In the first few days and weeks of owning his home, Dietrich had taken many, many walks around Hammelburg, and in the open land surrounding the town. His preferred path went along the Franconian Saale, especially during the autumn months, when colorful leaves were floating down the river and migratory birds had landed in the water for a rest. He decided he would take Anselm there, after taking a long and winding route through the tight streets near the center of Hammelburg, just to give Anselm an idea of what it was like. Dietrich expected Anselm to become overwhelmed, but instead, his nephew was taking in all the sights, sounds, and smells with an expression of wonder rather than fear. He even gave Anselm money to get whatever pastry he wanted at a bakery, and while waiting for Anselm, Dietrich found himself thinking back to those first few days and weeks of living here. Things had certainly changed since then, especially for him.

Anselm returned with a few paper bags and small boxes. "It was really hard to choose, Uncle Hans. Everything looked so good." His smile faded. "You're not angry, are you? I may have spent more than I was intending." He handed Dietrich only a few Deutschmarks.

"No, I am not angry," Dietrich said. "You still spent less than I gave you. Besides, I want you to enjoy yourself."

It was just the two of them out for that walk. Moffitt had decided to stay behind and do some chores around the house for Esther, giving her a chance to take time for herself. So, Dietrich and Anselm were on their own, wandering around Hammelburg. They left the busier parts of town, heading to a quiet path by the banks of the Franconian Saale. Dietrich looked across the river at the blooming trees, the green fields, and the roofs of homes and steeples of churches. It was a familiar sight, but not one that ever grew old. He paused, taking a moment to gaze out at the view.

"Everything alright?" Anselm asked.

"Yes," Dietrich replied. "Perfectly alright. Did you want to keep going?"

"We can take a break. There's a bench up ahead."

The continued on to the bench, sitting and decided to dig into the treats Anselm had gotten. A few minutes passed with no conversation between them. Dietrich glanced at Anselm, glad to see that he wasn't balled-up and staring at the ground all the time. There was still the issue of Anselm being frequently cold, but that would get better with time.

"When I actually got into West Germany a few weeks ago, I didn't think I would be here, doing something like this," Anselm said. "Not sure I was thinking much at all, really. At least I had a goal. That was the only thing that kept me going. I just wasn't sure what to expect when I actually reached it."

"You are fortunate to be alive, that is for sure," Dietrich said. "Like I said a few days ago, I doubt you would have been taken care of properly by your grandmother if she was still around."

Anselm nodded. "Nothing was what I was expecting when I came here. Not Uncle Markus. Not you. Not… anything." He looked at the cookie in his hand before putting it in his mouth. "Can I… say something, Uncle Hans?"

"Of course."

"I… overheard you and Moffitt, talking about… about your thoughts on my mother."

Dietrich braced himself for Anselm to get upset.

"I'm not sure what to think. You are right that I wouldn't be in a good position with her still around. I've thought about that, too." Anselm closed the paper bag by rolling up the opening, and set it between him and Dietrich. "Sometimes, I wish she was still here, but then I start thinking that if she was, I wouldn't be able to do any of this. I know she would be angry that Uncle Markus isn't like Father anymore. She would especially be angry about you being around." Anselm seemed to hesitate on his next thought. "Is it… selfish to ask, where would that leave me?"

"I have wondered myself about whether or not you would have been able to get help. In fact, we may have discussed this with you before, albeit angrier."

"When you were ranting about your mother?"

"Yes. That." Dietrich sighed. "I did say to Moffitt that what I was thinking was… not right. I do not feel gladness for anyone's death, not even someone I do not particularly like. I believe with time and patience, people can change, if they so wish. Death is permanent." His gaze turned to the Franconian Saale in front of him. "Once you cross the river, you are not coming back."

"What was that?"

Dietrich took a moment, trying to figure out the best way to explain the river. "I guess it can be called a near-death experience, and I am sure the East German government would lock me away somewhere and claim I am dangerously insane, but I firmly believe what I experienced was real. It felt real, about as real as the river we are sitting in front of right now." He looked down at his hands, turning them over to look at the scars on his wrists. "When I tried to commit suicide, my spirit went to this river. It is immensely beautiful, perhaps something that would have been seen in Eden. The colors of the plants, the sky, the rocks at the bottom of the river, are vibrant, but not saturated. There are no signs or people telling me what this place is, but something was telling me to cross. Cross and I would no longer be in pain all the time. So, I began wading into the river. I remember the water was perfect. It was not too warm or too cold. The river, that whole place… felt very peaceful, and I had been so unhappy for so long that I wanted to stay. I wanted to cross and see what lay on the other side. Fortunately, Troy stopped me. I am not sure how he got there, but he did. He dragged me to the side of the river I started on, and I fell unconscious. I woke up in a hospital not too long after."

