Chapter Text
“Hello! I think I got the attention of that ship over there. I can lower this platform and get us down there, hold tight until I can bring this platform back up!”
Barry looks down on the soldiers through the metal grate, separating him and the others. The soldiers below him give him a nod and go prepare for the incoming horde of undead. Barry quickly gets back up on his feet and runs to the wooden wheel, immediately cranking (that souljah boy) it.
A hot minute ago, the Brit was just hiding from the cannibals. The rocket was right there, he could’ve used it already to escape, but he was scared of the horde. An officer—scared— of all things. His men have already turned, morphed into… creatures. Failing to save his comrades, he watched them drop, watched their flesh get torn from their skin and eaten. Rising up from being dead as an unrecognizable figure, red eyes as bright as rubies staring into Barry’s soul.
And he ran away, now hiding. His heart is heavy with guilt eating him alive, like how the zombies ate his fellow mates. And he was all alone. Shutting his eyes closed to prevent any tears from falling out, because no real men like him deserved to cry. Especially a coward like him, after letting everyone die, saving only himself. But a few drops spill out anyway, wiping his face with his hands before the tears even land. Shortly, he heard a distant cannon fire from behind. He peeks his head over the wall, and that’s where he sees the French, Portuguese, and British troops walk down the long pathway from the mountain.
The sounds of gunshots ring in his brain from the flashback, and now in his ears when the soldiers below him fight back against the monsters he couldn’t even face. Sweat starts forming on his forehead, dripping down his face, the heat of the sun getting to him while his heart is pumping fast, blood is rushing through his body trying to crank the wheel as fast as possible. He hears the gurgles of the cannibals and the shouts of the soldiers closer, as well as a cannon going off. Thankfully, the platform is fully up by now.
“Get on the platform!” Barry yells with all the air in his lungs. While holding the wheel, he feels people stepping on it. A moment passes before it feels too heavy, assuming everyone’s on it, he starts slowly lowering the platform. The wood lift was roughly halfway down the building before he thought;
‘Oh great heavens, how am I gonna get down again—?’ But he was too busy, laser focused on the wheel, to notice what was coming behind him.
Barry falls on the stone ground, barely processing what’s happening. A cannibal came from behind him and grabbed his backpack, throwing him and Barry down to the floor. Barry’s head perks up, and sees another zombie and a bomber coming from the other corner.
In a matter of seconds, Barry screams, not even getting up fully before he runs to the metal grate. His only way of escape doesn’t even feel like a way out. He’s overwhelmed by despair when he leaps on the grate, not budging, nails scratching the metal, hearing the noises of the cannibal from behind and the sound of a fuse being lit in front of him. Barry presses his forehead against the metal, a small sob comes out of him, and he closes his eyes. His inevitable death coming, ending his life, which is what he believes he really deserves after being a fool. He can’t help but start weeping, knowing that nothing good was done before his death. That the best thing to do after the act was to die and that, after everything, he’ll just die as a coward.
The barrel exploded.
Instead of meeting death, he hit the ground below him.
Barry’s eyes fly wide open. The metal grate swung open thanks to the barrel exploding. He doesn’t know how that happened, but it’s the least of his concerns, as he had just escaped death. He turns his head to the right, seeing a Portuguese drummer reaching his hand out for him. He runs and grabs the musician’s hand, pulling him down gently onto the lift.
But despite how many people are on the platform, it stays in place, because there’s no one on the wheel lowering it down.
“How will we get down?!?” A British man exclaims.
“The cannibals will fall!” A french sapper cries.
Barry realizes this, but he also sees that it’s only rope holding the platform and hook together. He quickly pulls his saber out and, in one swing, chops the ropes holding one side of the platform.
Everyone suddenly falls down. Thankfully, no legs were broken (somehow). The soldiers, including Barry, just piled up on each other.
A British soldier complains, “Great heavens, Barry, what are you thinking?”
“That doesn’t matter right now, the cannibals are coming. Prepare the defenses!” A ranker shouts in french.
