Fuchs's Admiration
In the dim light of the early morning, he could see his breath misting under his vision as he ran. He could hear the four men behind him struggling onward, trying to outrun the sound of pounding hooves further still. Rudolf heard a shout in Polish, before steel balls began to snap past them.
A walled villa loomed in front of them. The tired men ran for it. A groan escaped one of them as he fell. Another turned to fire his musket, attempting to give his comrades some sort of cover for their escape, before he was cut down in turn.
They made it to the villa's walls. The last Grenzer managed to toss his musket over the wall and grasp the lip of the structure, before he lost his grip as a burst of rounds took his life. Fritz and Rudolf were moments away from slipping over the top, before the Austrian let out a cry of pain, the man more falling than landing as blood splattered out from his thigh.
Rudolf glanced towards his friend to ensure he hadn't been killed, before unholstering his pistol and scanning the interior of the villa perimeter. The gate was opposite of their pursuers, on the other end of the courtyard, mercifully closed and likely locked. More importantly, no Frenchmen or Poles stood ready to put them to the sword, so the Prussian grabbed Fritz's arm and wrapped it around his neck, before helping the white-clad man onto his feet and hobbling over to the entrance of the villa itself.
Rudolf pounded on the door… No answer. Reasonable. He pointed his pistol at where he knew the locking mechanism to be and fired, before planting his boot just under the door handle. A servant stumbled back from the door as it swung open, a stupefied expression covering the elderly Italian's features as the soldiers stumbled inside. "Please extend our apologies to your master, should he rise to meet us." Rudolf commanded in the local man's language as he placed the groaning Austrian on a nearby piece of furniture, before whirling around and rushing back into the courtyard.
The line officer managed to pick up the Grenzer's musket before turning to see a small group of Polish dragoons ride around to the gate. One of them let out a shout and pointed at him, before he brought up his weapon and fired. The dragoons ducked behind cover, diving behind the villa walls from their saddles though none fell from the shot, while Rudolf sprinted towards the villa entrance. As he rushed into the foyer of the villa, debris fell from the masonry and erupted from the stairs leading up to the entrance as yet more rounds were fired, ultimately missing the Prussian as he found refuge.
"What is the meaning of this!?" A woman's voice echoed across the villa. Rudolf glanced towards the stately stairs leading up to the second floor, noting the form of a matronly woman, grey streaking across her black hair and brown eyes threatening to turn him to ash with the intensity of their stare, before he slammed the door closed behind him and moved to another piece of furniture across from Fritz, who was busy tying a tourniquet the servant of the house had fashioned for him.
Rudolf pushed the couch's armrest against where the double-door met in the center, its legs squealing horribly against the bare floor, before turning to face the Donna of the house. "You come into my house, dragging this interminable war with you?" She questioned with cold malice as she came to a stop in front of him.
The Prussian stared down at her, perhaps searching for a retort, before settling on something more useful. "Would you happen to have any hunting supplies, madam?" The Donna stared up at him for a few moments, before contemptuously waving him off. "Come, before more layabouts burst uninvited into my home at ungodly hours."
The dragoons had already managed to boost one of their number over the wall and open the gate, allowing them to spill over the courtyard and try the door. As the barricade shifted, a ball ripped a hole through the door, which was quickly followed by another that caught one of them in the shoulder, sending the Pole onto his backside as he took cover to the side of the entrance. The rest discharged their weapons into the wood in an attempt to catch their attacker with hot lead in return.
Just when the last of them fired their carbine into the door, glass shattered overhead. As they turned their gaze upward, a puff of smoke heralded death for the one among them wearing the stripes of a Sergeant. With a curse, one of the remaining dragoons grabbed their wounded man, while the wing of cavalrymen beat a retreat.
Rudolf continued reloading the musket as he observed the Poles' retreat, their wounded man helped up onto his mount before they rode off for the treeline along the road. They would be back. They weren't broken yet…
Or perhaps not, as a burst of rounds took most of the riders off of their mounts. The survivors let out a cry of dismay before wheeling aside, rushing down the road. The Prussian leaned out from the window, searching for the plumes of smoke that would reveal his allies. He let out a sigh of relief as he saw a fairly sizeable contingent of maroon jackets and blue trousers: what was left of the Grenzers after they had been scattered by their pursuers. He waved to catch their attention, then slipped back into the villa.
