Re: Blood and Iron

After a long night of grief, Luise was driven back to her family’s estate. She had fallen asleep in the back seat from exhaustion, while her butler, Wolfgang, sighed and shook his head. He had promised Erich, in the final days of his life, that under no circumstances would he approach Bruno if something happened to him.

Erich had left behind a sizeable estate for Luise. He had no children of his own and had been thoroughly disgraced in his family by the time he passed. Luise, hidden from both Bruno and Heinrich, was the only family Erich had left that mattered to him. He ensured his assets were transferred to her in a way that shielded her from any formal ties between them.

Bruno had searched for the woman after killing Erich, but found little information about her. It wasn’t his fault, Erich had served as the director of the Kaiser’s secret police for a time. Under Bruno’s orders, he had gotten very good at hiding evidence. If he wanted something to disappear, even Bruno would have difficulty uncovering it. That was one of the reasons Bruno had loved the man like a brother, and entrusted him with so many gruesome tasks.

Wolfgang knew none of this. All he knew was that, from time to time when drunk, Erich would speak with admiration about Bruno, as a commander, as a man, and, most importantly, as a husband and father.

Neither Wolfgang nor Luise truly understood the depths of darkness that had consumed Erich’s soul long before they met him. He had been a good actor, but Wolfgang had always suspected there was more to his story.

Especially given the way he spoke of Bruno. It was never about the legends or myths, about Bruno being the avatar of war. No, Erich didn’t speak of that. He spoke with reverence about Bruno’s ability to come home, to act like a human being after everything he had done.

Something Erich never managed to gain.

Still, Wolfgang felt he owed both Luise and Erich a measure of peace. While he would not break his vow by approaching Bruno directly, he decided to leave a trail of breadcrumbs that might compel Bruno to come looking.

He chose the simplest method.

—

Bruno found a letter on his desk the next morning. His mail was always screened by security to ensure nothing harmful made it through. This letter had passed inspection. There was no return address, and no indication of who had sent it.

When Bruno opened it, he found it was written anonymously. The message was encoded, but simple enough for him to decipher. And once he did, he understood exactly what it meant: someone knew the truth of Erich’s death, and nothing more.

Bruno didn’t panic. He thought logically, running through every possible scenario in which he may have left behind evidence. No matter how much he considered it, he could not think of a single thing that would reveal what had truly happened.

This had to be bait.

He picked up the receiver of his rotary phone and dialed a number.

“I need you to take care of something for me. There’s a letter I received, anonymous. I want to know who sent it. Yes, that will be all. I expect results shortly.”

It did not take long for an answer to arrive. In fact, it was hidden in such a plain, obvious manner that Bruno immediately suspected a trap. Who else would leave such an easy trail unless they wanted him to follow it?

But once the full history of the sender and their connections arrived on Bruno’s desk, the pieces began to fall into place.

The memory returned of his final meeting with Erich. At a restaurant between theaters of battle, Bruno discussed sending him on the special task that would lead to his death. And in that moment Erich let something slip. He had been engaged, though he never revealed to whom.

Nor had Bruno been able to discover this secret. Until now….

A young noblewoman, now in her early twenties, from a disgraced Württemberg house. She had no wealth, only her title. It was no wonder she had slipped so far under the radar. She had lived a humble life in the countryside, at least until she inherited Erich’s estate. She then relocated to the outskirts of Stuttgart and upgraded her life modestly.

A man like Erich could easily hide something like this from everyone, including Bruno. After confirming and triple-verifying the information, Bruno knew what he had to do. He had to visit her.

—

Nearly three years had passed since Erich’s death, and Luise had never fully recovered. Some days were easier than others, but on days like today those that came shortly after visiting his grave, she struggled to get out of bed.

When she finally emerged, wrapped in a robe and slippers, it was well past noon. Yet when she walked downstairs Luise was stunned by the sight of a man sitting at her dining table. A man she recognized immediately.

Bruno von Zehntner.

It was hard not it. The man had become the face of the Reich. He was a national hero of the war against France. But to her, he was Erich’s commanding officer, the man who knew the truth and the man who had shot her fiancé dead.

Luise’s face went pale. She froze in place, while Wolfgang and the rest of her small staff prepared a late afternoon snack for their unexpected guest.

Bruno looked up and saw her in such a miserable state. His expression didn’t show pity, disdain, or disgust. Rather, it was filled with genuine compassion. His words struck something in her she hadn’t felt since Erich’s death.

“So… it would appear someone has been wounded by my actions more than I. Truthfully, I didn’t think that was possible until I saw your face just now.”

Bruno stood. Then, without giving her time to respond, he knelt before her.

“There is nothing I can say to earn your forgiveness, nor do I believe myself to be worthy of it. But from the bottom of my heart, I am truly sorry for what I did to Erich, and for what I forced him to do. If you’ll allow it, I will spend the rest of my life trying to make it up to you.”

Even Wolfgang was stunned. Bruno von Zehntner, war hero and titan of the Reich, kneeling before a minor noblewoman like a penitent knight. There were rumors that he was a living embodiment of ancient chivalry, but few genuinely believed such rumors.

However, after seeing all of this, Wolfgang could consider himself a believer. As for Luise, she wanted to cry. And yet she didn’t, rather she steeled herself. Because what she needed most right now were answers. And the man who could give them to her was kneeling before her.

She swallowed hard, fighting her own tears.

“How…?”

Bruno, surprised by the question, looked up. Her face said everything. She wasn’t angry. She was broken. He tried to offer her a seat, to bring her tea, to calm her nerves.

“It’s not a pleasant story. Perhaps you’d prefer to sit, have something warm to—”

She cut him off.

“How?”

He sighed.

“I ordered your fiancé to do unspeakable things. Necessary things but still unthinkable… He fulfilled them to the letter. But we both knew he’d be caught in the end. And he was.”

Bruno hesitated for but a moment, then he forced the words out.

“I killed him. I tried to save him. I begged him to leave, to flee the country. I had the means to make it happen. But he refused. He chose to die, for the Reich, yes, but also for you.”

Bruno paused. The weight in his voice deepened.

“For a long time, I thought his sacrifice was meant to shield me from scrutiny. But now I see it wasn’t about me. It was about you. If his crimes ever came to light, and people knew you were with him, you’d be destroyed. He died to protect your name. I failed him. And I failed you.”

Luise stood like a ghost, unmoving, her spirit scattered by the truth.

She saw the guilt on Bruno’s face. She heard the honesty in his voice. And, after a long silence, she exhaled.

“I forgive you… I don’t know why. Maybe because no one else understands what I’ve gone through like you do. And maybe your pain is punishment enough.”

She blinked slowly.

“So. How about we have some tea, and you tell me what Erich was really like, the man you knew, and the man I was always kept from?”

Bruno didn’t know what to say. All he could do was wipe away the single tear that had slipped through the dam of his stoicism.

Then, with a tired smile, he led her to the dining table.

And together, they began to speak of the dead, and the man they both loved, but never truly knew.