Chapter 8 - Eighty Men

 

42 pics; no triggers except uniforms. No idea what's going on with the text, sorry.

Yup! Here's a Holiday gift for you all!

 

 

 

Halloween was a busy time for Karena; readings a-plenty, purchasing groceries for the upcoming banquet, and attending the masked ball at the local cemetery, a Twinbrook tradition. The local grange ladies had asked her to attend and to cement her societal standing in the town, so she ran through her books and came up with something spectacular for the event.

The evening was balmy, the sounds of the crickets and night birds adding to the buzz of conversation, laughter, and music. The candles flickered slightly in the warm sea breeze, ruffling Karena’s hair as she stood, bell in hand. People turned from their revel almost as one to see her standing there, next to the empty tomb of Phillippe Bai L’Est, the founder of the town, the green ring on her hand beginning to glow. 

 

 

 

The bell rang three times to gather the rest of the crowd to their feet, and with a few spoken words and three more peals of the bell, the dead rose to partake in the party with their friends and family until dawn.

 

It was the talk of the town for the next week, and the business phone rang off the hook with requests for appointments, reading circles and the like. Walter was practically beside himself with scheduling. 

 

 

When Walter finally set down the phone and closed the appointment book, Karena was booked up straight until February.

 

 

Karena had no time to think about the consequences of her rising popularity, though – with a flash of light and a peal of thunder, the portal reset and began to glow again in anticipation of the new arrivals. 

 

 

 In between her readings, Karena prepped the bedrooms while Walter and Gabe did the stalls. Death kept his eye on the portal, but didn’t lift a finger otherwise, garnering some sour looks from the Archangel, until Karena gently reminded Gabriel that Death’s energy expenditure would be nearly triple of what it was the first time, when the portal re-opened again.

 

November 11^th, twilight. The tables are set, the meal prepped and in the oven. Just a few little things to settle, Karena thought. 

 

She turned from the oven to see Walter in full dress uniform, leaning on the counter, Gabriel and Death both in the living room. Nodding to them both, she went upstairs to change into more appropriate clothing before meeting them all at the portal.

The grass was damp with dew, and the fireflies seemed brighter as the seal above the portal spun, the fog obscuring the figures as they came through; two horses, a dog, and two humans. The fog slowly rolled away to reveal the new resurrectees, Walter snapping to attention as they became visible.

 

 

Karena blinked twice before rushing into the smaller man’s arms, tears of joy going down her face.

 

Death gave a small, secret smile at Gabriel as the smaller man gently hugged Karena back. Yes, while she knew the date, she didn’t know who they were. It was a good surprise, Death thought. He looked up at the taller man, who was looking down at Karena with an unreadable expression.

Walter held his salute, his face briefly giving away the turmoil he felt inside before he composed himself. He knew of the two men and their status in his prior life; and the fact that Karena was hugging the Rittmeister von Richthofen and he was hugging her back did not sit well with him, nor did the expression on the Rittmeister’s brother’s face. He’d seen that look before.

Manfred and Karena released each other, Karena wiping at her eyes, not believing who she was seeing. Manfred maintained his contact with her, resting his hands on her shoulders. While he was usually uncomfortable with public displays of affection and physical contact; Karena was someone he knew well, and trusted.

"Manfred! I thought guides weren’t allowed to…" Karena began.

Manfred gave a short laugh, shrugging his shoulders. "That meddlesome angel thought I could do my job better if I was alive. Go see my brother before he implodes, Karena."

Manfred elbowed his brother gently as Karena approached him, the taller, darker man looking down at the top of her head. He gathered her close for a much more intimate hug than the one she had shared with his brother, subtly enjoying her perfume. 

 

 

 

 

Karena got a faceful of uniform as Lothar caressed her, his slow, steady heartbeat sounding in her ears.

Walter harrumphed at the overly-long hug, dropping his salute as Manfred finally returned it, his ice-blue eyes sternly commanding Walter to say no more. 