"You are certain no one can just… cross back over?" Anselm asked.

"Positive."

Anselm went quiet, and returned to an anxious, hunched posture. "What you described… I… saw something similar in dreams, while I was in the hospital. It was hazy, but it was there. The… The vibrant colors and the clear water. There was a distinct smell, too. A fresh, sweet smell. Flowers, grass, and even the water. I couldn't see it clearly, but it was all so… beautiful, unlike anything else on Earth. It was funny being able to think that when I never really paid attention to things like that before, either because I was so hungry all the time, or just scared of being caught doing the wrong thing."

"The river is a beautiful, but terrifying place." A look of concern crossed Dietrich's face. "Do you remember anything else?"

"No, not really. I just remember sitting there, looking around at everything."

"Given what I know about the nature of the river, you being there… means you were just edging on the verge of death."

"It didn't feel like it, and I never moved toward it."

"What night was this?"

"My first night."

"Have you had any similar dreams since then?"

"No. Should we be worried?"

"I will do my best not to worry. The doctors did say you would make a full recovery as long as you took your medication, ate a proper diet, and started exercising."

"Not sure this counts as 'proper.'" Anselm lifted the paper bag of treats.

Dietrich gave him a lopsided grin. "You went without things like this for far too long. Go ahead and enjoy yourself."

"Thanks."

The two talked a little more before standing and continuing their walk alongside the Franconian Saale. They headed back to the house about an hour later, with Anselm looking and acting more energetic than Dietrich had been expecting. Dietrich's attention shifted from Anselm to what was occurring in the backyard when they reached home. He leaned against the fence, seeing Moffitt laying on his back, with Gunther taking some very wobbly steps and using Moffitt's drawn-up left knee for stability. Esther was sitting in the grass nearby, smiling broadly.

"Look at you!" Esther said cheerily. "Standing all by yourself! Can you try walking to Mama?"

"Is this his first time walking?" Dietrich asked.

"Yes! Look at him go! Come on, Gunther, come to Mama." Esther held her arms out.

The baby gave a happy squeal, but couldn't quite hold himself up for long after letting go of Moffitt's knee. Dietrich winced when Gunther fell flat onto Moffitt's stomach, sending all the air rushing from the lanky Englishman's lungs. Fortunately, the baby wasn't hurt. He gave a rather disappointed cry, but calmed down once his mother picked him up.

"Are you okay, Moffitt?" Esther asked.

"Mostly," Moffitt said breathlessly. "Give me a moment," he coughed.

Dietrich and Anselm entered the yard, with Dietrich pausing first by Esther to kiss her, then Gunther, and said, "That was a good first try. You will get the hang of walking eventually—just try not to fall on Uncle Moffitt every time." He looked over at where Moffitt had now curled up with his arms wrapped around his abdomen. "Are you sure you are alright?"

"I am not a good cushion," Moffitt said.

"Well, my son did not get hurt, so you did something."

Moffitt gave a very feeble and pained, "Good for me."


Dietrich was glad to see how much more open Anselm had become over the course of that day alone. Later that night, he, Anselm, and Moffitt were seated at the table, with cups of cocoa and a chessboard, as Anselm had expressed interested in another chess lesson. Gunther was Dietrich's responsibility while Esther was in the shower. Luckily for Dietrich, his infant son was all worn out from his first adventures in standing and walking, so he fell asleep while sitting on his father's lap. Things were going well, and Dietrich hoped they stayed that way.

It was a little later when they wrapped up their chess session, and Moffitt headed upstairs for his shower. Esther took Gunther, leaving Dietrich and Anselm alone in the living room. It was quiet apart from the crickets, made louder by the fact that the windows were open. Anselm lay on the couch and wrapped himself up in blankets. He stared at the windows for a moment, then whispered, "Uncle Hans?"

"Yes?" Dietrich replied.

Anselm looked like he wanted to speak more, but instead sighed and put his head on the pillow. "Never mind."

"Is something wrong?"