Sappers get to their job, building barricades near the water. Barry gets back up, looking at everyone reloading their guns, while he pats dirt off his pants and gets into his senses.
As he does that, a zombie from above jumps down behind him.
Barry yelps and jumps in surprise, throwing his arms backwards and trying to pry the zombie off of his back. A french cuirassier pokes the zombie off of him. Barry turned around to thank the cuirassier, but was quickly cut off by him before he could speak.
“Jesus. Can’t you fend for yourself, officer?”
Barry just groans, figuring out a way to prove himself. Reloading his gun, he watched over the scene.
A french sapper bringing their barricades up, yelling, “Stand aside, I’m placing a barricade!”. Another french cuirassier is in the distance, assisting in dealing with zombies coming from the other side. There’s a lot of french men here, which Barry does mind a little bit, but it shouldn’t matter right now. Barry’s gun is reloaded, he turns around and sees zombies from above drop down. He swings at them while he walks backwards trying not to get caught by a cannibal, a few blood splatters land on his face and clothes. Barry backs up behind the barriers and sees a zombie carrying an explosive barrel heading towards the men on the other side. He successfully shoots the barrel from a distance.
The men start getting closer to the barricades, backing up even more while fending off the never ending zombies. Barry feels exhaustion seep into his muscles, the strength in his swings depleting, too distracted to see a runner bodyslam into him. His back hits the sand, using his arms to try to prevent the runner cannibal from biting into him. Fortunately the Portuguese drummer next to him is quick to react, immediately stopping the song and slashing the zombie away from Barry. As Barry stands back up, he gives a couple pats to the musician’s shoulder, a silent message of thanks. The boat is near, but so is the horde of cannibals. Feeling the exhaustion of the soldiers, he thinks of one way to make sure that all the men will survive this.
“Men, ready your bayonets!” British and Portuguese soldiers turn around to see Barry, standing right behind them reloading his gun. Curiassiers and rankers get into their positions, standing next to the brit officer. Barry holds an officer’s saber, before raising it in the air and yelling with all his might;
“CHARGE!”
Every soldier there yells alongside him. Rankers and cuirassiers hold their weapons in front of them and charge into multiple zombies, clearing heavy amounts of space for the soldiers. Barry fights with the sappers and seamen, weapons making heavy gashes into the creatures, making sure that the zombies won’t break the barricades any further.
The boat is nearly touching the sand. Everyone turns around and quickly jumps onto the boat, stabbing zombies away with bayonets and pikes. Zombies break through the barricades and pursue the boat, but by the time they actually do, the ferryman has rowed the boat back into the water. The cannibals struggle to get to it, flailing their arms around in the water, Barry and the other soldiers watch the remaining drowning cannibals.
Barry sits down to make a long, enervating, exhale. His hands cover his face, sweat and blood drops smear on his cheeks. Breathily, he asks, “Where is this boat headed?”
A British ranker responds; “The HMS Undaunted, sir.”
Barry makes a weak smile, before responding, “Thank you.”
The soldiers from San Sebatian are now sitting on the HMS Undaunted. Portugal, French, and British nations are all being transported in the hot sun, beaming down on them and drying the blood on their clothes. There’s no enemies nor zombies, so a lot of the soldiers just stood or sat on deck while the crew walked around doing whatever they had to do.
Barry was chatting with a few British troops.
“I see, the French captured you there, ey?” A seaman asks, one who was on the ship prior to Barry and the others coming along.
“Aye, mate! They kept us locked until the man-eating cannibals swarmed the streets. And gave us weapons to team up and fight out of it. Now I ain’t quite sure if I’d forgive the frenchies yet, I was starving in the cellar–I could have turned into one of em’ cannibals myself without even getting bit!”
The soldiers let out a chuckle and laugh. Barry rubbed his eyes while laughing, his eyes were a bit drier than usual blinking less often during their escape.
“Aauhhh, those man-eating creatures. Lord knows where they came from.” A ranker comments.
