8:05
St. Petersburg
Street - Night
St. Petersburg's noise rivals Berlin, but the winds here are far sharper.
This is where the New World clashes with the Old Order, with no middle ground.
Though the city bustles with activity, none of it is what Mueller had expected.
Necrologist: "We've arrived. This is St. Petersburg."
Following the flow of the crowd, Necrologist eventually finds herself near a factory.
Though it seems there isn't any work going on, instead crowds of people stand together engaged in a heated discussion.
At the arrival of Necrologist, their faces change. Some look at her with fear and others anger.
Passerby: "What are you doing here, young lady?"
Necrologist: "I didn't mean to disturb you." She holds up the tombstone box in her hand and offers a brief explanation.
Passerby: "Ah, I see. You are here for the dead ..."
Passerby: "Unfortunately, this is no time to be visiting Petrograd."
Passerby: "Our strike is about to begin. For your safety, I suggest you leave quickly ... or join us."
Necrologist: "A strike ... then the war is over?"
Passerby: "Not yet, but it's only a matter of time. If the Germans signed the Agreement, we should have ended this damned war! We're all waiting ... and that moment will be worth the finest bottle of vodka."
Passerby: "But right now, none of that matters more than the march. A new age is coming ..." His eyes gleam with longing.
Thanks to your decision, you've grown more determined.
Though it seems there isn't any work going on, instead crowds of people stand together engaged in a heated discussion.
At the arrival of Necrologist, their faces change. Some look at her with fear and others anger.
Passerby: "What are you doing here, young lady?"
Necrologist: "I didn't mean to disturb you." She holds up the tombstone box in her hand and offers a brief explanation.
Passerby: "Ah, I see. You are here for the dead ..."
Passerby: "Unfortunately, this is no time to be visiting Petrograd."
Passerby: "Our strike is about to begin. For your safety, I suggest you leave quickly ... or join us."
Necrologist: "A strike ... then the war is over?"
Passerby: "Not yet, but it's only a matter of time. If the Germans signed the Agreement, we should have ended this damned war! We're all waiting ... and that moment will be worth the finest bottle of vodka."
Passerby: "But right now, none of that matters more than the march. A new age is coming ..." His eyes gleam with longing.
Thanks to your decision, you've grown more determined.
The stone smashes itself against the glass until the pane shatters.
Necrologist: "Mr. Mueller, you ..."
Mueller: "Did we lose?!" he cries in disbelief. "How could we lose?! How could we possibly lose ..."
Mueller: "This was our war ..."
Mueller: "My comrades, their sacrifice, their blood—did it mean nothing?"
Mueller: "Why doesn't it all lead to victory?"
Necrologist: "Mr. Mueller, the war is ending. That is a good thing."
The tombstone slumps against the edge of the box, his cracks spreading wider, moss creeping deep inside.
He calls out to Smith, but his voice is like a spent shell, hollow and powerless.
Mueller: "No! Never!"
Mueller: "We lost, and you are the victor. Now you can mock me all you want! For yourself, for your country!"
Smith: "I ... I'm no victor ..." The other tombstone trembles in reply.
Now Necrologist understands ... why this soldier with such unshakable will could never find rest.
Perhaps the tragedy was decided from the very start of the war.
Necrologist: "... This was never your war."
Necrologist: "You're no longer a soldier, Mr. Mueller. Your duty is already done."