The Emperor´s Soldier E-Book

Sebastian Danner

• Herausgeber: novum publishing
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 176

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2025

Beschreibung

After many long years of civil war, Theobald tries to leave the horrors of war behind him and return to his old life. But the new beginning in his home village is not easy; the inhabitants are divided and Theobald finds himself on the wrong side. To make matters worse, Theobald is soon called into service again. On behalf of the new government, he is to continue his previous mission and find the keystones to restore stability in the country. Under the supervision of the master spy Hieronymus Fuchs, Theobald, together with the monk Elias, the female knight and assassin Lilly, the Norseman Alva and the statesman Richard, travels through the Central Empire on the hunt for the Advisor Stone.

Leseprobe

Prologue

When Theobald woke up, it was pitch black in his room. He sat on the edge of his bed and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. It took a while before he was fully awake. He stretched and walked over to a chair where his work clothes lay, which he put on immediately. He carefully opened the wooden door to his room to prevent it from squeaking too loudly. Step by step, he crept along the floorboards past his grandparents' room. He certainly didn't want to wake them. Especially not at such an early hour. He quietly opened the front door and left the house.

Outside the house, he took a deep breath of the morning mountain air. It was very cold that morning. He closed his jacket and hid his hands in his trouser pockets. The village where he lived lay in a valley surrounded by mountains that shrouded it in darkness. Only a dark orange at the top of the mountains heralded the new day. It was still so early in the morning that even the cock on the dunghill was still asleep. Theobald made his way to the market square. There he would meet up with the other inhabitants to go to the fields and gather the harvest. As he marched along the cobblestones towards the square, he looked at the houses that lay close together at the edge of the street. The structure was classic for this region. A stone house with a wooden façade from the second floor upwards. On his way to the town square, Theobald passed the home of the village blacksmith. It didn't look much different from the other houses in the village. Theobald couldn't see much of the smithy itself, as it was located behind the blacksmith's house. Only the chimney peaked out from behind it. In front of the building, he saw the blacksmith himself and his son loading a cart with scythes. In time, the town square came into view. He recognized the small statue of Mekus, the old patron ron of merchants and travelers, standing on the fountain. Around it, he saw the harvesters, their lanterns lighting up the square a little. However, one thing was very strange. The splashing of the fountain sounded unusual. As if the water was hitting the muddy ground. Theobald grabbed his jacket. It was wet, which was very unusual as the weather was cool but dry. Theobald had a bad feeling. As he approached the harvesters, they stared at him. Suddenly a hand came out of the crowd and grabbed him. Someone grabbed him by the shoulders and shouted: "Theobald, Theobald, Theobald!"

"Hey, sleepyhead, get up already!" a familiar voice called out to him. He woke up and looked into the wet, dirty face of his comrade Robert. Theobald looked around, somewhat confused. The fountain in the market square and the houses of his home had disappeared. They had been replaced by a ditch fortified with frayed logs, in which he sat leaning against the logs. He could hear the rain beating against the tops of the fir trees that stood close together around the ditch, keeping out the worst of the rain.

"You weren't seriously sleeping in this awful weather, were you?" Robert asked with a somewhat puzzled look on his face.

"I would rather call it a nap," Theobald said with a smile and extended his hand towards his comrade.

"Pff, nap," Robert said, rolling his eyes a little. He reached for Theobald's hand. "You do realize you were on night watch tonight," he said as he helped his comrade up. Theobald nodded and brushed the dirt off his black uniform. He noticed that it was completely soaked.

He reached for his cap, which was lying in a puddle, and wrung it out. "Shit," he muttered and stuffed it into the jacket pocket of his uniform. "Can you give me my stuff, please?" he asked, pointing to the backpack he had taken with him, which was leaning against the wall of the trench behind Robert. Attached to this were a rifle and a sabre. His comrade of many years took it and gave it to Theobald.

Shaking his head, he said: "You've got a lot of nerve sleeping during the night watch. If the officer knew that, he'd have you locked in braces or worse, tied up. God, just thinking about how they dislocated poor Max's shoulder. It still gives me goose bumps."

"Is he very impatient?" asked Theobald.

"I wouldn't be here if he hadn't sent me," Robert replied.

"Listen," said Theobald, "if the officer asks why I didn't report in on time, don't tell him I was asleep. Got it?"

