The Wewelsburg
Early-June RY154
I can't explain how relieved I was when I found myself back in the Wewelsburg after my somewhat strained conversation with Robert in Argent. Yes, I'd extracted a promise from him not to attack me, but as I felt my shifting slowly working on the damage from the magical attack he'd thrown at me, that somehow didn't fill me with confidence about his good intentions. Still, as I felt around my quarters and detected the wards Jorge von Klieburg had put up to protect me during my incapacitation, I felt myself smiling. I detected the backing of the God of Protection in them once more, and knew that my link to the Aurellian Logrus was, indeed, restored.
At least something had gone right.
"Sir?" asked Rikart Schultz from the doorway, relief on his handsome features, "thank the gods. What happened?"
I looked at him and smiled, pleased to find him in once piece. He had accompanied me to Eboracum, just in case anything untoward happened, and had been there as I'd completed my re-initiation to Roland's Power. Moreover, he had been with me as I'd made the Pattern jump back to the Wewelsburg, which had led to my being hijacked to Argent...alone. While I hadn't wanted to show my concerns to Robert, the fact that Schultz had to all intents and purposes disappeared mid-transit had bothered me during my conversation with my brother, and I found myself relieved to see that Rikart was safe. No doubt whatever had arranged for my detour had decided not to bother doing the same to him.
"I ended up having an unexpected and rather difficult conversation with my brother."
"He's conscious?" came the reply. After all, he had also been there when I'd organised for my comatose body to replace Robert's active one after my own escape from the Library.
"Sadly...so much for hoping that I might have a little breathing space before he tried anything stupid."
"Which he duly did?" he said, looking pointedly at me, indicating where I was continuing to support my left arm with my right.
"Unfortunately," I said, with a sigh, "he has an annoying violent streak if he considers himself to have been wronged...and his temper doesn't seem to have improved this last few days."
"How much of a problem is he going to be?" he asked, the professionalism of his position overriding any personal concerns he might have for me.
"He's given me his word that he will not harm me again. However, it must be said he isn't entirely rational right now, as evidenced by..." And I gestured weakly towards my shoulder.
"What do you want me to do about him, sir?" he asked, quietly, his expression intense.
"Nothing unless he goes against his word from here onwards," I replied, "however, should he come here - or anywhere else - looking for my blood, then he is an oath breaker, and deserves to suffer the consequences."
He looked at me then nodded his head.
"Understood," he said, smartly, and I knew my revised orders would be passed on to the rest of the Honour Guard in short order.
"Thank you. How long was I missing?"
"I got back here about three hours ago...needless to say I was somewhat concerned for your wellbeing."
"This was never going to be an easy process," I answered, with a sigh, "what time is it?"
"Ten in the evening."
"Thank you...I'm going to get some rest, and then tomorrow, I can continue my investigations."
"Yes, sir."
"Who's on guard in here tonight?"
"Hans."
"Excellent. I'll see you in the morning."
"Yes, Herr Reichsführer," he replied with a smart salute, and he turned on his heel and headed out. Stuckart came in moments later, at which point I decided to turn in for the rest of the night.
Juggling playing dead with figuring out what the Hell was going on wasn't proving particularly easy. The Honour Guard had been let in on the secret, for obvious reasons, although the additional help which Rikart had arranged with Eboracum - thanks to Roland, apparently - was at this point being kept out of the loop. Beside the Guard, only Conrad Berthelmes, Jorge von Klieburg and my lovely Frida were privy to what I was doing. With von Klieburg, it had very quickly become apparent to me that he would need to be told, given his link with me as a Priest of Protection (something which Silke von Halle would also potentially be aware of, but I'd cross that bridge when it came to it). Telling Frida had been harder, but a combination of Rikart's argument in her favour and the fact that I believed she was unlikely to cause me harm had persuaded me. However, we had agreed that the children should be kept out of the loop until I "recovered".
