Georg: 6 years of war have deeply shaken the resolve and faith of our nation. It is clear to all that this war cannot continue any longer.
Georg: Afraid of the loss of power that peace may bring to them, leaders across Europe elected to collaborate with the evil cult, Manus Vindictae, sacrificing countless young lives in meaningless carnage.
Georg: But carnage is precisely what Manus Vindictae desires. Unseen by all, their wicked influence has long wormed its way into the leadership of every warring nation.
Georg: But worry not. Their conspiracy has been thwarted. Every treasonous general has been arrested and will soon face a fair court-martial.
Georg: The heroes who bled for the fatherland are finally returning home, where we will welcome them with smiles on our faces and gratitude in our hearts.
Georg: On the eleventh hour of the eleventh day of the eleventh month of the year 1920, this war will come to an end.
Weeks have passed since the assassination, and the desolate streets of Montpaix have sprung to life again.
Delegates from the belligerent nations gather on opposite sides of the road. Soft bowler hats and ties decorate the event, mixed with occasional peaked caps and military epaulettes, though now precious few.
Creius: ...
More dignitaries demand tighter security.
Each nation came with their own detail, but the operations commander insists on further reinforcements from the Foundation.
Foundation Security Staff I: Third routine patrol complete. No anomalies detected, sir.
Foundation Security Staff II: No further warnings from the arcanum detection group. Should we lower the alert level?
Creius: Maintain the current level. I need at least two squads on standby at the command post at all times.
Foundation Security Staff: Yes, sir.
Clad in white, Foundation security diligently carry out their orders.
On the busy town road, the commander suddenly stops. Eyes shut, he focuses, trying to sift through the din of stuffy conversation.
Creius: ...
He activates his communicator. The line sparks to life instantly.
Creius: Any response from Charles and Amanda?
???: Negative. They've been silent since they reached Hill 299. It's like we're calling into the abyss.
???: Chances are, they got snuffed out by the Manus. Luck can't be on everyone's side.
Creius: Even so, we need to recover the bodies.
???: What, so they can be buried with shiny medals? Tch.
The voice on the other end bites back with a sneer.
???: A couple minutes walk on the battlefield, and I'll find you a whole pile of that scrap metal.
Creius: Any other signs of enemy activity?
???: Nope, not a single trace of the Manus scum. Maybe all this military and political turmoil messed up their plans after all.
Creius: Let's hope so.
Creius: Whatever the case, we need to get to the bottom of what happened at Hill 299. We can't afford to let any potential threats slip past us.
???: Already on my way there.
???: How about seeing a psychologist when all this is all over, Creius? Maybe they'll finally cure your Manus Vindictae paranoia.
Creius: Keep your eyes and ears open.
He ends the call.
In an unnoticed corner of the street, a grim figure walks alone.
Charon: ...
Charon's work in Montpaix is over, and even now, on the eve of a ceasefire, there are many corpses on the front line waiting for him.
His disjointed thoughts dwell on the horse that once accompanied him.
Charon: Will Andreas ever return?
But loss has ever been his first companion. Resigned, he shuffles down the road away from Montpaix.
Merel: Hey, sir! Mr. Charon!
Charon: ...?
Merel runs up to him, arriving out of breath.
Merel: pant You leaving already? Marsha told me you're heading back to the front.
Charon: She speaks the truth. And you are ...?
Merel: Oh right, you don't know me. But Marsha told me loads about you. You know Marsha, don't you?
Charon struggles to remember, piecing together Marsha's appearance from his shattered memories.
Charon: Yes. The knight. I ... remember.
Merel: Great. I'm heading to the front as well. Do you want to, or, er, I mean, could you please join our convoy?
Charon: You wish for me to join you?
Merel: You know the front better than anyone.
Merel digs into her pocket, fishing out half a bar of chocolate that has been carefully resealed and wrapped, and slips it into Charon's hand.
Merel: Please, Mr. Charon. Come with us. We could really use your help.
The front is still as death.
Erich: ...
Rudolph: This quiet feels strange.
Erich: Shut up, Rudolph! Why, damn it.
Soldiers in the trenches gaze up at the empty sky.
The ceasefire has not yet been signed, but all military activity on the front line has been suspended. Yet the soldiers still man their trenches, hoping desperately to go home.
Erich: Ugh, why did Willi and Franz have to ...
Erich rubs his face, his calloused fingers twisting his features with stress.
6 hours have now passed since the last time a shell exploded or a machine gun rattled.
Yet the quiet has a strangeness of its own. The faint cold wind shivers the lines of barbed wire with audible tensile contractions.
Rudolph: So, who won in the end?
Erich: Does it matter?
Rudolph's head sways between a nod and a shake.
Rudolph: Then, uh, sh-should we start packing up?
Erich: Sure. You can finally take all those notebooks of yours back home. Weren't you planning to turn them into a book?
Rudolph: Yeah, but I don't know. Maybe once I stop being a soldier, my motivation to write will stop too. What about you, Erich? What will you do?
