A low yawn escaped Gilbert's mouth as he sat up from his hard cot, where he sat, dazed for a few minutes, eyes blankly staring before him. Once he was awake enough to think, he began twisting and stretching his body, ridding his body of any stiffness. Then finally, he popped his legs out from under his scratchy, wool blanket, pressing his bare feet one the cold earth beneath him. His feet flinched slightly at the sudden temperature change, but then slowly relaxed.

He slowly pressed himself up from his makeshift bed, which was a lot different than the dainty bed Gilbert had gotten used to sleeping on at Roderich's. He snorted and rolled his eyes slightly. So Roderich's daintiness was contagious huh? Well that would be something Gilbert would have to be rid of immediately! Which wouldn't be hard, now back in his military base camp, far away from that pansy's house.

Gilbert raised his arms high into the air and curved his back, feeling a few painful pops as his did so. Gilbert growled. The two days on horseback didn't help his body ether. He really had been away from the military for far too long.

Walking toward the large chest, tucked away towards the back of the tent, he popped it open, peering inside. Within it, lying perfectly folded was his navy blue military uniform, along with all of his other essential military clothing. He grinned as he eyed the uniform. Though he had worn it before, this would be the first day that Gilbert would be wearing it back among his men, flashing his rank.

Unbuttoning his long, white night shirt, Gilbert eagerly tossed the shirt aside, grabbing and throwing on his gray under shirt, along with a sturdy but loose chain mail. Then he proceeded to change into that magnificent blue uniform jacket of his, just as he did a few days ago back at Roderich's house. Once he was completely dressed, his saber strapped firmly to his side, he grabbed his last article, his large feathered hat.

Instead of immediately taking its place atop of his head, his hat remaining in his hands as he stared at it. He gently rubbed his fingers along the soft edges of the protruding white feathers, smiling as he imagined the hat sitting atop the small head of his brother. He breathed out a small chuckle as he pictured the thing slipping and sliding on his brother's blond head, his fists grasping its edges so that the large hat would stay put. But even with the hat stilled, it would still cover half of his plump face.

His smile suddenly faded, being replaced by a sad frown. The hat didn't suit his brother. No, it never would suit him. With the amount of his father's blood that ran through Ludwig, it was likely that as an adult, Ludwig would also inherit his father's height and larger build, and with proper military training, his body could easily appear that of a perfect soldier. But no. In Gilbert's mind, the hat, the military uniform, the weapons, everything that a soldier wore or used, did not look right on his brother.

Gilbert sighed and plopped the hat atop of his pale blond hair and turned to leave the tent, boots treading against the cold earth, crimson cloak swaying gracefully behind him. Though these clothes were perfectly suited for Gilbert, they would never suit his brother.

Gilbert lifted the flap of his tent open with his right arm, eyes narrowing as the bright, morning sun beamed in his eyes. Once his eyes adjusted, he began looking about, taking in the beautiful sight. All around him, tents were set up in clean, organized rows. Hundreds of men scuttled about the camp, some apparently just waking up, stretching their arms and enjoying the fresh morning air, still wearing their night shirts, while earlier risers left their tents completely dressed in their respective uniforms, ether leaving for, or returning with that morning's breakfast.

Gilbert took in a large breath of air, the scent of sweaty men and gunpowder filled his nostrils, causing a large grin to sweep across his face. Oh how he had missed this scent. Suddenly he noticed a trace of another familiar scent. Though not a scent related to the military, it was still one in which Gilbert immediately recognized, his grin widening, mouth-watering. Wurst.

Gilbert began to tread through camp towards the juicy fumes of the cooked meat. A small chuckle escaped his lips as he muttered, "They sure know how to spoil the men."

As Gilbert walked past the tents, he took notice that most eyes were on him. Men quickly looked up from their spots, ignoring their previous business to give him a respectful nod and a solute, recognizing the uniform he wore.

"Colonel Beilschmidt." They each greeted as he passed them, Gilbert giving them a small acknowledging nod. He kept his face stern and emotionless, but on the inside he was grinning ear to ear. He relished in the respectful acknowledgments of his men. HIS men! Dang that felt good to say!