 

Walter swallowed heavily as he complied, not wishing to challenge the Rittmeister; despite the fact that Walter technically outranked him as a Lieutenant-Colonel, Manfred was a living legend in his own right. Walter remembered vaguely the announcement of his death; he was barely 5 at the time, but remembered his village had draped itself in black for months afterwards.

"Lothar…" Karena's voice was muffled by khaki wool.

Lothar released Karena from his crushing embrace, but continued to hold her close, his arm around her waist.

"Package deal, my dear. Can’t have one without the other! I see Vogel’s already here…"

 

 

Lothar squinted at the short, fat man in uniform who, by his reckoning, was a rival. Still fresh from the portal’s magics, he remembered what Walter did not; the two had competed for Karena’s attention in the aether and it was often that Walter won the contest due to something Lothar intended to remedy, and soon. Right now, a little bit of class warfare should cement where this bourgeois banker’s boy sat in the ranks, Lothar thought. He narrowed his bronze eyes and issued the challenge, one hand firmly around Karena’s waist, waiting for Walter to break.

Walter looked slightly up at Lothar, a frown finally breaking through on his face.

“Herr Oberleutnant…

Lothar looked down his long, aquiline nose in disdain. “FREIHERR von Richthofen to you, Herr Vogel.”

 

Manfred ignored the power-play going on between his brother and Walter, and turned to his giant of a dog, who was whining for some reassurance in this unfamiliar environment. The horses whickered softly as Manfred reached for their leads, the animals giving him a calmness that he didn’t realize he had needed at the moment.

Death and Gabriel watched the interplay between the new arrivals; Gabriel looking more worried than Death would have liked to have seen.

Gabe leaned in and asked Death a question in Enochian, to prevent the others from understanding.

“Should I be concerned about either one of the new men, Grim?”

Grim sighed and replied in the same language “No. This has to settle itself out, so no interfering. There are things that only I know, and I intend to keep it that way. All I can say is you are not to try to fix what may happen, understand?”

Gabriel folded his arms and frowned “I don’t know why you think I interfered with Walter and Karena; I most certainly did not. All I suggested was a date for them to get to know each other better. Balthy said if I did any more, I’d have to answer to the Old Ones and I’d rather not have to do that. Why, what’s gonna happen, anyway? Wait, that tall guy – he’s not letting go of Karena…”

“Let Karena handle this, Gabriel. She’s capable enough.” Grim retorted.

 

 

 

Karena sighed as the two men continued their stare down. She gently removed herself from Lothar’s possessive grasp and stood between Walter and Lothar. She’d have to really assert herself, now, with these boys, she thought.

Taking a deep breath, she issued her first command in the tone she used with her horse when he was being fractious. “None of that, now. Let’s get the horses into their stalls, the trunks put away, and wash up for dinner. Gabriel, would you?”

The assembled company stopped what they were doing and looked at the small woman standing in the middle of them, her stance that of someone used to their orders being followed.

Death grinned inwardly at the varied expressions of the rest of the men, noting how Manfred raised his head sharply at Karena’s tone.

Gabriel nodded his head and reached for one of the trunks behind Lothar.

“Of course. Grim, can you get the other end of this one? Lothar, Walter, if you would gather the other trunk and follow me…”

 

 

Manfred nodded at his brother’s questioning glance and stood by the animals, watching as Lothar, Grim and Walter followed the Archangel into the house. He looked up at Karena, who seemed to shrink into herself with a sigh as she came to take Santuzza’s lead out of his hands. 

 

Manfred knew that Karena had hated to assert herself in the manner she had, and made a mental note to make sure that he established some ground rules with both Vogel and his brother. He suspected that things were not going as Balthasar had indicated they should, and that would simply not do. He handed Karena the lead to his mare, giving her hand a small squeeze of reassurance before releasing it.

“I’ll help you get the horses settled, Manfred.” Karena said, going towards the barn.

Manfred nodded and followed Karena with his blood-bay Thoroughbred, his dog close at his heels.