An officer starts speaking to Barry, “You were with the other troops, right? The one before these lads, what happened to them?”
Barry’s pupils look down to his shoes. “Ahhh, well, em…” He fidgeted with his hands a bit before responding, “They, ah, couldn’t be helped. The cannibals got to them. I couldn’t do much.”
“An officer does whatever they can to fend for his troops, no?”
“Don’t blame the man, see how many of those things surrounded the boat? Couldn’t get all of them if you tried.”
“He ain’t the sharpest officer around anyway, still new.”
Barry’s head tilted down, fully looking down in sorrow, remembering the deaths. The words out of the soldier's mouths stung a bit as well, now knowing that they only see him as an inexperienced little officer.
The other officer speaks, “Weren’t you the lad that lowered that lift? Them’ lads couldn’t get down without you. Breaking their legs and all.”
“Oh– yes!” Barry’s eyes glowed up again. “I lowered that lift. And then the cannibals came after me, I thought I was a dead man!” He cheered up, finally getting recognition for his actions and the near-death experience. Only to be met with a,
“Good job. Nice, I suppose.” The other Brit soldiers nodded in silence.
And they started a different conversation. One Barry wasn’t too interested in. Because he thought of what they told him. How barren and blank their voices were recognizing him for once. It’s like he didn’t matter. Almost as if he didn’t exist! Now, he knows it's ridiculous to think that, but it most certainly felt like it!
And he would have been more deep into thought if it weren't for how dry his throat was.
“Ughm– *eugh!* –Are any of your throats a little dry, lads? I could really go for some tea at the moment.” Barry starts speaking again, coughing a little bit.
“Yes, they have some tea on this ship.” A British officer adds, “Why don’t you talk to that Prussian officer over there, the lad knows where it is, he can show you it or give you some.” The officer uses his thumb to point behind him.
Prussian officer? Oh, yeah. This ship held more than just 3 nations here. The HMS Undaunted was currently holding allies as well. Prussian and a few straggler Austrian soldiers were settled on this ship as well. Coming from god knows where. Barry had nearly forgotten about that.
He tilts his head a little bit to see behind the British officer. There was a Prussian officer standing near the corner next to a few crates, back turned from the ship, admiring the glow that the waves get from the sun. Barry shimmied through the British troops to admire the man closer. His hair was dark and short, from what Barry could see, the corner of his face was sharp, yet his youth shone through rounding out some corners of the cheek. It was perfect for the sun to give that golden rim glow, outlining the beautiful features… Beautiful?... Anyways. The Prussian officer was actually aware of someone approaching him the more Barry stepped closer. He was able to hear the conversation behind him from earlier, so he was already aware of someone coming up… riiiight now.
“... do you need anything?” The Prussian officer asked politely, not turning around yet.
Barry jumped a little bit, but was quick to respond. “Oh, apologies. I was worried you didn’t speak English.”
What a surprising conversation starter..? The taller (Prussian) officer replied, “I speak and understand English just fine.” He turned around as he spoke, revealing his face fully now. As mentioned, his facial features were sharp, yet rounded by his youth. He had eyes of killer stare, and his voice felt heavy–but it was as soft as the clouds. And he appeared either a year or two older or the same age as Barry. He continued speaking once he fully faced the British officer. “Can I help you with anything?”
“Ahem– Right,” Barry cleared his throat. “Do you happen to have any tea, or know where it is?”
Oh, more tea. Didn’t that other British guy ask for it too? The Prussian silently hopes that’s not what he’ll be known for in the military. Offering and providing tea to everyone that is. Since he had it prior, and knew what the ginger brit was gonna ask him for anyway, he responds, “I have some. Ceylon tea, sir, do you mind?”
“Not at all! I don’t mind.” Barry enthusiastically answers. “Thank you, sir.”
