I will be on hiatus since i will be writing something else for Nanowrimo

Chapter 2:

Alek slapped himself on the face, a red spot had formed on his cheek where he had been slapping for the last four hours. The force of it made the helmet on his head tip down over his eyes.

He was crouched down in a rye field on the country outskirts of Bastogne. Through the unripe green stalks in front of him was the fence, followed by the road. Up the road was back into town, down the road was, well, south.

Escaping Bastogne went smoothly after his encounter with the Germans. But while he was hiding out with the unconscious soldier he had subdued, an idea occurred to him. Now here he was, in a German uniform way too big for him, in some desperate attempt to save his men. At least if he was caught he would have done things the honorable way.

It was breaking twilight, the sky turning gray and stars disappearing, when he heard it. The footsteps of a German Four-Legged Walker. Quiet, but rapidly growing louder. Alek guessed it was open-topped, based on the weight of the stomps.

Now on the road, trekking soldiers made heavy footsteps moving away from Bastogne. They were silent, some had their rifles slung over their shoulders while others were holding on to them lazily at their waist. Alek adjusted the rifle at his own shoulder; it was heavier than any weapon he had handled before. He did his best to stick it next to his bag full of clothes and gold.

Then the Walker came into view. It was a large, simple thing. Open topped, it was nothing more than a cargo walker painted with Empire colors. 4 legs carried a big platform filled with men and crates kept inside by wood railing. There was one pilot in front, clearly inexperienced due to a man on the ground leading the Walker with a rope. It was much like a cow on a leash, as long as said cow was two men tall and a whole road wide. And was made of metal. And carried the staples of war. So exactly like a normal cow!

Alek prayed that no one found him too out of the ordinary as he got up and jumped the fence. At least, he tried to jump the fence. A missed night's sleep had made him trip on the top railing, and he fell helmet first into the dirt while his leg was still caught on the fence.

He looked up, flinging some dirt with his helmet spike as he did so. Looking around, most people hadn't batted an eye. But one soldier was running straight towards him, rifle in hand.

"Good God man, what the hell are you doing!?"

Alek froze at the young soldier towering above him.

"Two men were already court martialled for misconduct last night! The Oberjager is not in a good mood. What made you think it was a good idea to get drunk at this hour anyway?"

Perhaps he had already slipped in. He just needed to say the right things. Alek swallowed. "I, uh… sorry, sir. I'm not drunk, I just didn't get a lot of sleep last night."

"Ha! You and I both." The soldier offered his hand to Alek. He stared at its calloused and dirty surface dumbly. "Well?"

"Oh, yes yes of course." He bit the bullet and took the unnoble hand. Now up, he dusted off his uniform. Then, facing the soldier, he thought of the most commoner way to thank him. "Uhm… thank you my brother in arms."

"Brother in arms? Are you from the new regiment? My name is Konrad." He smiled warmly. Now up, Alek could get a good look at his savior. He was young, exceptionally so. Alek thought that he might be younger than him. Dirty black hair stuck out of his helmet, his rosy cheeks were likely from being outside in the cold night, and his blue eyes were surrounded by eyebags. Alek figured he himself looked much the same, minus the eye color.

"Sorry, Konrad. My name is Alek."

"Alek? Like Prince Aleksandar of Bohemia?"

Alek cringed. Has he already been found out? "It's… I'm named after him."

"Hm. You do sound a little Austrian."

"Yes, my parents moved to Berlin before I was born. And just so you're educated on it, the proper title is Prince Aleksandar of Hohenberg."

Konrad peered his eyes at him. "The new regiment was raised in Hannover, and my regiment is from Koln." He stepped closer. "And for a native Berliner, you know alot about Prince Aleksandar."

He bit his lip. "Well, you see, that's because…"

Alek trailed off, and they stared at each other in silence. Alek's eyes and bottom lip shook as he failed to raise an iron constitution within him. The kind of iron constitution that Konrad seemed to be repeatedly stabbing into Alek's chest. Alek started to sweat, getting ready to bolt, when Konrad let out a hearty laugh.

"Ha! I understand now, you don't want to fight in that mess of an army the Austrians have! I've heard they print conscription letters in seven different languages, is it true?"

"That's not…" Alek sighed. "Yes, I'm an Austrian deserter. But we don't print conscription letters in-"

He nodded. "We should get back to marching." He slung his rifle over his shoulder, then spit at the ground. "Got a long day ahead of us. But your secret's safe with me, Austrian." He hit him reassuringly on the shoulder.