_______________________________

 

 

 

Walter sat heavily on the bench on the back porch, wiping the sweat from his brow. They had dragged the trunks upstairs to the rooms Karena had indicated to him were to be the rooms of the new guests, and he swore Lothar had purposely dropped his end a few times. The lanky bastard was currently going through the liquor cabinet with Gabriel, and Walter groused to himself at the imagined expense report he’d have to generate once the lush was finished with his ransacking. He lit a cigarette and dragged deeply on it, frowning in the direction of the portal.

He didn’t hear Grim come out to the porch and was a bit startled to see the small man lean against the railing, looking out at the barn where Manfred and Karena had gone.

Walter grunted with displeasure at the unfolding situation, catching the attention of the chief reaper. With a raised eyebrow, Grim turned to the frowning redhead sitting on the bench.

 

 

“This is going to fucking complicate things. Why the hell did it have to be THEM?” Walter muttered, gesturing with the cigarette in his hand.

Grim wasn’t surprised Walter was upset; but things had to be how they had to be. He wasn’t about to tell anyone exactly why, though. He had his reasons, and they were neither selfish nor perverse.

“It is part of the geis, Walter. All things have to follow the pattern destined by Fate. Is there a reason you’re concerned?”

Grim knew the reason, but he wanted to see if Walter would admit to it.

Walter’s stomach twisted with anxiety at the soft question posed by Death, and instead of answering him, he lit another cigarette with the butt of the one he’d been smoking.

That was enough answer for Death. He knew this next portion of the geis would be difficult, but he had confidence that Karena could endure it, with the help of her dear friend and Guide. He returned to the dining room, to see if he could salvage at least some of the champagne from Lothar’s thirsty grasp.

_______________________________

Manfred smiled at the expansive stalls in the barn as he and Karena entered; following her lead, he took his horse to the one across from the chestnut gelding, who was watching the entire operation with open suspicion. Removing his horse’s tack and halter, he closed the stall door and placed the items in the tack room before returning to help Karena with Santuzza’s tack.

Satisfied with the horses, Manfred motioned for Moritz to stay close, seeing Karena’s chestnut gelding pin his ears back at the giant dog.

“You really did think of everything, Karena. Oh, and there’s your red devil. Will he and Antithesis get along?” he asked, coming to her side.

Karena gently flicked Pepin’s nose and gave him a short “ssht!” to break his glare-fest with Moritz.

Pepin shook his head and turned his backside to the pair, giving a short snort of displeasure. He did not like the stupid dire wolf by the blond man’s side, nor the look of superiority his horse had given when the man had led him in.

Karena chuckled at Pepin and leaned against his stall door.

“As long as he leaves Rosie alone, yes.” she said.

 

 

Manfred strode over to Rosie’s stall, giving a short laugh as Pepin shifted his butt in his direction and snorted again. He looked at the tall chestnut mare who turned and looked at him with a calm expression, ignoring Pepin’s small snorts of displeasure.

“She’s a long drink of water. Same breed as my boy?”

Karena smiled; Walter wasn’t as interested in the horses as Manfred was, and she was pleased to now have two men in the house who shared her equestrian passions.

“Yup, and Santuzza and Pepin are at least half-related, if her papers are correct.”

Pepin turned at his name and gave Manfred a look that said, “I’m watching you, human.”

Manfred laughed quietly at the stocky chestnut, looking at his conformation with no small amount of appreciation. Here was a horse that could go miles, he thought. He jerked a thumb at Santuzza, who had stuck her head out of the stall in curiosity at the new horses.

That explains why he’s such a cracker of a horse, then. ‘Tuzza will do anything you ask of her, even before you ask it. It’s a bad habit of hers.

 

 

Karena ruffled Pepin’s mane before answering her friend as the horse nudged her, asking for a treat, ignoring the fact that he had just been angry with her a few moments ago. No treat was offered, though, and Pepin huffed and turned away from her again, taking his empty grain tub in his teeth and banging it against the wall. When THAT didn’t get a response, he blew through his nose in another snort of disgust and commenced eating his hay.