"Peiper?" Rudolf called as he made his way back to the foyer. "Fine! Did I get one?" The one-eyed man didn't bother answering as he descended down the stairs. "More of our men showed up and finished them. How are you feeling?" He asked as he inspected the tourniquet job. "My leg… Is in five kinds of pain right now. Eheh- Mmf!" Fritz's attempt at brevity was cut off by Rudolf tightening the tourniquet even more. "It's supposed to be uncomfortable, Hauptmann." The Major chided, before turning to face the Donna and her servant. He removed his shako and bowed his head.
"I apologize for the circumstances of our meeting, but there were men that needed killing and I intended on ensuring those men were not us." The mistress of the house sniffed in disbelief. "I'm sure you're very sorry for leaving us this mess to clean. Now, if you would be so kind, please leave my property and never come back." Rudolf nodded, before helping Fritz up and out to meet their men.
____________
They had been pursued by the French army in general and the Poles in particular. At first, they managed to keep up a good pace, Rudolf bringing up the rear to help supervise efforts to hide their trail. However, the Poles were dogged in their pursuit, and the speed of their mounts caught up with the exhaustion of the Grenzers. Men began to fall out from the forced march, pushed to the point of exhaustion.
Rudolf had divided the column into smaller groups of men, allowing the fleet-footed Grenzers to divide the attention of the Poles and move faster. They would rendezvous, plan out their next movement, then divide again, with the occasional ambush to put caution in the dragoons' step. So it went for days, their time divided by mad dashes across the rough terrain of north Italy and short but intense firefights as their pursuers charged pell-mell into their chokepoints. Whoever was in command of these Poles possessed a zeal that seemed to leak down to his subordinates, they seemed barely slowed by their own exhaustion and the repeatedly successful ambushes Fuchs left for Napoleon's Slavs...
However, they had finally made it back to the relative safety of Torino, linking up with other elements of the Austrian half of the Coalition army that had been destroyed at La Brigue. There was no mood for celebration; the French had knocked Sardinia out of the war, meaning the Imperial troops were technically behind enemy lines, bruised and scattered. De Vins's whereabouts were unknown, leaving a collection of staff officers to reorganize the remnants and withdraw east, meeting another army marching to catch the Frankreich's forces at Verona, so the rumors went…
Rudolf didn't realize he had been staring at the woman on the other side of the cafe until they had made eye contact. He quickly averted his gaze, a tight feeling in his chest as he tried not to feel so embarrassed. His icy orb turned to check on Fritz, the Austrian having already consumed copious amounts of alcohol. "Peiper." The other line officer barely managed to get the swig down before detaching the bottle of wine from his mouth. "Mmm-what?" Rudolf's brow arched, before once again deciding to leave it.
"Your leg. Is it feeling any worse?" Fritz shook his head, bleary gaze wandering out to the view of the rest of the town. "Could be. Isn't." The Prussian nodded. "Could certainly be. Your's would not be the first to be lost from infection." The Austrian lifted his beverage in response. "I'll drink to that." "What's the occasion?"
Rudolf turned his gaze on Lady Setara, before it was immediately arrested by her handmaid, Sabina. He blinked owlishly at her while Fritz responded. "Survival, madam! And to all the poor bastards that pay for the mistakes of those above." The declaration was accompanied by a swig from the bottle. Lady Setara tilted her head, a quizzical expression coloring her features. "Is he quite alright?"
Rudolf turned his gaze back to Lady Setara as she and Sabina seated themselves with the men. "He… Has not taken well to what hap-." He became silent as Fritz slammed his bottle on the table, leaning forward to stare at Rudolf with wide eyes. "You do it a disservice,
sir. We were soundly trounced, then we had to force march our way back here just to be told we are
losing." He spat, a testy mood coming over him.
