Published at 6th of January 2026 8:51 am

Chapter 813: So Long, and Good Night

This chapter is updated by JustRead.pl

Bruno found himself in the gym of his Grand Palace, lifting weights, running laps, performing calisthenics, and, as always, getting a bit of sparring in.

How did a man older than sixty look ten years younger? It would be a lie to say genetics didn’t play an important role. But the reality was that Bruno’s entire lifestyle was curated toward the optimization of health.

His nutrition was carefully monitored by world-class experts. His vitals and blood work were taken monthly by royal physicians, and he continued to train like a collegiate athlete, that is to the fullest extent his body would allow.

The only habit he truly possessed that wasn’t conducive to long-term health was his drinking. But even that was practiced in moderation.

Currently, he was "rolling" with his second son, Josef. A man who, like many in the household, followed their patriarch’s grueling fitness regimen to the fullest. Other male members of the family stood nearby, watching and waiting for their turn.

It was an exercise called King of the Mat. Essentially a round-robin tournament where whoever won stayed in the ring until he lost. The objective was simple: take your opponent down and pin him.

They weren’t focusing on submissions today, and because of that, Bruno could afford to be a little reckless.

At his age, even with elite conditioning, certain risks were unavoidable, and he vastly preferred not to compromise his knees.

Thus, when grappling with his son, who was more than twenty years his junior, Bruno focused on countering shoots without full sprawls, instead preempting penetration with footwork and punishing frames.

Catching a whizzer on Josef’s double-leg attempt, Bruno stepped off-line and shoved his son aside, creating space. He transitioned immediately into a high-crotch takedown, lifting Josef into the air and slamming him onto the mat in a smooth arc.

Bruno passed swiftly into side control, pinned his son, then stood and helped him back to his feet.

Sweat slicked Bruno’s forehead as he wiped it away with his hand. Despite the climate-controlled room being kept perfect for hard training, his aging body, still toned like a proper athlete, glistened beneath the sunlight streaming through the windows.

Josef dusted himself off, staring at his father in complete disbelief.

The man was over sixty years old, and still capable of throwing him around like a child.

It wasn’t the loss itself that offended him so. Rather it was how effortless it had been. Scoffing, Josef stormed out of the ring to make room for the next challenger.

"Unbelievable! What kind of monster are you, that even in your elderly years you still fight like Herakles?"

Bruno smirked at his battered offspring.

"Don’t blame me for the fact that you can’t beat an old man. Perhaps you should train more."

Erwin stepped into the ring, dressed in little more than a rash guard and compression shorts. Like his father, he looked ten years younger than his actual age, and possessed the strength and endurance to match.

But unlike Josef, he did not underestimate the old monster their family paid tribute to as patriarch. Instead, he approached cautiously.

His timidity was noticed immediately.

Bruno locked up with a collar tie and snapped him down. Erwin resisted, stepping forward and planting his foot just enough for Bruno to drop low, seize his ankle, and frame off his head and shoulder.

With a swift ankle pick, Bruno dumped him to the mat.

Before Erwin could recover or establish a defense, his father had already passed his guard, settling into side control once more and pinning him flat.

Bruno stood again, helping his son up and patting him on the back while mocking him without mercy.

"It’s a good thing you never joined the army," Bruno said. "You don’t have the stones to act aggressively when the time calls for it."

Erwin wore a bitter smile as he exited the ring and grabbed a bottle of ice-cold water. He glanced back just in time to see his father tie up and hip-toss another son with ease.

Shaking his head, he scoffed.

"Thanks, Dad...."

It wasn’t long after that before Bruno ended his daily training session.

Bruno found his way back to his chambers, where a bath had already been prepared and a fresh change of clothes laid out for him.

Normally, that would have been the end of it. A quiet transition. Routine. Order. But today was different.

A folded note sat atop the folded garments, placed deliberately where he could not miss it. He did not need to pick it up to know who it was from. The handwriting alone was enough.

We need to talk...

Love,

Your one and only, Heidi.

Bruno exhaled slowly through his nose as he dressed.

He had known this moment was coming. He had known it for years, in the same way a soldier knows the artillery will eventually fall, not when, not how, only that it must.

The war had dragged on long enough. The threats to the Reich were thinning. The excuses were wearing out.

And Heidi had been patient far longer than anyone had a right to expect.

---

Bruno entered his personal study to find her already there.

She sat in his chair, not behind the desk, but opposite it, a quiet distinction that told him she had not come to challenge his authority, only to confront the man beneath it.

A stein of beer rested in her hand. Another sat untouched on the desk in front of her. She had violated a rule he had established decades ago, no one entered his private workspace without permission.

But he did not mention it. Instead, he crossed the room, sat opposite her, and took the stein she had set aside for him.

They drank in silence. Not the comfortable silence of routine, nor the companionable quiet of old familiarity.

This was a heavier thing. A silence that pressed inward. That demanded resolution. It lingered long enough that Bruno realized, faintly, that she was waiting for him to speak first.

So he did.

"So," he said at last, voice calm, even. "Now that the war appears to be coming to an end... you want to know what comes after. Is that correct?"

Heidi did not look away. Her expression did not harden, but it did not soften either.

If anything, it settled.

"You once told me," she said quietly, "that when this war ended, when the threats to the Reich were dealt with, you would be done fighting."

She took a measured sip from her stein.

"That time is approaching," she continued. "And yet you still train like a man half your age. You throw our sons around like children. You prepare weapons as if you expect to be called back to the front."

She set the stein down.

"I need to know, Bruno," she said. "After everything... when will you finally have peace?"

He did not answer immediately. Not because he hadn’t thought about it, but because the answer deserved more than reflex.

He drank instead, and so did she, all the while their eyes never broke contact.

Years passed between them in that silence. Campaigns, losses, and victories. Long nights spent apart, letters written and unsent, and children grown.

Finally, when Heidi’s patience began to thin, not into anger, but into expectation, Bruno spoke.

There was no usual snark in his voice, no theatrical gravity, just honesty.

"I suppose I’ll run for Chancellor."

For a heartbeat, Heidi simply stared at him. Then she laughed. Not a polite chuckle. Not a restrained smile.

But the kind of laughter that escaped her before she could stop it. Sharp, sudden, and utterly unguarded.

"Chancellor?" she repeated, incredulous. "You?"

She laughed harder, shaking her head.

"The Wolf of Prussia. The Mamushi. The Red Scourge. The Butcher of Belgrade, and the Lion of Tyrol." She gestured vaguely at him with her free hand. "A man who shaped the world through steel and diesel, not pens and speeches... and you intend to run for Chancellor? I thought you hated politicians?"

Bruno scoffed softly.

"I do..." he admitted softly. "And when you say it like that, it does sound a bit ridiculous."

He reached across the desk and took her hand. The grip was firm, familiar, and warm in a way that only she could force from him.

"But it’s the path I’ve chosen."

Heidi’s laughter faded into a long exhale, not one of dread; but relief.

"Well," she said at last, lifting her stein once more, "then I suppose I don’t have much choice but to follow you, do I?"

A small smile tugged at her lips.

"Here’s a toast," she added, "to His Excellency, Chancellor Bruno von Zehntner."

She paused, considering it.

"...It does have a nice ring to it, now that I hear it out loud. Does it not?"

Bruno chuckled and raised his stein to meet hers.

"That it does," he agreed quietly.

The two of them continued to drink long into the night, speaking of a life lived, and a life that remained unfinished. One they had always, and always would share together.

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