Erich: Make bread, I think. My family runs a bakery. I can already see it: my old man cracking open his finest bottle of Pinot Noir when I arrive.
An idea crosses Erich's mind.
Erich: Speaking of which, I bet we can go and ask the boys on the other side for some food and drinks. They've got wine and soft white bread. At least, that's what POW said.
Rudolph: I wouldn't mind some canned peaches.
Erich: Fine, I'll get you your peaches. Hmph. I guess I really am your captain, huh?
He scrounges around for a bit of scrap cloth, then ties it to his rifle, intending it to be a peace flag.
Charon: Erich, do not hurry to leave the trenches. Have patience.
Charon slinks back into the trench without a word.
Erich drops his rifle for now and steps toward Charon.
Erich: Oh, Charon, you're back. Any news?
Charon: The delegations from various nations have arrived in Montpaix. The armistice will be signed in 48 hours. It is best to avoid any unnecessary danger until then.
Rudolph: But I'm starving, Charon. You didn't bring any food, did you?
Merel: I did!
The new voice catches Erich off guard.
Erich: Who are you?
Charon: The Foundation has issued food and drinks to be brought to the soldiers on the front. She is responsible for distributing them.
Merel: Yeah, more or less what he said.
Merel: Right, I need a hand unloading these crates of beer. Any volunteers?
Soldier: There's beer?!
The troops all rise at once, climbing over themselves to get out from the dugouts below.
In an instant, the trench is packed wall to wall.
Merel: Hey, easy there! There's plenty to go around.
Erich: Boys, boys! You're humiliating yourselves! Get in line, and I'll choose a few of you to help out.
Erich calls out a few names, then turns to Charon.
Erich: Where's Major Braun?
Charon: He is needed in Montpaix.
Erich: Ah, that's a shame.
Erich: Yeah, he's got a slap-worthy face, but, ugh, who cares? The war's over. Forget it.
Erich: You, you, and you, come here and unload the crates for the nice Foundation girl.
The food is passed from hand to hand until it reaches every soldier.
Rot and despair still hang over the trenches, but they do nothing to dampen their appetites.
Rudolph: ...
Rudolph cups a butter cake in his hands, desperately afraid of crumbling it. He hasn't seen such soft and bright food in a long time.
Then all at once, he stuffs it into his mouth.
Erich hurries to his side, shoving a mug of golden lager into his hands.
Erich: Come on, cheers.
Rudolph: Fine.
Merel: Count me in! Cheers!
Soldiers: Cheers!
The metal cups tap rhythmically, shaping into a joyful and bright tune.
From far across the field, their clinking percussion is met with raucous singing voices.
Erich: What's that? Do you boys hear singing?
Rudolph: I hear it, too, from the other side. Why are they singing?
Merel: Oh right, these are humanitarian rations. They've been given to the other side too.
Merel: They're probably celebrating.
Erich jumps over the top, waving his whitish flag toward the other side.
Erich: Hell yeah! Come on, boys, let's make some noise ourselves!
Erich: Cheers to you bastards over there! You understand what I'm saying? Cheers!
Soldiers on the Other Side: Cheers!
Soldiers: To peace!
Soldiers: To life!
The ceasefire celebration stretches late into the night.
Charon watches the festivities crouched in a dim corner of the trench.
Merel: Hey, what are you doing holed up here alone?
Despite his best efforts, he is noticed.
Charon lifts his head.
Charon: The presence of the dead is not fitting among such joy.
Merel: What are you talking about? You fit in perfectly.
She waves a can of sausages and a paper-wrapped candy.
Merel: I mean, I know you don't exactly eat much, but you can still enjoy the taste of the stuff, right?
Merel: I even know a guy with a fish tank for a head who eats every once in a while.
Merel: That said, I've never actually seen him do it. Hmm, does he just pour the coffee straight into his fish tank, or what?
Charon: The offer is heard but refused. Such things have better use to you.
Merel: Seriously? Aren't you ever hungry?
Charon: There is always hunger within me.
Charon: But food should be saved for the living. Eat well while you can. Stay alive.
Merel: Well, you're not wrong, but I wouldn't exactly put it like that.
Merel: Come on, take it. Hound's always poking fun at me for eating too much anyway.
Charon: "Hound"?
Merel: Oh, never mind. Just take it, alright? It's not like it's easy to get a decent meal out here on the front.
No longer insisting on soliciting Charon's opinion, Merel slips the cans into his coat pocket while touching the cold plastic wrapping of the chocolates.
Merel: Oh! At least try the chocolate in your pocket! It'll melt if you leave it in there much longer anyway.
Charon doesn't resist. He nods and slowly rises to his feet.
Charon: It is time I left.
Merel: Alright, I still have some finishing up to do here.
Merel: Won't be long. Just have to make sure everyone's got their supplies. Where are you heading anyway? If you wait a moment, I can come with you.
Charon: No. This must be done alone.
Charon: There is a message, one that must be sent off.
