[On the subject of nations as humane.]

Warning: This piece of writing contains some ideologically sensitive material. If you are easily offended, it is advised that you do not read this. However, in no way does this story reflect the personal opinions of the author him/herself. You have been warned.

Disclaimer: Ludwig Beilschmidt, or the personification of Germany, belongs to Himaruya Hidekaz.


XI.

Ludwig greets the Untersturmführer without missing a beat using the salute. H ereturns it, though his cold gaze remains the same.

"What brings you here?" asks Ludwig, doing his best to remain casual.

The officer's eyes flicker downwards at Helmut. The boy tilts his head inquisitively, blissfully unaware of the situation at hand, and the man's jaw twitches.

"How could I not have seen it before," he hisses through clenched teeth. "Everything points to it ... how you acquired the boy. Everything makes so much sense."

It is a frightened Helmut that stammers out the question, "W-w-what?"

The officer stoops down to his level and spits in his face. The boy backs away and, with a look of horror, wipes saliva from his cheek. Pathetically, the only noise he can produce is a whimper.

The Untersturmführer advances on him. Helmut inches back.

"Were you aware of his blood all along, Ludwig? You must have been, don't give me that look. You lied to me! When you lie to me, you lie to Germany! You lie to the Führer!"

Ludwig is not a good actor. He cannot pretend to be asleep when Helmut slips into his bed in the middle of the night asking for ice cream. He cannot smile too well when he doesn't feel like it.

Helmut looks back at him. The older man, his father figure, his saviour, is enraged. There is hope. He knows Ludwig is strong enough to pummel the Untersturmführer into submission, if need be. He opens his mouth to tell him to do it, but the next moment Ludwig is advancing in their direction.

He sees Ludwig's hand leave his side, but something is wrong. He is still too far to take ahold of the official's collar.

Before he knows what's happening, Helmut feels familiar fingers take ahold of the shell of his ear and pinch. Hard. So hard that he yelps and tries to pull Ludwig's hand off. What was happening? Ludwig never held him by the ear before!

"Untersturmführer," Ludwig addresses the other man, "I would like to personally 'take care' of this boy." The volume of his voice was eerily quiet. "His mother told me to protect him. As bad as it sounds, I'm rather attached to him. Therefore I would like your permission to do the dirty work from here on."

The Untersturmführer cocks an eyebrow. "I don't trust you."

"It was simply on moral obligation. I promise, with your coming, I got rid of the last shreds of my conscience."

Helmut wants to scream. He wants to punch Ludwig and ask him what's going on. He wants answers for why, all of a sudden, his only friend is turning against him.

But he can't. He is so paralysed by the fear of what happens next that he just stands there, hot and quivering, between two demons who seem to want to swallow him whole.

The atmosphere is tense. The officer narrows his eyes at Ludwig; Ludwig stares coolly back.

The officer sighs and takes off his cap, running a hand through his air. "It isn't that easy."

"Please. I won't ruin it for the Führer. I will dispose of this boy."

At that, Helmut twists around to look at Ludwig.

The pain in his ear is nothing.

What happens to his heart is far worse. In a flash, he remembers the tales Ludwig has told him. The Brothers Grimm. Saint George and the Dragon.

Helmut thinks that being impaled through and through feels like this. He wants to do many things. Throw up. Cry. He wants this to be a dream, but the dull throbbing in his ear ensures that it is not a dream.

He barely hears their next words. The Untersturmführer is greedy. He tells Ludwig to throw in an amount of money (to Helmut, it sounds like lots and lots) and fine, he'll let Ludwig get rid of him. It would be a shame to lose such a fine soldier, anyway. They need him on the front. What has he been doing at home all along?

The Untersturmführer leaves. The locks click, the door shuts. Ludwig lets go of the boy's ear and sighs.

"Helmut..."

Helmut, choking back a sob, runs upstairs and throws himself on the bed.

Outside of his door, Ludwig hears nothing - not even the faintest of a sniffle.


It is a long way to any kind of woods and they have to walk, the two of them. Berlin is in chaos, but its beauty has not yet been ruined. Helmut is not holding Ludwig's hand.

They have nothing to say to each other. Helmut obeys Ludwig. He isn't tall, but he stands in front of Ludwig like a good boy and holds his chin up high. He watches as Ludwig loads the pistol.

Funny thing is, he's never seen the pistol by itself before now. It always sat in a little leather case in Ludwig's study. He never thought it would be used.

And certainly not against him.

He makes no move when he hears the sharp click that indicates it's ready to be fired. He wonders what it's like to be shot. It had to hurt...

He doesn't want it to hurt.

"L-Ludwig..." he whispers.

Ludwig doesn't make any indication of having heard him.

He wants to say more. He wants to plead with him, but he doesn't. Instead, he closes his eyes.

An appeal to fear never finds an echo in German hearts.

An appeal to fear never finds an echo in German hearts.

An appeal to fear nev-

A shot rings out, deafening to the boy's ears. All of the explosions he's heard - artillery, gunfire - have always been behind walls. Being close to the bang is a completely different experience.

Miraculously, he feels nothing. He lets himself open his eye just a sliver.

Beside him, there is a bullet in the ground.

Ludwig aims again. He fires.

'The first time was just practise. Here it comes.'

Nothing. Just another loud bang as the bullet explodes forth from the muzzle of the gun. It buries itself into the soil again, near the boy's feet.

And again and again. Amazed, Helmut wonders if Ludwig's aim is just extraordinarily bad.

But no. He's walking towards Helmut. His arm comes forward and shoves Helmut into the dirt. The child almost protests, but Ludwig holds a finger to his lips. Then he stoops down, takes his hand, and stuffs a piece of paper in it.

He stands and turns away from his charge, winding and weaving through the trees.

Helmut waits for him to turn around and say goodbye.

The head of blond hair disappears among the leaves. A few moments pass before panic begins to well up - overpowering, piercing - inside Helmut.

Ludwig is gone.

It takes a few hours for Helmut to get used to being alone. Initially everything scares him, but the longer he sits there, the more it trickles into his head that nothing will hurt him.

He clenches his fists and feels edges pressing into his palm. What? Oh! The note. He'd almost forgotten about the note.

Slowly, his fist loosens to reveal the crumpled white paper in his hand. Not daring to breathe, he unfurls the paper, pulling the corners apart to find neat handwriting within.

"Helmut:

It may seem as though I am betraying you, but I assure you I am not. I agreed to pay the Untersturmführer such an amount of money that I wouldn't be able to support both of us. It was a golden opportunity to get you away from the chaos in Berlin and I took it - but now you will have to fend for yourself.

As much as I did for you, this is where it ends. Here, in this note. Where I drop you off, you will be close to the house of a good friend of mine. Just keep going in a straight line and you'll soon be out of the woods. Not too far beyond should be a small cottage of some sort. If you show him this note, I'm sure he won't oppose your stay. He's a very kind-hearted man.

If all goes well and you make it to him, he's sure to keep you safe until the war ends. I have a feeling that this is soon. Do not come back to Berlin.

I have a lot to say, but not enough paper. You drew and wrote on all of the sheets I gave you. It isn't much, but it will suffice: good luck, Helmut, and remember that your father loves you.

Ludwig."

The ink is slightly runny. Helmut crumples the note in his fist again.

And then he begins to cry.