“Not a bad habit if a horse anticipates your desires; some horses are bred for it – the other half of Pepin’s bloodline is famous for their cow-sense.” Karena explained, trying not to laugh at Pepin’s antics.

Manfred’s eyes wrinkled at the corners as he too, suppressed a giggle at the chestnut gelding’s very vocal display. He glanced at his two horses, who had their backs turned to the scene, the sound of crunching hay a steady, rhythmic pulse. He sighed softly as both he and Karena stood silently for a moment, enjoying the almost meditative atmosphere.

“We should let them settle now.” he said, with a small smile.

Karena nodded her head and snapped the clip closed on Pepin’s stall; it was a horse-proofing measure she had had to implement after he had discovered, out of boredom, how to flip the catch on the door.

“Indeed. The rest are probably waiting for us. I bet you’re hungry, too.”

Manfred gave a large, toothy grin, enthusiastically ruffling Moritz’s head and ears.

“You know I am. I’ve been anticipating this banquet ever since old Grimnir told me of our arrival date.”

“Let’s hope your brother hasn’t drank all the champagne yet.” Karena snickered as the two left the barn, walking as close friends do.

 

 

Moritz gave a few high-pitched yips and danced around the pair. He knew his Master well, and his Master liked this lady – that he could tell by how his Master interacted with her. The big red horse didn’t like him, but that didn’t matter to him; the lady had told the horse to behave, and her scent smelled kind. He sniffed the air around him, the land different than anything he’d ever smelled. He barked again as they came to the back porch, the smells of the food now overpowering his brain. He hoped the lady had made food enough for him, too.

In the house, Greyson had already determined that the tall dark man was part of a group that included a d-o-g. He fairly stunk of canine idiocy, the small gray cat thought angrily. 

 

 

 

When the huge animal came bounding in the door, with his stupid face and his stupid drool, Greyson arched his back, hissed and leapt for the mantel of the fireplace, away from the rotten, dirty, no-good DOG, his glare saying it all.

Moritz heard the cat before he smelled him, and his keen eyes spied the gray flash leaping for the mantel. He whined at his Master, who gave him a sharp command in his native Silesian to leave the cat alone.

“Moritz doesn’t hate cats, does he?” Karena asked, seeing the interplay between her feline and Manfred’s overly large Danish hound.

“No, but I’ll keep an extra eye on him. He does chase rabbits, still, despite me giving him hell for it.” Manfred said, catching Karena’s worried glance.

Moritz heard the worry in the lady’s voice; this small cat was not to be chased, he ruefully thought. He did not want to upset his Master or the lady, so he turned his attention away from Greyson and trotted over to the large bowl of meat scraps, gravy and vegetables awaiting him. Oh, this lady was a NICE lady, he decided, even if she did give him peas, which he disliked. He carefully sucked all the goodness from around the icky green balls before gently depositing them on the mat next to his bowl. He hoped she wouldn’t be offended.

Karena entered the dining room, Manfred behind her; the sideboard set with the meal. Walter had removed his hat, but still was in full uniform, standing at the head of the table. She nodded to Gabe and Death, as they sat together at one side. Manfred pulled out her chair before he stood next to his brother, who was already well into his cups. Manfred frowned at his brother, who was staring at Karena unabashedly, his cheeks two high red points on his face.

 

 

“Now that we are all assembled, gentlemen, let us begin. Tonight, the 13^th day of Winterfinding, we celebrate the Honored Dead. Those who have lost their lives in battle; be it physical, mental or spiritual – against the iron and steel of war, the heat of the fire, the rage of the ocean, the agony of the wasting diseases – those who went to their Halls knowing they had given their all and did not cower in fear before their Gods when called. We honor them, and bid that they take their place at our table, to partake in the food and drink we offer. All Hail the Honored Dead! May the AllFather welcome them across the Bifrost bridge. Sit with us, Honored Ones, and be at peace until the horn is sounded and the Wild Hunt begins.”

