Ashes Of the Führer

"What's on today's agenda?" I asked, looking around at Otto and the gathered officers.

Otto stepped forward, a folder tucked beneath his arm. "Well, Mein Führer," he began, "the caravan we dispatched to the mountain village a week ago has returned—with spoils I believe will greatly interest you."

"Go on." I folded my arms, watching him closely.

"They've brought back a resource that burns far hotter and longer than any charcoal we've used." Otto allowed a small smile. "It's coal. Pure coal—dense and plentiful."

I raised an eyebrow.

"Additionally," he continued, "they've returned with fifty men from the village to assist with mining operations. The settlement is now under our control."

"What happened to their leadership?" I asked flatly.

Otto's tone shifted slightly. "The former village head is dead. Let's just say… his rule ended, and ours began."

I nodded.

"Sir, if I may," Leon stepped forward. "There's a boy from the mountain village—his leg was badly injured. He may never walk again. I was wondering if Virella could… heal him, since she's a magic user?"

I didn't even turn. "That doesn't concern me," I said, my voice flat, disinterested. "Ask her yourself when she returns."

Leon's posture stiffened. For a moment, I saw the disappointment in his eyes before he nodded. "Understood, sir."

I shifted my gaze to Otto. "Speaking of Virella… how's the training camp coming along?"

Otto straightened his posture, eyes lighting up like a man eager to report , "Mein Führer, the training camp is progressing splendidly." He pulled a few parchment sheets from under his coat, thumbing through the corners like a proud artist unveiling his masterpiece. "We've already trained 100 men in basic marksmanship using the rifles you approved. Virella's amplifications have allowed voice commands to carry across entire formations, doubling drill efficiency."

He took a breath—then launched into it.

"The new schedule—intensive, brutal, and uncompromising—is weeding out the weak. Those who remain are beginning to resemble real soldiers. Not peasants with pitchforks, but instruments of war. "His smile widened.

"And the weapon you gave us, Mein Führer—what a creation!" Otto said aloud, his voice rising with excitement. "The designs… the blueprints… the carved sketches, down to the last pin and trigger spring—art in the form of destruction!"

He waved a rolled diagram in one hand like a sacred relic.

I turned my head, slowly. "Otto."

He froze, mid-gesture.

"Careful with your tongue." The words left my mouth like iron falling on stone. Not loud. But loud wasn't necessary.

Otto's throat bobbed. His arm lowered, diagrams suddenly heavier in his hand.

"Of course, Mein Führer," he said, eyes down, reverence replaced with restraint.

Otto cleared his throat, straightening his coat and lowering his eyes slightly as he resumed.

"In summary, Mein Führer..."He gestured toward the parchment, this time with careful restraint.

"The camp is shaping up well. Recruits are progressing faster than expected thanks to Virella's enhancements. Morale is high. Our drills are sharper. Discipline is firming."

He paused, then added with a humbler tone:

"And the weapon you've entrusted us with, the design—it is unlike anything this world has ever seen. Production will continue as long as resources allow. If we can solve the ammunition bottleneck, we may soon have an army worth marching."

He stepped back with a respectful nod.

"That is all.

I leaned back, tapping the wooden table twice, the sound echoing faintly across the stone room.

"Find more men for the mine," I said, my voice even. "The faster we dig, the sooner we dominate. Long arms alone won't win a war—but paired with our powder, it becomes power. And bullets, Otto—we will need thousands before the first winter snow. Make them easy to produce."

Otto nodded, clasping his hands behind his back.

"Of course, Mein Führer. With the craftsmen we've gathered so far, our current bullet production has doubled from last week. But scaling beyond that will require fresh hands. I've already selected six apprentices from the caravan laborers, and I'm interviewing others personally."

"Good," I said. "But make sure those blacksmiths are watched. I want their knowledge passed only to those with proven loyalty. One spark of betrayal in a forge is enough to burn a nation."

Otto chuckled. "Don't worry, Mein Fuhrer. We're keeping the old smiths under tighter guard than our powder cache. No one's forging anything alone. And they're already writing down processes. Diagrams, steps, and metal treatments. 

"Good" I said. I expect great things from you Otto, don't disappointment me."

Otto nodded. "I won't my Fuhrer."

From across the table, one of the younger captains leaned forward, hesitating a moment before speaking.

