It did not take Bruno long to reach out to the legendary and infamous figure from his past life whose na was connected to one of the most militant and brutal regis in history. One whose infamous banners would never rise in this new tiline as a result of Bruno's own actions.
Frankly speaking, Bruno had little choice in the matter. Ti was running out, and with Erich dead, he needed soone to command the rcenary force which would be critical to establishing Germany's hegemony over the world in the decades to co.
Bruno had to make a move, and it needed to be now. No more hesitation, no more debate. Because of this, he damn near imdiately summoned Ernst Röhm to his personal estate, the morning after he had co to the decision.
A ti and date was set, and the man appeared in his ho, dressed in the uniform of the German Army and with several accolades pinned to his chest. Since this was unofficial business, Bruno himself was dressed in civilian formal attire, not sporting the decorations he had earned through distinction in combat and military leadership, rather having them displayed appropriately on his uniform which was currently equipped to a mannequin standing proudly within his office.
Ernst appeared a little anxious, more than Bruno thought he would, and acted far too formal, imdiately saluting him as the man jumped to attention the mont he entered the room. His voice was sharp, disciplined—but carrying an edge of restrained excitent, the kind of anxious energy that cos from eting a living legend.
"Generalfeldmarschall! I have arrived as summoned!"
Bruno, sensing this unusual display of formality from the man, was quick to respond in a way that cut the tension in the air.
"At ease, soldier, this is an informal eting between two n that has nothing to do with army regulations. Do you understand what I am saying? Now take a seat I have sothing I wish to discuss with you."
The veteran soldier was quick to do as he was told, not saying another word as Bruno pulled out a bottle of distilled spirits and offered the man a drink.
"I would pour you a beer, but I have yet to have a keg established in my office. Truthfully speaking, I had quite drinking excessively a while back, preventing a from having a need for it. As you can see, by now I'm down to the dregs…"
As a soldier first, and one who valued the fraternity and brotherhood that ca with a such a status, Ernst was the type of man who would have vastly preferred a liter of beer over a glass of so sophisticated and expensive 25-year-old scotch.
This was a more noble drink for a more aristocratic class, one that Ernst Röhm neither fit in with nor cared to pretend like he did. The fact that Bruno had referred to it as the dregs, and insisted he would have preferred a toast of beers only helped further enhance the already pristine image that Ernst had in his mind of the man.
Nevertheless, since Bruno had already poured it, the man was quick to accept the toast, as Bruno said the words that were commonly spoken upon their unique heritage.
"To strength, and brotherhood!"
Ernst imdiately responded to in a way that Bruno was expecting as they were both mbers of the secret fraternity that long since transcended the barrier of generations.
"To blood and iron!"
It was a toast spoken by the mbers of the Iron Division during their ti in Russia before their disbanding. Words carried into the units those veterans eventually beca the leader of when they returned to active service within the German Army.
Bruno had read all over Ernst's service record within his application. He was a junior officer in the Bavarian Army during the final year of the Russian Civil War and had used his position to secure a spot in the iron division's final wave of volunteers.
He was in the trenches outside Tsaritsyn and had served beneath Bruno as a junior officer during the Volga campaign. Bruno did not recognize the man at the ti, nor did he still recall if they had any personal encounters, but nevertheless, he was quick to make his proposal, as well as the prequalification.
"I have long since been planning for the establishnt of an elite force, a brotherhood like the one that marched into Russia to combat the red nace all those years ago. An organization that has no official ties to the German Army, but still received funding, training, and equipnt in secret.
Initially, there was another man better suited than yourself to command this unit. But he is dead now, due to certain circumstances I was forced to end him by my own hand. It would appear that his loss has beco your gain. But I need to know… If push cos to shove, will I have to put a bullet in your brain as well?
And should that day co… Will you resist your end? Or will you allow to be your executioner, as Erich had done before you?"
Ernst's expression was solemn. He did not say a word at first, almost as if he was reflecting on what Bruno had said. Frankly speaking, Erich's brutal end had been in all the papers, and having taken the bla he was officially, for the ti being branded as a traitor, a mass murderer, and a psychopath.
But there were those among the ranks of the German Army, especially those who had seen the "Terror of Belgorod" at work who knew this to be a false narrative. They did not know why such lies were being spun about their brother, but they understood on a deeply personal and intrinsic level that Erich was not the kind of man to do such a thing.
Let alone betray Bruno who he had allegedly shot in his final struggle. Bruno's words had been a silent admission that Erich was acting under his order and had been killed as a scapegoat, voluntarily at that.
It was also a warning that Bruno expected only the utmost loyalty from his servants. Should he ask for Ernst's life, he would require it given willingly. And after processing all of this information, the man responded to the inquiry in a way that dumbfounded Bruno and went above and beyond his pre-established expectations.
"My life is already yours to use as you see fit… You may not rember this, but in Tsaritsyn when those red bastards used the fog to conceal their charge and rushed into our trenches, I was pinned against a wall by one of those pricks. He was about to take my life with his bayonet.
And there you were, the specter of death, erging from the mists, reaping the souls of all those who dared to stand in your path. By my mory, you killed a hundred n that day, as if it wasn't the slightest inconvenience.
No… you weren't a reaper… You were a god of war incarnate, an avatar of blood and battle made to resemble the flesh of a man. Since I was destined to die that day, and you saved , my life has belonged to you since.
You want to know if I would willingly give you my life if you asked for it. That is your answer…"
Bruno was stunned into silence by this response, but he did not reveal it on his face. No… he processed what Ernst had said to him for a long ti until finally reaching out his hand with a devilish grin on his face.
"Ernst my friend… I think you and I will accomplish great things together…"
After saying this, a pact was made, not one of pen and paper, but of blood and brotherhood. Though he was no Erich, Ernst Röhm was a man more than capable of filling the shoes left behind by his forbearer.
And at the end of the day, it was better to make a pact with the devil you knew, than one you didn't understand at all…
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