New Year's Eve 1813 – A Town in the Confederation of the Rhine

The town of Oberhausen was quiet but not in the peaceful way. The air carried a stillness that clung to the bones, broken only by the occasional barked order from occupying troops. Prussian soldiers, grim faced and watchful, had taken over the southern gate and square, while a detachment of Russians—or were they Bavarians? patrolled the northern walls. No one seemed certain anymore. Uniforms changed faster than the news could travel.

The town had been declared under quarantine. Rumors spoke of a sickness brought from the eastern front, or maybe it was fear of revolt. Either way, no one was allowed in or out.

Alexandre Adler stood in the shadows of his workshop, wiping soot from his hands onto a rag. He was a blacksmith and carpenter by trade, but now most of his work came from repairing wagons and hammering out crude replacement parts for musket racks and field tools. The soldiers paid in coin—or food, when coin ran dry.

He watched a column of Prussian troops march down the main street, their breath misting in the chilled air, bayonets glinting under a gray sky. Children peeked from shuttered windows. Mothers clutched rosaries.

A Prussian officer had made his quarters in the town hall, commandeering rooms without permission. Alexandre had been asked ordered to build a new table for the man just yesterday. He didn't ask questions. He kept his head down, spoke when spoken to, and worked.

But tension was growing. Supplies were thin. Locals were growing restless. And some whispered that a skirmish might break out between the foreign troops themselves.

Alexandre knew how to fix things. Wood, iron, stone they made sense to him. But this… this was different. And if something snapped, he wasn’t sure if even he could put it back together.