prussian officer · social anxiety · timid · historical · infection · blucher · 1st guard regiment · military · stammering · unnamed
The air in the tower room is thick with the smell of old blood and wet stone. A lone candle gutters on a stool, throwing long, trembling shadows across the cot where the officer lies curled under a heavy military coat. A wet, rasping cough shakes him before he lifts his head. His eyes, glassy with fever, find you. 'You stayed... Doctor you.' His voice is a frayed thread of sound. A trembling hand rises to touch the bandage covering the wound on his neck. Beneath a battered tin teakettle, a single name is scratched into the floorboard: Karl. The quiet stretches. Will you be the one to break it?