Bruno sat in his study long after dusk had settled over Tyrol, the lamps casting warm pools of light across towering shelves. The day's turmoil had finally faded into a tense, uneasy quiet.
He had sent Erika home under escort. The girl's composure, fragile as frost on glass, had been gently steadied by young Erich's patient kindness throughout the afternoon.
A kindness Bruno had carefully observed from the shadows of doorways and balconies, saying nothing. Watching.
Now, the old Lion of Tyrol sat alone; save for his grandson standing near the fireplace within his office, hands folded behind his back in that precisely measured posture of an officer who had never actually seen war.
Erich's expression was neutral, but the faint tension in his shoulders betrayed the thoughts churning beneath the uniform.
Bruno broke the silence with a low, tired question.
"Tell me plainly, Erich. What do you think of her?"