“My pleasure.” The Prussian officer gave Barry a small smile, a noticeable tilt in the corners of his lips. It’s as if a camera was inside Barry’s brain (even though they were ALMOST not invented yet), capturing that small glint of a smile into his memory. He didn’t know why the moment was so important, but anyway. Barry watches while the other officer reaches his hand into the crates and pulls out a kettle out of nowhere, he didn’t even see it until the officer reached for it. There were small cups beside his feet as well, the Prussian reached down for them and started pouring some ceylon tea for the brit. He offered the tea and Barry held it with both of his hands.
The British officer was about to walk back, before the group he was talking to prior had seemingly disappeared. None of his business now, but he’d rather do something then just sit around and rest too much. Barry turns back around to admire the sun, now painting colors of yellow throughout the sky while it tucks itself into the waters, the rays now making everything turn into a rich gold color. The Prussian poured a cup of the ceylon tea for himself, and turned to admire the view with the ginger brit. They both stood there satisfied with each other's company, sipping warm tea as the cool wind blew past the two soldiers, and the salty smell of the ocean reached their noses. The boat creaked every now and then, and the waves kept crashing on the ship's walls.
The Prussian officer, after a few sips of tea, turned his head slightly to look at Barry. It was his turn to admire the brit quietly. Ginger hair that would turn into strands of gold when it was sunlit. All of his features have a nice roundness to them. And he had freckles, small dots decorating his cheeks and a little bit on the bridge of the nose. There was a speck or so of blood still on his face, dried and now a deep maroon, but he didn’t mind.
The silence was already comfortable for the both of them, but might as well talk about something. The Prussian starts the conversation, "The blood on your face?”
“Huh? Oh, mate, it’s a long story.” Barry rubs under his eye, no use trying to rub the blood off since he’ll just clean up after finishing his tea. “Captured by the French there, the cannibals swarmed in on us so we teamed up and started fighting them. Almost died in the process.”
The other officer comments, “You were the one that got them down. No one else did that, no?”
Barry smiled a bit, showing his uhm… pearly yellows. “Yup, I thought I wouldn’t see the light of day ever again!”
The Prussian smiled back. “That’s very brave of you. Not a lot of officers commit those kinds of risks, it’s very impressive.”
The brit’s eyes grew taller, and his lips went from a smile into a straight line. He wouldn’t even get this much praise from his own mates for an act that almost killed him. A moment of silence strewn between them when Karl thought, judging from his expression, he would ask if he said something wrong before Barry quietly responded, “Thanks, mate.”
“..of course.” The other officer replies.
The ginger officer takes another sip before continuing the conversation, the sky was a mix of oranges and blues now. “You’re an officer too, have you done anything like that? I like your clothes, they are really fancy.”
The Prussian let out a small chuckle at the compliment before speaking. “Thank you, I’m flattered a bit. And, no, I haven’t really done anything that's… noteworthy. I’m an officer under Field Marshal Blücher.”
“Field Marshal Blücher! Wow…”
“Yeah, but we haven’t gotten any important tasks yet. We will be stopping by Leipzig, in Germany."
“Good luck, mate. I’ll be resting for a while when I get off this ship.”
“Every man dreams of that, rest well.”
“Haha, yeah.” Barry looks down at the empty cup, small puddles of tea left on the bottom. He gives it to the other officer before turning around. “I should get going, I appreciate our talk!”
The prussian stacks the cups onto each other. “I appreciate our time together as well–"
“Ah, before I forget!” The ginger suddenly turns back to the prussian. “I would like to know your name! I’m not good at remembering the ones that are even in my nation, but I’ll try my best to remember yours.”
He was a bit surprised by Barry asking for his name on the first talk. Not a lot of people have long conversations with him, or ask him for his name often. “Sure, why not?”
“Barry Williams, Officer of the 9th Regiment Foot!” The brit suddenly straightened up and saluted, as if talking to a higher up. This caused the prussian to laugh a little bit.
“Hahah, we're the same rank..! You don’t have to do all of that.” The other officer says, and now he finally reveals his name. “... Moritz-Karl, but just Karl is fine.”
