The Seeds of War

Chapter 39

They arrived at a faintly illuminated bar with a blue neon sign above the entrance that read "The Crescent Lounge." The moment they stepped inside, the intoxicating scent of whiskey and cigars wafted toward them like an invitation. The bar was an eclectic mix of characters—locals enjoying a breezy evening, tourists delighting in the vibrant atmosphere, and musicians jamming together as the night unfolded.

Stefan's friends wasted no time, rushing toward the bar to order drinks, while Stefan lingered at the entrance, thinking of the party waiting for him at home—Evelyn, the laugh of their children, the warmth of an intimate celebration.

"Stefan, come on!" Erich called out, raising a glass. "We're here to celebrate your anniversary! You can't possibly let this moment pass you by!"

With a resigned smile, he joined them, knocking back a whiskey and expertly shaking off the responsibilities. For a moment, he felt youthful and carefree, like the man he had been before life's demands caught up with him.

As the hours slipped by, laughter roared through the bar. The four men gathered together, swapping stories of their military days, their triumphs and their follies, reminiscing about the bonds formed under duress and the solace of camaraderie found in tough times.

"Remember Colonel Becker? And that time he tripped over his shoelaces during inspection?" Erich guffawed, nearly spilling his drink.

"Yes, yes! And I had to keep a straight face while he pulled himself back up!" Stefan joined in the laughter.

Theo then leaned in conspiratorially. "I think I've got something special up my sleeve for you later," he whispered to Stefan, his eyes gleaming.

"What now?" Stefan asked, curiosity tempting him, even as he reminded himself that he needed to remain attentive to Evelyn's expectations.

"Just trust me." Theo grinned. "But first, let's enjoy tonight."

"Alright, brothers," Stefan finally calloused, raising his glass. "To old friends—and old times!"

"To OLD friends!" they echoed back, clinking their glasses with an enthusiasm that surged through the bar.

Stefan let the sadness pass before adding Ziegler and Müller to his thoughts. He patted Erich on the shoulder; Ziegler's death hit him hardest. The men exchanged solemn smiles, silently renewing their vow to reach out if things ever got too tough.

Theo, wanting to lighten the mood, ordered another round. A bold, voluptuous woman sauntered over, intrigued by their accents. "Well, ain't y'all a lovely bunch. One of you must be single," she said, scanning for wedding rings and landing on Theo, who vigorously shook his head while Erich shamelessly egged him on, much to Klaus and Stefan's amusement.

∗ ∗ ∗

Hours later, feeling the onset of indulgence tugging at his restraint, he excused himself to step out onto the balcony. The city laid before him, a sprawling expanse of colour and sound. "Hey," came Klaus's voice as he stepped outside, his unbuttoned shirt flapping slightly in the breeze.

"Your brother is something else," Klaus remarked with a teasing smirk, his eyes surveyed the sea of people and life below. "You're so different from him."

Stefan turned with a knowing smile on his lips. "I knew you'd get on with him," he replied, tipping his head slightly in agreement. "You both have the same stupid sense of humour."

Klaus chuckled, a rich, hearty sound. "Remember that time when you got into a fight with Neumann? You were wild back then! Look at you now, settling down like an old man."

"Oh yes," Stefan replied with mock gravity, "whatever happened to that lout?"

"Died, I heard," Klaus said, his smile fading into a more sombre reflection. "Shot himself, it seems. Never could take surrender."