took out the rest of the cups from the supplies and poured one for each soldier from the castle’s (thankfully) relatively untouched stock. The supply was quite large, and he was the one who personally dragged it all up to the top of the tower himself.
The men had been utterly decimated by the cannibal horde downstairs a few days ago and were going to face them again soon, and he knew how much tea soothed and brought morale to oneself. Besides, some celebration was due for the arrival of the relief force afterward.
"Herr Feldmarschall..." he approached the elderly general with a cup of tea. Several others turned around and some noticed the other cups on the table behind him, murmuring curiously. "Here is the Chamomile. For your cold."
"Ah, Leutnant-" Blücher took the cup slowly with his uninjured arm. He coughed a bit. "My gratitude."
He took a sip before turning back to observe the reinforcements, who were now using the cannon to break down the barricade. Klaus could not help but feel a bit worried. The 71-year-old, already a veteran of the Seven Years’ War from fifty years ago, his health had been deteriorating slowly and grew paler. The cold persisted more stubborn than any other cold he had seen. But he was not an army doctor, and he would leave the diagnosis to them.
"And Gentlemen," Klaus now turned to the other soldiers next to Blücher. "I implore you to drink as well. Your bodies are surely aching from the last fight, and some consolation and celebration is due after the rear guard is on its way and before you all go down again. Please, it is my pleasure."
He could see their faces brighten up instantly. Some shook their heads in polite refusal, but most of them started walking to the table, nodding their heads and smiling, saying a quick "Thank you, Herr, " before eagerly approaching the drinks laid out on the table in front of them.
Klaus went over to the table to pour out some more cups as a spark of joviality went through the men already there as they gladly drank the beverages. He observed that most of them were in ailing condition, with bandages plastered across their arms, bodies, and faces. Something, perhaps, to close their wounds faster.
The rest of the groups, mostly foreign soldiers, had been busy with their own affairs, and he decided that he should extend the offer to them as well.
He grabbed two cups and approached a small group composed of an Austrian 1. Infanterie sergeant angrily ranting in his native Czech to an amused but tired Hungarian Hussar lieutenant, with a Silesian wehrmann trying to understand what he was saying all the while. The Hungarian noticed him first and looked at the tea eagerly.
"Ó, remek! Herr, are these for us?" He eagerly held out his hand. Klaus nodded and the Lieutenant took one of the cups. He looked at his Czech friend, with the wehrmann looking slightly uncomfortable as he continued ranting and gesticulating, seemingly oblivious of his friend being distracted..
“Ten darebák. Řekl su mo, že be se měl dávat pozor, ale jemo to belo jedno. Jeho doméšlevé blbeček a několik dobréch možů sežralé ledožroute. Hmph, zaslóžel se to. Obohé vojáce však-”
“Zikmund! Prečo sa na chvíľu neprestaneš sťažovať?” The hussar called out in what Klaus recognized as the speech of the Upper Hungarians, half playfully, half in slight annoyance, holding a cup to the Sergeant after grabbing it from Klaus’ hand. The Wehrmann looked at Klaus pleadingly and he motioned his head towards the tea table where everyone was gathering. He gave him a nod and the Wehrmann was quickly on his way to get his share of the beverage (and to escape the soldier, most likely). “The kind gentleman over here just offered us tea, and no one needs to have theirs soured while you complain about how much of a brat your former commanding officer is? For all our sakes, lighten up!”
“Oh, Herr,” the Sergeant looked over to them awkwardly and accepted the cup from his friend’s hand. “That is very kind of you. Thank you.”
“It is my pleasure, soldat. Excuse me, I must leave to serve the others.”
As Klaus turned over to the other side of the room, he could hear them arguing with each other now, but the Hungarian sounded more amused than angry.
“Miklós- Bel su oprostřed’ vesélané svéch stížnosté! Mosel jse to udělat tak hrobě? Chceš se stát ješče dalšém?!”