"I don't know. Just… had this horrible feeling. I know we're not being watched, but… I feel…"

"You feel like you are back in East Germany."

Anselm nodded. "Not sure why."

"Did this just start out of nowhere, or did Moffitt or I do something to make you start thinking of it?"

"It feels like it started out of nowhere. I just started feeling… anxious. I don't… I don't want to be left alone."

"Alright. I will stay until Moffitt comes back." Dietrich sat by Anselm, and gently squeezed his shoulder. "How have you been feeling, physically?"

"A bit better. I think I'm more tired than I usually am because we took a walk today. Wouldn't mind doing it again tomorrow."

"If you feel up to it."

Another nod. "It's also been nice being able to eat regularly. I feel like I can think about other things more often."

"Good. We will keep that up, then."

Anselm relaxed a little, though he looked like he was thinking as he stared out one of the windows. He then looked up at Dietrich. "So, are we waiting for Troy before we talk to Uncle Markus again?"

"Yes," Dietrich replied. "Why do you ask?"

"Regardless of what happens… I want to stay with you."

Dietrich had a feeling Anselm might say that eventually, but actually hearing it brought a smile to Dietrich's face. He tousled Anselm's hair, and Anselm sat up to hug him. "You are truly happy here?" Dietrich asked.

"Happier than I've been in months," Anselm said. "I don't quite know what I'm going to do with my life, but… I feel like I found the right people to help."

Dietrich was glad to hear that, but he also hoped he would be able to live up to Anselm's expectations. Then again, he felt like he already had. I have given him safety and shelter. Can I give him a path in life? I hope so. He looked up when he heard someone coming downstairs, and saw Moffitt entering the room.

"I'm not interrupting anything, am I?" Moffitt asked.

"No," Dietrich replied. He patted Anselm's back. "Alright. I am off to bed. You have Moffitt here if you need anything. Or, if you really need me, come upstairs and wake me up."

"Thanks, Uncle Hans," Anselm replied. "Good night."

"Good night." Dietrich turned to Moffitt. "Good night to you, too."

"Sleep well, Dietrich," Moffitt said with a yawn. "Tomorrow is our last Troy-free day."

Dietrich was tempted to bring up that it was Moffitt's fault that Troy was going to come crashing in, but decided not to, as he didn't want Moffitt going into a downward spiral of thinking he did something terrible. Again. "Yes. We will enjoy the peace, quiet, and sense of order for one last day. Sleep well." He headed upstairs, pausing in the bathroom to finish his nightly routine, then went into his bedroom.

Esther was sitting up in bed with a book. She closed it when her husband entered the room. "Hello, Hans," she said.

Dietrich pulled off his shirt, neatly folding it before setting it on top of his dresser. "Esther." He climbed into bed. "Well, like Moffitt said, tomorrow is our last Troy-free day, so let us enjoy the time we have left."

"Hans, you make it sound like it's going to be terrible."

"Angel, have you just met Troy?"

"No, but he's not the worst houseguest."

Dietrich sighed. "Maybe he will be well-behaved this time, but I would not bet on it." He pulled Esther in for a hug and cuddle, grateful that day had gone much better than the one before.

The next morning went quite well, especially compared to the banana-spattered previous one. Dietrich and Esther awoke to silence and the smell of coffee, and went downstairs to find Moffitt with Gunther in the kitchen, holding him in one arm while making tea. Gunther was holding a plush scarlet kingsnake that Anah had sewn, occasionally waving it around, sometimes dropping it. He seemed to get a kick out of going up and down whenever Moffitt crouched to get the toy back, laughing every time.

"Oh, good, our kitchen does not look like it was hit with banana bombs," Dietrich said.

"Hans, that's not what we say to people in the morning," Esther replied.

"'Good morning' gets a bit bland after a while."

"To be fair, I'm glad I'm not covered in banana right now," Moffitt said. "My back and hips and knees are probably going to be quite annoyed with me for all this bloody crouching I'm doing." He looked at Gunther. "Can we please stop dropping the poor snake?"

"I can take him," Esther said. "Is Anselm up?"

"He's still asleep." Moffitt handed the baby off to his mother. "I figured it was best not to wake him, especially since he had a bit of a rough night."

"Is he alright?" Dietrich asked.

"Bad dreams, that's all." Moffitt lowered his voice. "He was dreaming about those border guards beating him. We talked about it for a little while, then went back to sleep."