Manfred felt a tiny prickling in his nose as Karena intoned the opening prayer; though he had heard it from her many times while in the aether, to be here, in the flesh, with her, was an emotional experience. He saw pain flicker briefly in his brother’s eyes and in the tawny gray eyes of Walter and thought that they, too, felt the same emotional swell. He thought of his friends who were not here with him, and closed his eyes briefly to stop his tears from starting.

Karena took the first dish off the sideboard and passed it around, the bread and salt that was traditionally offered at the beginning of the communal feast. The mead was passed around next, the golden honey liquor poured into small silver cups. Manfred raised his cup and looked at it carefully, nearly dropping it when he realized it was either a copy of his trophy cups he had ordered for each kill, or maybe even the originals.

His look of surprise was caught by Karena, who paused to confirm what she assumed was his question.

“Not a copy, Manfred. I found these on a Russian Auction internet site. Thirteen of them, to be precise. They are yours; ‘liberated’ from your mother’s museum when the second war ended. I think I may have outbid Lothar’s great-grandson on them; but I let him have the rest. Your first thirteen were too important to let go. Thank Walter for them; it was the publishing of his biography that gave me the capital to win the bid.” Karena said, raising her cup high and bidding the others to do so as well.

Death watched the interaction between Manfred and Karena carefully; the blond man’s rigid posture seemed less stiff around her, Death musing to himself that it was a good thing, too – Manfred would benefit greatly from an environment where he could let down some of the emotional and social barriers his upbringing had inflicted on him.

 

 

“The First Offering has been given and accepted. Now the offering of the Mead of Valhalla, the heroes’ measure. Offered in the sacred vessels of a Hero, may we partake of the liquid fire and be one with those gone before.” Karena intoned, draining her cup in a single draught.

Lothar raised his eyebrows at the phrasing and gave his brother a sideways glance. He saw Manfred was noticeably uncomfortable being called a hero, and he knew that Karena knew it as well, having discussed it with her in the past via her talking board. He shrugged, certain she had her reasons for the words, and tipped the cup to his lips, letting the fragrant liquor wash over his tongue.

Walter, too, cringed at the phrasing, but for a different reason. He wasn’t certain he liked having Manfred and Lothar here, knowing the power dynamic they brought to the house. He tried to catch the eye of either Gabriel or Death, but was unable to before Karena bid them all to sit down as she began to pass around the actual food, signaling an end to the opening rituals.

 

For at least 15 minutes, the conversation stopped beyond ‘please pass the salt’ or ‘could you pass the potatoes, please’ and the sounds of silverware on plates.

Karena watched the men steadily consume the dinner she had made; noting that there would not be much left over after they were done. She hadn’t even served the cake yet, either. She knew Walter was a hearty eater, but she had not bet on Lothar being as much, if not more. Manfred ate more of the vegetables and starches than the meat, as she had expected. She thought that she’d make him more substantial vegetable proteins and made a note to introduce him to tofu, seitan and other meat substitutes. She found it odd that a hunter like him would be nearly a vegetarian, however.

After what seemed to be a very long time, Death pushed his cleaned plate back, patting his stomach.

“An excellent meal. But I do believe there is cake, yes?” he said, a twinkle in his eye.

Manfred heard the word “cake” and stopped in his reaching for a third portion of the green bean casserole to heap onto his mostly empty plate.

“Cake? What kind?” he asked, wiping his hands on the napkin set primly on his lap.

“Death by chocolate.” Karena said, winking at Grim, who tossed his head back in laughter.

“Oh, that’s RICH, Karena. Perfect.”

“I couldn’t resist the pun, Grim. Bring your dishes to the dishwasher, gentlemen. If Gabriel will help me clear away the dinner dishes and Walter starts the coffee-maker, I’ll bring out the dessert plates and the cake.” Karena said as she stood up, taking her own plate to the kitchen.

