Re: Blood and Iron - Chapter 862: Kneel Before the Cross

Chapter 862: Kneel Before the Cross

Bruno had in his life endeavored towards a single goal. To create a world that functioned without his constant intervention and micromanagement.

Over sixty years had been spent acquiring the skills, resources, and loyalties enough to shift history in his favor.

Sixty years of blood, iron, sweat, and tears. He had lived; he had lost, and he had forged a system in his absence that now ran with or without his input.

Now and then, like the previous day, he would meet with old friends and contacts. Ensuring that things were running smoothly, but the reality was that he was well and truly retired.

There was no grand war lingering on the horizon, and he had nearly a whole year before he was named chancellor to quietly maintain the system he had built.

So… How does a soldier whose accomplishments were so grand that he carved out his own sovereign domain spend his days of peace and tranquility? By enjoying the peace his blood had forged.

Nearly a month had passed since the victory celebrations were held in Berlin. And today was just another Sunday.

The church bells rang across Innsbruck. The capital of the Grand Principality of Tyrol stood proudly in the ancient valley between the Alps. A city of history, a city of conscience, a city of faith.

For the first time in a very long time, Bruno and his family, or those who currently lived in Tyrol, gathered in full for Sunday mass.

He and Heidi walked ahead of the royal host into the Cathedral of St. James, standing side by side.

Bruno’s suit was formal, but far from ostentatious. His silver beard was freshly trimmed and finely groomed. While his matching hair was recently cut to perfection.

A crude crucifix hung from his neck. Not made of gold or silver, but of wood. Carved and finely polished from the buttstock of a Turkish rifle he once captured while fighting the Ottomans outside Constantinople decades ago. It hung gracefully from a simple leather cord fashioned from the rifle’s sling.

Heidi was dressed no more flamboyantly. Her dress was far less elegant than for a normal outing; the modest and humble nature of her attire was crowned not with a tiara, but with a black lace veil.

Even her jewelry had been scaled down, with a simple crucifix made of fine silver but without any additional embellishment.

All of Bruno’s family arrived the same way. Humble, silent, reverent… There were no trumpets to announce their presence. No bodyguards to secure their path, and no banners waving behind them.

They arrived like every other member of the parish. Humble, silent, and faithful. And when they arrived in the pews, they bowed their heads, and kneeled like everyone else.

Bruno listened to the sermon preached by the Archbishop of Innsbruck. It was a strong sermon, reinforcing the virtues of the faith and their need now more than ever for vigilant protection.

For it was in the era of peace, not war, that the devil was most likely to seduce the flock toward eternal damnation.

The sermon eventually ended, as did the service after the Eucharist was performed, along with the other normal Catholic rites. And in the end, Bruno was the last one kneeling before the cross within the cathedral.

Heidi knew better than to interrupt the man’s prayers, and instead she made sure that she and the rest of the family returned home to the Palace while Bruno continued to kneel.

It was not until the Archbishop himself approached Bruno that he finally raised his head.

“The Grand Prince who bent the world to his knees now bends before the cross. It has always been a truly bewildering sight to witness. And yet I do not believe I have heard your confession since you first began attending this mass.”

Bruno eventually rose to his feet, standing before the Archbishop not as a monarch, but as a man. He gazed towards the ceiling and its grandeur. The paintings were every bit as graceful and awe-inspiring as those Michelangelo had painted in Rome.

They captured his attention, even as he spoke with the Archbishop.

“Confession,” he said at last, quietly, “is not for men who still intend to act.”

The words were not defiance. Nor were they pride. They were simply truth, spoken without ornament.

“When I kneel,” Bruno continued, “it is not to be forgiven. It is to be seen. To stand before God without disguise, knowing full well the weight of what remains undone.”

He exhaled slowly.

“When my work is finished, if that day ever comes, I will confess everything. Until then, I will not cheapen repentance by pretending I am finished sinning.”

For a long moment, the cathedral was silent.

Then Bruno stepped forward and left, the echo of his boots swallowed by stone and incense alike.

The Archbishop didn’t chastise Bruno; he simply bowed his head in respect.

“Well said….”

On the car ride home, Bruno could not help but gaze out at the countryside. Thinking about all that he had done, every sin committed in pursuit of his duty.

He knew all too well that at the end of the life he would be judged for his sins. And his hands were defiled with oceans of blood.

In the end, even if God had chosen for him to fulfill this life. He would be judged all the same. For that alone did not absolve him of the sin he had committed in pursuit of fulfilling God’s will.

The ride was anything but peaceful, even though it was silent. But when he stepped foot into his home, any thoughts of damnation and judgement had evaporated. Or at the very least been forced to the back of his mind.

Because here in his home was his family. His reason to fight above all others. And he had ensured a future where they could live in safety, prosperity, and dignity.

And if that path ended in damnation, then for Bruno, it was still a price worth paying.