Lady Setara seemed confused as her brow furrowed. "It can't be so bad. We've heard-." "I do not
care what you have
heard!" Fritz snapped, drawing the attention of a few other patrons. Rudolf's jaw clenched as he noticed, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. Lady Setara recoiled as if she had been struck. "Not so bad, is it? What would you know about it? You don't know what it's like, to shoot a man down and hear him try to breathe with lungs full of blood, or hear a boy with barely a hair on his face trying not to cry while he bleeds to death."
Fritz turned his wrathful gaze back on Rudolf. "Maybe it's all fun and games for a tourist who
cannot stop
talking about some dead bastard or another, but some of us need something else to drive away the-." The Prussian had listened impassively up until that moment, the drunken Austrian's words striking close to home for him. However… There was a line that shouldn't be crossed here, especially in public. He leaned forward, meeting Fritz eye to eye, a dangerous gleam in his glare. "That is
enough, hauptmann." He growled in a low tone.
They stared each other down for a full minute, the tension continuing to draw stares while Lady Setara shifted uncomfortably. Sabina merely watched with her hands folded in her lap, seemingly unperturbed by the outburst and ensuing rant. Eventually, Fritz tightened his fingers into fists, before releasing his grip along with a breath, leaning back into his seat. Rudolf closed his eye, taking a breath as he returned to a relaxed posture. "He's just tired." The excuse rang hollow, but Fritz was too busy sullenly contemplating the bottle to apologize.
"Perhaps we should take our leave, then." Lady Setara suggested. Rudolf nodded, before his gaze was once again drawn to Sabina. The Sicilian woman looked between her rising mistress and the Prussian, before speaking up. "With your leave, mistress, I will stay in Torino and collect your correspondence from the postmaster's." The Venetian stared at her Sicilian servant, contemplation coloring her features, before she glanced towards Rudolf and shrugged. "Very well. Try not to have too much fun without me."
Sabina and Rudolf focused most of their energy on escorting Fritz from the cafe to a nearby pub to disguising his features as they passed by the tavern filled with the same ne'er do wells that had tried to send alleyway thugs after him the last time he was in Torino. Paradoxically, despite the appearance of an evening shower over the area, the Austrian's mood improved, his jocular nature and silver tongue managing to goad his companions to take a swig from this drink or that beverage or these absolutely
diabolical kegs of grog. Their faces flashed with heat and a ruddy red appeared on their cheeks.
Rudolf promptly decided that the pub crawl was over when
he, as the escort, starting feeling a buzz and had been wordlessly guiding Fritz along the street back to the encampment, Sabina close at hand. Despite himself, he felt his heart thumping in his chest and a hitch in his throat. Considering he had been a German since he was born at a very young age, he was deeply familiar with the effects of alcohol on one's person, especially himself, and knew that the Sicilian in combination with the alcohol was causing a most unusual physiological reaction.
For her part, Sabina occasionally stared for a few moments longer than was proper, the only emotion beyond her mask of civility being surprise as he or Fritz had to snap their fingers or wave their hands in front of her face before she responded to queries. Rudolf discounted it as anything more than her weariness. It had been a mistake to allow her to assist him in keeping Fritz in check. Especially since the rain was coming in harder.
"You know, I can- brrrp- walk just fine on my own, thank you! Hon… Honesss… Honestly, I'm an even better walker drunk!" Fritz protested as Rudolf kept a tight hold on his shoulder. "I'm sure you are, Herr Peiper." They were all going to catch their deaths in this weather. Couldn't the encampment be a little clos-?
"Mueller!" Fritz suddenly ejaculated as he slipped out of his companion's grasp. Rudolf's gaze was drawn to a tall man wearing a white coat, the black epaulettes on his shoulders marking him as an Austrian lineman. A smile crossed the stranger's face as his officer embraced him. Moving with the momentum, the taller man laughed as he swirled with Fritz in his arms. Sabina blinked slowly at the display, before a knowing smirk creeped over her features. Rudolf ignorantly arched his brow. Ultimately, he shrugged in indifference, he was hardly the man to criticize another for being overly fraternal with his subordinates.
