The second night in Vallenwood found Albert sitting on the windowsill of the inn, a half-smoked feltwort cigar pinched between his fingers. Below, the back alley lay deserted. Only the sounds of rats scavenging through garbage and the creak of wooden boards shifting in the wind broke the silence.
Tomorrow night, they would burn the warehouses.
He'd already memorized the patrol schedules. Three guards at the front of the warehouses, five at the rear. Every hour, a patrol team passed by—four men, torches lit, heavy footsteps. The window of opportunity was narrow. Three minutes between one patrol leaving and the next team appearing at the end of the street.
Three minutes to get in. Three minutes to set the accelerants. Three minutes to get out.
In the next room, the other soldiers slept, or at least tried to. Albert could hear one man snoring, another shifting restlessly. The night before a mission was always like this.
He drew on his feltwort, letting the smoke fill his lungs. Outside, the moon hung over the city's rooftops. Its light was pale and cold.
Tomorrow night, all of this would burn.
***
That afternoon, Albert walked through the market.
Not to shop. But to observe, to feel the pulse of this city before fire claimed it.
The Vallenwood market was bustling. Mothers with woven baskets haggled over cabbage prices. Children darted between adults, laughing, shouting. A meat vendor called out to potential customers, his voice hoarse, cuts of meat hanging from iron hooks.
Albert walked slowly, his shabby cloak concealing the short sword hidden at his waist. His eyes moved constantly, scanning his surroundings.
The market smells—a mixture of vegetables, raw meat, sweat, spices.
A little girl, maybe six years old, tugged at her mother's sleeve. "Mama, are we buying fruit?"
"No..." her mother replied, her voice tired.
The girl pouted, but a moment later she was running again, chasing a striped cat through the crowd of shoppers.
Albert stopped in front of a bread vendor. Dark rye bread, warm, fresh from the oven. The smell... it reminded him of Götthain. The castle kitchen, morning time, Lady Elara smiling as he ate breakfast.
"Want to buy some bread?" The vendor—an old man with a white beard—smiled warmly.
Albert pulled out a copper coin. "Yes, one."
The bread was still warm in his hand. He took a bite. Delicious... Simple, but delicious.
Tomorrow night, this bread would be gone. The grain in the warehouses would burn, bread prices would skyrocket. People would starve.
Albert walked on, chewing the bread, feeling its warmth settle in his stomach.
***
Night fell slowly.
Albert sat in the room, checking his equipment for the umpteenth time. Dagger. Short sword. Leather pouches filled with oil—brought from camp, concealed beneath layers of clothing. Sulfur matches, wrapped in cloth to keep them dry.
Luise entered without knocking. Behind her, the other six—three men-at-arms, three of the most reliable levies.
"Ready," she said.
Albert nodded. "Hilda in position?"
"Yes. Her team's on the roof near the east gate, waiting for the signal."
Albert stood. Felt the weight in his chest. Not fear, not adrenaline. Something else, something that surfaced every time he was about to do something irreversible.
"We move in one hour. Rest until then."
They nodded, sitting on the floor, leaning against the walls. No one spoke. Only the sound of breathing and the creak of the inn's wooden frame.
Albert sat by the window, looking out. Across the street, a family was having dinner. Husband, wife, three children. An oil lamp on the table, their shadows dancing on the walls. They were laughing, telling stories.
Tomorrow night, they might not laugh again.
Albert closed his eyes.
"You know this had to be done," he whispered to his fallen comrades.
No answer.
***
An hour later, they moved.
Vallenwood's back alleys were dark. Only moonlight and the occasional torch from a distance provided illumination. Albert led, his steps slow, measured. Behind him, Luise and the other six followed—shadows among shadows.
A patrol passed at the end of the street. They stopped, pressing against the wall, holding their breath. Four soldiers, torches lit, laughing about something. Their voices faded into the distance.
"Move," Albert whispered.
They crept along the wall, past stacks of wooden crates, past the locked back doors of houses. The stench of the gutter rose from the ditch at the street's edge. A cat leaped from atop a fence, causing one of the levies to almost cry out.
The warehouse loomed ahead. Dark, massive, towering like a giant. Three guards at the front door, one of them yawning. An oil lamp beside them, a small light in the darkness.
Albert signaled. His team spread out, taking positions behind piles of lumber and empty crates.
He waited.
A patrol passed. Four men, from the east. They slowed in front of the warehouse, exchanged a few words with the guards. Then they moved on.
Three minutes.
Albert moved. Slipping through the shadows, reaching the warehouse's back wall. Here, no guards—just piles of empty sacks and garbage.
