The castle lood over the Württemberg countryside like an aging veteran—dignified, worn, and stubbornly upright. Much like Heinrich von Koch himself.
Bruno adjusted his cuffs with the kind of irritation reserved only for formal events. The road had been muddy. His greatcoat was wrinkled. And worse, he hadn’t had his second cup of coffee. In the distance, string music floated from the chapel entrance. Too cheerful by half.
Heinrich was getting married.
"Madness," Bruno muttered as he climbed the stone steps. "He just had to choose a cold winter morning in the countryside for the venue. Is it just , or is Heinrich deliberately fucking with ?"
Heidi giggled, and shook her head, as she hugged her man tightly, a bit too intimately at such a formal venue. All the while whispering in his ears.
"Aside from myself, he is perhaps the person who knows you best, after all. But don’t bla him too harshly. I was the one who set the ti, date, and location..."
After saying this, Heidi broke away from Bruno’s arms, running off like she was a woman half her age. Bruno could not help but linger and watch, shaking his head with a smirk on his face as he did so.
The interior of the castle was lit with gold-tinged chandeliers and the heavy aroma of incense and roses. Nobles—so ancient, so freshly minted—milled about in full regalia. n in epaulets, won in pearls, cousins with pristine manners and poisonous ambitions.
Bruno moved through them like a wolf among lapdogs fattened on diplomacy and gossip. A few bowed; most parted like the sea.
He arrived just as Heinrich stood at the altar, resplendent in a tailored uniform more ceremonial than functional.
The bride beside him looked almost ethereal—tall, pale, dark-eyed, with a veil that shimred like frost. Anneliese von Zollern. Third daughter of a respectable but broke house.
Bruno’s first thought upon seeing her was: She knows.
She knew who Heinrich was. What he was. And still, she was here. Wealth, glory, and prestige had a way of winning over a woman’s heart. And the dals pinned to Heinrich’s chest made him look two decades younger than he actually was.
But nobody ntioned such a silent truth as the ceremony began. The officiant droned. Vows were exchanged. Bruno nearly dozed off until Heinrich stumbled slightly while placing the ring.
"Still nervous after all these years?" Bruno whispered dryly, standing by his side as the best man.
Heinrich didn’t respond. But the twitch of his eyebrow said everything.
The reception was held in the old hunting hall, refitted for the event. Musicians played waltzes. Servants passed champagne and heavy wines. The sll of roast duck and spiced ga lingered in the air.
Bruno found a corner to steal a mont of peace. Formal events such as these had always been suffocating to him. He had enjoyed his children’s own weddings, but that was from a place of paternal happiness, not natural gregariousness.
However, that peace lasted all of twelve minutes before being intruded upon.
"You’re not even pretending to enjoy yourself," Heinrich said, approaching with two glasses.
"What can I say? No matter how old I get, no matter how many of these formalities I attend, I still can’t grow accustod to it. Too many people... Too many threats lurking in the shadows."
Heinrich chuckled. "Paranoid as usual I see. God, you’re insufferable. At least pretend like you’re happy for your best friend, while scanning the room for your imagined enemy."
Bruno took a deep breath and sighed, adjusting the dals hanging from his collar, as he grabbed hold of the wine in Heinrich’s hand and drank it in one giant swig. His deanor loosened afterward, as did his smile.
"You married a woman half your age. In a castle. While wearing a full dress uniform. And I’m the insufferable one?"
They clinked glasses.
Heinrich raised a brow as he gave Bruno a complete look over with a judging gaze and matching tone.
"Says the guy who wore the full ceremonial regalia of a Russian Field Marshal in Saint Isaac’s Cathedral, like he owned the place for his daughter’s wedding. Are you really one to cast judgent upon , when you have done far worse?"
Bruno’s retort caught in his throat, as he realized he had indeed gone a bit far with the festivities when celebrating the marriages of his own children. Yet here, for his best friend he had reverted to his usual paranoid and antisocial ways.
Heinrich continued as he let Bruno catch a breather.
