He signed up for the Wolfskin re-population program. As he recalled, only he knew why it was necessary. It was not kindness, it was retribution. It made him remembered Blütnacht, perhaps she was his only equal. He shook his head, she murdered his son, and her crazed laughter only died when he impaled her heart with his bayonet

He signed heavily like an elephant was pushing the white smoke out. He loathed the empire, yet love it so fiercely. The old guards are nowhere, those youngsters can't even match straight.

When he opened his eyes, a military truck stopped at his gate. He stood up tiredly. He relieved all the guards and servants, he just has to do it himself. The youngsters dropped off a large wooden crate - enough to have a person inside.

August von Mackenson: "Jungs... put it inside..."

He opened the gate and the soldiers carefully lowered the crate on his dusty carpet. One stubbed their finger and yelped

August von Mackenson: "All that to call yourselves Empire's men... Straighten your breeches!"

They ran off crying apologies

Jungs: "Don't butcher us, Herr Feldmarshal!"