Chapter 4! Please enjoy!

Chapter 4

The assault came together flawlessly, as he had planned all along. His tanks, planes, and soldiers moved in perfect unison. They were disciplined, they believed in their leader and their cause. Ludwig was convinced they would follow him anywhere.

And they would, or they would die.

Ludwig wasn't taking any of the bullshit he dealt with in the last war. No soldiers who wouldn't fight, no cowards or traitors this time around. Anyone who went against him would die, and that was how he would keep things running smoothly.

The Blitzkrieg on Poland started in the morning. The dawn of war.

Ludwig stood out on a hill that overlooked the town, his first victim.

The rising sun made the silver adornments of his black uniform sparkle, yet the innocent sun did not illuminate his cold face, that was still cast in shadows by his hat. A chilling smile crept across his face as he viewed the sleeping town.

Yesterday the inhabitants went to rest with nothing wrong. Today they would wake up to hell on earth.

He walked back to his commanders and gave a curt nod. "Start the engines. Get the soldiers in order."

The moment the words left his mouth his commanders bolted in different directions, shouting orders in rapid German. In moments the planes, hiding miles back were heard, and the sound of the twenty planes shook the earth.

The tanks hummed to life and rumbled for the town, followed right by the soldiers.

Ludwig watched through binoculars people run from their houses in terror. The planes screamed and bombs dropped. Giant craters of the earth were blown up, houses reduced to ash, body parts flying through the air like some awfully scripted horror movie.

The tanks launched missiles, adding to the damage. When the heavy assault stopped, the soldiers rushed into the town, their grey helmets gleaming in the bloody dawn, the guns shining and the hundreds of boots tramping.

It was the sound of hell, of terror for the townspeople.

For Ludwig, it was the sound of rightful revenge.

The soldiers killed anyone who tried to defend themselves. Ludwig didn't need to exterminate the town. He just needed to inflict fear so these people, when he marched past, would not rebel and attack him from behind. He needed to beat submission into them.

The tactic he used was something he had devised, and it had never been seen before. Lightening warfare, it translated to. It was upon the enemy like a storm, loud and disorienting, sending even disciplined armies into scattered confusion.

This was the dawn of the war. The morning of his new kingdom. This was the foundation to his great empire, the one that would surpass his brother and anyone who had been, or was yet to be.

In the same glorious manner, Poland fell. He was met with an actual armed resistance outside the capital, but what were they, some unprepared Poles against his master army?

They were dead, in case anyone wondered.

He had more planes bomb the insignificant capital, his soldiers swarmed the burning and destroyed town. Some died, but for every dead German there was at least forty dead Poles. The city had no chance, it never did.

So as he had known all along, Poland fell and his red flag flew over Warsaw.

And as he had known, that was the last thing he could get away with without a war. France and England had enough and they declared war.

They declared war the moment he wanted them too. And that was of course, a moment too late. He was sure both men thought they had declared war just in time. Oh he was sure the mighty British Empire felt totally in control. France probably felt that if they stepped in now, he would surrender.

It was cute how stupid they could be. He wasn't afraid of them; he had no respect for them. And they didn't know it yet, but soon…they too would fall like Poland.
Ludwig marched through the streets after the battle. There were dead in the streets, flipped over burned out cars, and crumbling buildings. The street had craters in it that were still smoking. His soldiers had put out the biggest fires but some of the smaller ones still burned.

He smiled at the new flag that flew over the half destroyed capital building, and into that partly wrecked building he walked.

He had an old friend to see here. An irritating sassy Polish man named Feliks. Ludwig knew he would be hiding in Warsaw, vainly trying to save his country.

He walked boldly into the wreckage and wound through the left side of the building. It was smoky inside, the original color of the carpet was an undisguisable, as were the walls. It smelled of fire and dust. Patches of light streamed in form holes in the roof, parts of the stone walls were missing.

It was ugly, and this war torn mess was most likely an improvement from what the building was like before.