Dietrich went into the living room, seeing Anselm still asleep on the couch. He wasn't surprised this was a result of the horrible treatment that Anselm endured. As tempting as it was to wake him and talk to him, Dietrich figured it was better to let him rest. Before going back into the kitchen, Dietrich noticed that Anselm had his jacket draped over him. "Moffitt—"

"Oh, yes, he asked for that," Moffitt replied. "He said it was the first thing that let him know that being here in West Germany was going to be different."

"He can keep it, then," Dietrich said. It was amazing how something as simple as a jacket had become so meaningful to Anselm, but Dietrich certainly didn't think it was strange. He and the Rats all had little things that meant the world to them.

He didn't wake Anselm until breakfast was ready. The young man seemed quieter, but wasn't hunching over like he typically did when he was overwhelmed and upset. Dietrich left the rest of the day up to Anselm, and was surprised, albeit pleasantly, that Anselm wanted to go on another walk. This time, they headed slightly northeast, uphill to a lovely view of the town. As lovely as the old castles and manors were, Dietrich and Anselm avoided them so they weren't surrounded by tourists. The quietness of the surrounding parks and woods made it easier to talk anyway.

At first, their topics were on the mundane side, but when it seemed they had run out of things to say for that walk, Dietrich glanced over at Anselm to say, "You can keep that jacket if you want."

"You're sure?" Anselm asked.

"Of course."

Anselm didn't respond for a few moments, then mumbled, "Thanks."

"I am not one who underestimates the value of little things, little acts of kindness, but I was not expecting you to become attached to that jacket. I cannot even remember when I bought it. I think it was… five years ago? I had been putting off getting new clothing for a while, and gave in about a day into a period of leave to just go out and get a few new things." Dietrich smirked. "That was before I met Esther. I had very little to do whenever I came home for leave from the Bundeswehr. Well, at certain points of the year, I tended to the garden. Other points of the year, nothing. I would stay home. I would do nothing. Unless I am visiting a friend. I always take a couple of weeks every summer to visit Troy on his ranch. Somehow, something ridiculous and wacky occurs every time."

"Is it fun, though?"

"Of course. It takes a toll on my sanity sometimes, but I would not have it any other way."

When they headed back home, Dietrich paused to look over the flower bushes at the front of the house, and he wasn't quite sure why until noticing a peculiar shadow in the one below the living room windows. What the hell—

There was a violent rustling, and Sam Troy's head and torso shot out from the bush. "Hi, Dietrich!"

Dietrich jumped back with a scream of fright. His shock was swiftly replaced with annoyance. "Damn it, Troy! What possessed you to hide in my flowers?! Get out!"

"They were there," Troy said. "Also, is that how you greet your friends every time they come over?"

"Not when they scare the daylights out of me and damage my plants, you imbecile! Out!" Dietrich swore under his breath before crouching to examine what Troy had done to his flowers. Fortunately, the only damage was a few broken branches. "You did not eat any of these, did you?"

"Why?"

Dietrich sighed.

"I already know they're not poisonous."

"No, they are not, but it is generally courteous to not eat people's flowers." Dietrich glared at Troy. "Then again, what do you know about courtesy? How long were you there?"

"About an hour."

"Esther and Moffitt are here. You did not bother to knock and wait patiently for me like a normal person? Oh, wait—"

"I did knock, and I thought about waiting patiently after Moffitt told me you were on a walk, and then decided to do this."

"You listened to the voices in your head."

"If that's how you want to put it." Troy turned to Anselm, and his tone became a bit more serious. "So, you're the new nephew, huh? Anselm, right?"

Anselm nodded.

"I never thought I'd meet someone skinnier than Moffitt," Troy said with a slight grimace. "You've been put through the wringer, kid. At least, that's what I've been told."

"How much did Moffitt tell you?"

"Not much. He said he'd leave it to you whether you wanted to talk about it or not."

"Okay. That… That was nice."

The three went inside, where Esther was playing with Gunther in the living room, and Moffitt was buttering a piece of bread. The lanky Englishman gave Troy a look. "I have one question: why?"

"Why what?" Troy asked.

"Why did you hide in the flowers and nearly give poor Dietrich a heart attack?"

"Is that worse than anything we did in North Africa?"

Dietrich rubbed his face. "Everything you did in North Africa was worse," he growled through clenched teeth.

