Orders
"Offizier Beilschmidt, melden Sie," (Officer Beilschmidt, report.) Commander Ludwig Beilschmidt looked up from the numerous papers that had been shoved on to his desk, demanding his attention. His brother Gilbert stood before him.
"Jawhol, Kommandant Beilschmidt," (Yes sir, Commander Beilschmidt.) Officer Gilbert smiled, saluting his little baby brother with a smart rap to his temple, mocking him. Ludwig gave him a black look, sure it was his brother, but this was business.
"Gilbert," Ludwig said warningly.
"Ja, ja Bruder," (Yeah, yeah brother) Gilbert rolled his eyes. How on earth was he related to this guy? He was way cooler than him and way more handsome. There must have been a mistake when the doctors gave them Ludwig; it's the only way to explain it. "Die Italiener kommen hier. Sie sind bei uns waren und du gehst nach Stuttgart, Bruder," (The Italians are coming here. They're joining us, and you are going to Stuttgart, brother.) Gilbert gave a maniacal grin as Ludwig just sighed; it was just another delay from him completing his paper work.
"Warum sind die Italiener hier mitzumachen? Sie kann nicht gut kämpfen." (Why are the Italians joining us? They cannot fight well.) Ludwig pressed the bridge of his nose and rubbed his temples. "Ehm, je mehr Verbundete haben wir… desto besser, ja?" (The more allies we have… the better, yeah?) Gilbert just snorted; everyone knew the Italians couldn't fight worth shit.
"Was immer du sagst, bruder," (Whatever you say, brother.) Gilbert bit his lip; oh how he loved making his brother's day better! "Die Italiener sprechen nicht Deutsch," (The Italians don't speak German.) Gilbert stifled a laugh as his brother nearly face-planted into his desk. He knew Ludwig could speak a lot of languages, but Italian was definitely one of the ones he was still working on "perfecting," meaning he couldn't speak it.
"Was sprechen sie?" (What do they speak?) Ludwig asked, running a hand through his slicked back hair.
"Italienisch," (Italian) Gilbert smirked.
"Bruder!" (Brother!) Ludwig glared.
"Und englisch," (And English)
"They speak English?" Ludwig asked, he noted his heavy German accent that laced through the words. He internally cringed; the two languages were close enough to where he still had difficulty distinguishing the actual pronunciations.
"Ya, they speak English," Gilbert transitioned into English with his brother; they did that often to keep them from getting rusty. Gilbert's accent wasn't quite so pronounced, but it was there.
"We won't be able to talk of anything serious, in case there are enemy's listening in, being so close to the border and all," Ludwig frowned.
"Probably, in any case, you'll be meeting up with Commander Lovino Vargas and his brother Feliciano. The Kaiser wants you to bring them back here to Berlin, where he can plan accordingly," Gilbert shrugged. "I think it's silly to have them join us, maybe they can just be cannon fodder, eh?" Gilbert winked at Ludwig who rolled his eyes.
"Ahc, du bist verrückt, Gilbert," (Oh, you're crazy, Gilbert.) Ludwig sighed. Sure his brother was a brilliant officer, but that didn't mean he wasn't an ass!
"Aber, du liebst mich," (But, you love me.) Gilbert went over to Ludwig's cabinet and took out his Kölsch. "Sehe dich später." (See you later.) Gilbert left, taking the beer along with him.
"Gilbert, du trinkst nicht und gehen Auβenseite!" (Gilbert, you cannot drink and go outside!) Ludwig called after him. Gilbert just flipped him off; people really do come up with the most ingenious ways to offend someone. Ludwig growled, his brother was a hopeless cause, there's no winning… only work.