Published at 21st of February 2026 7:00 am

Chapter 875: The Life of a Soldier

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Heinrich’s retirement was far less grand than Bruno’s. He continued serving on over the course of the following months, dotting the Is and crossing the Ts.

Then, when the day came for him to depart it was a simple matter of handing in his papers and departing from the office in civilian clothing.

The office of the General Staff... He gazed upon it one last time in the streets as an older man. A man who had survived half a century of war, and all that came with it.

From the outside, the building looked the same as it always had. But the young officers stepping past him and their newer uniforms reminded Heinrich that he was a relic of an older era.

Few stopped to notice him. They all had a job to fulfill, and in a time of peace nobody had the time to remember old legends from past wars.

The Reichsbanner flew proudly over the building, and Heinrich couldn’t help but feel a sense of soft pride as he raised his hand in salute one last time before departing.

As he entered the cab waiting for him, he leaned to the side and stared out the window. It was not the city of Berlin and its modern marvels that caught his attention, but memories from a lifetime spent at war.

He remembered his first days at the academy. Meeting Bruno and Erich in his bunk. Bruno had surprised him; he was an aristocrat but one who held no sense of self-importance.

Erich, on the other hand had been about as stereotypical of a silver-spoon fed twat as Heinrich had ever met. He and Bruno had thought for sure Erich would wash out within the week.

And yet Erich surprised both of them, earning their trust and friendship through shared struggle.

He could remember their time on the academy’s fencing team. Duels won, scars earned. Honor held firmly intact. Something they still believed existed in this world.

Heinrich saw them sitting in the mess hall, talking about the ongoing happenings of the world in the last years of the 19th century.

How assured Bruno was that war was going to break out in the Orient and how he planned to volunteer the moment he graduated from the academy to sail across the world and plant his flag in some foreign land.

As he sat there in the warmth of the car and its internal heating, Heinrich could practically feel the damp frost around his ankles as he marched through the snow. Rifle slung over his back and singing a cadence whose words were remembered only by the small few who were dispatched to the East.

The uniforms were different; the rifles were older. But the life was the same as he had lived it.

Despite the brutality of the war in the East, it was short-lived. He had proven himself alongside Erich and Bruno as soldiers of the Reich and officers of the Heer.

It never got any easier. While Bruno had gone off to attend the Prussian War College as a candidate for the General Staff, he was sent to South Africa to observe the Boer War and act as an attache to the British Army.

There he realized in the thick of the fighting that Bruno was right about everything he said regarding the future of how wars would be fought.

Years later he found himself assigned as an attache to Bruno, now a graduate of the Prussian War College and a man fast-tracked to success. He also met Erich again; the man was not yet the monster he would become.

From aiding the Japanese against the Russians, to volunteering to march into Russia to fight against the Bolsheviks and their threat to all of humanity. The early years of their military careers were spent racking up medals, honors, all the while stacking bodies of enemies and innocents alike.

The war in Russia had been a diverging path. It had put a strain on Heinrich’s relationship with Erich who had seen himself become a sadistic murderer, one who took joy in putting down the enemies of the Reich regardless of whether or not their guilt had actually been determined.

Heinrich had opted to shield the people from the evils of war and do his best to aid those most suffering.

He was outraged by Bruno’s willingness to weaponise Erich’s degrading mental state as a tool against those he perceived warranted a death sentence.

And for a long time their relationship as a trio ended after returning home from Russia. But fate had other plans. One way or another, they looked past their differences and reunited again to fight in the Great War.

The three of them led the vanguard that brought Serbia, Bulgaria, the Ottoman Empire, Italy, France, and Britain to their knees. All within the span of two years.

And in the end, Erich was not able to join them in celebrating victory. Rather, his end soured the taste of the champagne that was drunk in his absence.

For the next thirty years, Heinrich served as Bruno’s right hand. Because by that point... What else was he going to do in life? He had already stained his hands beyond recognition. So what was a little more evil if it resulted in a hell of a lot more good?

The question resounded in Heinrich’s mind as he stepped out of the cab and waved the driver goodbye. Standing in front of his own estate, Heinrich paused. From the son of a wealthy merchant family to a Count of Prussia, and a decorated Field Marshal....

He had earned everything this life could give him.... And yet, as he knocked upon the door, there was one thing dwelling upon his mind.

The door opened to reveal it. His wife stood there not in shock, but with a heartwarming smile. That is until Heinrich spoke.

"You have grown old...."

To any other woman these words would have been dangerous. But the woman who was nearly half his own age simply looked at him up and down with an expression that suggested he had no right to talk, and then the two of them laughed softly while hugging in the doorway.

Heinrich stroked the woman’s hair gently, while letting his thoughts escape that he had been holding onto for far too long.

"I’m finally home.... It... it almost feels like a dream."

The woman didn’t bother saying another word; she simply grabbed his hand and dragged him inside their home. Shutting the door behind them as she did so.

Heinrich noticed that little had actually changed in terms of decor since he had left for the war. Unlike Bruno, Heinrich was not given the ability to commute between his estate and Berlin.

He had to spend every day serving at the office of the general staff, like every other officer who worked there.

The only reason Bruno was granted an exception and was able to coordinate much of the war from his own home. Was because he was the Reichsmarschall, and there were special privileges granted to him because of that.

Bruno had orchestrated much of the war from his own office, commuting via either airlift or maglev if a circumstance arrive that warranted his transit.

Heinrich however had been mostly separate from his own family, and had four years of his life as a father taken away from him.

His children, who were born later in his life than Bruno’s had passed through critical years of their development without their father. To the point where he barely recognized the oldest of them.

The younger children stared at their father for a few moments as if he were an utter stranger. That is until the oldest stepped forward and greeted him properly.

It was no doubt a bittersweet reunion. One that left many questions on Heinrich’s mind, questions that had no real answers for him to seek.

Heinrich lingered in the entryway longer than necessary, the sounds of his home settling around him. No banners hung here. No salutes were rendered. There would be no verdict passed on the life he had lived, no moment of absolution waiting just beyond the threshold.

The war had taken its toll, and like so many others, he would carry it quietly, without expectation of understanding.

He knew now that answers were a luxury afforded to those who had not been forced to choose. History would reduce men like him to footnotes or caricatures, and perhaps that was fair.

Someone had always needed to carry out the orders, to stand between decisions and consequences, so that others might live without ever knowing what had been required of them.

Bruno had shaped the world while Heinrich had endured it. And perhaps that was enough.

As the voices of his children echoed faintly through the halls, Heinrich removed his coat and set it aside.

Tomorrow, he will walk the grounds with them. He would learn who they had become in his absence. The war was over. Whatever remained of his life would be spent here; present, imperfect, but finally his own.

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