"Having a night on the town, sir?" Mueller asked as he let go of Fritz. The latter leaned against him, apparently no longer capable of maintaining his footing after being spun about in the taller man's arms. "I waaas. And then old one-eye went and spoiled the fun!" Mueller glanced up at Rudolf, nodded his head in thanks, then wrapped one of Fritz's arms around his neck and began to guide him along. "Well, I think he made the right call, sir. Let's get you out of this rain. There's a hotel nearby, laundering service and everything! You won't mind, will you, sir?"
As the two began to wander off, Rudolf turned his blue gaze onto Sabina. "Shall I escort you to Lady Setara?" He asked. Behind him, he could hear Mueller admonishing Fritz. "Oh, behave yourself, man, you're an officer in public!" Fritz replied with a deep, hollow tone. "You wish to speak to me of manners?
Why don't you teach me how to beha…" Sabina pursed her lips in consideration, her grey eyes meeting his one blue, before she favored him with a smile. "Actually… I am fatigued. Would you terribly mind coming with me to this hotel? I can pay for it myself, I simply require your presence at this hour on the street."
Rudolf wasn't fooled for a moment. A surge ran through him, his blood pumping through the vessels in his throat, an involuntary tensing of the muscles in his legs. It was something like the nervous energy one acquired before battle, the differences almost imperceptible. Though, the rush in the back of his tipsy head was certainly not how he felt wading through lead and smoke. "Of course, mein Frau."
The attendant in the parlor eyed them warily; an obviously inebriated officer with an equally inebriated woman, the latter clearly unmarried, was generally a sign of immoral activity. But it was a high-end establishment, and the nobility liked to have their needs seen to away from judging eyes and societal norms. Understandable, but the attendant absently wished to watch the Almighty consign all of these blue-blooded bastards to Hell for their hypocrisy.
For their part, neither Rudolf nor Sabina saw Fritz or his aide Mueller about. Perhaps Fritz had crashed under the cocktail of hard drinks he had imbibed. Regardless, they ascended the stairs to the second floor of the establishment, their room furthest down the hall and overlooking the street. It was satisfactory, a queen-sized bed with a vanity desk on one side of the room and a dresser next to a closet on the other. A small table with two plush chairs on opposite ends sat by the window. The wallpaper was some
ghastly green with white and yellow vertical lines, but at least it met the essential requirements.
Sabina allowed a pleased hum to escape her as she noted a bottle of wine with two glasses on the table. "I was hoping for just such a thing to help lull me."
"To sleep. She means to sleep." Rudolf told himself. He made a show of checking the room for any obvious short-comings, before grabbing the door handle. "Very good. I should be goin-" "Rudolf."
He stopped, something in Sabina's voice stopping him dead in his tracks. The Prussian looked back over his shoulder. Noting he had been halted, Sabina gestured to the wine. "Won't you have a glass, at least? I would… Hate to see you go so soon after we rid ourselves of Hauptmann Peiper." Rudolf hesitated. It was a simple request, but he had a feeling he couldn't shake; he shouldn't be talking to her like this. It was unseemly and it was irresponsible to tempt himself with-
Rudolf closed the door behind him as he returned. The night darkened as the rain continued to pour down on Torino. The two enjoyed one another's silent company, comfortable in the absence of chatter. Mostly, they simply looked out the window as they sipped on their beverages, watching the occasional citizen or likely cutthroat passing by in ones and twos, allowing the sound of pounding precipitation to lull them along with their wine. However, their gazes were inexorably drawn to one another.
Some silent agreement was reached between them as they no longer considered it taboo to look upon one another with unabashed interest. Rudolf was lost in her eyes, the grey brightened rather than dulled in the dim lighting. Sabina's attention rested first on his eye patch, then the hairless circle on the side of his skull, scar tissue the only remains of whatever injury had been inflicted on him. Their gazes descended then rose, committing each other's form to memory.
Sabina broke the silence first. "You are so young." Rudolf's brow idly arched. The Sicilian blinked as she realized how strange and out of the blue that sounded. "I mean… You are so much younger than you seem, especially for one such as your rank." The Prussian didn't respond for a few moments, blankly looking back at his companion, before his eye closed as he leaned into his seat. "I suppose. I gained my promotion at the price of my eye."