Moffitt set his bread on a plate before giving his tea a stir. His tone remained casual when he said, "Troy, before I forget, there's something you should know about Dietrich."

"Oh?" Troy raised an eyebrow.

"In spite of all his complaints about you, he has picked up the ability to think like you do."

Troy slowly turned to face Dietrich. "Is this true?"

"No!" Dietrich snapped.

"I distinctly remember what you said," Moffitt continued. "When we were discussing bringing food for Anselm in the hospital, and Markus said it would be difficult to sneak a piece of cake in there, your exact words were, 'That does not mean we cannot try.'"

"It was you who thought I sounded like Troy!"

"Because you sounded like Troy in that moment."

Dietrich's face reddened when he saw Troy's grin getting bigger and bigger in the corner of his vision. He swore in German before storming into the kitchen.

"Speaking of Markus, I'm guessing we're going to have to go down to Munich to talk to him?" Troy asked.

"Yes," Dietrich said. "I was planning on going tomorrow morning."

"Why wait? We got lots of daylight left."

"That is not the point, Troy. Markus will probably be sitting down to dinner in three hours. It would be quite rude to barge in on him and his family. Besides, are you not tired?"

"Me? No. I said I'd come help with this, so that's what I'm going to do." Troy looked at Anselm. "You're at the heart of this, kid, what do you want to do?"

"Whatever Uncle Hans thinks is best," Anselm said.

Dietrich couldn't decide if he thought that was sweet, or if it was going to make decisions more complicated than they needed to be.

"Okay." Troy turned to Dietrich. "Hey, we'll wait until tomorrow morning if you want, buddy."

Dietrich would have preferred to wait just to avoid being rude. At the same time, he wanted to get this issue solved. He wanted to be on good terms with his brother again. "Are you prepared for things to not go well in the beginning, Troy?"

"I'm expecting things to not go well in the beginning. I get where Markus is coming from, but—" Troy glanced at Anselm, "—he was in your nephew's position at one point."

"Markus's problem is that he cannot distance Anselm from Konrad," Dietrich said.

"I'd say the fact that Markus actually hurt you in the past is worse, but you still gave him a chance, even though that was the same exact face. How'd you do it?"

"I just did, even though I was not sure what to expect."

"Then we do the same with Markus and Anselm."

"Can we convince Markus to try, though?"

"Tully convinced you to try."

Dietrich sighed. "Then I suppose we will find out when we talk to Markus." He looked at Anselm. "Alright. We… will go to Markus's. Are you okay with that?"

"Could we have lunch first?" Anselm asked.

"Of course."

"And I want to finish my tea," Moffitt added.

"Put it in a thermos," Troy said.

"Tea does not go in thermoses, you barbarian!"


Dietrich still wasn't thrilled about this being a last-minute decision, but couldn't help agreeing that he wanted to make things right with Markus. Then again, they could have waited until the next morning. Oh, well. Dietrich kept quiet while driving himself, Anselm, Troy, and Moffitt down to Munich. He realized he could turn around, but that meant arguing with Troy, which he didn't feel like doing at the moment. Or any moment.

"Are you okay with me asking you something, kid?" Troy asked.

"Sure," Anselm replied.

"How the hell did you survive crossing the inner German border?"

"Weeks of scouting out a poorly guarded area, then making a run for it."

"Weeks?"

"Weeks. Wasn't exactly easy. First, there was finding spots that don't have a lot of guards. Then, there's checking for mines and booby-traps. All without getting caught. I did get caught once." Anselm looked down at his lap. "And tortured for it."

Dietrich glanced in the rear-view mirror to see a look of sympathy in Troy's eyes.

"You escaped," Troy said. "At your age, with no training and no experience. That's impressive."

"I had nothing else," Anselm said. "Easy to focus when that's all you have. Just a goal and no… no thoughts on anything else. No parents, no friends, no hobbies. Nothing."

Troy's expression was one of understanding. "Just the will to survive."

"Yeah." Anselm looked at Troy. "You get it?"

"I escaped a POW transit camp in North Africa. The commander was going to keep torturing me until I had no will to escape. That was his thing, you know. Wanted to make sure the prisoners weren't going to cause problems for their captors up in Germany. So, he tried to break every last one of us until he could place a guy in front of an open gate without the guy bolting."

"You didn't break."