He had always had a sort of talent as a soldier, and during the previous war with Austria, he was able to prove himself to his superiors of his excellent fighting and leadership abilities. He quickly rose through the ranks, and eventually landing himself with his current title as a Colonel, a recent promotion granted him just as war was once again proclaimed with Austria. At the young age of 22, Gilbert was quite possibly the youngest to ever acquire such a rank, which proved to show just how awesome Gilbert Beilschmidt was. His family's adequate social status and his father's high military position might have helped him out just a bit, but overall, it was all Gilbert.

Gilbert continued walking through the hordes of men until he reached the center of camp, where the majority of the men had gathered, all in organized lines, eagerly waiting for their turn at receiving the magnificent breakfast prepared for them. The lines were long and would have usually caused Gilbert to groan in frustration at such a long wait, but instead he smiled, strutting ahead to the front where the cooks were serving the food. Not a man grumbled as he casually passed them, the men near the front nodding and respectfully making room for the Colonel.

When the closest cook noticed Gilbert's sudden appearance before him, he quickly saluted before grabbing a tin plate and loading it with the largest wurst and cooked potatoes they could offer. Gilbert gladly accepted the plate of the warm food, along with a side of fresh bread, grinning.

"Whose idea was it to feed this to the men on the first day?" Gilbert asked the cook, still smiling. "After this how do we expect the men to handle when they are left with nothing but measly gruel every single day?"

The cook gave a small chuckle, obviously understanding the conditions his Colonel had described.

"The shipment arrived last night." He smiled. "It was a gift from King Frederick. He wants all of the soldiers to be in top shape before heading out.

Gilbert's grin widened at the prospect as he glanced again at his meal. Not only was their king a military genius, but he was generous as well.

"Let's just hope the men don't desert once they get a taste of real military rations." Gilbert joked as he stalked away. The cook gave him a quick salute as his left, before turning to the next man in line, waiting for his share of the food.

Gilbert stalked back toward his tent, the scent of the fresh meat wafting into his nostrils. It took all of his power not to appear too excited. The last thing he wanted was for his men to see their new Colonel appear "immature", not that he was ever immature of course! After all, he was younger than a good majority of the troops.

Upon reaching the small clearing where his tent was, he spotted a few old logs along the ground, providing Gilbert with the perfect place to sit while enjoying the fresh air and meal. After removing his white gloves, he began digging into his meal, savoring the taste. His last good meal had been a few days earlier while still at Roderich's house, and frankly, he had expected it to be his last good meal for a while.

"Colonel Beilschmidt!" A cheery voice sounded through the camp and to Gilbert's ears. He immediately looked toward the voice, noting its familiarity.

A few men walked through the tents and around scrambling men, towards him, food in hand. One of the men had his arm in the air, cheerfully waving at him.

Gilbert grinned as he recognized the bright face of the freckled, strawberry blond man, making his way towards him. The man, with two other men along with him, stopped upon reaching Gilbert.

"Mind if we join you Colonel?" The man asked, adding a slight emphasis on Gilbert's title.

"Of course, Captain Bachman." Gilbert laughed.

The man's eye brows knitted as he puffed his lips, pouting as he sat next to Gilbert. "Hey now, I've been a Major for a few months now!"

Gilbert shrugged. "Old habits die hard." he laughed, even though it was clear by the man's uniform that he was indeed, a major now.

The man's light green eyes light up with laughter as he pats Gilbert on the shoulder.

"Good to see you again, old friend."

"Ha, don't mistake my high rank for my age, Klaus. I'm still young and beautiful." Gilbert smirked, taking another bite of a wurst. "You on the other hand, aren't you pushing 30?

"I'm 28 now, danke." he grinned, taking his own bite of his breakfast.

