Forged in ash

Prologue

Forged in Ash:
For life or for death
'Aus Asche geschmiedet: A Auf Leben oder Tod Buch 1'

'Im Kriege zu sterben ist ein Held, aber nicht für den Führer zu sterben, ist eine Sünde für die Menschheit'

–Author
(translation: to die in war is a hero but to die for not the fuhrer is a sin to mankind)

The day grew darker and Vivian (Our main woman) was still at work. Why? She has to she's a cable officer who sends messages from one end to another while listening into conversations to see if there are any british or soviet spies its a normal day at work for vivian now here we g- oh for fuck sake i want to introdues the first chapter but no there is of course a huge pain in the cables arse i do mean backside but must you blame me?

He is in the eyes of many German and French women the ideal man to marry. Yes he may not work first hand to the nazi regime nor know if he supports it for his life he should.
The hum of the telegraph machine was the only sound in the room, its steady rhythm filling the stillness like a heartbeat. Vivian sat at her desk, her fingers deftly moving across the keys as she decoded another message. The dim light from the lamp overhead cast long shadows across the cluttered workspace, and outside, the winter wind howled against the rattling windows. It was late—too late for anyone to still be here. But Vivian often lost herself in the work, even when the rest of the office had long since gone home.
She pushed a loose strand of dark hair out of her face, her eyes scanning the paper in front of her. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she knew she should leave, knew she'd promised herself not to let this job consume her. But promises felt distant when there were deadlines and messages to send.
The sharp click of a door opening jolted her out of her thoughts. Vivian looked up just as Harrison stepped into the room, his broad shoulders framed by the doorway. He wasn't supposed to be here either, not this late, but then again, Harrison had a habit of showing up when you least expected it.
"Burning the midnight oil again, Vivian?" he asked, his voice smooth, with the faintest hint of amusement.
She shrugged, the corner of her mouth lifting in a half-smile. "Someone has to keep this place running."
Harrison chuckled, but his attention wavered, his eyes darting toward the hallway. Vivian followed his gaze and saw her—Emily, the receptionist. The girl couldn't have been more than nineteen, with soft curls framing a face that seemed too delicate for the rough edges of war. She lingered just outside the office, her eyes fixed on Harrison like he was something out of a daydream.
Vivian suppressed a sigh and turned back to her work. Emily's infatuation with Harrison was no secret, nor was it unusual. Harrison had the kind of charm that drew people to him—effortless, magnetic, and, in Vivian's opinion, entirely dangerous.
"Need something, Emily?" Harrisoncalled his tone light.
The girl flushed a deep red and stammered something unintelligible before disappearing back down the hall. James watched her go, shaking his head with a smirk.
"Poor girl," he said, stepping closer to Vivian's desk. "I think I scare her."
Vivian snorted. "Scare her? She looks at you like you hung the stars."
James leaned against the edge of her desk, his eyes meeting hers. "And you? How do you look at me, Vivian?"
Her fingers froze over the keys, her heartbeat quickening. For a moment, she considered answering him, considered breaking through the carefully maintained distance she kept between them. But instead, she gave him the same answer she always did—none. She turned back to her work, pretending the question hadn't been asked.
Harrison sighed and straightened up, the moment slipping away like sand through her fingers. "Don't stay too late," he said over his shoulder as he walked toward the door.
When he was gone, the silence returned, heavy and unrelenting. Vivian stared at the empty doorway for a long moment, her chest tightening with something she didn't dare name. Then, with a shake of her head, she turned back to the machine, letting its rhythmic clatter drown out everything else.
Harrison paused at the doorway, catching Vivian's unimpressed expression out of the corner of his eye. He turned back, leaning casually against the doorframe, the smirk still playing on his lips.
"She's too young for you, Harrison," Vivian said, her tone sharp but not sarcastic. She turned back to her typewriter, the keys clicking with practiced precision. "I'd watch it if I were you."
Harrison sighed, shoving his hands into his pockets. "Relax, Vivian. She's just a delusional girl who's lost in her own daydreams half the time. Nothing to worry about."
Vivian raised an eyebrow, glancing up from her work. "Delusional or not, she's young. Too young for someone like you to even entertain her ideas."
"Entertain?" Harrison laughed softly, shaking his head. "I've done no such thing."
Vivian tilted her head, unconvinced. "She's not staring at you like that because you're ignoring her, harrison."
The corners of his mouth tightened, his smirk fading just a little. He crossed the room and leaned against her desk again, a faint shadow of defensiveness flickering across his face. "You think I don't notice how she looks at me? Of course I do. But I'm not encouraging her. Hell, I've told her outright to stop waiting around for me."
"Doesn't seem to be working." Vivian's tone was dry, though there was a hint of humor in her eyes.
Harrison chuckled, though it lacked his usual charm. "What do you want me to do, Vivian? File a formal complaint? Tell her to stay twenty feet away from me at all times?" Vivian leaned back in her chair, folding her arms as she studied him. "I just
''I don't want you to make a mess you'll regret later. You know how these things can spiral."
Harrison looked at her, his expression unreadable for a moment. Then, with a shake of his head, he straightened up. "You always think the worst of me, don't you?"
"No," Vivian replied, her voice softer now. "I just know you."
For a moment, the air between them felt heavier, like an unspoken truth lingered in the space neither dared to touch. Harrison's gaze lingered on her a beat too long before he turned away, running a hand through his hair.
"Noted," he said finally, his tone lighter, almost dismissive. "Anyway, don't let me keep you from your work. I'll see you tomorrow."
Vivian watched him go, the faint echo of his footsteps disappearing down the hall. She returned to her typing, but her fingers hesitated over the keys.
Harrison was a puzzle—one she'd known for years but had never fully solved. There was something about him that drew people in, something magnetic and infuriating all at once. She knew better than to let it get under her skin. And yet...
The wind outside picked up, rattling the windows again. Vivian sighed, shaking her head as she focused on the telegram in front of her. Work always came first.
But somewhere in the back of her mind, she couldn't shake the thought that Harrison had walked out of the office carrying more than his usual air of careless confidence.