A part of Sabina sighed in relief. Whether he had simply sensed her interest or by coincidence, she was glad that her curiosity did not have to come unsubtly. She was courteous, as a servant, but she didn't have a way with words as nobility were wont to be. "If you do not mind… May I ask…?" Rudolf nodded, before he refilled his glass.
"Valmy. It was my first battle. My regiment was the only one to make solid contact with our enemy; we had managed to get ahead of the rest of our forces and secure the high ground. Duke Brunswick, the commander of our army, had… He refused to commit himself to battle against Kellerman and Dumouriez's forces, especially when they got the better of us and managed to retake the heights. At that point, we couldn't…" Rudolf stopped as he noticed his hand was shaking, waves of blood-
wine crashing against the sides of his glass. Both he and Sabina stared, the former scarcely breathing as his eye gained a glassy, far-away look. His voice came back quietly, as if trying to hide from the ripple of gunfire and the rush of displaced air while bullets flew past him.
"... We couldn't overcome them. Our men had been placed in a position where we could not even quit the field without suffering extreme casualties. It was sunken-fallacy at its finest, diffused among an entire body of men, enlisted and commissioned. The regimental commander and executive officer were speaking to me, relaying orders from the Duke when enemy artillery began to shred us to pieces." Rudolf could hear the curious sound of the incoming artillery fire, the sound of air seemingly being sucked out of existence by the passage of the solid ball. "A round tore through the line and bounced into my superiors. The only reason why I'm still here is because one of my Leutnants took the blow in my stead… Oberst Marko Von Frankenburg, Major Tristan Wilpert, Leutnant Samuel Becken."
Rudolf breathed in to continue, before a sudden sharpness in his chest caused it to hitch. It wasn't a painful sensation, but it caused his voice to shudder. He didn't notice the wetness on his cheeks. "I was all that was left of the officers, for the most part. The rest were either subordinate in rank, too far away to do anything, or wounded. That blow had been the Frankreichers' best shot, so I knew that they were reloading. I could have ran with who was left, collecting the wounded as we went but… But I…"
The rage had taken him. Almost every man who had gone down around him, silently and with a mere hole to denote their departure from the world of the living or screaming for their God and mothers and children while covered in their own blood and clutching their sundered limbs, he remembered their names. Someone- "-Had to pay. I led my company into the jaws of the enemy. There was sling shot, chain shot, grape shot, too… Bayonets and swords thrusting through… At some point, I realized there was nothing behind us. Brunswick left us to die. Everything we had done up to that point had been for nothing."
Rudolf could still remember the feeling of his sword in his hand, the sound of flesh splitting under his blade, the sensation of warm blood splattering onto his arm and torso and across his face… The satisfaction of knowing that he could kill, that his training, his life, had at least been partially validated… His grasp on his glass tightened as he remembered that degenerate heat-of-the-moment thought, that he could consider himself in any way superior to anyone around him for such a deplorable skill. "Rudolf…" Sabina brought him back to the present, the dangerous creaking of stressed glass subsiding as she rescued him from his thoughts.
As if brought from one trance to another, he continued, as if he had to tell his story to someone. "I sent the man carrying the colors back so that our regiment would not be shamed with its capture. At that point, despite our good progress, I knew we had stalled out. They lured us in, then hit us from the sides. I thought… I thought we were all going to die there… Then I heard her."
Even Sabina, as far removed from Thérèse's area of operations as she was, knew who Rudolf was talking about. "Auclair?" The corner of his eyelid twitched, reminiscent of a slave who had learned to master their features and preclude any flinching for fear of inciting another strike from their owner. "Yes. I thought that if I were to die, I could at least avenge my brothers by striking her down… Her brother struck me down instead." Focus returned to his gaze as he looked back at Sabina, then pointed at the side of his head. "Between the sabre briquet he had in one hand and the pistol in the other, the choice of which weapon used on me is plain to see."
