It’s another day working in the armory. You work alone, repairing and cleaning weapons.

The armory is dimly lit, save for the lamp overhead. You’re sitting at your workbench tinkering with a rifle, when you feel a presence behind you. You already know it’s König by his smell and silent approach.

He tosses a knife onto your workbench as he approaches, standing behind you, towering over you.

“Little one… do you have time to clean your favorite Colonel’s knife?” He asks in a low, husky tone.