Robert crossed his arms and smiled. "What's in it for me?" he demanded.

"You really want something for that?" snorted Theobald. His comrade nodded, wearing a sardonic grin on his face. Theobald sighed and shook his head slightly. He reached into his trouser pocket and pulled out two silver coins embossed with the emperor's face. "These are the last coins I have. That should be enough to buy me your silence." Robert looked at the coins and pondered a little. He wanted to say something, but left it and took the coins and pocketed them. "Good," said Theobald, "then let's get going before the officer bursts with impatience."

The two of them walked along the muddy bottom of the trench until they reached a small ramp that served as an entry point. Theobald looked up the slope in the direction of a gray block. They had marched for days to reach this point. A small, dilapidated communications bunker that lay on the side of a mountain and became the escape point for the company Theobald was assigned to. At least what was left of it. The plan was for the company to meet up with another company in the north of the country in the hope of turning the tide of the war. For since the troops of the new empress had taken the capital and her brother, the emperor, and his advisors had fled, some remnants of the army had tried to rally to retake the city. Unfortunately, the company was ambushed by the Empress's troops. The unit was divided and fled into the mountains with its last officer. Just 80 men made it this far. The rest lost their lives on the way to their position.

Theobald and his comrade trudged over the large roots towards the bunker where Officer Babel had taken up his quarters. They passed a position covered with leaves in which a machine gun had been placed. Two soldiers were sitting in it, talking and smoking cigarettes. They paused briefly in their conversation to greet the two passing comrades.

"Is the situation still tense?" Theobald asked Robert.

"What do you think?" he replied. "Ever since Hogna and Rüb encountered the empress's scout in the forest, the atmosphere has been very oppressive and tense. Some of the comrades wanted to steal away from the camp last night, but the officer talked them into it. This place may be the last shithole, but out there they would only fall into the hands of the enemy troops," said Robert.

"I'm not surprised that the empress's soldiers found us. We left a lot of things behind on the way here. Abandoned wagons, provisions left behind, we didn't even have time to bury our comrades who died on the way here," said Theobald.

Robert looked at him. "How long do you think it will take for them to get here?" he asked.

Theobald paused for a moment, then shook his head. "I don't know," he said and sighed.

Robert nodded. "I never thought I'd die in a godforsaken forest," he admitted, looking at the bunker.

"Better here than on the battlefields, where thousands already lie. I'm telling you, no one will be able to mourn you on the fields of the nameless. Here at least there is a chance that the empress's soldiers will give us a decent burial," replied Theobald.

"You mean they're making the effort?" asked Robert.

Theobald looked at him. He wanted to give his long-time friend some hope, but he knew he couldn't fool him. "At least I hope so," he said.

They continued their march over the muddy forest floor until they reached the bunker. It was made of concrete, which was already covered in moss in some places. The concrete had broken off at some corners and edges, revealing the steel, which was already rusting in places. Although the war had only started ten years ago, the building looked as if it had been standing here for hundreds of years. Robert knocked on the metal door. It opened with a loud squeak. A bearded man in a dirty uniform stood in the doorway and looked at the two new arrivals.

"You've taken your time," he grumbled in a gruff voice. "Come on, come in. The officer has already asked for you," he snorted and waved Theobald and Robert in. The door closed behind them with a bang. "You know the way," said the bearded man and disappeared into a small chamber.

The two soldiers were standing in a small, poorly lit corridor, at the end of which was the officer's room. At the sides of the corridor were small chambers where the wounded were kept. On their way to the officer's room, they were met by the field doctor. He was wearing a white, bloodstained apron. He greeted them in a friendly manner and disappeared into one of the chambers. As Theobald walked through the dark corridor, he was overcome by an uneasy feeling. For a moment, he heard artillery fire and the muffled whistle of the shells as they flew through the air. He felt the vibrations, the entire bunker began to shake for him. The lights flickered and moved as dust and dirt fell from them. He heard the shouts of the officers, the screams of the soldiers. Then Robert grabbed his shoulder.

"Hey, are you all right? You look a bit pale around the nose," he said, looking at Theobald in amazement. He grabbed his head.

"It's nothing. I'll be fine," he said to his comrade. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. The unpleasant feeling disappeared, as did the noise and the voices. He opened his eyes and looked into Robert's face.

"What just happened to you? Did something happen?" he asked.