I'd spent June 2nd getting used to being back in a living, breathing body - as well as engaging in some enthusiastic lovemaking with my wife, taking advantage of my current mortal flesh while I could, before Robert found some way to deny it to me once more - and now any issues with the Aurellian Logrus were out of the way, I could settle down and do some fact finding.
Two areas were causing me concern: the change in the effect of walking the Black Pattern; and the actual intentions of the current SS senior officers. And in truth, it was more than a little annoying that I had to break off what I was doing, to render myself convincingly comatose whenever any "well-wishers" came to visit, or Dominik needed to check my apparent medical condition.
In the case of the Black Pattern, when I had re-walked it to regain my memories, I had become aware that it was now influencing its initiates in ways I hadn't anticipated. Specifically, its focus had changed to making them into faithful servants of the Reich, rather than owing their loyalty to any specific individual, ie me. My impression, as I had stood at its centre, was that the corrupting influence I had brought to it from Manira, thinking I was strengthening my position, had instead undermined it, diverting the Sable Pattern's initiates' loyalty. It was a miscalculation that was obviously coming back to haunt me, and would need to be addressed.
As far as my subordinates were concerned, the reports I had received from both Conrad and Rikart regarding the initial Knights Council meetings after I had nearly died, had left me with significant concerns. It should not be possible for my Knights to go against my intentions, and yet first Sigiswald, and then Jürgen Kessler, in tandem with at least Max Hauer and Rudolf Lange, appeared to have done just that, with Dominik Gerlinde's position also far from clear. And all seemed to be claiming that they were doing it for the good of the Reich. Schultz had commented to me that since I'd been injured, he'd heard of other Knights and senior SS officers being invited to Kessler's private estate for weekends of small group "brainstorming" - although he, himself, had not been given such an invitation - and this gave me significant pause for thought. It would appear that loyalty to the Fatherland, rather than myself, was becoming a cancer within my organisation which I needed to root out.
My intention, therefore, was to spend the next couple of weeks splitting my time between figuring out how to fix the Black Pattern, and observing their actions through Trump and other methods at my disposal, to see how serious the problem was - ie whether it was just a reaction to the current situation as they saw it, with me temporarily sidelined, or whether they wanted to make the current arrangement permanent - and how violently it needed to be addressed. I also needed to put some thought as to who to appoint to replace Sigiswald as the thirteenth Knight of the SS, preferably before the Summer Solstice, when I intended to reveal my true state of health to the Council.
However, tired and hurting was not the best condition in which to consider anything, so after asking Stuckart to step outside for a few moments, I took something for the pain, and then stripped off my clothing, replacing it with the boxer shorts and open pyjama jacket I'd been provided with in my comatose state, and headed for bed. He returned a short while later, by which time I was most of the way to la-la land, and moments later I was out.
I awoke the following morning feeling significantly better than I had, and a few gentle probes of my fingers around my shoulder proved to me that it was pretty much healed. A little bruising and some soreness, and that was about it.
"Good morning, Herr Reichsführer," Linden said from his position by the door. He must have relieved Stuckart at four. I glanced at the alarm clock. Eight-thirty.
"Morning, Friedrich. Any chance of some coffee?"
"I'll get that organised for you immediately, sir" he replied, and ducked out of my room. That gave me the opportunity to get out of bed and head for the shower, as well as put the finishing touches to healing the bruising, so that Dominik's paranoia wouldn't be aroused if he decided to check up on me. By the time I was done and had returned from the bathroom wrapped in a heavy towelling robe, there was a large mug of coffee steaming on my dressing table, beside a well laded plate of bread and cold meat. Rikart must have left instructions for the incapacitated man to have a hearty breakfast, having guessed that my shifting would click in once I was asleep.
Food was one of those interesting problems we had needed to address with regard to my supposedly being comatose, but we had finally come to the conclusion that as there were both Honour Guard and Aurellians stationed near to my chambers on a permanent basis at the moment, the kitchen probably wouldn't spot an extra portion being ordered up in and among the rest.
Which didn't stop me looking forward to a nice, rare steak with mushrooms, tomatoes and Dauphinoise potatoes once I was officially up and about again.
