The Wolf Ballet || WW2

31. The Wolf Ballet

Chapter Thirty-One

Like the dark horse that would often emerge at the most unforeseeable moments in history; Arthur Wolff stood tall among his thunderous fellowship. Dressed in midnight blue, white tassels and medallions hanging off his chest, signifying his prestigious rank among wolves. To the Germans who knew of the man's eminence, they would know to stay vigilant. Ivan and Emmeline felt a mutual sense of fraught at the preemptive reemergence of the young Oberstleutnant. Glancing between one another as they recognized the tension between Ophelia and the reserved lieutenant.

Arthur would join the room—the crowd, primarily women, broke apart to make way for him. Ivan let out a relieving sigh as he seemed to have not noticed Ophelia among the people. Ophelia on the other hand seemed rather hurt; her eyes looking back subtly as he disappeared from view. Emmeline was the first one to pull Ophelia along; stopping only for a moment to whisper something to Ivan.

"I will ensure Ophelia gets better acquainted before meeting the Führer, may I suggest we keep her and Von Wolff at a distance—especially if there's a chance, he is the cause of her outbursts."

Ivan agreed without much thwart. He did not know much of Arthur besides what he had heard in passing. He was often described as the modern-day Achilles. Impulsive and only cares about his well-being in this war. He was infamous for his resilient defying of tradition, and authority—but he was ideal and strong. Nevertheless, if there was anything that would set Von Wolff and the Spartan warrior apart was that Arthur seemingly did not hide his weakness in his heel.

Ophelia followed Emmeline through the chancellery's halls, there was still some time before they would be summoned to the table. One by one, Emmeline presented her to the social circle she would have to falsify her way in. However, it seemed much less of an introduction was needed as it had become apparent that most had already caught wind of who she was.

There was a drift in the atmosphere whenever she appeared, and someone would ask her about the camp. It did not take very long for her to realize that they all knew what had happened to her, allegedly. Some sympathized with her, others looked down on her. As if she was tainted, spoiled, and dirty by the actions of their glorified leader. Just the same, Ophelia would smile in their face, and act graciously in mention of the Führer, as she was advised by Emmeline.

"These kinds of parties can get rather dull, can they not?"

Looking off to her side, Ophelia was surprised to see a girl had joined her as she stood away from the others. She was young but seemingly brave enough to circle and socialize alone. Ophelia figured she was around her age, with light brown hair and light grey eyes. She was rather a plain girl, simple face and overly pointed nose but her status and privileges aided in her appeal. Ophelia froze, as she hadn't expected to be approached while she was alone. Her posture stiffened and she panicked, looking around trying to find Emmeline, but the ladder was currently in conversation with a group of seemingly important people.

Unable to conjure a proper German response, Ophelia merely nodded and smiled. This caused the girl to snicker, arching a brow as she judged the unrecognized French dancer up and down.

"My mother said you were a bit off," The strange girl stated crossing her arms over her stomach. "Are you always this quiet?"

"Your mother?" Ophelia asked in English, completely disregarding what she was told. She sucked in her lips, praying the girl hadn't picked up on her accent. Thankfully, it seemed she hadn't, and the girl proceeded to introduce herself.

"The woman you met when you first arrived, my name is Alice, Alice Von Reichenbach,"

'Von Bock's daughter,' Ophelia thought, remembering the short encounter with the girl's mother. It seemed the impoliteness did not fall from the tree as she picked up the likeness of their attitudes. Though the girl resembled her father. Judging by how important the Von Bock lineage seemed to be among the Germans, Ophelia would have to play nice and stoop to the girl's level in hopes of gaining leverage in this game of deception.