Published at 11th of February 2026 8:24 am

Chapter 861: Original Sin

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Bruno sat in an open cafe in the center of Innsbruck. The city had grown significantly since he was first granted dominion over the Grand Principality of Tyrol.

A fusion of past grandeur and modern technology, the city resembled a continuation of imperial legacy rather than a sad replacement of Europe’s esteemed past.

As the waitress brought a pair of dishes to the table, Bruno sat and admired the peaceful streets he ruled over.

In his past life, such scenes were captured on film from a bygone era. But rarely witnessed in person.

Mothers walked with their children in hand; cars stopped and allowed pedestrians to pass by without a single honk of the horn.

Neighbors waved to neighbors and chatted briefly before returning to their daily lives. This wasn’t a city of individuals looking after themselves; it was a community.

Bruno sipped from a liter glass filled with his favorite beer and dug into a local delicacy on the plate that the waitress had brought him. All the while the man sitting across from him refused to touch his own meal.

The two men went unnoticed by the citizens who walked by in the streets; they were dressed casually enough that nobody expected one of the old men to be the Grand Prince who ruled over them all.

As for the man who sat across from Bruno, he continued to monitor the surroundings until Bruno finally placed his knife and fork down.

"I can’t tell you how many men and women would kill to be in your position. And yet you haven’t even touched the wurst I paid for. Are you truly not hungry, or do you actually think, here, in my home, someone will attack me?"

Ernst finally sighed and relaxed his shoulders as he picked up his fork and knifed and dug into the sausage platter Bruno had ordered for him.

"Apologies, Fuhrer, you know how cities like this unnerve me...."

Bruno didn’t flinch at the title he had been granted. Now that he was no longer the Reichsmarschall, his shadow army had chosen a different title for him. One that didn’t pay homage to his royal title, but to his past as a military commander.

In his past life, the title had been tainted by a Third Reich that never was in this timeline, but the reality was that the word roughly translated to "leader" in the English language.

Instead of taking offense at the term, Bruno had quietly accepted it, and instead shifted the topic elsewhere.

"Yes... Yes... Now, tell me about the city you’re more interested in. Amsterdam... How fares our little hellhound?"

Ernst bristled at Bruno’s words. The name Cerberus was rarely spoken, even in private circles among those who knew its name. And though Bruno hadn’t spoken it precisely, his intent was clear enough.

Because of this, Ernst reached into his jacket and pulled out a folder, the title was labeled Original Sin.

Bruno glanced over the documents, confirming things were headed in a direction that he hoped, before closing the folder and placing it back on the table.

All the while Ernst eyed him cautiously.

"Original Sin... That’s a hell of a name to grant an operation like this...."

Bruno didn’t bother making a grand gesture; instead he picked up his fork and knife, digging into his schnitzel once more, enjoying its savory taste as he spoke of toppling civilizations as if he were ordering a cup of coffee.

"The Reich’s Intelligence Services calls it Westphalia," Bruno continued calmly. "A neutral name. Appropriate for paperwork."

He cut another piece of schnitzel, unhurried.

"But the Peace of Westphalia was never neutral. It was the moment Germany ceased to function as a civilizational anchor. The moment authority fragmented, power scattered, and Europe learned how to bleed without restraint."

He chewed, swallowed.

"From that point onward, the trajectory was fixed. Religious schisms, national rivalries, and endless wars justified as sovereignty."

Bruno finally looked up at Ernst.

"Three centuries later, the consequences are still unfolding. This isn’t vengeance, Ernst. It’s correction."

He returned to his meal.

"Someone was always going to address it. I simply happen to be capable."

Ernst sat in silence for a long time, reflecting on Bruno’s words. The way he spoke them seemed like simple fact, rather than some grandiose manifesto.

After all these years of serving beneath Bruno’s banners, Ernst had come to realize Bruno was truly, above all else a soldier, just like himself.

It caused a rare smile to form across the man’s lips as he nodded his head thrice.

"So this is it then? Your last grand gesture to shock the world? You’ll become Chancellor, unite the German Reich in totality, and then forever spend your days here in the mountains as some aristocrat? Are you sure you are truly capable of such a life?"

Bruno sneered in response to Ernst’s remarks. He knew all too well that retiring as Reichsmarschall had been shocking to the man who only respected those who understood what blood, duty, and honor meant in the field of battle.

"Just because I am no longer Reichsmarschall does not mean that my duty has ended... I am simply fulfilling it in a capacity that these aging hands are more capable of. The fact that the world will forget to fear my name after Original Sin is concluded means that all has gone according to plan. When you do things right, people won’t be sure you have done anything at all."

Ernst silently finished his beer, all the while Bruno continued to eat his meal. After which Bruno rose from his seat and placed a few dollars on the table, gazing up at the clear blue sky above and the summer sun within it.

"Peace isn’t as bad as you might think it is Rohm. I know that wolves must roam free, but you will soon reach an age where you will be too old to lead the pack, and what then do you possess in this life that is worth living for? You should think well on that; I will be returning to my family to enjoy the year of peace I have earned for myself with my loved ones. Continue with Original Sin as planned. And do not disappoint me."

Bruno left with a sharp gaze as he grabbed his he walked off to the car which was waiting for him.

Ernst however looked down at the table deep in thought. It was there that he saw Bruno had left some additional money for him to order a drink or two with.

The man shook his head and scoffed. Bruno, at peace? What was the world coming to that the Butcher of Belgrade could live such a life?

Still, it didn’t bother him. Not like he thought it would, instead Bruno’s words had stuck in his head. He had lived a life on the battlefield. Whatever battlefield was needed of him. And now, he was looking at the end of his career, with nothing to await him at the end of his journey.

He took a sip from the stiff drink that the waitress brought him and stared in silence for a very long time at its frothy brew.

He realized, with a faint sense of irony, that he had begun to resemble what Bruno warned about.

He had lived his entire adult life in motion. War, chaos, rebuilding, then war again. Borders had shifted, banners had changed, enemies had worn different uniforms; but the work had always been the same. Kill when ordered, disrupt when needed, and burn what could not be held.

Werwolf had given men like him purpose when the world no longer knew what to do with them. A battlefield without uniforms, and a war without declarations. Bruno had understood that before anyone else.

Wolves must roam free.

Ernst exhaled slowly through his nose. Bruno always did have a way of dressing finality up as wisdom.

And yet... the thought gnawed at him.

He was no longer young. His hands still remembered violence, but his body increasingly resisted it. Missions that once felt effortless now required planning, patience, restraint. He had begun assigning younger men to tasks he would once have volunteered for himself, watching from the shadows as others proved their worth.

And after them?

There was no farm waiting for him, no wife, no children, nor an estate in the mountains where he could pretend the world had been gentle. Bruno had earned his peace through blood and foresight. Ernst had only earned more war.

He stared down at the dossier still resting on the table, its title half-obscured by the condensation from his glass. Original Sin.

A fitting name.

Someone had to carry the weight of what was coming. Someone had to make sure the world never learned just how carefully its collapse was being guided. If Bruno was stepping away, then Werwolf would need a steady hand. A ruthless one.

Ernst reached out and closed the folder.

He finally lifted his drink and took a long swallow, welcoming the burn.

Peace, he decided, was a luxury for men who had something waiting for them at the end of the war.

For the rest, there was still work to be done.

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