“Nice to meet you, Karl!” Barry starts walking away.
“Nice to meet you too, Barry.”
The water glistened under the moonlight, compared to during the daylight, the sea was now black with white highlighting the shape of the waves.
It’s the middle of the night. Barry has been sleeping like a baby at this point. However, the floorboards on deck start creaking. Looks like somebody else is still awake. Karl walks to that same spot where he was in the evening, slowly to not wake anyone up, just admiring the dark night view.
This has been a problem for a long time. Karl isn’t much of a sleeper, sometimes there’d be nights where he wouldn’t sleep at all, he’d lay in bed hoping he’d start dreaming when in reality he’s just lying down with his eyes closed. If he can’t sleep for the night, he’d rather do something than just lie down. And he knows he should do better, since not getting enough sleep depletes his energy in the morning, but for some reason it’s like his body just… doesn’t want to.
So someone has to intervene. There’s the sound of slow footsteps behind Karl, and he can hear them. When they get closer, he already knows who it is despite no words being spoken between them.
“Karl, you must rest.” Field Marshal Blücher stands next to him, looking at the view Karl has been admiring. Karl fully turns his head to the Prussian general. “I know there’s nothing to do on this ship, but we have a long mission ahead of us. You need to rest when you can.”
“I apologize, Field Marshal.” Karl’s voice softens greatly, a hint of regret leaks through. And there was a moment of quiet as Karl thought, while Blücher waited for a response. “I know I shan’t be staying awake, I keep doing it anyway. I’ve done it numerous times now, and I feel guilty, every time.”
Blücher puts his hand on Karl’s shoulder. “I know, Karl. I know that life is unfair at the moment for you.”
Karl’s eyes shine a little more than usual, accompanied by his furrowed brows and saddened frown. “I feel as if I let you down, every time.”
“Karl, I assure you that you do not let me down.” Blücher gently pulls Karl in for a hug. “You must take care of yourself. As long as you do that, I am proud of you.”
Karl stilled. And a few seconds later, raises his hands and places them on the Field Marshals back. “Thank you, Blücher.”
The hug breaks. Blücher gives Karl a smile before telling him, “Now go rest.”
Karl smiles back. “Goodnight, Field Marshal.”
“I’m lonesome since I crossed the hill, and o’er the moor and valley, such grievous thoughts my heart do fill, since parting with my Sally~!”
In the bright morning sun, Barry walks around the deck contently singing to himself. The trauma from yesterday probably hasn’t processed through his brain yet, I guess people grieve in different ways. I’m just glad he’s enjoying being alive right now.
“Barry, you ain’t got no Sally!” A random British soldier from afar points him out, laughing along with the soldiers next to him.
Barry pretends to be offended, slapping his hand over his heart and clutching his clothes. “I haven’t told you about my life, mate!” A chuckle escapes his lungs.
Karl just happened to be on deck at this time, having a surprisingly adequate amount of sleep. Just idly standing around the ship with a tea kettle in his hand.
Barry walks past a few crewmates before seeing Karl, open to converse with. Karl sees Barry notice him, walking towards him with an arguably too cheerful attitude after what had happened to him the day prior.
Karl starts the conversation, “This is the first time I’ve seen you without blood on your face.”
Barry snorts at the comment. “This is the second time we’ve seen each other at all! Apologies for the blood on the first impression.”
“Don’t worry about it. You’re awfully quite giddy for almost being a dead man yesterday.”
Barry’s pupils dilate and shrink, and his expression is suddenly grey and mortified. “..Yeah.”
“... You alright–?”
“Anyways, I’m joyous on this fine evening because I get to go rest in a small town they assigned us! Since I’m an officer, I get special perks with the other mates!”
“That's nice. I wonder what you brits do in your spare time.”
“Drink tea–”
Karl elbows him gently. “I knew that already.”
“You can’t just assume!” Barry playfully elbows him back. “You never know, what if a British person doesn’t like tea?”