"No, no. Everything's fine, I'm still a bit tired," said Theobald, trying to calm down. Robert looked at him, puzzled. After a while, Theobald felt better and they went to the door, which Theobald knocked on. A muffled "Come in" sounded.

Both were now standing in the officers' room. The lighting in the room was brighter than in the rest of the bunker. The rough, gray walls radiated a certain coldness. On one of the walls hung the map of the Reich, which still showed the front sections from five years ago. Behind the table in the middle of the room sat Sergeant Babel, who was writing something on a piece of paper. He wasn't looking at the two of them.

"Report," he said in a harsh tone.

"There were no incidents, officer," said Theobald. Babel closed his pen and placed it on the paper, leaned back in his chair and looked at the two soldiers.

"So. No incidents, eh?" He crossed his arms. "Then how come you didn't report to me sooner and I had to send someone after you?" Babel said in a reproachful tone.

"My pocket watch broke and my replacement hadn't shown up yet, officer," Theobald said as he looked straight ahead toward the flag of the Empire hanging behind Babel.

The officer sighed and leaned on the table. "Robert, go and send Lars to his post," he ordered.

"Where am I supposed to find him now? He went into the forest with the others to get firewood," replied Robert.

Babel slapped the table. "I don't give a damn! Find him and send him to his damn post!" he roared.

Robert saluted. "By your command," he said and left the room.

Theobald was now alone with the officer. He stood up and walked across the room. The atmosphere was tense. Theobald's gaze was still forward. He looked at Babel's uniform. A bronze star hung from his left breast, showing that he was an officer of low rank. His posture showed severity and discipline, but his eyes reflected the nature of a worn-out soldier. He stood up and walked to the map.

"Tell me, Theobald, how long will it take for the empress's troops to get here?" he asked. Theobald looked over at him.

"Three to four days, I guess," he replied.

The officer sighed. "Are you sure?" he asked the soldier.

"Not quite. But the fact that they encountered us in the forest suggests that they know where we are. They could attack earlier," said Theobald.

"We won't be able to hold much against them. Morale is broken and the positions are poor," said the officer and sat down again. "Have you told Robert anything about this?" he asked. Theobald shook his head. "Good, good. We can't afford to panic at the moment," said Babel, nodding. "Well, Theobald, that's all for now," he said, reaching for his fountain pen and continuing to write. Theobald saluted and left the officer's office.

By the time he left the bunker, the rain had already cleared. Wisps of mist drifted over the slopes of the forest towards the sky, which was still covered in clouds. Lost in thought, Theobald went to the campfire near the bunker. A few soldiers were sitting around it, warming themselves. He sat down with them and tried to calm down a little. He realized how the coming battle was casting its shadow.

When night fell, Theobald found himself in the trench. He was on night watch again and, as he was alone, he lit a cigarette. The smoke danced in the air and the smell of various herbs settled in his nose. As he puffed out the smoke, he pushed it in the direction of the full moon, causing it to disappear briefly behind a wall of mist. When he had finished, he threw the glowing remains on the ground and stomped them out. Then he leaned against the wall of the ditch and looked down into the moonlit valley. The tops of the trees shone in a mystical light. Occasionally, he heard the calls of an owl echoing through the forest.

Suddenly he heard footsteps coming closer. Someone was running towards him. He picked up his rifle and pointed it in the direction the sound was coming from. His finger was on the trigger, ready to fire.

"Who's that?" shouted Theobald.

"It's me, Jens," came the reply. A soldier stepped out of the darkness into the bright light of the moon. It was one of the wounded who had been accommodated in the bunker. A bandage was tied around his head, covering his left eye. Theobald lowered his rifle. "Jesus, Jens, what are you doing? What are you doing running towards me in the middle of the darkness? I almost shot you!" Theobald scolded. "What do you want?"

"You have to come quickly," said Jens.

"Why?" asked Theobald, "What happened?"

"I wasn't told what was going on, just that you should come," Jens replied.

Theobald could hear from his voice that something bad had happened. He nodded to Jens and climbed over the wood of the trench wall. They both walked to the bunker.