"Any news?" I asked Linden, as I consumed my breakfast with gusto.
"Nothing new, sir. It's pretty much business as usual. Oberstgruppenführer Heydrich is in Berlin along with Chairman Berthelmes, Obergruppenführer Gerlinde remains here in the castle, and I believe Oberstgruppenführer Kessler is currently on Humira."
"Do we know why?"
"No doubt he's getting things prepared for when the Treaty Marking groups get around to there. I understand Keigar is just being finished up in that regard, so Humira is one of the next on the list."
Humira was a strategically interesting world with one or two unique properties, one of which was the fact that it had no natural shape shifters amongst its population. The Ahnenerbe and our geneticists had been studying that phenomenon for some time, to see if it could be duplicated elsewhere, but thus far with little success.
"No doubt," I replied, my tone a studied neutral.
"What are your orders for today, Herr Reichsführer?"
"I have some research I need to undertake. If you could find me a table which can easily be broken down and concealed under the bed, that would be very useful. And paper. A lot of paper."
"Of course, sir. I'll get someone on it immediately."
"Thank you...and remember, caution. We wouldn't want anyone who hasn't been cleared getting interested about furniture removals to my suite."
"Yes, sir."
He saluted and went out to confer with the others, returning a short while later, and about ten minutes after that, Liesa Bremen came in with my requirements. After checking that the table could be quickly collapsed, I put it beside the chair by the bed and sat down. I laid the Trumps of my main commanders out at one edge of the table, and then began to address the problem of how to uncorrupt the Sable Pattern.
* * * * *
And thus my time proceeded. Two or three times a day, I had to break off from my research to play dead for varying amounts of time. However, at least with the Aurellians on duty outside my suite and three Honour Guard within it at all times, either in my bedroom or out in the lounge, we had plenty of warning when the table needed to be concealed, and I had to crawl back into bed. It was a positive relief on those occasions when Frida, Jorge or Conrad decided to visit, as at least I could sit and have a reasonable conversation with them (okay, with Frida it rarely involved conversation) to relieve the monotony.
However, it was time well, if not comfortably spent. On the positive side, with some concentrated effort, I managed to figure out a way to re-isolate the Maniran corruption from the Sable Pattern, by analysing both the Pattern itself, and my memories of when I had held that corruption within me to transfer it from Manira to the Wewelsburg. The only downside was that I would almost certainly have to tell Robert what I was about before I did it, or he'd get the wrong idea, as I had no doubt that he would detect what I was doing almost as soon as I started.
The problems within my own command were more thorny, however. As I observed communications and actions from afar, using the Trumps and other methods available to me, it became clear that for one group of Knights, at least, my incapacitation was the final indicator that I was no longer fit to hold the position of Reichsführer-SS, and that it was time for a change. That the most senior member of the group was Jürgen Kessler, a man I'd trusted for years and considered a friend, hurt in a way I hadn't previously experienced. I felt betrayed and disheartened by his treachery as I listened to his plotting and scheming.
I was holding his Trump and pondering whether anything could be salvaged from the situation, when I heard a quiet voice from the direction of the doorway.
"I told you that not everything you were likely to learn would be comforting."
I looked up to see Conrad Berthelmes leaning against the door jamb. It was the evening of June 13th, and Kessler and his co-conspirators were planning a "house party" at his estate the following day.
One problem with holding court in a bedroom is the limited number of options for entertaining, but I indicated for him to pour us each a drink (I'd allowed myself the indulgence of a couple of bottles of spirits in there, as I couldn't exactly walk outside to the lounge of my suite) and then make himself comfortable on the chair by my dressing table.
"Was it my fault?" I asked, sipping the warm amber liquid in the glass he handed me, "did I give him a taste for it during the ruse to capture Sigiswald?"
"I doubt it," he answered, "Jürgen's ambitions have been building for a long time. After all, he's been in the SS for what? A hundred and thirty years?"
"Give or take. He's pretty much the officer with the longest continuous service besides myself."