“Impossible.” Karl responds. They both laugh, noise echoing in the ocean air.
Their noise died down for a bit, Barry speaking again, “Whatever, mate. I’m just glad to be pals with ya.”
“Same here.” Karl says with a smile.
The HMS Undaunted has docked. The Prussian and Austrian infantry will stay on the ship, the rest will settle in a temporary town assigned by them. Karl watches Barry from afar, now on land, walking away from the ship with the other British troops. He’s seen chatting with other British officers. Field Marshal Blücher stands next to him.
“Made a new friend?” He instigates. Karl nods with a bigger smile, more than just a tilt in the corners of his lips.
Blücher smiles as well. “You don’t get along with a lot of the other soldiers well. I’m glad you have someone else to talk to that isn’t me.”
“I know,” Karl adds, “I won’t see him for a long time though.”
“I’m sure he’ll remember you.” Blücher pats Karl on the back as he walks back to whatever he has to attend to.
Karl whispers to himself once he’s out of earshot, “Nobody does.”
Two days since their last stop near the United Kingdom, they are now docked on German land. The trip from the water to Leipzig wasn’t that long, but it did give time for our Prussian officer to think.
Karl is glad he can be on birth soil, but would rather not fight man-eating zombies while he’s there.
…
Now that he thinks about it, outside of the mission, he has no purpose there. No family to go to anymore. Blücher is the only man that feels like family to him now.
Karl mainly stays next to him, as he has no other person to talk to. Every now and then, he’d wander off and stare into the sky or landscape. But none of his peers would walk up to him and willingly converse with him. Karl has always been like that. And it’s not like he’s alien or an outcast to the other soldiers, he’s actually well respected among them. He just doesn’t like talking to anyone.
Except for a couple days ago. He likes talking to Barry now.
A question pops up in Karl’s mind. He turns to Blücher to ask, "Field Marshal, where will we be stationed in Leipzig?”
“St. Thomas Church. We will be there for a day or two.”
“What do we do there?”
“Well,” Blücher clears his throat. “Because of those creatures, we plan on evacuating the citizens of Leipzig. The infection has spread to there at that point, we don’t want more of God's abominations on the earth than we already have.”
“I see.” Karl responds.
Well, they make it to Leipzig at night. and it’s awfully more quiet than a city should be. Regardless, they settle in the church. As the men put their stuff down, Karl goes deeper into the church and starts praying. And mid-prayer, Blücher calls for him from a distance. It disturbed him a bit, but it must be urgent considering the tone.
“Hello, this is the Prussian military, you must leave the city!” Outside, the street lamps leave a warm yellow color on everything. A Prussian ranker is knocking on a house in front of Blücher. Other soldiers are walking around knocking on doors and waiting for something. Karl walks up behind the Field Marshal to observe the houses around the church.
“What seems to be the problem, Field Marshal?” Karl asks.
Blücher’s expression becomes concerned. “Nobody has answered any doors or left any houses. None of the men here have heard any responses.”
“That’s troubling.” Karl becomes worried as well. He suggests, “Here, let me try.”
The other soldier moves out the way for Karl to knock and proceed to repeat, “This is the Prussian military, you must evacuate the city.” And after a few moments of silence, Karl decides to move to the window next to the door.
The interior of the house is dark. But looking closer, the yellow light only reveals the back of a citizen. Hunched and crouched on the floor, head bowed down to the wooden floorboards. A muffled “Sir!” came out of Karl from outside. And it heard him. The citizens back straightened, and it started turning its head around. The side of his head now came out of the darkness, the street lamp outside shone more light on him. The citizen’s face was boney and dry, the most visible bone structures being the cheekbone and edge of the chin. And it showed its eyes. But instead of black pupils with white around them, it was glowing red.
It looked at Karl, fully now. Stared deep within him. Fear rushed through Karl’s veins. And in that second, Karl’s lungs filled with air and he yelled.
“KANNIBALE!!!”