Alek stepped away from where Konrad spit and rubbed his shoulder from Konrad's hit. "Thank you."

"Yeah, yeah…"

"And if I may ask, where are we going? I was… intoxicated when the order was given."

"We'll be stopping at Luxemburg. Then I think we're going to fight in this place with a long name. I just call it Eslass."

"Eslass-Lothringen." Alek remembered from his politics lessons back in Austria. "Alsace-Lorraine if you're French."

"Well thankfully I'm not." He spit again, somehow landing on the exact same spot. Then he pointed down the road. "Hey, the Walker's got free space!"

Alek looked over his non-painful shoulder and down the road. "Really? It looks full to me."

"Bah! That's half full at most. Come on, quickly!" Konrad dashed forward, hitting Alek's shoulder again. Looking around, with no other allies in sight, Alek did a quick walk following him.

If the Walker was a cow, the rope dangling behind was its tail. It was a thick thing, with knots the size of melons every half-meter running up it. Konrad, with seemingly no effort, grabbed onto the wild tail and started climbing up using the knots as foot holds. Alek tried to do the same and found that it took much more upper body strength than he envisioned. Konrad had to pull the rope up to help Alek.

Getting to the Walker's back on all fours, Alek heaved hard as Konrad stood over him laughing. "Come on, get up! It's just boarding onto the Holstein." Without asking whether or not he wanted it, he grabbed Alek and forced him to stand up. Alek grabbed onto the wooden railing, steadying himself the best he could on the rocky ride that was the Holstein.

"This pilot is not very good." Was all he could manage as he gripped the railing hard. The cargo bay of the Holstein was cramped, men sitting on the cargo formed lines against the sides and only created the suggestion of a middle walkway. Despite its dense nature, the men here seemed content and were mostly half-asleep leaning against their rifles. It was like some sort of communal, mekhanical, rocking crib.

Konrad went up to the nearest man and gently nudged him into the man adjacent. "Make some space, some for my friend here as well."

The soldier nudged himself away, which inturn nudged the next man down aswell. Eventually, they had made adequate space for one person to sit. Well, adequate for one person in Alek's eyes. Konrad had sat down and nudged himself into the line as well, leaving just enough room for Alek to rest. As long as he was comfortable sharing body heat. Reluctantly, Alek did sit down despite the closeness. That feeling didn't last for long, as when he took off his bag and rifle he felt the best he had for the past hours. Taking in the euphoria, he set his rifle like a staff against the ground and leaned on it imitating what the other soldiers did.

As Alek got settled, getting used to the gentle (And sometimes harsh!) rocking of the Holstein, his mind finally began to slow down. Ever since he woke up, he had been all alone and on the run in a place crawling with those who were hunting him. And even after he had somewhat escaped their maw, he stayed awake cowering in a cold field for hours in the name of a hare-brained attempt to save his men.

His men. Bauer, Klopp, and… Volger. Even before they fled Brussels, Volger seemed to be the leader of the group. Always knowing what to say, where to go, he seemed almost like a comforting figure in Alek's life despite his matter-of-fact way of saying things. But Volger made a mistake, and now Alek was alone because of it. And what he said last night, when they were rushing to get him out… did Volger really want his final words to him to be so… malicious?

A lump began to form in his dry, dry throat. Again he tried to create an iron constitution from within. He can get, or even, demand an explanation from Volger when he rescues them. And if he refused to apologize then, well, Alek just had to get over it and stop whining like a baby. He tried not to think about it.

He needed to ask where they kept their prisoners. But when he opened his mouth, he found himself yawning. He couldn't remember the last time he felt this sleepy, on a hardwood crate surrounded by dirty soldiers no less! His eyes turned to Konrad, who seemed to be in a similar state of drowsiness. It seemed strange, just moments ago he was laughing heartily and climbing the boarding rope. God's wounds, climbing that thing was tiring!

Again he opened his mouth. "Thank you, Konrad." Then he yawned again, closing his eyes this time.

"Yeah, yeah…" Konrad nodded without looking.

Alek's last thoughts before dozing off were on Konrad's peculiar way of accepting thank-yous as well as the monotonous movements of the Walker. Commoners could be so humble…

Hours had slipped by when the Walker eased into a hissing stop. Alek awoke to the men getting up and stretching. The twilight had turned into an overcast day which made suffocating grays envelop the horizon.

