Gate of Dimensions

[Act 1] Chapter 8: The Girl with Deceiving Looks

The summons of the Oberst in the hour before the dawn, when the world was still ripe with fire and smoke, reached far in the ears of the officers who could still catch the ear of explosions and gunfire happening around the conquered plateau, most likely Helga's men finishing up the last of the natives, a cruel piece of work for German soldiers if they weren't hand-picked by Helga herself.

The officers of Helga's army found it hard to move around the burnt remains of wood and corpses, leftovers of Helga's latest "victory", to find the makeshift command table in the centre. It was just one of Helga's attempts to annoy the Oberstleutnant of the other brigade by following orders but with malicious glee. But in her mind, as well as her trusted officers, she is simply making way for more German soldiers for conquest.

Of all the officers, Emil Maurice, once the chauffeur of the former Führer himself, stood out as the most terrified of the carnage around him. Of all the years he spent alongside his friend, he never saw the full brutality of the SS officers until Helga ordered the first blitzkrieg on unarmed natives. Still, he adjusted his black leather coat and kept his mind straight, showing at least some sense of loyalty to the Colonel, otherwise he would be better off counting his final days as an "honorary Aryan".

After minutes of trotting past fallen corpses, they caught the eye of Helga and her most trusted officers. Helga sat in an alluring position, holding a silver chalice of sour red wine, and laughed up something with her officers until noticing the band of Wehrmacht officers approaching.

Unlike the grey-wearing officers of the Wehrmacht who stood up, Helga's officers all had something in common: each was once members of the Schutzstaffel. Their uniforms consisted of black coats of either cotton or leather of the almost defunct Schutzstaffel, some even going far as to wear the swastika armband, not a capital offence but enough to get one sent to the Auschwitz reeducation camp out of Germany.

To every soldier standing guard around the centre of the ruined town, there were two kinds of officers present at the table and each was eyeing each other, almost goading one another to act first. It was the same reason the Wehrmacht and the Waffen-SS hated each other even before the civil war took place, the war in which the steel smashed the coal to pieces.

"Finally," Helga sighed. "We were just discussing which direction to head next, seeing as there is nothing to be gained here besides a few silver souvenirs. Shiny things for such a small village."

A village you bombarded with tanks, tank dogs and artillery, Maurice thought. Despite once being a member of the Schutzstaffel, he couldn't help but feel utter disgust with being associated with such ruthless people.

"Wir sind gekommen, sobald wir konnten, Oberst." Maurice said, stepping forward. We came as soon as we could, Colonel.

Helga then jumped out of her seat, displaying a false sense of fear at the German-speaking Maurice. "No, no, no, speak English! Since we are here in a world that speaks the language of the Britannians, we must not speak our native tongue and instead learn and speak it while we are here."

The display of mockery of Werner's suggestion made it clear she hasn't let her rival out of her head. It was almost an annoyance to the officers when she finds anything to reference the leader of the third brigade. As if it wasn't enough joining her on her barbaric massacres of innocent natives, now they had to put up with her self-serving nonsense.

It was like the Third Reich still existed to Helga. Judging by how she hand-picked former SS officers to be in her inner circle, it may well be true.

"I doubt any of the natives around us would care about the language we spoke," said Maurice, with somewhat a fearful flare. "We are all demons to them, speaking a demon language and using demonic weapons of war."