A Man Whom History Loves
(Come on guys who you no postin')
The countryside dragged onwards: bringing no interesting points to The Pianist's attention. It was all a blur of green fields, and blue sky; something which after so long, had begun to be a bore. Everything around the carriage was constant in it's movements. The cows grazed, the farmers tilled their fields, and the children played. All paying no heed to the black carriage, which stood out distinctly from the background environment. It seemed the norm that a coach laden with the symbol of House Hohenzollern, would ride through the small towns accompanying the country. The Pianist began to drift into space, thinking of the strange new genres of music being played in places like America. It was a strange place to The Pianist, having only ever lived in Europe. He wondered about the far off land occasionally.
But his train of thought was interrupted by the loud, neighing horses and the sudden jerk of the carriage coming to a halt. He began to get up, curious to what came into the path of their journey. The Royal Representative rose his hand to chest level and began rambling about proper carriage etiquette. "One mustn't bother himself with the problems of commoners-" He began, obviously noticing that the man in his company was not listening.
Then the carriage door flew open, startling both Men inside. A soldier stood present, Gewehr 98 slung over his shoulder, half-shouting, "Hurry! There has been an accident on the road and a fire has broken out." The Representative seemed dumbfounded by this new, barely able to get up before The Pianist was out the door. He landed gently on the dirt road, kicking up dust as he set foot on the ground.
The Inferno was clear to see, the heat was intense enough to repel a person from looking at it. But The Pianist just looked on, before asking, "Mr.-" He turned around and looked at the soldier dogtag, continuing, "Mr...Adolf. I guess that there was a munitions factory located in the center of that fire?" The soldier nodded slightly before stating, "Yes. It is Lieutenant though: There was a factory making Gewehr weaponry located around the Jewish Ghetto. It provided much income into the town-" He began to mumble, "And I bet they caused it too."
Lieutenant Adolf at the time he met the Pianist
The Pianist rose an eyebrow in curiosity, a person who was so open about his Antisemitism was indeed a strange sight to The Pianist. Usually the kind he knew were more to themselves, but that was irrelevant. There was still a fire raging through the city.
Then the Representative burst out of the carriage, barely tripping over himself on the last step. "And how does this Fire effect our trip to Goslar?" The soldier turned to him and confirmed the obvious worry of the Older man, "The road to Goslar is cut off, you will either have to wait in a camp for it to be put out. Or take a detour through a neighboring township, around twenty Kilometers North." The Representative turned grey, "That could take three days!" He began to rave about how the army should be doing a better job of things such as this. But The Pianist was not interested in such things, excusing himself without word.
He walked out of view of the carriage, towards a refugee camp: It was filled with soot covered children, and burn victims with nothing less than simple bandages on their wounds.
Then from out of nowhere a man spoke out to the Pianist, "I heard your heading to Goslar..." The Pianist turned towards the voice. It was a man covered heavily with bandages, the only places free of them was his face. How he figured out where he was going was far from the guess of the Pianist. The man spoke in a cracking voice, damaged obviously by the fire. He moved his hand to uncover some of the gauze, to reveal Lieutenant stripes. "I just need you to tell my unit commander I am alive. Then I can get you a ride."
Reluctantly, with no other option, The Pianist nodded his head, "Fine I shall do so."