"Alek," Konrad was standing, a foot on the railing and whispering. "I'm gonna see what I can of that town over there." There in the foggy morning distance were the faint shapes and smokestacks of a quaint Clanker village. Before Alek could respond, Konrad heaved himself over the railing.

Wide-eyed, Alek jolted up and looked over. Then he breathed a sigh of relief. The Holstein may have been tall when it moved, but when it was halted it had lowered itself to a reasonable-to-jump-off height. Still, Konrad was nowhere to be found.

Grabbing his bag and slinging his rifle, he daintily stepped out of the Walker and onto the road below. All around him were the lively goings-on of a German convoy stopped for breakfast. Walking aimlessly around, Alek's ears were filled with news on the war, the rye harvest, girls people had back home, just whatever things commoners talked about. Then a strangely familiar smell reached him. Following its weak burnt scent, he found a small crowd forming around a stand. Jumping up, he got a peek of the point of interest. A coffee stand!

Well, it was nothing more than a pot and ladle on a rough wooden table. The men even had to supply their own tin cups. Still, the prospect of caffeine was too tempting for Alek. One for his drowsiness, and two for his thirstiness. Unfortunately, he had no cup. However, quickly thinking, he took off his helmet and waited his turn in the crowd. Being surrounded by towering soldiers much older than him made Alek feel a little trapped, but he kept his eyes forward and set his jaw tight.

Finally it was his turn. When he was at the table and the server hailed him, Alek offered his upside-down helmet. "Hello sir, i'm not picky. I prefer anything Ottoman or African, but please don't give me anything grown in the new world."

The server, and a few of the crowd for that matter, eyed him confusingly. Then without a word the server ladelled some scoops of coffee into his helmet. When Alek started to leave through the crowd, a few people were chuckling and he almost spilled his drink from someone patting him harshly on the back. Alek smiled too.

Free from the crowd, though still under amused gazes from those he passed, he put the cold metal of his helmet's rim up to his lips. The lukewarm coffee was watery, earthy, and seasoned with sweat and metal. Through the contaminants Alek guessed it must have been imported from Africa. His favorite! As he took a big gulp, he was instantly energized due to his lack of experience with caffeine.

Walking still, he spotted a secluded grassy knoll and decided it would be best to sit down there to drink the rest. But as he crested the hill, a small camp isolated from the rest of the group came into view. It consisted of a few soldiers, some cooking around a fire, and two men chained to a horse-drawn cart behind them.

There, in chains and guarded by myriad troops, Bauer and Klopp were sitting and leaning on the wheel of the cart, quite dejected. Alek's eyes widened and then, as subtle as he could have been with a helmet full of coffee, he made his way to them.

Seeing his men made Alek instantly put his guard up again. Now closer, he could see that the cart was a water caravan, and they were siphoning water from the creek nearby. Alek came up to his men, eyes cast downwards just in case the guards somehow knew who he was. Finally he reached Klopp, the smell of tobacco emanating from him.

"Klopp." Alek whispered.

Klopp looked up and didn't recognize Alek at first. But when he did, his entire body perked up with renewed hope. "Your serene highness!" he whispered back.

With his, Bauer looked up as well. "Prince Aleksandar!" He quickly looked around. "My God, look at you, please forgive me for-"

"You are forgiven, I understand why you pushed me out."

"No, your serene highness. Not for pushing out the window, but for failing to protect you."

Alek paused at this, but nodded. "You can redeem yourself yet. I'm still here." Alek eyed the guards. They were looking at him, but they were smiling at his coffee-filled helmet. Alek breathed a sig of relief and turned back to his men. "Is Volger here?"

The two prisoners looked at each other grimly. Klopp spoke up, "They found out who he was. He's been taken for…" He swallowed, "He's been brought in for interrogation. He's been gone for hours now."

Interrogation? They must have figured out that Volger was a count, a count who was with Alek when they fled Brussels. But hours?

Alek remembered when he was six and he had lessons on the Austrian-Hungarian treaties. In one treaty, the Hungarians demanded that the Austrians stop 'interrogating' their criminals with various torture methods. That lesson was Alek's first time reading about such things. The beatings, the rack, the rats, the stake, the molten iron, the oubliette… Alek never forgot how, after that lesson, he stole away and snuck around the castle. He was looking for the old torture chambers to confirm that if they were real. Sure enough he found them in a dark, damp, old corner of the castle crawling with bugs and rats. The rats… And now, those nightmares Alek had that night, were a grim reality to Volger. Alek tried not to show his distress and, for the first time, he felt like he was moderately successful.