Gilbert laughed, thoroughly enjoying being reunited with his old war friend, and began looking him over. He had a broad, muscular face, accompanied with a narrow nose and faint freckles. His short strawberry-blond hair stood up an inch off his head. He was slightly more muscular than Gilbert, but thankfully he was also slightly shorter. His eyes, a mix of green and hazel, were filled with the same newfound excitement that Gilbert' felt himself. Twas the nostalgia of being finding themselves back in this familiar setting, but starting anew with power carrying titles. There was a faded scar across his left cheek, which reminded Gilbert of the battle where his friend was only centimeters away from a bullet to the face.

It was a moment later that Gilbert noticed the other two men sitting along the logs just a few feet across from him.

"And you men are?" Gil inquired.

The first man was slender but still had himself an adequate build. He stood up, his short dirty blond bangs slicked partially back to reveal his thin face and dark blue eyes.

"Ah, Captain Johan Frederick Finn, sir!" he said, reaching his hand out politely toward Gilbert.

Gilbert took the hand, smiling. "Colonel Gilbert Beilschmidt. And you can be at ease, Johan."

The man nodded, smiling as he sat himself back down. "It's Frederick if you don't mind."

Gil raised an eyebrow. "Taking on the name of the king eh?"

The man suddenly looked flustered, as he waved his hands worriedly. "No, no sir, it's just, I have two other brothers named Johan. We all go by our middle names."

Gilbert gave an amused snort. The poor guy must have had a confusing childhood.

"Very well, Captain Finn." Gilbert attempted not to chuckle before asking his next question.

"You Finnish?

"My great grandfather was sir, but I assure you, I am very much Prussian."

"Makes sense." Gilbert muttered, then turning his gaze to the next seated soldier. He was a bit older than the others, ranging mid-30s, and had himself a pretty impressive moustache.

"Captain Andor Kelemen. Pleasure to meet you Colonel." he said, a slight accent in his voice.

Gilbert nodded as he shook the man's hand after the introduction. Andor had the same kind of accent that Elizaveta had, even though it only ever surfaced when she was angry, which, for Gilbert, was actually quite often. But Gilbert gave the man's nationality no mind. In fact, a large chunk of their men were non-native Prussians. Once King Frederick began his reign, he began changing a few details in the military, one of them being that they allowed foreign forces to help as well. Prussia had plenty of Hussar regiments, along with regiments made up of other soldiers, such as Polish, Danish, and of course, Hungarian. They were good soldiers as long as moral and pay was high enough. Some of them contained a strong loyalty towards the cause and the Kingdom of Prussia, while others were there for the money. But Gilbert didn't have a problem with them as long as they did their duty (and spoke German). Besides, what better army was there to join besides the Prussian one?

"Same here, Captain." Gil responded, releasing his hand and returning to his meal.

"So how about this great meal, Gil? Can't believe they are giving us a feast and we haven't even won any battles yet!" Klaus laughed, stabbing his food with a fork. The two Captains' stared at Klaus in shock that he would refer to the Colonel so familiarly, war buddies or not. But Gilbert didn't even notice, not caring much with his friend along with not being used to his new title.

"I was thinking the same thing earlier. Apparently it's a gift from the King. Wanted to keep us in top shape and boost morale further. A freaking genius he is!"

Gilbert paused to take a bite of his potatoes. The combination of the cooked starch and the juices from the wurst was heaven to his taste buds.

"Dang it! God bless that man for bringing potatoes to our beloved lands! Whoever says they are just a boring, poor man's dish should be smacked with a crop!" Gilbert smirked.

"True true, but a lot of the higher classes are still reluctant to accept the potatoes. It's probably going to take some time." Klaus stated.

Gilbert growled, staring at his last bite of potato. "Whatever. They just aren't awesome enough to appreciate your awesomeness. Takes one to know one I suppose"

Klaus burst out laughing, which in turn caused Gilbert to burst out as well. The two seemingly having forgotten about the two captains with them, who watched their leaders with blank stares. The two beginning to doubt the maturity and competency of their superiors.

A moment later, Gilbert's laughter was stifled by a steady trot as a uniformed man atop a large, black horse approached from around the tents. Gilbert immediately stood up, watching the man intently as he slowed his steed upon approach. Upon reaching him, the man steadied his horse, staring down at Gilbert.

