"Since the first grenade exploded in our trench, we've been dreaming of the moment when the guns fall silent and our commander calls out 'The war is over.'"
"The marshals will attend the victory banquet in His Majesty's palace, the officers will pin shiny medals on their chests, and we will get to go home."
Major Braun: Out of my way, soldiers! I said make way!
His call to arms is passed through the winding trenches, passing over veterans slumped against the walls with indifference.
Erich: What's wrong?
Major Braun, the battalion commander, storms around a corner, followed by a long line of recruits with heads bowed.
Major Braun: Wilhelm, 2nd Company.
Wilhelm: Yes, Major.
Wilhelm straightens up, meeting the eyes of his commander.
Major Braun points to the line of recruits behind him, their faces blank and strangely foreign.
Major Braun: You'll be in charge of these runts from now on, and I'll need you to choose the pick of this litter to join the stormtroopers.
Wilhelm: Yes, Major.
The major claps Wilhelm on his shoulder and boldly steps up to a firing position.
He clears his throat.
Major Braun: Soldiers, I have some bad news.
Major Braun: Half an hour ago in Montpaix, at the site of this so-called parley, our representative, Colonel Hirschfelder, was assassinated by a French sniper.
Rudolph: Wh-What?
Helmets swivel, voices turn from sharp whispers to despair.
Erich: Nonsense! What the devil is he talking about?! How could a sniper have made it so far behind our lines!
Wilhelm: Shh!
The major stands above the murmurs.
Major Braun: Soldiers! We can't let our enemies sow fear within our ranks!
Major Braun: Let their desperate attack bring us together and give us the strength to destroy them once and for all! They will pay in blood for what they've done!
The mingling of voices churns into an ominous hum within the trench.
Erich: What the hell! I thought this was finally going to end.
Rudolph: I can't. I can't even force myself to care.
Major Braun: With hate and rage, they scheme to destroy our fatherland! But we march against them with the strength and cunning of wolves! Will you stand with me, soldiers? Will you stand for the Kaiser and for victory?!
Soldiers: Yes, Major!
Major Braun: Very good!
Major Braun: You've shown me your steel, soldiers! You are the pride of the fatherland!
Major Braun: Victory lies ahead, ready for the taking! Now, take up your rifle and get back to your positions!
With his impromptu speech over, he drops down from the firing platform and leads a further cadre down the line.
Second Company's new recruits tote bags so heavy they look liable to sink into the mud.
The company's vets close in to offer relief.
Erich: Hey, boy, what's that you're holding? You got a fresh tin? Verbena? Sausages?
Their questions slide off the recruits, slipping down through the cracks of the boards at their feet.
Some glance up from under oversized helmets, wide eyes locking with the tattered vets.
Erich: God! Did you see the way they looked at us? It was like there was nothing behind their eyes.
Rudolph: Erich, did you notice ... I don't think they understood a word you said.
Erich: Shameful.
Erich throws a hand in the air, shaking his head as he walks off.
But Wilhelm musters up his sense of obligation as company commander, patting a recruit's helmet enthusiastically.
Wilhelm: Come on, boys, follow me. I'll show you to your dugout.
Wilhelm: Mind the gaps on the duckboards.
Rudolph: Wil—er, Mr. Hauptmann, perhaps first we should drill them on keeping their heads down and avoiding artillery. Remember how many comrades we lost in our first days?
Wilhelm: Not now. First we need to ...
Rudolph: ...!
Wilhelm: Take cover!
Wilhelm: Get in there! Move!
COMBAT
Another body slumps to the ground. A shovel bites into the earth beside it.
The sound of artillery rumbles through the woods like a distant storm.
Charon: It seems peace lies beyond our grasp.
He crouches and brushes aside some caked mud from a half-rotten arm.
He doesn't notice, or pays no heed to, the soft scrape of metal ascending up the hill.
Marsha: Charon?
His hands go still. Then he rises.
Charon: ...
He lingers wordlessly on the face that greets him.
Marsha: You don't remember who I am?
Charon: Your presence is familiar, but faces and names come slowly. There are so many memories here. It can be difficult to tell what is ... from what was.
Marsha: I'll wait a little longer next time.
Marsha turns her eyes to a stone monument placed at the base of the hill.
A slanted slab, laid flat on the ground, etched with elegant carvings.
Marsha: The Patriots? Did you make this cenotaph?
Charon: A stranger brought it here. A gift for the dead.
Marsha: I see ...
Marsha: I found your major's package. Here.
She hands the figure a thin envelope—along with it, a handwritten note.
Marsha: A message came for you, I think. From the front. It seems your major needs you to report back immediately.
Charon unfolds the note.
Charon: Yes. Soldiers must go where they are ordered.
Marsha: Another thing. They're sending a new head of security to oversee the safe zone.
Marsha: His name is Creius, a tall man with red hair. He'll be responsible for investigating the assassination. You can contact him if you need anything.
Marsha: The Foundation has already tightened security on every road to the town. I don't think you'll run into ...
???: ...
She appears once again on a weed-choked dirt path.
Marsha: ... any danger on your way back.
Raincloak, rifle, that distinctive headpiece—Marsha could never mistake her.
Marsha: You're ...
Marsha steps forward, only to be blocked by the gravekeeper.
Charon: The dead rest here. They have seen enough violence.
Marsha: You don't know what she did. She ...
A burst of breathy air rushes out behind clenched teeth. Though she tries to restrain herself, her hand climbs up to the sidearm at her waist.
Marsha: Do you know her?
Charon: She brought the cenotaph to honor the dead.
???: ...
The stranger walks to the monument, standing perfectly still before it and paying no heed to either of them.
She pulls a single white wild chrysanthemum from her cloak.
Her stone-like skin stands out against the soft petals.
Marsha: Her skin ... It looks as if it were made of stone. And that headwear, I feel I've seen it elsewhere.
Marsha: Could you possibly be ...
Then a soft rumble, grumbling chanting. Even without hearing the words, she understands what it is: prayer.
???: The broken shell is abandoned, granting an end to endless penance.
???: May thy souls travel through the arches from darkness to peace.
???: May thy path be unfettered by eyes of red as you reach for paradise.
The white flower is left at the foot of the stone.
???: ...
She pauses in thought, then traces a strange shape in the air.
The ritual is over. The mourner turns and meets Marsha's guarded eyes.
???: We meet again, young knight.