Sabina's eyes had been wide for most of Rudolf's story, but the knowledge that he had been shot in the face caused her to audibly grind her teeth at the thought. "How are you still alive?!" She hissed. Rudolf shrugged as his voice took on a dispassionate, almost clinical tone. "I saw him in the corner of my eye. He fired from an angle that caused the ball to go through the side of my eye and head, missing the brain. That, or it somehow bounced off of my orbital bone and diverted off its original trajectory. Just mathematics, really. I was more likely to die in the melee." He remembered that he had refilled his glass, and promptly chugged it.
Sabina had left her glass on the table once she had finished it. She no longer had the appetite for the devil's drink. "I… Apologize, for causing you to relive that day." Rudolf shook his head, almost imperceptible in the slightness of the motion. "I have been reliving that day in my head every waking moment and beyond. Truthfully, I… I needed to speak of it. It is… Only fair, considering you… Told me about your husband."
Silence befell them, broken only by a distant peal of thunder. After a few moments of now inhospitable quiet, Sabina stood from her seat and circled the table. She didn't hesitate to place both of her hands on either side of Rudolf's face, her thumbs gently wiping away the tears that had rested on his high, prominent cheekbones. The Prussian stiffened, his eye wide as saucers, not expecting this display of… Physical affection… The tears returned, though now they twisted his lips and brought an unbidden whimper. His breathing audibly hitched as he attempted to suppress the sobs, his eyes blinking rapidly to hold back the tears. Finally, he squeezed them tightly shut, melting under her touch. Sabina brought him against her in an embrace, the side of his head against her midriff as she held on to him, his hands covering his face.
"
I'm sorry! I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm-!" Rudolf apologized profusely in a whisper. "It's okay. Just be here with me." Sabina commanded, her voice level. She didn't know how long they stayed like that… But she was happy to be there for him. He clearly needed this. After an eternity, Rudolf began to control himself, clearly attempting to regulate his breathing and master his emotions. She allowed him to escape her grasp. He lifted his head to look up at her, eyes shining with liquid. He began to slowly get up, providing Sabina time to step back and give him space.
As Rudolf rose out of his seat, he felt it again, the surge of energy, the pounding in his veins, the tightness in the back of his head, the stiffness of his legs. Sabina seemed to bristle under his blank gaze, glaring back at him with an almost challenging steel in her grey orbs, feeling the same nervous anticipation. "Rudolf, I-."
She said no more as he rushed into her embrace, where they became one.
Rudolf woke with the dawn, the sun's pale light streaming through the gap in the curtains in such a way that the vertical stripe it marked the room with landed over his eye. He tried to convince himself it didn't wake him, before his eye slowly opened. He looked down at the bundle in his arms. Sabina's head rested against his chest, her form curled up against his. Despite the fact that they had only known each other over a few meetings and admittedly frequent correspondence, he was still surprised by how… Whole he felt, in this moment.
Perhaps he had shifted, for Sabina's eyes flew open and she lifted her head to look him in the eye. They stared at one another for a moment, before Rudolf stole a kiss from her. Sabina allowed a chuckle to escape her as he retreated with his prize. "Well, good morning." She greeted. The Prussian allowed a pleased purr to escape him, before he untangled himself from her and shifted out from under the cover of their blanket.
Rudolf's mood fouled as they dressed themselves with their… Dispersed clothing. They had to take a few minutes to find his belt. His scowl was not due to this inconvenience. "Sabina." He called as she finished remaking the bed out of both habit and courtesy to the hotel staff. She turned to face him, a curious look in her eyes. "We… Need to talk about what happened last night." The Sicilian blinked owlishly. "We comforted one another. To be honest… I did not put much thought into the aftermath."
Rudolf nodded in understanding. "As did I… I, er…" His gaze fell off to the side, a neutral frown settling over his features. "I am sorry, but this cannot happen again." Sabina remained silent, studying him, before closing her eyes and breathing out of her nose. "I know. I agree. We… Both have duties, that will take us away from here." There was an awkward silence, one that left a shameful burning in Rudolf's face. This sort of arrangement was common enough on the campaign trail, but he had sworn to himself he would forego such creature comforts and ungentlemanly behavior… No plan survives contact with the first sign of adversity, hm?