"Colonel Beilchmidt?" he asked in a deep voice.

"Ja." Gilbert responded, crossing his arms. "What business do you have with me?"

The man then immediately hopped off the horse, so that he was not seated above the higher ranking man.

He saluted and then proceeded by reaching into the brown satchel hung at his waist.

"I have a summons for you sir." he informed, pulling out a sealed letter and handing it to him.

Gilbert nodded, grabbing the parchment and ripping it open. He pulled out the letter, unfolding it and scanning over it. A slight grin overtook his face as he finished, folding and lowering the letter from his face.

"Anything else?" he asked the messenger, who shook his head politely.

"Dismissed then." Gilbert stated, giving the man a quick salute. The messenger did the same, then proceeded by hopping back onto his steed and taking off, most likely to report to the next regiment.

Gilbert watched the man ride away briefly before spinning around to his companions.

"Major Klaus!"

"Yes!" Klaus responded professionally, knowing by the tone in his friends voice that the time to be friendly was currently over, something one gets used to, being in the military.

"Gather the other Captains! Have them make sure their men are finished eating and have their messes cleaned up! Be sure they are dressed in full uniform and have all their weapons and supplies ready to move out at any notice! You and the other majors check to be sure they are ready by noon and await any further orders."

Klaus nodded. "Of course, Colonel!"

Gilbert then peered over at the two Captains in his presence.

"You two got your orders straight from me. Now get to it and don't let me down!"

The two nodded, saluting back as well before grabbing their empty dishes and trotting towards their company's tents. Both slightly smiling now, seeing that while their Colonel did act a bit young and careless, he could also be serious and responsible when the time arose.

Gilbert then turned and began marching away from his tent and in the direction of the horse stables.

"And you Colonel?" Klaus asked, raising a curious eyebrow as to what duty was presented in that mystery letter he had just received.

Gilbert glanced as his friend, smirking widely, unable to contain his excitement.

"War council!"

oOOoOOoOOo

It didn't take long for Gilbert to reach the clearing where the counsel would be held. Gilbert was first met by a few dragoons, who had been patrolling around their leader's camp. They let him pass as he flashed them his invitation, a few medals as proof of his rank, and after answering a few questions. Gilbert didn't mind the hassle. After all, one can't be too careful when letting men into the camp containing some of the Prussian army's most prominent leaders.

Once allowed passage, Gilbert trotted his horse into the camp. It was set up much like his own, but just a tad smaller. They also had many more guards posted about. Gilbert stopped as another soldier approached him, though this one wasn't armed.

"May I take your horse sir?"

Gilbert smiled and nodded, hopping off his steed and handing the reigns to the soldier.

"Hold to the reigns tightly. He tends to be a bit skittish when with men he doesn't recognize."

The soldier nodded in understanding as he slowly led the horse away to the stables.

Gilbert took in a deep breath of air as he peered through the camp. For some reason the air tasted better here. It tasted like power!

Straightening his hat, Gilbert marched through the campsite, towards its center, where no doubt the counsel would be held. He knew when he had arrived because he was stopped again by some armed men who had formed a guarded parameter around the spot.

"Name and rank?" the soldier asked, brown eyes looking Gilbert over.

Gilbert smirked widely. "Colonel Gilbert Beilschmidt, here to join the party."

The man's eyes widened, a little disbelieving the fact that such a young man was indeed a Colonel

"Can you show me proof of your identity?" He then asked, eyes narrowing a bit suspiciously. Gilbert rolled his eyes as he began reaching back into his pockets, when a loud, baritone voice cut in.

"That will be unnecessary Major, as I can vouch for my son's identity."

Both the officer and Gilbert's eyes shifted to the large man marching towards them from inside the parameter. He was a very large man in both height and width, a part of Gilbert wished he had inherited such a muscular build. He wore a simple dark blue uniform, which was just a shade darker than Gilbert's. At least half a dozen different medals were strewn along his chest, a sight that would intimidate any soldier (not considering the man's wall-like constitution). His bright bond hair ran down to his beefy shoulders, with any hair pulled out of his broad face. But despite the man's usual stern mask, there was a proud fire in those icy blue irises, which reminded Gilbert too much of his brother, as he stared toward him. There was slight limp in his step, which Gilbert constituted to an old war wound, which just got worse with age.

