Re: Blood and Iron-Chapter 565: A Visceral Truth

It was not long after the war had ended that Bruno received word from the Tyrolean Leibgarde that someone unexpected had arrived at his gates: a teenage girl, roughly the same age as his daughter Anna.

She was quickly approaching adulthood, though not yet there, and had traveled across the Reich alone. Outside the gates of Bruno’s palace she was stopped by armed guards; and was now raising quite the commotion, demanding entry.

The only reason she wasn’t outright arrested under suspicion of hostility toward the Tyrolean Grand Prince and his family was because of the name she had uttered:

"Erich von Humboldt."

The moment those words reached him, Bruno shot up from his chair. Still dressed in simple civilian clothes, he looked less like a ruling prince and more like a local sawmill laborer.

He rushed through the corridors and out the grand front doors; and when he saw the girl standing there, with raven hair tied into innocent twin braids and dark denim-blue eyes he’d seen far too many times before, his jaw fell slack.

"Erika..."

Erich had a daughter; conceived in secret with his fiancée shortly before he died. Now that girl was nearly grown.

The last time Bruno had seen her, she’d been a little child; he had quietly supported her and her mother for years.

But Louise seldom sought Bruno out after that awful day. They met only in passing, visiting Erich’s grave on each anniversary.

Yet the girl standing here did not look pleased to see her godfather. In fact, her eyes blazed with a fury that was all too familiar to Bruno.

Not wanting these buried secrets to explode in public, right outside his gates, he quickly stepped forward and spoke with a soft command.

"This is not the place, Erika. Come inside with me, and we’ll discuss whatever it is that’s compelled you to run away from home and seek me out."

Bruno turned and led the way deeper into the estate grounds. The scent of flowers and fruit trees hung thick in the air, captivating the senses.

Behind him, Erika stood frozen for a heartbeat, her fists slowly unclenching, her gaze softening as she took in the vibrant surroundings.

Then something inside her cracked loose. Before she realized it, her feet moved, slowly, then with gathering urgency, until she was chasing after the man who had been her father’s best friend. And his killer.

---

Inside Bruno’s study

They sat across from each other in his office; Erika perched stiffly in a fine leather chair, squirming under the weight of the silence, clearly unable to meet Bruno’s eyes.

Seeing the girl so obviously intimidated, Bruno ducked beneath his desk, retrieved a pair of chilled bottles from the small fridge, and poured them both glasses of diet cola. The fizz was startlingly loud in the heavy quiet.

He took a long sip before breaking the dam.

"Your mother told you, didn’t she? That I was the man who put your father in the grave..."

Her eyes snapped up, blazing with raw emotion. For a second Bruno thought she might leap at him, scream, anything to vent the anger that had clearly smoldered in her heart for so long.

But then she caught the haunted look in his pale blue eyes; and her own fury collapsed into something cold and jagged. Grief.

"How... how did you know?"

Bruno opened a drawer, pulled out a slim file, and set it in front of her. He waited until she cracked it open and began to read before speaking again.

"Because there’s only one reason I can imagine that would drive you to run away from your mother and come all this way. The fact she didn’t call me means she has no idea how far you’ve traveled; or what you intended."

Erika’s hands gripped the folder so hard it crumpled, tears dropping onto the pages like tiny spiderweb cracks.

Bruno watched carefully, then gently reached out and plucked the file from her hands, unfazed by how tightly she’d clutched it.

Only then did her panic ebb. She stared at him, eyes wide, voice hoarse.

"Is it true? Everything in there? Did my father... do all that?"

Bruno gave a small nod. He hadn’t included the grim photographs of Erich’s "work"; the silent purges of hidden threats within the Reich.

But the names were all there. Whole families, some with foreign ties, others of German nationality but doomed by association.

For years, the official story was that Erich had snapped from shell shock and became the worst serial killer the world had ever known. But the truth was so much worse; so much larger.

Erika’s mother had always told her that version was a lie. But these were official documents, sealed by the Feldgendarmerie. The girl looked ready to shatter. freēnovelkiss.com

Bruno quietly slid the folder out of sight.