"Um!" Rudolf blurted, more so to dispel the awkwardness than to gain Sabina's attention. However, an honorable solution made it to the forefront of his mind as the Sicilian's gaze rose to meet his. "I would-! … I would still ask that you write and that we remain… Cordial associates." She stared at him, the processes in her mind hidden by her stormy eyes, before she smiled. "I would like that… Rudi." The Prussian coughed. "Well… Fine." He conceded, before turning and leaving the room.
In the hallway, Rudolf heard Fritz yelping, the Austrian's voice trailing off seemingly in pain. The Major had been right by his door when he shouted, so he believed he was the only one who heard. He was tempted to leave the Captain alone, as a punishment for being so irresponsible with his drink and tongue, but ultimately chose to check on the man and grab an extra set of keys to the room.
The attendant required convincing. With coin. Hotel policy was that if a guest wished to see another, they could do so with that guest's express permission or meet them in the parlor. But money talked, and blue-bloods had plenty of it. Damnable nobles. They always managed to find a way to make rules, then circumvent them for their own gain. At least his coin purse was a bit heavier.
Rudolf didn't bother announcing himself. He and Fritz had worked closely with one another, and he knew the latter had a habit to sleep in the buff. Nothing of consequence, this profession didn't leave much room for privacy. So he thought nothing of merely unlocking the door and waltzing in. As he suspected, there was Fritz, facedown in the bed with his hands curled under his chin, a supremely satisfied expression on his face. Mueller freezing like a deer in the gun sights in the middle of the room and staring at the Prussian intruder, stark naked and recently recovered from a tryst with
no one else around, was most certainly
not what the
fuck he was expecting.
"What." Rudolf intoned. Fritz finally reacted, his eyes snapping open and his gaze sweeping over to Rudolf. "Ah! … Major! … I was just coming to wake you up!" "... The fuck." The Major continued. They all stared at one another for a minute straight, the tension palpable. Needless to say, high society in both of their nations considered this extremely un-Christian behavior which could have… Consequences.
Fritz shrugged, yawned, then slipped out of bed and stood up, stretching in all his natural-born glory. "Well, good morning, Major. Mueller told me Sabina accompanied you? I thought you'd take well to each oth-" "... Is this?" Rudolf finally finished. "Oh, dear, he's still not finished." Fritz noted. Mueller, for his part, was awkwardly trying to put his pants on.
"Major Fuchs, do you mind shutting the door before all of Torino knows about myself and my aide?" Rudolf numbly closed the door, glad to have received some kind of instruction on how to handle this manner. As he turned, he rubbed his eyes, then pinched himself to ensure that he was, in fact, in the realm of the living. "So! I suppose introductions are in order. Major Fuchs, this is my aide, Gefreiter Mueller. Mueller, this is the Prussian I was assigned to accompany in General De Vins's army. Mueller, Fuchs. Fuchs, Mueller. He is also my lover."
"Well, I can see that!" Rudolf noted sardonically, a slight edge to his voice. "Mueller and I have been an item for the better part of a year. I'm quite fond of him. So I may have felt the compulsion to love him as well as I could considering the possibility of his death weighing on my mind until last night." Fritz explained. The Major's features softened slightly as he asked himself: did he really care about who Fritz fooled around with? He certainly didn't when it was Lady Setara he had been seemingly courting. Actually…
"So you were leading Lady Setara along?" Rudolf inquired. Fritz scoffed. "Of course. Admittedly, less her and more our families. You understand, I'm sure." He did, though that was less of a factor for him, despite his stated willingness to go forward with such arrangements. "Look…" Fritz's eyes became half-lidded as he apparently grew tired of the conversation. "I understand this might be a shock-," "To say the goddamn least." "However, knowing what you know now, do I really seem that strange-," "Yes." "-In comparison to any other officer you've known?" "
Yes!"
The Austrian rolled his eyes at Rudolf's quips. "But…" His brow rose as the Prussian considered his next words. "... I honestly can't bring myself to care. Actually…" Rudolf approached Fritz, looking him in the eyes. "Honestly, I do care. About you. We've been through a lot together. I… I consider you a brother. I could never forsake you over something as benign as this." He held out a hand, which Fritz promptly clasped and began to shake. He released a shaky breath. "Whoooah, that was stressful. You are an easier sell than my parents were, though." "That's very nice to hear. Now please cover yourself, you weird,
weird thing."
