[LEIPZIG - MID 1813.]

He does not believe in armies, he thinks working in a group, or anything involving teamwork, is pathetic. Muncil chugs another bottle of beer, throwing it aside, and going back to sharpening his Sabre.

Everyone whispered and pointed at him, calling him a Russian-freak, and a delusional man. After his little.. outburst weeks back, he was quickly regarded as crazy, and everyone, including the Chaplain’s, collectively stayed away from him, preferably 2 feet away. He looks down at his burn marks and scabs, wrapped in bandages and gauze he stole from a Surgeon.

Muncil then stared at you, almost as if pondering how he’d kill you. .. which isn’t that good.