There was great excitement there. The wounded stood tightly packed against the frames of the chambers and looked down the corridor towards Babel's office. The medical assistants of the field doctor ran through the corridor and tried to calm the soldiers. "What was that? What happened?" the wounded asked the helpers, but they gestured for them to go back to their beds. Amidst the chaos, Theobald pushed his way through the crowd towards the officers' room. Two armed soldiers stood in front of the door to prevent any of the curious from entering the room. When they saw Theobald, they gestured for him to enter.

When Theobald entered the room, he was startled. Babel was slumped in his chair. His head was lying on the table. Theobald took a few steps forward and saw the pool of blood in which the NCO's head lay. The field doctor stood next to Babel and inspected him.

"What in Malach's name has happened here?" asked Theobald as he approached the corpse.

"I don't know," replied the cook, who was sitting on a chair in the corner of the room. "I heard a loud bang. At first I thought it was the power generator that had broken down again. Then I went to the officer to get the key for the generator room and I saw it like this," he stuttered.

Theobald turned to the corpse. It really wasn't a pretty sight. The blood dripped over the edge of the table onto the floor, where it formed a small puddle. Theobald recognized a bullet wound at the back of his head. He looked at the wall behind him, which had a clearly visible hole where the bullet had lodged. He looked at the floor next to Babel's body and saw a revolver, which he picked up. He could feel that it was still warm. He opened the cylinder. There was only one cartridge in the chambers, which had already been fired. Theobald could guess what had happened here. "Why on earth did he do that?" he asked himself. His thoughts were interrupted by the doctor's voice.

"What a mess," he groaned, "He could at least have chosen a clean death."

"A clean death?" cried the chef in horror.

"Hanging," replied the doctor coolly, "Makes fewer stains." The cook gave the doctor a look of disgust.

"It's just the eyes coming forward over time," Theobald intervened in the conversation, placing the revolver on the table. "It's not much nicer to look at."

"You're sick," said the cook.

"Comes with the territory," said the doctor, smiling a little. He went to the door and instructed the soldiers on guard duty to fetch a stretcher and a sheet. He then turned back to Theobald and the cook. "The cause of death is clear. He shot himself," said the doctor.

"Why would he do that?" the cook asked, confused. The doctor shrugged his shoulders.

"What do we do now?" Theobald asked the group.

"That's up to you. You have the power of decision now," the doctor replied.

"What? Why him?" asked the chef.

"Well, quite simply," said the doctor, "he is now the highest ranking officer in the unit. That means he's now in command." He gave Theobald a reproachful look. "To be honest, you would have been in command much earlier. Your rank is higher than Babel's."

The cook turned to Theobald. "What, you have a higher rank than Babel? Then why didn't you take command?"

Theobald looked at the officer's body. "We made a deal. He wanted command at all costs." He turned to the others. "I don't know why he wanted it. I was just glad to be able to hand it over."

The group's conversation was interrupted by a knock on the door. The two soldiers the doctor had sent out entered the room with a stretcher.

"Be that as it may. You can't avoid taking responsibility now. So, what should we do?" asked the doctor, gesturing to the other soldiers to place the body on the stretcher. Theobald thought about it.

"I'd say we wait and see how the situation develops for now," he said, "It's best not to say anything to anyone about what happened here. That would only worsen the situation in the camp." He looked at the others in the room. They hesitated a little, but nodded at him.

"Well then, we've sorted that out," said the doctor, walking to the door and peering into the corridor to make sure no prying eyes noticed their action. He then instructed the soldiers to follow him with the body.

"Then I wish you a pleasant night," he said, made a small bow and left the room.

"Yes, good night then," said the chef and left the room, slightly shocked and confused.

Theobald went to the door and closed it. He dropped into the chair where the cook had been sitting. Sighing, he looked at the flag of the empire. What was he supposed to do now?

The next morning was cold and foggy. Theobald stood in the middle of the camp and watched the soldiers as they went about their daily tasks. No one seemed to have noticed anything of yesterday's events, as everyone was quietly going about their tasks. Theobald looked towards the campfire. A little warmth and rest would do him good, he thought to himself. He hadn't slept a wink during the night and longed for a place where he could sit down and rest. He was just about to set off when his ears perked up.

"They're coming! They're coming!" a voice shouted. Theobald and the other soldiers looked down the slope, up which a soldier was running. He was gasping for breath as a crowd formed around him.

"They're coming! The Empress' soldiers are here! I've seen them!"

"What, from where? Where did you see them, what happened?" asked one of the soldiers.