Chapter Text
Karl glances over the paper in his left hand, ink spreading from where water had kissed the fragile sheet.
A French officer was to arrive in ten days time. Jean Louise. Diplomatic matters had been improving between nations of late, Blücher had been angrily shaking a letter the other night; although Karl had noted the way the older man’s fingers had shaken, the general’s voice matching the tremble.
The blight had been spreading, all too quickly. Blücher blamed the French, their ambition and bloodlust leading them to over reach and become weak in their cowardice as they ran from winter.
It mattered little to Karl who had started the Blight now when he had the same duties as always to complete.
The Prussian officer looks up to his subordinate, raising a brow.
“Why are you giving me a recipe for sauerbraten?” The lower ranked man shuffles his feet, staring at the dust that collected in the corners of the stone castle’s stairs. “I prepare food only for General Blücher.”
“Uh, well,” he coughs, pursing his lips. “The chef, he’s fallen ill, and since you take care of the general, well enough that the old man doesn’t yell at what you serve him…”
Karl stares at the man in silence. “More matter and less art.” He lifts his right hand, tea tray rattling as steam raises to the ceiling. The officer knew that the ranker in front of him would fall into an all too common ramble of rumors or excuses if left to flounder, and the tea was already cooling on its silver tray.
The officer holding the tray pauses, narrowing his eyes at the other. “Easedropping again?” Karl continues, placing the recipe by the steaming teapot and using his newly freed left hand to poke at the man’s stomach. “You blather too much to others already, and gossip freely.” Blumenwald pulls back, cool eyes meeting the others without fail. “You’ve already gained weight from all the bargaining of information and stealing of rations—do you think yourself a Reynard?”
“Oh, haha,” the soldier chuckles nervously. “I’m not a liar…look, don’t you want to make a good impression on the Frenchman anyhow?” Karl remains silent, brow raising higher. “We are supposed to represent Prussia while the diplomat is here,” The soldier pleads. “If one of the regular soldiers, uh, say I, were to serve him food, we would have nothing to offer but burnt mushrooms!” This gives the officer pause, his mind mulling over that fact.
Yes, that would be what would happen if Karl did not take over…as an officer did he not have the duty to defend Prussia’s honor? In more ways than one…
The other man grins, clearly seeing the conclusion Karl had drawn already written on his face. “We’ll leave it to you then.”
The sound of the tapping of shoes on stone follows the soldier, the “Reynard” happy to get away from Tybalt intact. “The ingredients should be in the kitchen!” He cries up as he rushes down to meet his comrades.
Hm. Karl twists his neck to watch the man run away, tail between his legs.
A moment of silence at last. He sighs, returning to his climb up the spire to the general. Sauerbraten…not a terrible choice of dish. Marination would be easy, Karl was sure that the pantry still had a well enough stocked collection of wine and gingersnap. The spices…the proper seasoning would be harder to find; he suspected that “Reynard” and the rest of his troop had hidden them away to use as bargaining chips. Then again, the price would be something easy to pay—that soldier had a habit of asking only for an extra share of rations.
Greedy bastard.
And of course, there would be enough time for the meat to be made tender for the diplomat to arrive. Ten days would be more than enough time for the rough meat to become properly saturated in vinegar and wine. Karl had been hoping to spend more time with Blücher as the man had grown…more disillusioned over time. A fevered mind. His short temper had been becoming ever shorter over these past few months, the Blight edging ever closer to Kaub.
The general may have thought himself sly, attempting to hide the pain of horrendous headaches by playing chess with Karl, but sleep made for a wonderful accomplice for the officer to usher a surgeon in to check on the older man.
A brief second of rest is allowed, Karl looking out over the town beneath the castle, moat encasing the Prussian soldiers in a shield of silence.
Night was coming soon, the moon chasing away her brother from the sky and her servants working to cloak the sky in a dark navy. He quickens his pace, a flock of black swifts following him up to the top of the castle. Preparation for the diplomat was secondary—first he had to tend to his general.
The time for his devotion to focus on the Frenchman would come soon enough.