"Hallo Vater!" Gilbert greeted, smirking as he watched the face of the soldier who had previously attempted to interrogate Gilbert.

"Ah, right! So sorry sir!" was all he could manage to say as he stared up into the massive German's eyes. He immediately stepped aside, allowing Gilbert entrance, eyes now staring anywhere but at them.

Gilbert couldn't help but chuckle at the man's reaction- though it was to be expected. If the man wasn't his father, he would (almost) be intimidated as well.

"Glad you could make it." His father said, placing a hand on Gilbert's shoulder as he led him towards where the others waited.

"Of course! Not every Colonel gets the chance to be a part of the King's war council!"

"Well not every Colonel is the son of the King's war advisor."

"Hey, I got where I am cause I'm awesome! I'd be here even if you weren't my Vater." Gilbert answered, a small chuckle in his voice.

His father raised a large eyebrow as he stared at his son seriously.

Gilbert just smirked even wider. Though it was true that he had most likely only been invited due to his father's influence, he knew that his father wasn't the type of person who'd recognize an individual who didn't deserve it, related or not.

They reached the meeting spot, which was merely a large table, laden with charts and maps, set underneath a large canopy to block the sun. There were a few high ranking officers already seated at the table, but there were still some key figures missing. But that was to be expected, as Gilbert left as soon as he could, riding as fast as he could to reach this camp. There was no way in Hölle that he would be late for such an event!

"How's Ludwig doing?"

Now in their respective seats, Gilbert leaned back in his chair, staring up into space.

"He's fine! He's been growing a lot lately! He's a bit serious for a kid, but he's happy. I left him safe at Roderich's house, where, as much as I don't want him to, he'll behave."

Gilbert then glanced at his father, grinning. "Although, the last I saw the weird kid, he had stolen my hat in order to prevent me from leaving!"

The man snorted in amusement, the corner of his lips barely rising into what Gilbert suspected was a smile.

"If I do recall correctly," He began, looking towards his son, his muscular arms crossed over his chest. "I do remember a certain rambunctious brat stealing some of my things to prevent me from leaving on several occasions."

Gilbert's grinned widened, just now remembering his own crazy attempts at keeping his father home.

"That was different! I stole weapons! Much cooler and much more effective!"

"Effective if your aim was for a lashing,"

Gilbert's grin turned into a bit of a nervous one as he shrugged his shoulders slightly. He had forgotten about that part. "Still awesome nonetheless."

His father let out another amused breath, which was the closest thing to laughter the man seemed capable of.

The two were a bit quiet after that. Even after the being apart for so long, that was all Gilbert could think to talk about. His father wasn't that big on idle chat after all. The times separated did also make it harder to converse with the man casually for long.

Gilbert's grin faded as his face turned a bit grim.

"He misses you, you know?"

His father gave him a curious glance.

"Ludwig. He misses you. He needs his Vater."

The man's face hardened slightly, not wanting to show any emotion. But Gilbert knew how to read that face. He knew that his father was regretting his absence. After the death of Gilbert's mother, his father had made as much time as his schedule allowed to be home with his sons. It wasn't a lot, but for Gilbert and infant Ludwig, it was enough. However, after a few years, his father would return home less and less. After all, Gilbert was old enough to care for his younger sibling.

"I was there for Ludwig's birthday." he responded, hoping it would be enough to satisfy his son.

Gilbert's eyes narrowed and he crossed his arms.

"Yeah, his 9thbirthday. Ludwig turned 10 last month."

His father turned his gaze to the ground, not saying a word.

Gilbert sighed and decided to take the initiative. His eyes were no longer narrowed but his voice was serious.

"Letters aren't enough anymore. He's gone his whole life without a mother and hardly a father. And now, even I'm not able to be there for him all the time. He needs his father, and as much as I love him, I don't find comfort in the fact that I'm his 'father figure'." A small smile crept over his lips. "I'm much too young to be a father. It makes me sound old. No chick will want me."