"Where… where is he?"

"We don't know, but when they took him they headed towards the front of the march group."

Alek nodded, shakily. He cursed himself for his faltering veneer of stoicism. He had to be in control, or at least seem to be. That was Klopp and Bauer's only hope. That was Alek's only hope. "I'll try and see where he is. I will… I will organize all of us. Keep communications running, get whatever supplies we need. When the time is right, we will get away somehow. Until then, we keep quiet."

Klopp and Bauer nodded enthusiastically.

"Farewell, my friends." Alek started to walk away, but Klopp interrupted.

"Excuse me, my Serene Highness, we have been… deprived of food and drink since our capture. And…" He eyed Alek's helmet hungrily. "You did say you'd get whatever supplies we need."

"Oh, yes of course." Alek returned to his men and put the helmet to their lips, as their hands were tied. He gave half to Klopp first, feeling as he desperately sucked in. He gave the other half to Bauer, and he did the same.

When they had emptied the helmet, Alek put it into the crook of his elbow and again bid his farewells. When he turned back to leave, he realized that the entire secluded camp was watching them.

Alek cursed his childish instincts under his breath. Volger would have left them, no doubt!

Alek stuck his helm back on his head as he blended back into the main camp. He started his way down the road, passing by the crouching Holstein and glancing at the eating soldiers. He felt like every pair of eyes were on him, and it was just a matter of time before all those long guns were pointing at him.

Whislt staring down at his boots hitting the dirt road, a soldier in called out to him and blocked his path

"Coffee Boy." Alek looked up and identified an incredibly exaggerated accent of higher nobility. The man's uniform was incredibly colorful, a far cry from the usual grays of the German military. He had two other men in tow, more usual looking soldiers. "You're coming with me."

"Excuse me? What for-"

"Shush!" The man's medals jingled on his chest as he spat out. "You're in big trouble! Now come quietly lest I force you to."

Big trouble? God's wounds, did they figure it out? He should have known. A common soldier with not only an Austrian, but an incredibly bad commoner accent? A mystery soldier just turning up after they fail to find someone of the same age? Conversing, and even helping those prisoners? Coffee Boy? "I… I think there's been a misunderstanding, man-"

"You will Address me as Prince Heinrich von Littegotteich of Saxony!" He spat. "Guards, seize him!" He grabbed one of the guards by the shoulder and failed to shove him forwards. After that, both of the soldiers walked calmly forward, rolling their eyes.

"Just come quietly, man." They lightly grabbed each of Alek's arms. Alek, still shaken from his possible capture, didn't notice the other one eating a Schokolade bar.

They 'dragged' him across the convoy, stopping so that Prince Heinrich von Littegotteich of Saxony could berate some poor water carrying boy for getting in his way. Finally they reached their destination. It was a walker, 4 legs but smaller than the Holstein but instead of an open top it was a closed chassis. The door was painted with an imperial wehrmacht iron cross.

"Take him to the Oberjager." Prince Heinrich waved dismissively. "I have more important things to do."

One of the soldiers opened the door while Alek and the other stepped in, bowing their heads to avoid the ceiling. It was a cramped room with nothing but gray metal all around. Sitting places stuck out from the opposite wall. A waiting room. There was an inner, more dignified door to the rest of the interior. Alek took a seat, and immediately the heat was sucked from his body.

"The Oberjager will call you shortly." One of the guards stayed in while the other went out and took post by the door.

For a while there was nothing but silence and the Mekhanical buzz of the walker all around them, as well as the guard munching on his Schokolade. Alek's mind settled on the thought of Volger when the inner door suddenly opened.

"I have thoroughly enjoyed this, Count!" A hearty, yet professional laugh came from within.

"The same regards go to you, Oberjager." A more reserved voice was closer. "I Bid you Adieu."

As the man left with a guard at his arm, his mustached face turned to Alek and grew wide eyed. Alek looked up at him, and returned the gesture. Volger. He passed without a word, but his look said it all. There was hope, hope that all of them could escape this place alive.

That is, of course, unless they had already figured Alek out.