Bist Morgen

Chapter One

Chapter One

A man marched down the hall; a picturesque vision of what one could expect from a trained German soldier: a trained, straight back, a stony face that gave away no emotion that could be used against him, a walk that had purpose and power, making everyone else in the hall shy away from the echoing steps. This man was called Ludwig Beilschmidt.

Ludwig was part of the German army during World War II, a powerhouse in itself, and he was considered an icon and a leader to many of his men; every man in the army looked up to his stoic features and wished themselves to be him. Ludwig was dutiful, strong, and very, very good at what he did. He gathered information, and he did it extremely well. Everyone knew of his tactics, and feared them, yet at the same time held them in the highest respect. They knew that no one could last more than an hour with the younger Beilschmidt, and were terrified to be put in that position. Ludwig knew that better than anyone.

Ludwig marched down a white, clean hall, completely silent except for the cold echo of his footsteps snapping against the floor. The head of his division had called for him personally, and he couldn't help but wonder as to what the hell he wanted. Yes, he had been given countless missions before, but the season was turning to winter, and he was needed in the camps. Coughs and groans sounded behind closed doors and Ludwig unconsciously picked up his pace, not wanting his thoughts to wander to those prisoners, many of which he had hunted down and extracted information from himself. Ludwig paused. A change of scenery could be good for him.

Knocks hit the head's door, a muffled 'ja' sounding through the wood to allow passage to the knocker. Ludwig carefully entered the office and saluted, the head relaying the same motion towards him. "Was ist, Kommandant?" He asked, his eyes drifting around the room.

The Commander looked at him stonily, aware of his wariness of being in his office. "Sie Arbeit in Italien haben." Ludwig shifted his gaze back to the Commander and nodded, internally sighing with relief. Italy: it wasn't terribly far, and it was a nice change of pace from the repetitive day-to-day life here at camp. He snapped a salute, getting a half-hearted one in return as the Commander gestured to the door with his eyes. Ludwig nodded and did an about-face, moving to exit the room when the Commander stopped him with his voice again. "Beilschmidt, halten Sie Ihren Verstand über Sie." Ludwig paused at that statement, but continued out the door to mull in his confusion. He knew that he would get more information during the trip that was set up for him already. He's been doing this for a long time.

"WEST!" A shrill voice hollered down the corridor, making him jump and turn around, preparing to fight whatever threat was posing itself. A mass hit him full-on, and his instincts immediately kicked in. Quickly, Ludwig grabbed one of the opposing arms and twisted it before kicking the person's legs out from under them, quickly following their path to the ground and digging his knee in their back, pinning them effectively.

"Wer sind Sie?" He growled, digging his fingers into the person's hair. He tightened his grip and prepared himself to pull when he realized something was off about their hair. Their soft, familiar, silver...oh shit.

Ludwig rolled off of his brother, pushing himself to a standing position and brushing off some nonexistent dust that had landed on him in their tussle. His brother's signature laugh taunted him from the floor.

"Still got it in you, eh Lud?" The albino chuckled, getting to his feet as well, holding a hand to his shoulder as he rolled it, trying to get feeling back into the limb. Ludwig scrunched his face in confusion for a second as he processed what exactly his brother just said.

"Why...are you speaking English, Gilbert?" He asked, playing along with his obnoxious older brother. He knew that his brother would pester him throughout the entire day if this conversation lasted any longer, but he was genuinely curious as to what provoked him to speak in what he considered an 'enemy language'.