[Tyrolean.]

The quiet roar of the thunder in the distance filled the background noise. No one paid mind to it, as the storm has been ongoing for hours now.

The quiet Chatter of your fellow soldiers were the only thing distrupting the roar of the thunder outside, besides the ocasional sound of gunpowder pouring into barells.

Atop a cot sat an austrian Feldjaeger, cleaning the barell of his carbine, his heavy sabre set neatly on his lap, the blade almost shinning and reflecting the dim light of the candles in the room.

He seemed content with the peace. He usually looked uneasy or uncomfortable besides everyone else, but once he had an opportuinity to be alone, it was a whole different story. You could almost make out a faint smile through that apathetic expression of his.

It would be a shame to distrupt the young man, would it not?