Soldiers lay a corpse on a dry wooden plank, making an effort to place their fallen comrade in something resembling a peaceful pose.
The plank, formed from dismantled ammo crates, has been formed into a makeshift sledge complete with a small set of wheels.
Charon: ...
The handler stands resolutely by the body at the edge of the trench, his tattered cloak making him look the part of a grim reaper.
He kneels, prying off the soldier's dog tag, and pockets the bottom half.
Franz Schreyer.
Wilhelm: This is all we could find. Can you take care of him, Charon?
Charon: Naturally. He will be given a proper burial.
Rudolph: I thought they said this war would end before the winter came.
A now familiar gloom seeps out from behind Rudolph's thick glasses, like tears.
Franz lies still, indifferent to the scene.
Erich: Heh ...
Another soldier shoves his way through their small crowd, puffing with frustration, places another leg on the board, completing the set.
Then without a word, he removes the boot from the corpse's other leg—matching it with another.
Erich: Now he'll be ready for the march home.
Wilhelm: You sure that was Franz's leg?
The kind-hearted Captain Wilhelm looks at his soldier in horror.
Erich: Better be. I risked my life up there grabbing it. He promised I could have his boots if he got scraped off.
Wilhelm: My God. I remember when he said that.
He starts to say something but swallows it back.
The soldiers huddle together in the narrow bend of the trench.
Charon: But ...
Charon's words come out in a slow drip, seemingly unaware of the conversation around him.
Charon: Andreas went missing in the last attack. The body will be impossible to move off the frontlines without him.
Erich: Eh, your pony? Good bet it's worm food.
Wilhelm: Shut up, Erich!
Charon: Please, don't worry. There will be somewhere quiet nearby, but it may take a while to find it.
Wilhelm: Take your time, Charon. The weather's cool these days.
Wilhelm attempts a pat on Charon's shoulder.
Not far away, Major Eberhard Braun, the company commander, sits on an empty water drum. His eyes fixed coldly on the trench wall ahead.
He drops a cigarette butt and stands.
Major Braun: Charon, come here.
Charon: Yes, sir.
He responds to his superior.
Major Braun: You remember Montpaix? The town near our rear?
Charon: Certainly. We fought there in the warmth of summer. Our Lieutenant Colonel died in that battle.
Charon: You were in charge of a company, until you were injured and sent to recover. There were many graves to be dug, but the days were warm and dry.
Major Braun: It was a hard fight to drive our enemy from that town, a damn good one. Even if our lines have only moved a short distance past it since.
Charon: But why this talk of Montpaix all of a sudden?
Major Braun: Army Command has decided to attend a parley held by the Foundation in Montpaix. Colonel Hirschfelder will be present on behalf of our nation.
Major Braun: We've handed it over to the Foundation. Pfft, they're calling it a "safe zone."
Charon: Many hope that peace will come before the winter.
The major's response is blunt.
Major Braun: The only end to this war I can accept is victory—total victory over our enemies.
Major Braun: They say we've broken through on the eastern front; we only need to push our advantage, and they'll collapse. Once we've freed up all that manpower and material, we'll be able to crush our enemies here too.
Charon: We may run ourselves dry of ammo and blood before then, sir. No cries of victory are loud enough to wake the dead.
Major Braun: Winning here is a part of something far bigger than you could understand.
Charon: Is it? When you returned to the front after your injury, you came with eyes red as a furnace. You wore an old face, a mask of war.
Charon: You haven't worn that mask in many years, since before our first taste of battle and blood.
Charon: A whole class volunteered. Nothing more than schoolboys, we marched obliviously into the killing field. You should rest.
The major's already-thin lips press together into a sharp, blade-like line.
Major Braun: Enough with the poems, soldier. I called you with an order. You must go to Montpaix.
Major Braun: Mr. Mühlenberge sent us a package, and I need someone to fetch it for me.
Major Braun: I know you'll do your duty for the fatherland, my friend. Take as many bodies with you as you can; we can't leave them rotting in the trenches.
Major Braun: Dismissed.