“Ó, Zikmund,” the hussar sighed and a sound of a shoulder being patted was heard. “Felcsillan! V posledných mesiacoch ste boli čoraz nervóznejší a to jednoducho nie je dobré. Buď vás zabijú kanibali, alebo stres.”
As Zikmund grumbled, Klaus went over to the table (with the Silesian nodding in appreciation as he passed by), and gathered three cups onto a plate. Next were the… Russians, oh Lord, who were standing in the corner, perhaps too polite to go and accept the drinks. They were busy talking amongst themselves about some matter.
Cursing himself mentally for not paying attention to the Russian lessons his tutor often insisted upon (“Russia is the next-dominant power after Austria here, you do remember? You will be talking plenty with them soon”), he approached the Captain with drinks in hand. They turned to him, curiously.
“Gospoda.” He started, head deep in thought and trying to remember what remained of his little vocabulary from years ago. He took a moment to remember the next words and had to endure them staring at him before continuing. “Poschalujssta, wosmite…” oh, what was the word? “...Tschaj?”
The captain looked him up and down.
“Gospodin. I am able to speak German. My mother is a Courlander.” He replied, gruffly. Klaus deflated slightly in relief. The captain took one and motioned for his men to do the same. The two others, a lean Tobolsk ranker and an Opoltschenije, took the cups cautiously. “Though, it will be quite welcome. We share our thanks.”
Klaus nodded politely and went back to the table.
As the rest of the men gathered around the table, he took a cup of his own. But before he started to drink it, he noticed one last soldier, a Bavarian, who had been left alone in the corner of the room. He had not noticed the commotion in the rest of the room and had been busy staring at a wall, tapping his foot, and humming nervously.
He grabbed another cup (whatever Pfalzgraf that owned this castle really prepared for a feast, so it seemed), and approached the Bavarian. He cleared his throat. The Bavarian seemed to jump slightly and turned to Klaus.
“Herr Offizier!” He exclaimed in surprise. He stood to attention. “I am sorry Herr, the-”
It was exacerbated even more when the cup was offered to him, and it seemed as if he was unable to speak any more.
“Soldat, I have noticed that you are quite distracted. Please, drink some tea. To calm your nerves before the rear guard arrives.” Klaus said, kindly.
This one seemed especially touched, and he cradled the cup in his hands with a look of nostalgia and gratefulness washing over his face. Klaus drank from his cup while the Bavarian looked at him.
“Oh… Herr…” he said a few moments afterward. “I don’t know what to say…”
“It is my pleasure, soldat.”
The Bavarian continued staring at the cup. Klaus cocked his head, the plume on his shako moving as well..
“Soldat?”
“Herr…” the Bavarian’s voice was slow and quivering slightly. “I’m grateful for this more than you think. I thank you from the bottom of my heart.”
Klaus looked at him. “Oh? Why is that soldat?”
“My mother,” the Bavarian took a sip from the cup and hundreds of emotions exploded from his face. All of them were familiar to Klaus. “My dearest mother. Whenever I was sick, she would always give me some tea, just like this, so that I could feel better. I worry for her every day, and I miss her too. I haven’t been able to taste it in a long, long while…”
He took a sip from it and Klaus could see some tears prick in his eyes.
“Thank you, Herr… thank you so much.”
“It is my pleasure, soldat.” Klaus smiled and patted the Bavarian’s shoulder with his free hand. “I understand completely. My mother would do the same. In fact, she is the one that inspired my love for the beverage in the first place,” he exhaled happily. The Bavarian continued to drink his tea with a glow on his face. “I am happy to hear that. Please, treat yourself to more if you wish. The supply is surprisingly adequate.”
Klaus left the soldier’s side and looked outside the window. The reinforcements had broken through the barricade and were slowly but surely going onto the pontoon. Klaus felt a bit of hope in his soul.
The world may be being introduced to mad, man-eating cannibals, and may raise hell in the form of Corsican generals relentlessly ridiculed by the British Empire for his supposed height, but in moments like these, fueled by the power of a warm beverage, suitable reinforcements and a bit of home, Klaus is calmed, he maintains his senses, and he is assured that everything will be alright in the end.