Erwin sat silently on a civilian train headed to the capital of the Kingdom of Prussia and the German Reich. Potsdam wasn't too terribly far away from the ancient and noble city—one that, despite its wealth and prestige, was far younger than many of its counterparts in other German states.
Thus, his journey was not unbearable. Still, it gave him ti to gain so much-needed perspective. For too long, he had been chasing after his father's shadow, wanting to beco a man who could succeed the mighty Wolf of Prussia.
The reality was, Bruno had never desired his family to be eternal guardians of the Reich. He wanted to create a world where Germany was so stable and powerful that it need not fear sending its sons off to fight in its defense.
Or at the very least, create a world where his sons would not have to bleed and suffer the way he had in this life—and the previous one. Because of this, Erwin did not see armored trains passing by as he had over the course of the past two years whenever he visited his family at their ho.
Nor did he see the soldiers advancing onto transports designed to enter the front lines. In fact, few n wore military uniforms—at least far fewer than in years past. The smoke rose in the air, but this was not from the flas of war, but rather the fires of industry.
It rose ever higher, climbing to the heavens, and grew ever thicker as the train approached its destination. An almost poetic sight—one that symbolized Germany's limitless potential, and its desire to reach far above its own position here on Earth below.
But none of this truly mattered to Erwin. It was all a silent observation as he opened his personal tipiece; the shell containing a photograph of his wedding night, where he held his wife together with the bouquet. He was young—far younger than a man ought to be for marriage.
However, dynasties were built with exceptions to the rule, rather than following the norm. Was his wife a noblewoman in which an illustrious alliance could be built with his house? Well, yes, and no.
She was the legally adopted daughter of the son of a notable rchant family. However, Heinrich's heroism and valor over the years had earned him a dynastic noble title, aning that unlike the non-dynastic title, his adopted daughter was technically a countess—as her father had earned the privilege of being awarded a lofty title for the roles he had played in the previous conflicts Germany had found itself in over the years, as well as the critical part he played in the Great War.
Especially the final push into Paris, where Heinrich—not Bruno—was granted full operational control over the infamous 8th Army. So if Erwin's bride was a noblewoman adopted into a family of wealthy rchants, then why was this not a prestigious alliance built through their marriage?
Well, the answer to that cos down to the founding of the house and its status as nobility having occurred quite literally within the last year. Sure, the von Kochs had deep pockets from decades of mastery over industry in a diverse array of sectors, but foundationally, they were weak.
The older a house was, the more generational wealth they would accumulate, and the more diplomatic power they would gain with others like them. It was why, despite Bruno's rapid rise, his family—despite soon being elevated to the status of princes—was still largely looked down upon.
His great-grandfather had earned a noble title at Waterloo, and though the family contributed much to the establishnt of the German Reich, Bruno's father currently held the title of count—a title that was only granted to him and his brothers because of Bruno's own achievents in this new century.
But a hundred years was a vastly longer ti than the single year of House von Koch's existence—especially in a turbulent era where dynasties were built and broken overnight. Bruno's great-grandfather, grandfather, and father had laid a solid foundation for Bruno to rise from, a platform of dominance on the economic, political, and military stage.
For all of the von Kochs' wealth, they had no real political or military ties outside of Heinrich himself—a man who was lower in status than Bruno and basically his direct subordinate. It was an unsuitable marriage from the appearance of any onlooker, and yet Erwin and Alya were wed, and quite happily married despite still holding the status of "newlyweds." Or perhaps because of it.
Thus, when Erwin stepped foot in their humble ho—one that he was deeply intimate with as it was his father's ho before him, the one he was both born in and raised in before necessity compelled Bruno to upgrade to a more lavish lifestyle, even if he did so while kicking and screaming the entire ti—it brought back many feelings.
This old ho, older than him and his wife combined, potentially older than even the main branch of House von Zehntner, was a place of great warmth and comfort—not just to Erwin, but Alya as well, whose better mories upon first moving from Russia to Berlin were spent here in this ho, under her godmother's tutelage—and tyranny.