"And he's been a Knight for eighty-five of those. Including Black Friday. Giving him the Waffen-SS probably delayed the inevitable, as it was more responsibility than he'd had since Andreas Delatz came into the picture. But the trouble is, he's well aware that he's never getting any further within your organisation while you're still breathing."
"And I have no intention of stopping breathing any time soon."
"And thus you have an impasse."
He fell silent, swirling his whisky in its glass and losing himself for a minute or so, obviously preoccupied. After all, Jürgen was his son, even if their relationship had never been particularly close - unlike the overtures he seemed to be making to Schultz, where I was beginning to detect genuine warmth.
"If this meeting they're holding tomorrow goes the way I suspect it might, then matters are going to come to blows between Jürgen and I," I said, finally.
"I think that's inevitable whether or not his house party decides to try anything concrete," came his matter of fact response, "the only question, in my mind, is when."
I looked at him, trying to read his expression, but his poker face was very much in evidence as he continued.
"In which respect, might I make a request? Knight to Knight?"
It was so rare for him to invoke that particular privilege, that my curiosity was piqued.
"Go on."
"If it has to happen, do it honourably. No automobile accidents. No 'his ship hit a mine on the way to Berlin for new orders'. No ground zero of a mortar attack while in the field. At least give him that. He was your loyal follower for a very long time. And moreover, he has friends and allies, and they'll keep coming after you if you treat him the way you treated Rutger Sigiswald or Jens von Bomhardt."
I met his gaze and then nodded. "If I can."
"Thank you."
"I'm sorry, Conrad."
He looked at me and shrugged.
"What's to be sorry about? What needs to be done, needs to be done. The stability and security of the Fatherland are more important than personal feelings."
"But he's your son..." I said, knowing that I wouldn't be able to accept either Berthold's or Josef's deaths with the calmness he seemed to be exhibiting towards Kessler's potential demise.
"I have other sons," he replied, quietly, but as I looked at him, I saw sorrow in his eyes.
He broke the eye contact, obviously aware that he was giving more away than he'd intended, and took a drink.
"Just remember in advance that he is most likely linked to Greifswald, because of Black Friday. And that world is now integrated into the Neubrandenburg Group. So, given what happened to Johann Hartwin with respect to Nevers, and vice versa...well, from a propaganda point of view, anything which damages Greifswald might be difficult to spin."
I tried to gauge from his expression whether he was joking, and quickly came to the conclusion that he was not. Instead, he downed his drink, poured himself another one and offered me a top-up.
"Have you had time to think about who to appoint to the Winter Circle to replace Sigiswald?" he said, after an awkward silence.
"It's on my list of things to do. The trouble is, quite a few of the likely suspects were appointed to the Summer Circle instead, back in the good old days of February, when no-one was conspiring against me."
"Was Jorge von Raeder on that list?"
"In passing."
"Maybe he warrants more than just 'in passing'. He's loyal, he's in on your secret, and you can trust him. That makes him a rare combination at the moment. The main black mark against him is that he's married to a Sable Princess. However, it strikes me that the time is coming when he needs to choose love or country, and offering him a Knighthood might speed that up."
"I'd argue a second, and equally significant black mark against him. The fact that he's one of the ReichsMagieren. Given how we operate, we've always been very careful to keep them away from what the Lodge does in the past. Don't ask, don't tell and all that."
Conrad shrugged.
"Nothing is insurmountable."
"The other problem is that, largely because of that, there's no way that he would accept membership of the Knights in their current configuration, with their current initiation and rituals: and even if Hell were to freeze over, and he were to accept, then his grandfather most definitely would not approve of him doing so. Potentially with extreme prejudice. Admittedly, I've begun to consider ways to change the focus of what we do, but I haven't got those ideas very far off the ground as yet. Marin is the one I'd need to discuss that with, as she's my Priestess..."
"And you're unsure of her loyalty because she's Jürgen's daughter."
"Pretty much."
