Re: Blood and Iron

Hours had passed since Bruno first received the desperate call from the Grand Duchess of Luxembourg. She had immediately relayed his orders to her people while she and her family took shelter in the cellar of the estate.

What remained of her armed forces—a mere company of gendarmes, whose primary task had been law enforcement, not civil defense—took up positions with old bolt-action rifles and began firing at the French brigands.

The palace grounds had become an active combat zone. Fortunately for the royal family, the few "soldiers" they had were expert marksmen. Using the palace interior as a kill zone, they dropped the French veterans—men who had turned to banditry in order to survive the collapse of the Republic—one by one, as they dared to intrude upon its depths.

Tanks were impossible for the brigands to procure. Most of what France had built during the war had been scrapped by the Germans during their march to Paris, and what little remained was either destroyed or rendered useless during the ensuing civil war.

But armored cars? A few still existed. And the larger war bands had managed to get their hands on them. Light artillery under 100mm? That too. But anti-aircraft weaponry? No… they had none.

Because of this, the Werwolf Brigade's elite airborne battalion had managed to drop behind enemy lines without detection—and without resistance. Bruno regrouped with the soldiers under his command at the designated rendezvous point, where all of them arrived without incident.

After a quick gear check, he ensured that they were prepared to infiltrate the city's outskirts and begin their steady, tactical advance toward the palace. The majority of the brigands were no doubt still in the process of encircling the estate, shelling its exterior and hoping to scare the Grand Duchess out of hiding.

Fortunately, they had arrived just in time. Bruno, after issuing orders, addressed his men directly:

"No heroics. You're here to do a job—and get paid—so you can spend that wealth when you get home. Do what's necessary to eliminate the enemy, but don't take unnecessary risks. They have superior firepower, so we're going to rely on surprise—and the swiftness of our attack—to take these fuckers out. Now move!"

With that, Bruno flicked off the safety on his weapon and began advancing with the company directly behind him. The battalion split into elements, surrounding the small city and infiltrating from multiple entry points.

If they could encircle the enemy and, as Bruno had so eloquently put it during the planning phase, "fuck them from behind," then they could cut off any escape routes and annihilate the hostiles without mercy or reprieve.

The darkness made visibility difficult, but the city's infrastructure—expanded, reinforced, and modernized during the German occupation in the Great War—was still intact. Streetlights provided intermittent illumination for the advancing airborne infantry.

They moved with discipline. Every man was covered by intersecting lines of fire. If the enemy appeared, he would be cut down instantly. The 1,000 men of the elite parachute battalion swept through the streets and cleared every open building in their path. Civilians were calmed and informed that the soldiers were present at the Grand Duchess's request, even as gunshots and artillery echoed from the palace grounds.

Bruno himself came across a local mother, who passed along valuable intelligence: there were approximately 3,000 hostiles, with ten armored cars—Peugeot 1914 variants—equipped with small-bore artillery.

He nodded in grim satisfaction. The RKG-6-style anti-tank grenades carried by his men would be more than sufficient to destroy those aging steel beasts.

After thanking the woman and confirming that the brigands had entirely surrounded the palace—confident that no one would come to the Grand Duchess's aid—Bruno had his squad radio operator relay the intel, along with a new order:

"Proceed to the palace grounds with caution. Do not open fire until we can eliminate their armor with a single, coordinated strike."

And so, the wolves began to close in—surrounding the bandits completely, without the slightest whisper of alarm being raised.

---

A man who looked twenty years older than he actually was held a worn Lebel rifle in his hands, reloading it with a stripper clip as he shouted in French down the hallway toward the defenders who kept returning fire.

"You Luxembourgish bastards! I know your numbers have dwindled! Surrender now and I promise—after you and your men are dead—I'll make sure that Grand Duchess of yours gets a proper heir! And she won't even know who the hell the father is!"

The reply was less than diplomatic: a crude remark about the French captain's preference for livestock over women. The insult stung enough to make the brigand commander poke his head out from behind cover and fire a shot down the hall.

He missed. But the return fire didn't.

A bullet zipped past his face and buried itself in the chest of the soldier standing behind him—killing him instantly. The man dropped, lifeless, before his body even hit the ground.

This triggered another volley of juvenile insults, the kind better suited for a schoolyard brawl than a battlefield. And just as the French captain prepared to give the order to push down the hallway, suspecting the enemy had run out of ammo—

An explosion erupted behind him.

Then came the roar of automatic fire—sustained, brutal, and unrelenting. The volume alone was enough to rip him back to the trenches of the Great War—where he had bled, cried, and watched his brothers die by the thousands.

His eyes widened in horror. The sounds of his men being shredded by machine gunfire rang out in the night.

He dropped his rifle.

"The Germans…" he whispered. "The Germans have come for us…"

The man collapsed against the wall, tears rolling down his cheeks. There was no escape. No victory. Only judgment.

A fate worse than death awaited him and the men who had dared disturb the peace just beyond the Reich's border.

And as the screams of the dying echoed through the streets, the wolves continued to howl.

They had smelled blood.

And now they were feasting.