The familiar sll of his mother's ho-cooked roast wafted through the fachwerk walls, a sll that truly cented Erwin's nostalgia. But it was not his mother cooking. No… this al was no doubt cooked by his wife using his mother's recipe, as she had learned the skills from long ago to properly perform her duties as a wife and mother.
The mont Erwin turned the corner he found the older Russian beauty he had married chopping up the onions required for the soup she was preparing as a side, looking rather sullen as she stared out the window, with an almost forlorn and longing gaze.
Apparently, she had not heard the young man enter the house—nor did he call out and signal that he had done so, because he was too enamored with his surroundings. He was quick, however, to wear a mischievous smile as he called out to the woman—who he would otherwise "assault" from behind had she not been wielding a knife at this very mont.
"Have I really been gone so long that you must be reduced to such a depressed state?"
Alya instantly turned around in shock, damn near cutting herself with the knife as Erwin's words ca precisely when she was chopping into the onion. When she gazed upon her little man returning ho to her unannounced, at first there was disbelief in her flawless, athyst-like eyes, before finally the girl ran over to the man—having placed down the knife—outright jumping into his arms, hugging him, kissing him, all while expressing her surprise aloud.
"How? Why? What are you doing here, my love? Shouldn't you be at the academy?"
Erwin had not told his wife he was coming ho in advance—nor had Bruno picked up the phone to alert his daughter-in-law, as he did not want to spoil his son's surprise. Erwin, with the confidence of a man far older and wiser, was quick to grab hold of his wife's delicate hands—almost mimicking the way his father cald his mother flawlessly as he did so.
"You don't have to worry about that anymore… I've dropped out… I realized there are so things more important in life than chasing the ghost of a man far greater than I will ever be…"
Erwin didn't truly believe his father's words, nor truly understand the depth and lant in them when Bruno claid he was inferior to his son's potential in every way. How could the Great Hero of the Reich truly be inferior to him? It was a sentint he would never truly understand unless he stepped foot on a battlefield himself.
But he would never do so. Alya, however—who had seen the cruelty which the boy's father was capable of first-hand—knew all too well that Erwin would be a better man than the one he tried to emulate all his life. And was quick to remind him as such, as the flash of the cold, sky-blue eyes as they gazed with disdain, hatred, and ruthlessness toward the Marxist revolutionaries he gunned down in the streets flashed in her mind.
Those, however, were not the eyes in front of her. Was their hue the sa as those which haunted her dreams? Most certainly. But they were far softer, kinder, gentler. They were the eyes she loved, adored, and found comfort in as she rested her head in her husband's chest and told him her honest opinion of his expressed self-doubt.
"I'm glad you found your way before it was too late to change course… You are your own man, and a better one than your father will ever be!"
It took a mont for Erwin to process what his wife had said, as he thought he had heard the final words spoken in his father's tone. And when he realized what Alya was saying—and that his father had expressed the sa sentint—he couldn't help but laugh and shake his head as he wiped the girl's almost silver-like bangs away from her gorgeous and unique gemstone-like eyes.
"You know… It's funny. Before dropping out of the academy, my father ca to visit and told the exact sa thing…. Co, love. Let help you finish the prep work!"
Alya stood in disbelief as Erwin got swiftly to work helping her complete the al she was cooking so they could enjoy its bountiful taste quicker—not because of his current actions, but because of what he had said right before doing so.
A single thought flashed in her mind as the sight of Bruno ruthlessly gunning down multiple n, won, and youth with a rciless and hate-filled stare in his eyes, and a cigarette in his mouth, disappeared from her mory entirely.
An image that had haunted her for years—and had forever kept her at arm's length away from Bruno, a specter haunting her mind and heart—was finally gone. A single sentence was all that remained, exiting her lips never again to return.
"The old demon actually said that?"
Erwin had not heard his wife, as he was humming a marching song he had learned at the academy. But in that mont, Alya realized that her husband's father was perhaps more human than she had thought all these years—one who was filled with far more pain and agony than she herself, an orphan of a war he waged in her holand, had been enduring in silence for far too long.
And in that mont, she finally forgave Bruno once and for all—for the things she had witnessed him do in her ho country, and the chaos that resulted from the violence he had reveled in.
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