"If I may be so bold, Mein Führer… may we know more about this weapon? We've heard whispers among the troops—strange shapes under canvas, crates no one is allowed to open, designs drawn in chalk and erased within minutes."

A grizzled older lieutenant added, "And the men—Mein Fuhrer, they're talking. Even in silence, they sense it. Something's being built. Or tested."

"We're not trying to interfere," another officer chimed in. "But logistics are suffering. If we don't know what we're protecting or planning for, we can't assign the right resources. This secrecy…it's—difficult."

Otto opened his mouth to respond, but then a third officer—Sergeant Lang—interrupted.

"With all due respect, I've heard things. Booms in the mountains. Not just any explosions—thunder, Mein Fuhrer. The kind that shakes birds out of the trees and makes animals vanish. A sound that doesn't belong in this world. Could that be… the training ground?"

All eyes turned to me.

The air grew heavy.

Then—another voice, almost a whisper from the far end of the room.

"I've seen the smoke," someone muttered. "Black columns, rising just beyond the northern ridge. Thicker than any fire. And the wind carries that strange metallic scent—iron and oil. Something's burning out there. Something… big."

"Even our own guards are afraid to patrol the edge of those cliffs," Lang added. "Some of them say it's cursed. That the gods themselves are trying to dig out of the mountain."

A few nervous chuckles scattered through the room.

Then another officer leaned forward, eyes serious.

"Whatever it is, Mein Führer… we should be ready. If it's truly something that can change the tide of this war—shouldn't more of us be involved? Shouldn't we know?"

More murmurs now—officers glancing at one another, voices overlapping in anxious undertones.

"Where is this testing site?"

"Who built it?"

"what is being used?"

"Is it magic?"

"Is it a new man made weapon?"

"A new type of artillery?"

"Something from another world?"

And then—

SLAM.

My hand struck the table.

The room went dead silent.

I rose slowly, eyes sharp as razors.

"Silence." The word hit harder than the slap of his hand. "You gossip like teenage girls at a market stall. This is not a café. This is not a classroom. This is a war council."

No one moved.

"You speak of whispers, of smoke, of rumors. Of fear. You ask about the edge of the mountain, but you cannot even see the edge of your own thoughts. You seek knowledge not to act—but to talk."

I looked each of them in the eye.

"Grow up."

A beat passed.

Then one by one, they straightened. Humbled.

"Apologies, Mein Führer."

"It won't happen again."

"Forgive us, Fuhrer."

I returned to my seat and looked back at Otto.

"Proceed with your tasks. No more delays. And remember—discipline is not just action. It is silence when silence is needed."

Otto nodded sharply. "Yes, Mein Führer. I will handle the expansion personally. The mines, the forges, the apprentices. All of it."

And with that, the room returned to motion—orders, scribbles, steps into shadow. But no more words about the mountain.

None dared ask again.

I turned to Seris, who still stood near the door, stiff as a statue, awaiting instruction.

"Prepare a carriage," I said. "I would like to see Wilhelm's training—personally."

She gave a crisp nod. "Right away, Mein Führer."

Without another word, she vanished through the hallway like a shadow peeled from the wall.

"One more thing, Mein Führer," Leon said, his voice cutting through the room with sudden urgency.

I stopped mid-step and turned slightly, watching him.

"There are creatures in the mountains. Ones that look human… but aren't. They're stronger. Faster. I've never seen anything like them."

My brow furrowed. "Demi-humans?"

Leon shook his head. "No, Mein Führer. They lack the cunning of demi-humans. These things are… primal. Wild beasts. They react on instinct. No words. No tactics. Just raw aggression."

I narrowed my gaze, considering his words.

"Hmm… Then you'll accompany me. If we encounter one, we bring it back alive."

"Go gather ten soldiers. If anyone asks who gave the order, tell them I did. You have ten minutes. Make haste."

Leon hesitated. "But… how? If they're as dangerous as I saw—ten soldiers won't be enough to capture one alive."

I allowed myself the faintest hint of a smile.

"I have my ways."

Leon nodded slowly, though I saw the uncertainty still lingering in his eyes.

"Yes, Mein Führer!" Leon snapped to attention and turned on his heel, disappearing through the doorway.

I faced the rest of the room once more.

"Any other information I should be aware of?"

Silence.

"Good," I said. "Then I will take my leave. Otto, continue with your briefings — everyone but Leon."

Otto gave a small nod, unrolling another set of diagrams as I strode out, the echo of my boots the only sound left behind.