The runner leaped on all fours, breaking through the window making glass shards fly out. Some small ones landed on Karl's face, and the bright-eyed runner also landed on him. Karl grunts, wrestling with the zombie on top of him. The Prussian ranker next to him at the door shot the runner using his musket, but suddenly after that, a female zombie busts the door down and attacks the ranker. Biting into his throat while blood splatters and spills on the zombies face and both of their clothes.
Blücher slices the zombie’s head off. Leaving two bloodied corpses on the stone ground, the unfortunate Prussian soldier gurgles blood and shortly loses the light in his eyes.
“RETREAT! TO THE CHURCH!” Blücher calls, bringing Karl back to his feet.
Zombies burst out of every house, now turning into a gruesome scene. Some get swarmed by cannibals all around them, some get sliced through their bodies with an axe. Red eyed runners tackle troops to the ground, making them struggle to live in their final moments.
It soon becomes overrun, a chunk of the Prussian military gets wiped. The remaining infantry swing their sabers while backing into the church. When they cleared most of them out, a bomber went unnoticed and turned the corner from a dark alleyway to the entrance of the church. Karl, right before he gets in, turns his head to the left to see the torch dropping next to the cannibal. A barrel comes his way. With his gun not on him, he pushes the soldier in front of him and warns everyone of an explosion.
"SCHIEßPULVER!!!"
A gunshot goes off before the barrel explodes. Karl hits the floorboards. He realizes there’s more than just his nation here, hearing another gun a second ago.
A moment passes, Karl goes out of the church and sees at least pairs of French, Russian, Swedish, and Polish troops. Raising their hands in showing peace.
A french troop shakily asks, “can you help us get out of the city? This place is overrun by cannibals!”
“There’s no hope here,” a Polish soldier adds, “every citizen is dead.”
The sounds of zombies gurgling and groaning are heard around again. They start emerging from the dark alleyways and climbing over pre-built spikes. Karl shouts for them to get in the church. They put a wooden board over the door once everyone’s inside. Zombies start banging on the door, but eventually the barrage dies out and becomes silent.
A moment was given to the troops to catch their breaths. Some just topple to the ground and sit on the floor. Prussian soldiers joined them in just sitting.
And after that, Blücher starts speaking, “Why are there enemy nations here?”
“Please, sir.” A Russian seaman talks to him from where he was sitting. “The only way to get out of this town is to work together.”
A Swedish ranker adds to that, “That’s the only way we can all live. We can part ways after we get out.”
The church falls to silence, only heavy breathing and soft grunts. Karl and Blücher think about the situation.
“They’re right, Blücher” A Prussian medic from afar says, “Close to an half of our men have been wiped. Just this once. Let us all live.”
Karl turns to the Field Marshal and nods his head, he agrees with what everyone is saying.
“… I suppose so.” Blücher agrees to let the nations team up with each other. “Well how do you think we’ll get out of this hellhole?”
A French sapper chimes in, “There were a few French engineers at the bridge. I know for certain at least one of them lived. We go through the town, past the graveyard, to the bridge, and blow it up before any of those creatures get to us. With luck, this will be successful.”
“Not just with luck.” Karl proceeds, “I’m certain there’s multiple obstacles in the way. We all must work together and defend each other to increase our rate of survival. With that, it’s guaranteed we will succeed.”
Before any of it is said and done, Karl turns to Blücher. “Do you agree, Field Marshal?”
Blücher nods in content, “this plan does seem wise. Men, ready your weapons. We will move in 5.”
Everyone gathers their supplies and items. They gather at the door, Blücher and Karl in the front, sabers and guns pointed at whatever will stand in their way. Karl takes deep breaths, expanding his lungs and chest, clearing his mind along with the air inside. Giving his shoulders a roll as well.
Blücher asks him, “scared?”
“Never scared, sir.” Karl answers immediately.
“Good.” Quiet seconds pass, and Blücher asks again, “Ready?”
Karl looks at the Field Marshal, and smiles. “Aye sir…
…advance.”
“FORWARD, MARCH!”