"If you're serious about changing the focus of the Lodge - which after Beltane I would whole-heartedly approve of, by the way, not that I really have any say in the matter - then I should think having Klieburg onside would seem to play into that, purely because of his links to the ReichsMagieren. And after all, there's nothing stopping you presenting him with a Knighthood as a fait accompli? Give him no choice. It's pretty much what you did with my father's Honorary Rank at your wedding."
"Awarding a Knighthood like that has never been done...too many people have wanted the honour for me to have to force it on anyone."
Conrad shrugged.
"There's always a first time."
"Why him, out of curiosity? You've obviously thought this through. You think everything through"
"As I said, you can trust him. And he also has Wilhelm's confidence, which is decidedly rare among the SS high command, yourself included if we're being honest. With problems here at home, as it were, that might be useful. But of course, it's your call - I'm merely suggesting."
He downed his second glass and stood.
"I should be going. It's been a Hell of a day."
"Thank you, Conrad."
"For what?"
"Nothing specific...just thank you."
He looked at me, nodded, and headed for the door without another word.
* * * * *
The outcome of the house party on the 14th met my worst expectations. As I watched with the fascination of a spectator watching a train wreck, I heard Kessler, Hauer, Rudolf Lange and his mother, Sophia laying down their plans to seize control of the SS during the Knights Council before the Summer Solstice.
Sophia, in her capacity as Kommandant of the Wewelsburg would be in charge of arranging for a military force loyal to the conspirators, hand picked by Kessler from the Waffen-SS, to be in position in the castle before the meeting, from whence they could take control of the building. The others, meanwhile, identified those Knights who they expected to have to die, as they guessed that those particular individuals would never transfer their loyalty from me.
Matthias Kapler was on that list, along with Tristan, Conrad, Rikart - and incidentally the rest of the Honour Guard - and potentially Dominik, although it seemed that they, like myself, were uncertain of the latter's likely actions and motivations. But probably what disturbed me most was that the whole subject was discussed with the impassionate logic of a corporate board meeting, despite the fact that they had served with their potential victims for many years, and certainly in the case of Kessler and Tristan, their rapport when they were working together was rock solid.
Summer Solstice was going to be a bloody mess.
With that in mind, I had to make my own arrangements to counter theirs, which was going to be tricky from my supposed hospital bed. As far as hand to hand combat was concerned, I was well aware that Kessler was better than me, and Conrad's insistence that I treat his son honourably - which to all intents and purposes meant a duel, if I chose to honour his wishes, rather than ignore them - meant that I would need to take steps to redress the balance in that regard. Militarily, given that Matthias was on their hit list, it seemed reasonable that he would be willing to provide troops to counter the rebels' own. With that in mind, I formulated a way of dealing with the problem.
"Wolfram," I said, looking at the guard on post in my bedroom at that moment.
"Herr Reichsführer?"
"Get Schultz for me. I need to speak with him."
"Of course, sir," he replied, smartly, and turned on his heel and was gone. Radulf replaced him moments later.
Schultz arrived about five minutes later, looking slightly ruffled, his eyes heavy with sleep and his uniform jacket unbuttoned. I'd forgotten he was off shift at that point.
"Herr Reichsführer?"
"How would you like a vacation, Rikart?"
He looked at me surprised, obviously trying to decide what to say in response.
"I'm not sure that this is quite the appropriate time, sir," he said, finally, "by virtue of you supposedly being close to death, and all."
"I'm not planning for it to take a long time here at the castle," I answered, "a few hours at most. I want you to accompany me to Maui. You've been there before...I had the impression you liked it."
"I do, sir, but..."
"But nothing. I need your help. It needs to be in fast time. Maui would seem the logical choice."
"Might I ask what you require, sir?"
"I require you to teach me."
"Me sir?"
"I need you to give me some lessons in hand to hand combat. If I'm going to fight a superior enemy, I want to be on a roughly level playing field, and you are well qualified to help me achieve that."
He paused for a moment, considering that, then nodded.
"Of course, Herr Reichsführer. Have you got any thoughts on how we should handle those few hours at this end?"