In a moment he found a blood trail leading to a door half blown off its hinges. He smirked and planted his left foot in the ground and kicked with his right, knocking it off the one hinge and sent it flying into the room.

He heard a faint whimper from the shadows. The room had one window, otherwise it was entirely dark. Book cases, desks, chairs, and glass littered the floor. Dust wafted through the air, making it thick to breath. Ludwig scowled as he prowled in.

He was the wolf at the world's door and he was about to make an example of this nation.

He found the blonde behind a table that was on its side. He yanked him up by his hair and threw him on the ground at his feet.

Feliks looked up to Ludwig, blood dripped from his nose. He had a hand over his chest, both his hand and his uniform were bloody. He knew in one glance we would not find mercy from Ludwig. The tall German had a sharp and cold look, his eyes burned with intense hate and his scowl was deeply condescending. Ludwig wore the look of a man looking down at a rat.

The look of a king looking down at a dirty peasant.

"So, you dared resist my attack swine?"

The far smaller Polish man wasn't going to lie down at Ludwig's feet. he spat blood at him, getting some on his shoes. "Go to hell."

Ludwig kicked him in the face, and something gave under his boot. Feliks howled as his jaw and cheek bone broke, yet his fierce green eyes burned with a sharper determination.

"I bet your big brother would be so proud." Feliks smirked arrogantly

Ludwig stomped on his chest, breaking a finger of the hand Feliks had holding his wound, and breaking several ribs. He reached down and held the man by his throat, glaring at with pure hate.

He said nothing for the moment, but rather took Feliks outside and threw him down the steps of the wrecked building.

He knew how to break the man's spirit, and a cruel way it would be. He pointed to the top of the building. "See the flag that flies? It's not yours. It will never again be yours. This flag will fly over every capital building in the world. You are just the first to fall. The weakest link in the chain always breaks first."

Before Feliks could argue anything Ludwig dropped down on a knee, crouching by him. "See, no one cares about you. Remember Ivan, your old friend? He wants you back…I get half of this disgusting country, he gets the other part. And you know what? I think I'll let Ivan have you…you got along so well in the past didn't you?" he laughed manically, his blue eyes alight with a demonic passion.

He smiled, a sick smile as he watched the blood run out of Feliks' face. The spirit dimmed in those green eyes, and when the light was gone, all that was left was a broken hopeless man.

A man broken in body, hopeless in heart, and terrified in mind. That was just what Ludwig desired. He had totally and utterly broken him, he robbed him of any fighting spirit. He had subdued him, and no more problems would arise from this stupid Pole.

Ludwig stood up, and gave him a sharp kick to knock him out and he left him there for Ivan to collect later.

The last thing Feliks was aware of was the sound of Ludwig's boots walking away, and the German flag flying were his once did. A single tear escaped his eyes as he passed out.

Meanwhile, sitting in his office in Prussia Gil felt his own heart break. His brother was out of control and spiraling deeper into madness. There came a point where madness was no longer a condition, but a part of a man. Gil feared that after this war…Ludwig would never again be the same. He feared that his darkness, this madness, was slipping from the German's mind into his heart and soul. And when that happened…nothing could be done.

Gil had a fit of anger and he stood up and kicked his chair over. He was chained in Prussia, doing useless things while Ludwig's Prussian puppets plunged the nation into war with the Nazis. His old friends were going to war; his old friends were being attacked. They were looking for him, the brave and reckless Lord of War. And here he was…watching, caged by oaths, etiquette and honor… things Ludwig knew Gil couldn't bring himself to break no matter how stupid.

Ludwig had broken Feliks in the most cruel and brilliant way possible. And he had thrown his brother into the most perfect and inescapable prison, inflicting him with the worst torture imaginable. He was brilliant and he was cunning, and he wasn't done yet.

He was taking Belgium on his march to his France. And France was going to be awfully fun to watch fall.

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