His father's strong hand reached up and grasped Gilbert's shoulder, giving a tight squeeze. His face was as straight as ever, but his blue eyes glittered with sorrow and regret. Gilbert pitied the old man. He was a good man (even with his lack of natural human emotions) and was a great soldier! He just wasn't cut out to be a good father. He really did seem to try his best though, and Gilbert did have to hand it to the man, his oldest son turned out great!

"Don't you fret about it old man! After all, with that lame leg of yours, you're not going anywhere near the battle field! That gives you plenty of time to spend with Luddy!"

He released his hold over his son and sighed, shaking his head. How did he ever have such a snide child like this? But then again, no matter how annoying or unnecessary some of his comments were, he did make sense sometimes. Still, he had wished he was there for his son more as a child though, so he could shove a bar of soap into that disrespectful mouth of his to teach him some manners! But he supposed he could still always court martial the boy?

"I'll see what I can do." he sighed in submission.

Gilbert's grin widened and he gave his father a friendly slap on the back, which thoroughly bothered the man.

"That'd a boy! I knew you had it in you! I'm proud of you!" Gilbert exclaimed loudly, getting the attention of the other generals seated at the table.

No. A court martial wouldn't be enough. He swore that if he wasn't in front a bunch of his colleagues, he would have smacked his son right then and there! But it'd have to wait for later.

Gilbert was thinking about messing with his strict father further, him not being able to currently do anything about it, when suddenly people from the table quickly rose from their chairs, his father included a second later. A bit confused, he turned his gaze to where the General's attention was, staring upon the arrival of a small group of men, Gilbert's eyes immediately drifted to the man towards the center of the group.

An emotion called shock seemed to walk up to him and smack him in the face, as he recognized one the regal middle aged man, clad in a striking blue and red uniform and a large black hat sitting upon his white wig. But what caught Gilbert's attention was the large, Prussian star pinned on the left side of the man's chest.

"Your majesty!" Gilbert nearly screamed, scrambling to his feet.

The king took notice of Gilbert's anxiety, most likely used to such reactions, giving Gilbert a kind smile and nod as he walked gracefully to the front of the table. It wasn't until he took a seat in his chair that the others followed, Gilbert a bit slower at sitting down, eyes still locked on his king.

His King. Frederick the II of Prussia. The man his people called "Frederick the Great", was sitting just a matter of feet from Gilbert. Why was he here? War councils were important, but were they really that important? No, of course they were! Especially with the current war just beginning! It made sense! Of course his King would be here! How else would he have achieved gaining and keeping a hold on Austrian Silesia without this man leading his troops on the war front? This brilliant tactician who revolutionized the theory of war and battle! So why wouldn't King Frederick be here? But even with all the logical explanations Gilbert had, he just couldn't calm himself from the shock, and frankly, the excitement!

The meeting commenced. King Frederick and his men explaining his plans of attack- with the other Generals pitching in ideas and opinions every now and then. Among some of the leaders, Gilbert was also able to pick out a few other big shots, which were famous among the military. One man, a bit short and with a light voice, one you wouldn't expect to come from a man of such rank, Gilbert was able to point out to be Lieutenant-General Zieten, who was famous for his and his Hussar regiment during the First Silesian War. He also was able to place a name on an older soldier who sat near Frederick, as Field Marshall Schwerin. Gilbert had to admit, that he was a bit jealous that his father got to serve directly with these astounding men. But also had to admit that he was happy to still be young and have a working leg as well.

After another hour or so into the meeting, the fan boy within Gilbert began to die down, as that inner Colonel in him began to take control of his mind. He listened into the conversation intently, running every word through his mind, and how to apply such strategies. He even threw out his own ideas occasionally. The council went on like this for about another hour before it was ended, everyone now satisfied about their planned strategies.