The major gets up and moves down the trench.
"Montpaix looks like it had been a nice little town before the war. Now, its old streets and laneways are pocked with craters and crumbling buildings—cruel reminders of the brutal battles that raged through it."
"Silent screams still echo to me from its laneways, a reminder that a man who has seen war will only find peace when he is dead and buried."
Charon: ...
The town has seen the worst of the war, but with the sudden influx of traffic and activity, it seems to breathe new life.
The streets, barely cleared, are swarming with uniforms, some military, and others checkered gray-and-white.
???: Are you looking for help, sir?
Charon: ...?
His head creaks in the direction of the voice, finding a young woman, likely a medic.
Her golden badge marks her as the Foundation's employee, but even more striking is the armor layered over her coat.
Marsha: Hold on, soldier. I'm Nurse Marsha. Please show your face so I can verify your identity.
Charon: Good day, sister. What lies beneath this mask will not give you the answer you seek. Here, let this serve for identification.
He rummages out a notebook from his coat, retrieving a folded ID card from within.
Charon: Major Eberhard Braun is waiting on a package from Montpaix. He sends his NCO to collect it. He did not say from whom.
She receives it, studying the card.
Marsha: I see. Your name is Paul ...
Charon: Charon. That is the name the soldiers use, and the one you should use as well. The name you see there doesn't belong to this war any longer.
Marsha: I've heard your name before.
She returns the document, then scans around as she wrings her hands.
Marsha: You'll find plenty of packages here. Go ahead and look for whichever one belongs to your Major Braun, but there'll be more paperwork to sign before you can leave with it.
Marsha: If you're willing to wait, things will get moving again once the parley has finished.
Charon: Time is a resource the dead have in abundance.
He looks back at her, his body seeming almost rooted to the spot.
Marsha: Are you certain you're alright, soldier?
Charon: The war has taken its toll, but there is nothing you can do to fix these old wounds.
Charon: You said that you are a medic, Sister Marsha. Is that why you ask?
Marsha: Yes, of course. Ordinarily I would be at the clinic, but I was asked to lend a hand here.
Charon: Where are the dead from your clinic laid to rest?
She reflects on his words.
Marsha: We don't have any yet, by the grace of God. Though, I don't expect that to remain the case.
Marsha: There is a bare slope just outside of town; I noticed it when we first arrived here. It could serve that purpose were someone to die ...
Charon: That is good to hear.
Marsha: That someone might die?
The delayed reply leads to misunderstanding.
Charon: Ah, no. The slope.
Charon: A quiet place is needed. Many of us from the frontlines could find rest there.
Marsha: You mean your brothers in arms?
Charon: All who need burial are my brothers in arms. Though they may have once fought on different sides.
Charon: Should there be any in your clinic that need it, they will find rest there too. In a coffin under a marker to remember their place, as is fitting. If you will allow it.
Marsha: So be it. You're offering them more decency than most others would. I'll show you the spot.
The outskirts of Montpaix.
Dense woods conceal most obvious traces, yet small sounds are amplified.
Soldier?: Who's there?
???: You've run late.
Soldier?: I barely made it. This whole area is under heavy guard.
The soldier squints, eyes narrowing at the gray-blue uniformed figure ahead.
Soldier?: Where's Hector? He never mentioned you. Give me the countersign.
He raises his weapon, framing the stranger in his sights.
Soldier?: You hear me? Who the hell are you?
Yet his target is unfazed.
???: Two paths lie ahead for you.
Soldier?: W-What are you talking about?
???: In one, you lead me to your commander. In the other ...
She lowers her rifle and bows her head in a motion almost like prayer. It stuns the soldier for a moment.
???: You are led into perdition.
COMBAT
The final gunshot rings through the thick forest, then fades away.
She crouches, retrieving a pouch from the fallen enemy.
In the mess of documents and maps, she finds the note she needs.
???: Foundation, parley, Hirschfelder ...
After reading it, she looks northeast. Beyond the treeline lie the ruins of Montpaix.
???: Today.