 

 

 

 

The cake was magnificent, and thankfully, this time there were leftovers to be put into the refrigerator. Walter bid Karena to sit and enjoy her coffee as he and Gabriel cleaned up, and Death rose from the table to check on the portal. Gabriel followed him not long after; nodding to the three men remaining in the house.

Walter closed the dishwasher and took his half-full coffee cup out to the back porch with the intention of taking some time to himself to recuperate from the banquet. He let out the back strap on his dress pants and let out a small belch of satisfaction as he slouched on the bench. The sounds of the late Autumn night surrounded him, and he thought he could hear the soft murmuring of Death and Gabriel in the direction of the dimming light surrounding the portal. He closed his eyes as he brought a cigarette to his mouth and lit it, taking a long drag and letting it slowly out. 

 

 

 

The back door opened and closed, and he sensed another person next to him, standing. A rustling packet and the metallic click of a lighter, followed by a low sigh of contentment piqued his curiosity, and he opened his eyes to see Manfred leaning against the porch railing, smoking, looking out towards the barn.

 

 

 

Manfred turned his head to regard the red-headed man, studying him carefully. He readjusted his position to sit on the railing and took another drag off of his cigarette.

“So..” Manfred said softly. “You seem surprised that we were the arrivals, Herr Vogel. I saw your expression before you composed yourself.”

Walter leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. He ran a free hand through his curls and looked up at Manfred “I admit, I was surprised it was you two, but not THAT surprised.”

Manfred nodded “We were all in the briefing room.”

Walter frowned and reached for his coffee on the side table. “Yes, Herr Rittmeister, but I find that memory fading the longer I’m… alive. You and your brother may also have that problem. I have been meaning to ask Gabriel about it, but...”

Manfred looked steadily at Walter, “You thought you’d have more time before my brother showed up.”

The two men looked at each other, tension in the air. Walter looked away first, giving the power to the smaller man. “Yes.”

Manfred sighed again and tapped the long ash off of the end of his cigarette, pivoting slightly to gaze in the direction of the barn again. He wanted to check on the horses one more time before going to bed, but he felt he had to establish some boundaries first with the flatlander sitting on the bench.

“Things are different, now. I did not even expect to be back so soon. So many things have changed.” Manfred said finally, shifting his position again, his right knee giving him a small twinge as he did so. 

 

Walter nodded, looking again in the direction of the portal, not wishing to meet Manfred’s steady gaze at the moment. “We are all from a different era than hers, Herr Rittmeister. And now...”

Manfred reached in front of Walter to stub out his cigarette in the ashtray. Leaning back against the railing and facing Walter directly, he figured now was better than later.

“And now we’re back in the thick of it again. What have you found out so far about the mission?”

Walter raised his eyes and regarded the man in front of him. Manfred was about the same height as him, but where he was compact and stocky, Manfred was refined, almost delicate, at first glance. Walter knew that first impression, however, was incorrect – both Manfred and his taller brother were stronger than they looked. It stood to reason, he thought – they had had no hydraulic assistance with their aircraft control surfaces, and it was their strength versus the forces of both gravity and the wind. He noted, too, that Manfred held himself in the manner of a man used to being in command. It was damned uncomfortable to be in a position of a suboordinate to this man, Walter thought.

His face reddened as he responded “We’ve been too busy…”

Manfred exhaled sharply, irritated at Walter’s murmured response. He was right in his assumptions, he thought. The irresponsibility raised his ire, and his voice was tinged with the frost of displeasure. “Just like my brother. More interested in the pleasures of the flesh than the seriousness of war. Herr Vogel, we were given a mission, and you’re tossing it aside in favor of -” Manfred paused here, his voice dropping even more into the subarctic range – “satisfying your personal desires.”