Luise beside him. They pulled out their oil pouches, began pouring onto the wooden wall, onto the stacked sacks, onto every flammable surface. The sharp, pungent smell of oil filled the air.
Two minutes.
From the east, the sound of footsteps. Another patrol, ahead of schedule. Albert froze, hand on his sword hilt.
The patrol passed at the end of the alley, didn't see them. Their torch illuminated the corner briefly, then darkness returned.
Albert exhaled.
They poured faster. Oil depleted, now it was time for the matches.
Albert took out his flint and steel, then the sulfur matches. A small flame sparked. He dropped it into the oil pool.
WHOOSH.
Fire erupted in an instant, racing up the wall, across the sacks, onto the wooden ceiling. Orange light flooded the area. Heat blasted their faces.
"RUN!"
They ran. Leaving the fire behind, leaving the burning warehouse, leaving the shouts of guards who'd only just realized what was happening.
In the distance, Albert heard other shouts. From the east—the city gate. Hilda and her team were moving.
***
They reached the inn in five minutes.
Breathless, bodies sweating despite the cold night. Albert stood at the window, staring east. The fire had grown massive. The warehouse burned fiercely, its light illuminating half the city.
Warning bells began to toll. Heavy sounds, echoing between the houses. People screamed in the streets. Soldiers ran, carrying buckets, trying to extinguish the flames.
But the fire was already too large. The oil made it spread quickly, leaping to the warehouses beside it. Within an hour, the entire storage complex would be leveled.
Albert stared at the fire. Its light was orange, warm, beautiful... horrifying.
In the street below, a woman ran clutching her child. Her face was panicked, her mouth open—maybe screaming, but her voice was lost in the chaos. The child cried, whimpered, not understanding what was happening.
In another corner, an old man stood frozen, staring at the burning warehouse. In his hand, a piece of dark bread that had fallen to the ground. His eyes were empty.
Albert knew what he was thinking. Grain. Supplies. Famine.
Tomorrow, bread would be expensive. The day after, maybe none. Next week, children would cry from hunger.
And it was because of him...
Luise stood beside him, also watching the fire. Her face was expressionless, but her hand—the one gripping her sword hilt—trembled slightly.
"It had to be done," she said quietly.
"Yes."
Albert's eyes remained on the fire, on the woman with her child, on the old man with his fallen bread.
"In Götthain, during the first winter, I saw a mother with a baby. She'd run out of firewood, her child was nearly frozen to death." His voice was low. "Alena gave her a blanket. Just a blanket, but that mother wept with joy as if she'd been given the whole world."
"Now, here, thousands of mothers will weep. Not from gratitude, but because their children will starve."
"You had no choice."
"Truthfully, I always have a choice." Albert turned, looking at Luise. "I could have refused this mission. But I didn't. Because I was afraid—afraid of being called a coward, afraid of losing my reputation, afraid of disappointing my superiors. So I chose to burn these warehouses."
Luise looked at him. Her violet eyes glowed in the firelight.
"And now you feel guilty."
"Yes."
"That's good."
Albert frowned.
"Good?" he repeated.
"Because if you didn't feel guilty, you'd be a monster." Luise pointed at the fire. "Look at that. You did this. Hundreds, thousands of people will suffer because of your decision. If that didn't make you feel anything, you'd be more terrifying than that fire itself."
Albert was silent.
Luise drew a breath. "But you also have to remember—if you hadn't done this, our army would have died. Tens of thousands of Helvetia soldiers. Including me, including your men, including yourself."
"They're human too," Albert murmured.
"Yes, they're human too." Luise nodded. "But you had to choose. Choose which ones to save. There's no perfect choice, only the choice that does the least harm to you."
The fire continued to rage. Screams, shouts, bells, the crackle of burning wood—all merging into one, a symphony of destruction.
Albert stood at the window, watching it all. Luise remained beside him.
They didn't speak again. Only watched the city burn, watched their choice become reality.
In the distance, from the direction of the east gate, an explosion sounded. Hilda had succeeded. The gate was open—or at least, its mechanism was destroyed.
The main army would enter tomorrow. Maybe the day after. But sooner or later, Vallenwood would fall.
Albert closed his eyes. Behind his eyelids, the faces of Klaus, Stefan, Lukas, Gerold were still there. But now, joining them were new faces. The woman with her child, the old man with his bread, the little girl chasing the cat. Even the faces of soldiers in Ukrainian trenches and the enemies he'd finished off.
He was in a lake full of blood and corpses right now. Nothing could save him from drowning in that lake.
"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm sorry."
No one answered. Only the fire, continuing to burn, consuming the grain, consuming this city's future.
Luise watched him, saying nothing. Only shifted slightly closer.
There was nothing left to say.