As men stood up from their seats, some conversing with one another, and some leaving, Gilbert stood up from his own seat, and stretched his back from after sitting still for so long. He was too busy stretching out his tired body to realize that a couple of men were approaching him. With his arms out behind his head, he glanced to his side, finally noticing this new presence, expecting to see his father or someone boring. But to his utter amazement, the man who stood before him was none other than King Frederick himself, his father and Field Marshall Schwerin on either side of him.

Gilbert immediately straightened himself. "Your Majesty!" he cried out, bowing to his King.

Frederick smiled, waving a small hand, signifying that Gilbert could stand.

"So this is the famous Gilbert Beilschmidt that I've heard so much about. Your father has told me a lot about you."

If it was anyone else who had said those words, he would have replied in some snide remark about his obvious glory and awesomeness. But seeing as this was the king, Gilbert could do nothing but nod.

"I've been told you are a quick and wise leader, especially during the heat of battle. And climbing the ranks at such a young age! I must say, we need more men like you."

Ok, this was too much for Gilbert to resist. "Heh, of course. But I doubt you'll find anyone else at my level."

As soon as those words left his lips, Gilbert froze. He felt the blood draining from his face as he realized what he had just said. His father was now giving him a death glare.

Gilbert's mouth opened as he was about to stutter out a quick apology to his King, when suddenly he heard a small laugh. His jaw snapped shut, eyes fixed on the chuckling King. His father seemed a bit shocked by this as well.

"Got a pretty bold boy there, Alvar." Frederick said, obviously amused.

"Indeed." Alvar Beilschmidt stated, eyes still locked coldly onto his boy. He preferred to think of Gilbert as ether "conceited" or "stupid"…or rather both.

"Anyways," Frederick began, blue eyes on Gilbert "Your input during this meeting was very beneficial. I look forward to seeing you and your troops in action."

"D-Danke your majesty." Gilbert stuttered, being unintentionally modest for what was easily the first time in his life.

Frederick smiled, his slight wrinkles crinkling as he did so.

"Well I best be off." He stated, giving a nod to both the Beilschmidt's and began walking off, Field Marshall Schwerin and a few other men close behind him.

"I'm expecting great things from you Beilschmidt!" he called out as he departed.

Gilbert was glued in place, eyes staring into his King's back. It took a moment for the praise he had received to sink in, but once it had, his wide, trademark grin spread across his face.

"I am so awesome!"

The next thing Gilbert was able to register was his father's large hand slamming into the back of his head.

Author Notes:
Ok, wow…this story is getting a lot more detailed than I originally intended… I hope I don't end up regretting this!

Sorry there wasn't any Ludwig in this chapter, but I hope I kinda made it up with the awkward Father son bonding! And a cameo from Old Fritz! Will have lots of Ludwig in the next chapter. I promise.

Anyways, a few things that must be discussed (I made a list!):

* I know nothing about how the military works, let alone the Prussian army during the 18th century! I apologize for anything that doesn't make sense! Like the fact that Gilbert actually achieved the rank of a Colonel at 22...yeah, I know it's unrealistic, but this is fiction and Gilbert is awesome.

*those extra Prussian soldiers were added in just to make conversation with Gil, and so I'd have some characters in his regiment that he can order around! Bachman based off of a German friend of mine, and Finn based off of my Great great grandfather, who was Prussian Finn: German last name which simply means "from Finland". Snazzy, no?

*There are some historical facts in this that don't match up date wise….please just ignore it. I'm not trying to be accurate.

*Don't know how much I am really going to include Fritz or his generals. I left it open just in case I get some ideas, but there might not be much. And no, there will be no PrussiaxFritz pairings….nor any pairings really. Sorry!

*And last thing! You may notice my inconsistency with "Vater" and "Father", well I'm trying to have it so whenever it is being spoken, or the word is being used like a name, I use Vater, but when just using the general term, I'm just using Father.

I know there's more to talk about but I'm getting carried away….anyways, hope you enjoyed it!

Reviews are deeply appreciated guys! Seriously, if no one had reviewed my first chapter, I probably wouldn't have be encouraged enough to write this one!

And a quick thanks to my friend Shelby for being a wonderful (and entertaining) editor!

Tschüss!