Please Die, My Lord

On the border between Kraków and Galicia.

Brzezina sat with his men in front of the old mill, gazing at the reddened sky in the distance. Those were the flames raging through Kraków.

Those flames would sweep across Poland, across Europe, across the Atlantic Ocean, and over the wastelands of Siberia, uniting the entire world beneath the banner of His Majesty, the Great Emperor Landry Promis I.

And he, Brzezina, would serve as His Majesty's vanguard, crossing the Himalayas and watering his horses in the Amazon.

Just then, one of his men whispered a few words to Commander Brzezina. The commander looked toward the mill's tightly shut door.

With a bang, the mill's wooden door was kicked open. Inside, an old man led a donkey around a small millstone, still walking in circles. From time to time, he picked up some grain and poured it into the larger millstone. The waterwheel turned it slowly as the stream flowed past.

"Hey, old man! You were hiding in here, eavesdropping on our conversation! Are you an Austrian spy?"

A bare-chested man holding a musket asked in a gruff voice. The people around him immediately joined in, ready to tear the old man and his donkey limb from limb.

Brzezina raised a hand to silence his men's barking. He straightened his collar and asked in a very mild tone.

"Elder, what are you doing?"

Perhaps the sound of the rushing water was too loud. The old man seemed not to hear him at all, simply repeating the same movements as before.

At school, Brzezina had been student council president. He had also been an elite in the Polish Restoration Army, and now he had risen to command the Kraków City Defense Force. One day, he might even become the kingdom's marshal.

He had