"Besides... She’s good for ," Heinrich said after a mont. "She sees sothing in . Sothing that only Alya could ever see before her."
Bruno scoffed
"Yeah. Trauma. Isn’t that the reason you and your daughter got along so well? What do they call it? Trauma-bonded?"
"Fuck you!" Heinrich’s tone was half genuine, half playful as the two n broke out into laughter over their shared war or words. But behind the mirth, there was sothing real in Heinrich’s eyes. A kind of peace Bruno hadn’t seen in him since before the trenches.
"I’m happy for you," Bruno said, sincerity slipping through the sarcasm. "Even if your daughter could be her stepmother."
"Shut up."
Later, Bruno was dragged into giving a toast. He stood before the hall, glass raised, eyes half-lidded with fatigue and wine.
"Ladies. Gentlen. Nobles of varying degrees of legitimacy. I’ve known Count Heinrich von Koch since we both chose the incredibly foolish profession of becoming infantry officers.
Had we known a Great War was about to break out in the decade following our commitnt, I like to think that at the very least I would have chosen a more secure ans of employnt.
With that said, my friend here is arrogant. Stubborn. Often morally questionable. And on at least three occasions, he’s been shot for reasons I will not disclose in polite company.
But he’s also the best man I’ve ever had the misfortune to serve beside. Loyal to a fault. Brave beyond reason. And now—sohow—married.
To Anneliese, who has my condolences—and my admiration. May you find joy in each other’s madness.
To the bride and groom."
He drank. The hall erupted in polite applause and a few stifled cackles.
Heinrich mouthed the words: You bastard.
Bruno smiled and bowed.
As the night wore on, Bruno wandered to the balcony, looking out at the moonlit vineyards below. The stars were out. Music wafted behind him.
Footsteps approached.
It was Anneliese.
"He’s asleep on a bench," she said softly. "Your toast nearly killed him."
Bruno didn’t turn. "Good. He needed the nap."
"You don’t think I’m good for him, do you?"
He paused. Then turned to her. "On the contrary, I think you are exactly the force of stability he needs in his life now that he no longer has his adopted daughter to live for."
Bruno went silent for all of three seconds, composing his thoughts properly before giving voice to their power.
"Besides, you’re not so doe-eyed fool. You clearly care for him more than money and dals. Which is more than I can say for most who have tried to win his favor over the years. And he... he’s never been one to let sothing go once he’s chosen it."
She looked out over the vineyards with him. "And here I thought you disapproved of our circumstances..."
Bruno chuckled as he shook his head before turning around from the railing of the balcony, looking the beautiful young bride in the eyes as he spoke his peace.
"Two of my sons are married or engaged to won nine years their senior. One of them is Heinrich’s adopted daughter. I would be a bit of a hypocrite if I approved of such relationships, but not the one you share with my sworn brother. I hold no judgent, only concern for a man who has bled enough for my ambitions."
A silence.
"Thank you for coming," she said at last.
Bruno nodded. Then, quietly: "Take care of him. He’s braver than he is wise."
The woman turned, the wind causing her pure white dress to skirt along with it. And then she stopped, silence, followed by a single statent.
"I know. That’s why I said yes."
Bruno had once imagined Heinrich would die alone, gun in hand, surrounded by smoke and silence.
But Alya changed that. Now Anneliese had picked up where she left off—though with far gentler hands.
---
Bruno left before dawn, coat flung over one shoulder, the faintest smile playing on his lips.
Weddings were usually awful. Or, for that matter, any formal gathering of such scale and grandeur.
But this one, strangely, didn’t feel like an ending.
It felt like a beginning.
And those were rare enough to be worth rembering.
Still, there was a certain sadness in his chest. Heinrich had finally grown up... But his heart bled for what could have been between Erich and Louise. What could never be because of his own failures....
It was a burden of guilt he would never be fully rid of, yet on this day, Bruno chose not to reflect on it for longer than necessary. And instead embraced the winds of change that had finally co for a stubborn old man.
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