"The list is real. But your mother was right about one thing. Your father wasn’t a madman twisted by the war. He wasn’t a rampaging serial killer..."

Her eyes sparked with desperate hope; until he delivered the deeper cruelty.

"He was an assassin. An agent of the Crown. A man too loyal for his own good. Those people he killed; he did it under my orders. He died to protect me. And your mother, who was carrying you at the time. Something he never knew... though it would have only hardened his resolve."

Utter silence settled over the room, thick as a burial shroud. Erika sat there trembling, struggling to process the most visceral of truths.

A long, oppressive hush fell over the study, so heavy it seemed to flatten the air. Erika sat there trembling, her breath shallow, the weight of everything she’d just learned threatening to break her in two.

Bruno leaned back in his chair, elbows resting on the thick arms, watching her quietly — letting her process the ruinous truth at her own pace.

Then, just as she drew in a shaky breath to try and speak, a knock sounded at the office door. It was polite, but firm; the knock of a man accustomed to duty, not hesitance.

"Grandfather? It’s me. May I come in?"

The voice was young, but already carrying the steady confidence of a soldier. And Bruno recognized it instantly. His expression softened in a way that made Erika’s heart lurch.

"Erich. Come in."

The door swung open, and there stood a young officer in the dress uniform of the German Army; the tunic crisp, buttons polished to mirror shine, saber at his hip.

But there were no medals pinned to his chest, no campaign ribbons to boast of battles fought.

Just the plain marks of a freshly minted lieutenant, proud yet untested.

His name, though, was not. Erich. A name his father and mother had both chosen in honor of their late godfather, the same man as Erika’s father.

The moment the name settled in Erika’s ears, her head snapped around.

She stared at the young officer, her dark blue eyes wide with a startled, searching look. Her lips parted, but no sound came out.

Bruno watched this unfold with a grim inevitability tightening in his chest. Of course. The name alone was enough to strike a raw nerve; a cruel twist of fate, or perhaps some cosmic reminder of debts never truly paid.

Young Erich stepped further into the room, offering Erika a polite nod, unaware of the storm raging behind her eyes.

"I apologize if I’m interrupting, Großvater. I was on leave passing through Tyrol and thought I’d surprise you. The guards told me you had company — I didn’t realize..."

He trailed off, noticing the tear tracks on Erika’s face, the raw tension that still hung like smoke in the air.

Bruno cleared his throat softly, forcing composure back into his voice.

Bruno cleared his throat, forcing the ache in his chest into a tighter, colder knot.

"It’s quite alright, Erich. Come, join us for a moment. I’d like you to meet someone very important."

Young Erich stepped fully into the study then, closing the door behind him with precise care. He gave Erika a polite nod; but the moment his eyes truly settled on her, something shifted in his face. His posture, already upright, seemed to gather even more respectful strength.

"Fräulein," he said warmly, bowing slightly at the waist, one hand resting lightly on the hilt of his saber.

"I beg your pardon for intruding. I had not realized my grandfather was entertaining such charming company."

Erika’s breath caught. The raw grief and confusion that had been written across her face only moments ago softened into startled surprise, tinged with a sudden flush.

Bruno’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly; not in displeasure, but in something closer to weary amusement.

Of course. He had raised his sons on codes of honor, valor, and reverence for the feminine spirit; it was inevitable his grandsons would carry it even deeper in their blood.

And young Erich was clearly entranced, though he masked it well beneath that polished officer’s poise.

His eyes did not leer or wander, but held Erika’s gaze with an earnest warmth that bespoke genuine admiration; and the instinctive desire to protect.

"Please," Erich continued, pulling out a chair and offering it to her with an elegant sweep of his hand, even though she was already seated.

"If there is anything I can do to make your visit more comfortable, you need only say the word."

Erika blinked, caught off guard by such gentle courtliness from a stranger; a stranger who bore her father’s name.

Her lips parted, but no sound came forth, leaving only a soft exhale that might have been the ghost of a shy laugh.

Meanwhile, Bruno watched them both, the old ache in his chest growing thorny with a hundred tangled emotions: regret for past sins, pride in his family’s unbroken knightly virtues, and a dark wonder at what new stories might bloom, or bleed, from this chance meeting.

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