Chapter Text
Our struggle is over.
I listen as the grumbles and moans from the cellar finally die down, the men have succeeded in fending them off. They finished them. Despite the glorious victory I hear no cheering, a stark contrast from before the undead invaded… They would cheer after every battle, no matter loss or win. I don’t remember them like this, and it horribly pains my heart.
I share a glance with my field marshall, who’s been sipping on warm the during the fight. I doubt his cold will plague him any longer.. He has a brass side, not just some old man. I had greatly underestimated him a long time ago. And seeing him in such a weakened state… My heart..
One of our infantrymen runs up the stairs in a flurry with a tired hurried expression. Oh how glad I am to see him still in one piece.
“Raise the flag, Herr Leutnant, raise them high!” he exclaims, and points in the directiom of the window. I only snap back to reality when I realize both men are staring at me.They want me to do the honours. Which I confirm when no one else takes action… so I steadily make my way to the glass and open it.
In the wind our flag flies proudly. The two-headed eagle watches over the town in a bitter winter. It’s our pride, a symbol of hope, perseverence, our nation, who so awesomely erradicated a whole castle of those damn cannibals…!
A few cheers sound behind me and I turn around to face a few more of our men and some allies we made.. The Austrians get a little pompous and pretentious sometimes… The Russians keep to themselves, who I don’t need to get into problems with… The Bavarians.. are fine…? And yet all divided by nations… they cheer for our flag.
Their jobs were over now, mine just not yet.
The stench of the cellar is one I do not wish upon anyone. Every time I take a step I hear the squelching noises of the innocents, women and children… And even if act as careful as possible gurgling of blood pooling up in half-living people’s throats fills the silence. I tread into the cellar and one by one recover the corpses of my fallen brothers…
The thoughts which spin through my head are unbearable. It’s almost as if they’re there with me, the fallen souls… I feel a cold wind rush past me: Just my imagination. The first who I bring back to see the light of the castle, a Bavarian sapper. His eyes are still open, still staring at me when I scoop him into my arms. They won’t damn close…
I take a deep huff, knowing he wouldn’t be easy to lift into my arms. Eins, zwei, drei…
I effortlessly pick him up, and only now notice his lower body had been blown off, into unrecognizable little bits and pieces, almost like chunks for a soup. And I start to daydream on how he may had met his demise… Mayhaps he had gotten to close to one of those damnmed barrel-carrying Kannibalen…? It just makes me gag even more so I quickly bring him back up.
The second man, an Austrian drummer I discover lays among a pile of undead. He looks awfully at peace when I drag him out of there. Moving a few corpses weighing him down I uncover the full view of his fate: All of his guts, his insides, all that I had only seen before in textbooks… All visible to me. His organs look too well preserved, too damn Morbid. Had he been alive during the trauma..? Had he been conscious while he bled out? Whilst he felt his most delicate parts exposed tot he cold air? I swallow the bile rising in my throat and carry on.
In the end we recovered seven of our men. I stare at the last of them, a Russian seaman. I stare at what is left of him at least, and the gaping emptiness of where his head would’ve resided. He was a brunette, if I remember correctly… Those lovely olive eyes… I don’t want to picture the faces of his Russian comrades when we bury him. My heart hurts.
When I’ve finally dug through all the bodies I can get myself toleave the cellar. I wouldn’t forgive myself if I left anyone down here, they deserve to rest peacefully, they all do. I hear a voice whispering from behind me and figure it’s my mind playing tricks. But I feel something nudge against my boot I realize it’s clearly not my head. I turn around to face the source of the noise.
“Helfen Sie mir ... ich flehe Sie an ... Leutnant…” he croaks. Blood pooling in his mouth as he gags and gurgles.
My hand rests on the pistol holster.
Es tut mir schrecklich leid, Bruder. Ich kann nichts dafür.
-
Brewing tea is not as easy of a task people expect it to be… It’s more than just steeping tea leaves and such… There’s a process to it, which my Herr Feldmarschall seemed to not fully agree with. I would’ve demonstrated what he means, but to waste such nice tea leaves, especially in their current predicament would be terribly unresponsible, so I shall myslef from the intrusive thoughts. He doesn’t need to deal with more of my shenanigins.
Meticulously, perfect as I am I pour the tea into the cups Pfalzgrafenstein castle happend to e equipped with. Quite fine ceramic wear, if I may say so. I don’t waste much time further and bring the cup to my Feldmarschall. Blücher doesn’t sugarcoat things. If the tea does not fit up to standards I will be informed. He needed it, as he is still recovering from the nasty cold… Which we originally mistoke for the blight, and had our chaplain tend to him.
I help him hold up the cup as his hands slightly tremble. Old man he is, and still on the battlefield… He takes a sip. I want to warn him about the temperature, but refrain from doing so, useless information to him, a man with so much experience. I can see the toughts through his head and never quite read them, something I was never quite good at. I remember when I made a joke after a seaman had lost hig brother and… (don’t worry, I was forgiven.)
“Fine, as always,” herr Feldmarschall nods and continues to drink from the cup. I feel my inner self smile, even if I physically don’t. Praise from the field marshal is an acomplishment to be proud of, even if I will never be good enough… I leave him to drink and stand at attention once I hear footsteps approaching.
“Herr Leutnant?” the surgeon’s head peaked out from the ladder. He holds surgeon’s satchel with him and gestures to the supplies. Now I have a choice to make: Gracefully accept his offer and let the doctor inspect me and patch any injury up that may hinder my ability to serve the field marshall. Or I could… hum… erm….
“I fare well, please inspect herr Feldmaschall first…” and I gesture tot he man behind me. Both of them seem to want tos peak out, so I shush them and counter whatever he was about to argue with.
“I didn’t engage in battle earlier, please do conserve supplies,” and I swiftly make my leave.
-
After I pour tea for all my men, which they react very gratefully towards, especially after fighting like that I return tot he top of the tower where herr Feldmarschall resides. I plan to enjoy my own cup of tea there whilst we discuss what further action to take.. after losing many of our men. I return and the surgeon is standing there, akwardly, in an akward silence. Whoops, seems like I accidentally forced him to take my spot whilst I was gone.
I climb up into the top of the tower, and wonder: What a hard worker our surgeon is…
“Doktor, you haven’t had tea yet,” and I pour him the last cup. He smiles warmly. Until he realizes I’m pouring my own share for him. I don’t give him time to reply before handing him the cup. I can already feel the dissaproving look from across the room though I pay no attention.
By the time the sun is starting to rise once more … I’ve taken care of all major tasks around the castle. My legs under me are starting to give out and I feel a horrible fatigue… My fingernails dig deep into my skin and I try to keep myself awake. Every moment I have to stay on my feet longer my body feels absolutely miserable.
A while later I finish preparing the fallen fort heir burials, to at least put them to rest with some dignity.
Treading back tot he top of the castle takes me too much energy. The last few steps drain everything I have left and I stumble into the space…
“Moritz…” a familiar rough voice calls out…
I nod back when everything goes black for me.