It was a slaughter. As an observer, Rudolf was compelled to remain with General Von Melas's staff. Normally, he would be obligated to record the battle, looking this way and that with his spyglass and take note of the performance of the Austrian force and, to a lesser extent, the French. The battle had been in its infancy when the bridges leading to their artillery had been destroyed. Then the enemy cavalry slammed into their flanks. It was over.
Beside him, Fritz set his jaw tightly as his countrymen conceded, throwing down their arms and striking their colors. "Well… Italy was becoming tiresome, anyways." Rudolf nodded without much thought to his companion's quip. "'The victorious win first, then go to war. The defeated go to war first, then seek to win.'" The Austrian shot him a sideward look, an eyebrow rising. "That sounds like one of those dead bastards you enjoy talking about."
Rudolf didn't confirm or deny Fritz's assertion, merely raising his spyglass in an attempt to complete his recording of the battle. His horse swerved to the side as he looked back at the artillery. As an observer, he was essentially a third-party voyeur, which meant he was not particularly attached to one outcome or another. He had no special connection to any body of troops, so casualties did not distress him. He could afford to look at the battle with all the dispassionate analysis of a historian.
The artillery batteries fired in something like a ripple. The first battery to fire was most likely the one taken by the French first. How could they have gotten back there? All the crossings were at least contested when the battle started, if not under Austrian dominion. Rudolf's focus shifted as he scanned the countryside… Flattened wheat, likely used to conceal the approach. Did they slip through the forest by the river? His gaze shifted down to the water… There. Even from this distance, knowing what he was looking for, he could see the telltale signs of a large body of men moving over the terrain, flattened grass and disturbed foliage on either side of the crossing.
"By God, that looks more like certain death than a path to victory."
Then it hit him. Only a man with a deep understanding of the topography of this region could think that such a crossing existed. Someone like a cartographer… Or a surveyor. Rudolf felt a mad grin begin to spread across his features as he once again traced over the path that the irregular formation had taken to the Austrian artillery. They were responsible for the destruction of the bridges! The battleplan began to take shape in his head, beginning to see the audacious genius of it, the echoes of Cannae. The only thing it was missing was the legendary hatred and ruthlessness of Hannibal Barca, evident in the comparable mercy the French were showing as they accepted the surrender of the Austrian troops.
Rudolf traced the irregulars' path in the opposite direction, back towards the French side of the river. They would have concealed their movement, staying out of sight as best they could while minimizing the amount of dust they were kicking up. They would likely have deployed from their camp, which means their commander would be observing the battle from… There. They were coming down now to survey the battlefield. Napoleon, the fastest rising and brightest star the French army had in their officer corps and the architect of the battle of Saorgia and…
"Auclair."
There was no mistaking the man who had taken his eye. One might have been tempted to assume that Napoleon had merely done what he seemed born to do and smashed the Austrians himself, but history's heroes and villains were rarely alone in their triumphs. Besides, there was no mistaking the hand of a map-maker in the defeat of Von Melas.
Rudolf started to chuckle. Fritz shot him a strange look. The chuckle rose into a chortle, drawing glances from the other members of the general staff. They began to look at him like his mind had snapped as he began to let out a full belt of laughter, the Prussian almost cackling as he realized the momentous occasion. What should have been at least a hard-fought victory in attrition had been turned into an almost bloodless coup by the brother of his sworn enemy. Such a thing would surely be a case-study for future generations, and he was likely in possession of the most accurate recording of the engagement.
It was more than that. Rudolf had seen the genius in Brian at work, and he couldn't help but to admire such masterful architecture. Even if this was the height of his abilities, he was there to see it… There to learn from it. What thought processes applied to one twin could be applied to another. Such knowledge was most sought after by one's hunter, one more step in the obliteration of one, and the satisfaction of honor in the other…
"Oberst Marko Von Frankenburg, Major Tristan Wilpert, Leutnant Samuel Becken, Hauptmann Joachim Stromberg, Unteroffizier Janik Freudenthal, Gefrieter Stefan Springer..."