 

 

 

Walter set his now-empty coffee cup down sharply on the table, rising to his feet and facing Manfred, the blush across his face being replaced with reddening ears. His eyes flashed golden in rising anger at being dressed down, and he jabbed a finger at Manfred to defend his next point in what he felt was becoming a highly charged situation.

“Absolutely not, Herr Rittmeister! My mission was to act as support for Karena while she worked and gained the confidence of the townspeople. I have been maintaining the household finances and running a tight ship!”

Manfred folded his arms across his chest, attempting to stem his own rising temper. His well-placed barb had hit the target, and he knew that the next words would have to be just as carefully chosen. He frowned, the expression marring his open, broad-jawed face. “...and sharing her bed, obviously. I see how you looked at her during dinner. That was not part of the original plan Balthasar gave us.”

Walter crossed his arms as well, bracing his short, thick legs apart and met Manfred’s frown with one of his own.

“She started having nightmares, as did I, once we started working together. Something came up.” he explained.

 

 

 

Manfred raised his eyebrows at the last sentence, his curiosity piqued. He remained silent, and fixed Walter with a steady gaze. Walter took it as a cue to continue. Still feeling like a schoolboy being lectured by his professor, he said softly “She and I had a past life together.”

Manfred relaxed his stance for a moment, now clearly more interested than he was angry.

“She’s not your past wife, is she?” he asked.

A crimson blush crossed Walter’s face before he dropped his head in what Manfred interpreted as shame.

“No, my mistress. My last one, Collette. She… paid the ultimate price for that.”

The answer was almost whispered, rather than spoken. Manfred felt his irritation rise again and pursed his lips in frustration at the knowledge. He paused and reached for his coffee, taking a long sip before addressing the contrite man in front of him.

“...and yet, you continued this mortal sin when you returned here, right where you left off, didn’t you?”

Walter looked up at Manfred, seeing the way he had drawn himself up like the high-class officer he was, his deep-set eyes coldly assessing him. Walter remembered the rumors that circulated after Manfred’s death, the ones he had read in primary school about his social class, and his lack of a social life with the fairer sex. He fired back an equally frosty barb.

“I forgot, you’re the virgin hero, Herr Rittmeister. Of COURSE you’d be put off by the mere thought of sex.”

 

 

 

 

Walter thought if Manfred stood any straighter at the insult, he’d fall over. That one had hit home, but Walter wasn’t prepared for the riposte.

Manfred jerked back and set down his coffee cup abruptly, the chink of ceramic against brick making Walter jump a little.

“You forget yourself, Vogel. I am not, as you say, put off by the mere thought of sex. I am, however, put off by your attitude towards the mission goal AND your flagrant adulterous behavior! Regardless of your kill count in combat, your conduct out of the cockpit would have forced me to remove you from my geschwader. Do not forget that!” Manfred hissed, his face tight with indignation, the very tips of his ears reddening.

 

 

 

The air between the men seemed to drop several degrees as their voices rose slightly in pitch.

Walter snapped back “I commanded my own geschwader, Herr Rittmeister. Do not talk to me of duty and conduct!”

Death suddenly appeared in the pool of light from the back porch, startling the men.

“Problems, gentlemen?” Death asked quietly. He had heard the two arguing and decided he’d quietly observe the pissing contest from the shadows. Gabe had seen it as well, but wisely decided to stay out of it, and had gone to check the horses.

 

 

 

 

Death continued onto the porch itself, situating himself between the two men as a buffer.

“Manfred, I understand you were Karena’s guide since birth?”

Manfred nodded curtly, trying to regain some form of control. He had been very near to striking Walter, and he knew that would not have been proper, though it might have been very satisfying.

“Yes. Balthasar assigned me back in 1975. I still do not know why, but I had my orders.”

Death was curious at the phrasing of the answer, and wanted further explanation.

“Do you not like your assignment?”