"Hopefully Karsten and the rest of the Guard can hold the fort for that short an amount of time, and it's a short enough time that it should be possible for them to make sure no-one gets in to see me."
"When?"
"Let's say, tomorrow. I also need Jorge to organise a few things with Matthias Kapler, so the quicker we get started the better."
"Might I ask what?"
"It would be best if I didn't answer that just now."
"Matters are coming to a head, aren't they?" he said, quietly. Obviously, he'd picked up more from what I'd been up to over the last few days than I realised.
"At the Council meeting a week today."
"I'll do what I can, sir."
"Thank you, Rikart. I'll see you first thing in the morning. Bring Carina and your swimming trunks. Oh, and find Jorge for me."
"Yes, Herr Reichsführer," he said, saluting smartly, and headed out.
Jorge reported to me about ten minutes later.
"How are you feeling, sir?"
"Much better, thank you, Oberstgruppenführer von Raeder."
"Rikart said you needed something from me?"
"Yes...I need you to go and talk to Matthias Kapler. You're a Pilot. That makes you the perfect choice to head Outside without arousing suspicions."
"What do you want from him?"
"A division of Sanguine-based Waffen-SS. Here on the Inside, but out of the way where they won't be obvious. Ideally, I need them here six days from now."
"Sanguine-based. As in loyal to Kapler, rather than Kessler?"
"You might think that. I couldn't possibly comment."
He looked at me and chuckled.
"Of course not, sir. Do you want me to state that the orders are specifically from you? Or shall I attempt to leave that vague?"
"Vague would be better...I'm pretty sure I can trust Matthias, but I have no desire to confirm my current state to him as yet. If you have to give him a name, say it's on your own authority. After all, you and he are of equal rank."
"Yes sir. Consider it done."
"Thank you Jorge."
Like Rikart before him, he saluted and left, and I settled back down in front of my table, dealing patience with the Trump deck and wishing that there was some other way. I'd never had qualms about considering mass murder before, but this time...
* * * * *
Maui was warm and sunny. As always. The small group of us consisted of Schultz, Stuckart, Radulf, their families and Frida, plus another favourite mistress of mine named Margitte, and her daughter Eva. Admittedly, It was a risk taking the families along, but I rationalised that we could leave them behind on Maui once our business was done, and they could enjoy a few more days in the sun while the rest of us returned to the Reich. After all, I doubted that Kessler and his crew would be keeping that much track of either Rikart's girlfriend, or the others' family.
Our visit comprised an entertaining three months of sun, sand, sea, sex, research and hand to hand training - primarily for me, but also for Stuckart and Radulf - and by the time we were done, any complaints I had voiced to my brother about the state of his physique (real or merely teasing on my part) had been addressed, despite the good food and better alcohol. In fact, I felt as fit and healthy as I had in many years. Moreover, with Schultz dedicating so much of his time to me my hand to hand, combat skills came on rapidly. As a sign of my satisfaction with him, while we were away, I was pleased to preside over Rikart's wedding to his pretty little girlfriend. They'd been planning to marry during the summer anyway, and the opportunity presented by the location seemed too good to waste.
After the time I had allotted for us had passed, I felt confident that if the worst came to the worst, I would be able to stand up to my erstwhile subordinate in a straight fight. Separately, I was also reasonably confident that I could a) isolate Greifswald from any harm which might come to it in the event of Kessler's death, and b) deal with the issue of the Maniran corruption, at least as far as extracting it from the Sable Pattern was concerned, with the rider that with things coming to a head, it would be best to leave it until after the Solstice. As to what to do with pure, distilled corruption...figuring that out would take a little longer.
Once our three months were up, it was time to return home, but I would be lying if I didn't say that I regretted having to leave the warmth and safety of the place behind. We departed sans the families, although Frida returned with us, as she would just be too likely to be missed. Once I was back, I checked in with Jorge, to discover that his negotiations with Matthias were well advanced, and then settled down to wait out the week.
Of course, "The best laid schemes of mice and men go oft awry", and in my preoccupation with the enemy within, I failed to see the threat from without...