Re: Blood and Iron

The war in the Philippines had caught Bruno off guard. He had heard whispers of movements rising in the East, but his focus had been elsewhere.

Whether it was the hostile takeover of American industry and infrastructure, the war in New Guinea against the Japanese, or simply Heinrich's wedding; Bruno's schedule had been packed.

He had spent months in Berlin away from his family, living in the office of the German Army's General Staff, sleeping at his desk or on a spare bunk in the barracks.

Showering and performing other basic hygiene alongside enlisted soldiers. It was a far cry from the comfort he enjoyed as Supreme Marshal of the Realm while living in Tyrol.

The title was unofficial, something he had coined himself to reflect his position; not only as Chief of Staff within the German Armed Forces, but as the man whom all the branches, and their leadership, regarded as their superior.

Still, he felt like a young man at the academy again. And for someone already fifty years of age, the nostalgia had long worn off.

His children were getting older. The eldest among them were approaching their thirties, while the youngest, born in 1915, still had a few years left before adulthood.

Some of his grandchildren were now in their teenage years. All Bruno wanted was to be close to his family and command from his private office in the Grand Palace he had built.

But in a time of war, proximity to the Kaiser was non-negotiable. And so he remained in Berlin.

As Bruno dozed at his desk, he was stirred by a voice.

"He's fallen asleep. The man is clearly overworked! Can't you ask your sister to speak with her husband and get the Kaiser to lighten his load? Father isn't as young as he used to be!"

Recognizing the voice of his daughter-in-law, Bruno grumbled and raised his hand.

"I'll have you know I'm very much awake. Your shrill voice saw to that, Alya, dear."

Alya stared at her father-in-law, now risen like a vampire from its coffin. The bags beneath his eyes silenced her ire and replaced it with concern.

"It's worse than I thought! Father, shall I fetch you some water? Or coffee, perhaps?"

Bruno rubbed his eyes, then the bridge of his nose, and finally his temples.

"Beer."

Alya hesitated, disapproving, but Erwin shot her a glance that urged compliance. She walked off in search of the nearest pitcher. Meanwhile, Erwin sat in front of his father, his voice a mix of concern and teasing.

"You really do look like shit. She's not exaggerating. How much are you sleeping these days, Father?"

Bruno narrowed his eyes.

"And since when do you speak to your father that way, boy? Will you be swearing like a sailor in front of your mother next?"

Erwin stiffened.

"Sorry, sir... I—"

Bruno waved it off, scoffing as he reached for his flask.

"I'm just joking. Nobody's around to witness this conversation. Speak freely. You're a man now, right? Surely a little banter won't hurt."

He opened the flask, only to find it empty. His disappointment was almost childlike. Erwin chuckled and handed him his own.

"Take mine. But if the wife asks, it's yours. She doesn't need to know I sometimes take the edge off."

Bruno gave his son a long look, then drank. Pocketing Erwin's flask and returning his own to the desk.

"Like father, like son. Just don't start smoking; it's a filthy habit. Took me years to quit. Now, enough of this bullshit. What are you two doing here at this hour?"

Alya returned with a comically oversized stein, which Bruno took with surprise and appreciation.

"See, Alya, this is why you're my favorite daughter-in-law. Don't get me wrong, Sophie is a wonderful young lady, but she doesn't show me the love you do."

Alya rolled her eyes.

"Yeah, I love you so much that after I get home, I'm calling your wife to tell her how haggard you've become; and that your drinking habit has returned. I'm sure she'll love to hear it."

Erwin looked at his wife as if she had just triggered a bad ending. But Bruno was far from anxious. In fact, he was so relaxed he simply leaned back in his chair and smirked.

"I wonder if it would be better if you did. Wilhelm may be the Kaiser, but even he fears that woman's fury. Nothing angers her more than when I'm treated poorly. Go ahead, Alya. Make my day. I could use a vacation."

Alya pouted, defeated by Bruno's superior wit. Erwin finally broke the moment.

"Father... Alya and I were wondering; could our family move into the palace in Tyrol with you?"

Bruno said nothing at first, sipping from his beer and fixing them with a gaze that made them both uncomfortable.

"Took you long enough to ask. I thought I'd die of old age before you grew a pair."

Alya was shocked; not just by the vulgarity, but by the implication of approval. Erwin blinked.

"Wait... is that a yes?"

Bruno looked exasperated.

"Why the hell do you think I built such an ostentatious monument to wealth and opulence? You know I hate that sort of wasteful spending. It was for the future of our family; all generations of it.

You think I built that many halls, wings, and bunker complexes for hosting dinner parties? I built it so you, your siblings, your children, their children—everyone—would always have a home. Frankly, I've been meaning to ask. With how many kids you two have, that old manor must be bursting at the seams."

There was silence… then laughter, as Alya and Erwin realized how foolish they had been to worry.

Bruno, despite the war, despite the weight of empire on his shoulders, was still a father. Still a patriarch. And for all his cunning, ambition, and ruthlessness; he wanted only one thing now:

To be surrounded by family.

And to see that the future he fought for had a home to call its own.