Manfred was put off momentarily by the question. He thought back to his first day on the job, returning to his place in the aether once his little auburn-haired assignment was asleep; with as many questions for Balthasar as she had for him, before he had tucked her into bed after a day of playing with her new friend whom only she could see. He didn’t understand it then, and as the assignment progressed, he still didn’t have any answers. Manfred saw both Walter and Death looking at him, and realized he’d been silent for longer than he thought he had.

“I - I - it wasn’t a hard one, that’s for sure. Though there were some times it was frustrating, not being able to dive in and help directly.” he stammered, a faint blush going across his cheeks at being caught out of sorts.

Grim nodded, understanding the frustration.

“Such is the life of a guide. I am certain now that you may, indeed, discover the reason for your assignment sooner rather than later. Now, what was this little scuffle about?”

 

 

 

That question caused both men to glare at each other again, each taking positions clearly belligerent towards the other. Walter was the first to reply, his voice tight with repressed anger.

“He’s accusing me of dereliction of duty and adultery. Apparently never attended a wedding – the vows are ‘Until Death do you part!’”

Manfred knew that was a cop-out, and he fired back, jabbing his finger past Death at Walter.

“Mother and Father are still together in the afterlife. The only reason Doris is not with my brother is that they divorced!”

Death knew this was going to be a long-debated bone of contention between the two; but he had planned more on Lothar being the problem than Manfred. This was a situation he’d have to try to smooth over.

“That is their choice, Manfred. I brought Walter here first for the very reason you two are arguing. Karena needed to work on that part of her past life in order to overcome it, get through it and be able to face this threat with the full ability she has.” Death explained.

Manfred reached for his coffee cup and frowned as he took another long sip before replying.

“I do not see how continuing the relationship after the revelation does either of them any good, and especially her – he caused her death back then because of his inability to control his passions, and a little kissy-kissy now is going to make it all better?”

 

 

 

The way Manfred said “kissy-kissy” hit hard, and Walter decided it was better that he left the porch rather than continue what he saw as an unwinnable situation. He brushed past Manfred and Death, his face like thunder.

“Hard-headed, prissy-ass, Junkers classist….”

Death heard Manfred’s sharp intake of breath through his nose. Turning to Walter, who had had his hand on the door, his broad back to them, he spoke sternly to both men.

“Stop right there, Walter. Manfred, Walter had his assignment and he has done it well so far.”

 

 

Walter grunted at the admission and turned again to face the two men, a smug smile starting to cross his face.

Manfred’s brow wrinkled again in a frown, a dull throb beginning at his temples.

“I beg to differ. If he hurts her, I swear to God…” he threatened.

 

 

 

 

Walter’s smug grin turned into a sneer as he stepped towards the pair again.

“You’ll what? Dress me down again? I technically out-rank you, Freiherr von Richthofen!”

The two men gave each other nasty stares as Death ran his hand across his face in exasperation.

“You two had better settle this, and quickly. This kind of strife will not work in this house.” he said, frowning himself.

Manfred set the coffee cup back down on the railing and tugged at the bottom of his jacket to readjust it before bringing one hand up to rub at his temple, his face paling as the pain bloomed behind his eyes. His next response was slightly strained.

“Karena has been my assignment since her birth, Vogel. That will not change, and I will continue to do my duty as her guardian and guide.”

 

 

 

 

Walter noticed Manfred’s change in posture, and the strain in his voice. He was winning after all, he thought to himself.

“And I am telling you, Herr Rittmeister, that I have a history with her, and it’s not one I am willing to close the chapter on. I need to make good on what my actions caused. I cannot just simply leave her alone again. I will not.” Walter said earnestly.

Manfred continued to rub his temple, the pain not abating.

“My brother may have something to say about that. You know how he feels about her.”

Walter snorted and waved his hand as if to dismiss the knowledge.

“He’s got a schoolboy crush, it’s nothing.”

Death sighed deeply at Walter’s cavalier dismissal of Manfred’s statement. That over-exaggerated self-confidence was going to bite Walter in the ass one day. Sooner rather than later, he thought. The three turned to enter the house, both Walter and Manfred still simmering with anger.

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