"Nope. Just kept trying. And trying. And trying. And trying, until one night, I got out. I didn't stop. I was starved, dehydrated, had broken ribs in my back, bruises everywhere, cuts all over from being whipped, you name it. I still got out. I was focused on that and not much else. I fell off my jeep, so I was the only one of my unit caught. None of the other prisoners wanted to help me. The only sympathetic guard was afraid of getting caught if he provided me with any help—then again, I do still wonder if he played a part in why my way out was wide open that night. Not sure I'll ever know."

"If you remember his name, I might be able to see if there are records on him," Dietrich chimed in. "All we can do is pray he did not get stuck in East Germany."

"Could always give him the route I took to get out," Anselm said. "If it's still open."

"We can keep all of this in mind for a later adventure," Dietrich said. "For now, we will worry about Markus."

Moffitt grinned. "There's always a later adventure with us, isn't there?"

"Somehow. I would like some time to just relax, though." Dietrich doubted he would be able to relax until he knew definitively how they were going to handle the situation with Markus. All he could do was hope it would go well.

They were pulling into Markus's driveway a little after three in the afternoon. Dietrich could see Markus's vehicle in the garage, so unless Markus was on a walk, it meant they were going to have this talk right here and now. He sighed heavily, mumbled a prayer for strength and patience, and got out of the car.

"We're with you the whole way, Dietrich," Moffitt said.

"Yep," Troy added. "Nothing to worry about."

Dietrich looked over his shoulder at the two former Rats, then felt a hand take his arm. He turned to see Anselm. The young man smiled weakly, but said nothing. Once Anselm let go, Dietrich headed up the stairs of his brother's home, with Troy, Moffitt, and Anselm in tow. He let out his breath before knocking on the door.

A few moments passed before the door opened. Markus looked like he was about to say something, but he paled when he saw there were more people behind his younger brother. "What is this, Hans?"

"We are going to have this discussion whether you want to or not," Dietrich said.

"What's he doing here?" Markus pointed at Troy.

Troy pointed at Moffitt. "Ask him."

Markus looked at Moffitt. "What is he doing here?"

"I brought in the big guns to deal with this situation," Moffitt said. "Your behavior has proven to be very upsetting to your brother and your nephew, and I refuse to sit by and watch you two fall apart after you managed to reunite with each other only a year ago."

Markus turned to Dietrich. "I told you I would call you when I felt ready to discuss this. It has only been two days since I told you that."

"Then I suppose I do more thinking than you," Dietrich growled. "Two days is plenty of time. Or are you just making up excuses to avoid confronting your feelings about Anselm?"

"I happen to have other things in my life to think about." Markus's eyes narrowed to slivers of blue. "I told you, I am not ready. Leave it at that."

"How about we take this inside?" Troy said.

Markus sighed, and reluctantly let everyone in. He went into the living room, saying, "Liesel, can you take the children somewhere for a little while? I have a feeling this conversation is going to get ugly."

"Do I need to be worried about you?" Liesel asked.

"No. Maybe they can change my mind. I doubt it, though."

Liesel bit her lip, like she was thinking of something to say, then nodded and went upstairs to get Ludwin and Sophie.

Once they left, Markus turned to face his brother and nephew. He focused on Anselm for a moment, and the longer he stared at Anselm, the more Anselm was looking at the floor.

"Stop it," Dietrich said. "Anselm did nothing to you."

"Then tell me, Hans, how I can look at him and not see Konrad. I don't understand how you do it. I really don't."

"I doubt that is something I can explain. I told you before that Konrad's sins are not Anselm's. I will not judge him on what his father did. Frankly, I do not care in the slightest what he looks like. That is such a shallow thing to judge him by, and it makes me rather ashamed of you. I did not treat you the same way last year, even though I can still see your face clearly in my memories. Punching me, kicking me, holding my arms behind my back so Konrad could using me as a punching bag, stealing food from me—"

"I get the point," Markus muttered.

"I endured much at your hands, and Konrad's, but I forgave you. What is Anselm going to have to do to show you he is not his father? Will anything he does be enough? Anything? Or will nothing be enough? I can tell you right now that if you impose that sort of impossible standard on him, you will be no better than Konrad, and certainly, certainly no better than Mother."

Markus went silent. He glanced at Anselm, then back up at Dietrich. "You're convinced Anselm is different?"

"I believe it with every bit of my heart and soul, as much as I believe you have changed."

Markus nodded, looking down at the floor for a moment. "Alright. I will… try. First, I want to speak to you alone in the library, Hans."