8PM January 24th, 1588 - Stuttgart, Holy Roman Empire Our understanding of drone Bean physiology presents an important question regarding the physiology of abnormal Beans. Their increased size would suggest that there are more than one human corpse inside of them, though that would also suggest that a single abnormal Ashen Bean would require dozens, maybe even hundreds of corpses. That would only work under the assumption that the Beans need human corpses to form, however. Perhaps the abnormal Beans do not need human hosts, and drone Beans are dependent on human corpses and therefore weaker. This is merely speculation.

Schmidt whistled as he followed Kaplan into Stuttgart’s military headquarters. The high ceilings and open foyer were impressive compared to the modest buildings in Dijon and Besançon. The wall in front of them was lined with a series of beautiful wooden doors leading to a central garden, the other walls holding smaller doors leading deeper within the headquarters. Large paintings of previous military officers and emperors stared down at them.

It didn’t seem like anyone was prepared for a party; Kaplan and his soldiers wore the same clothes they wore to the report presentation, while the dozens of other people standing around the foyer wore similarly business-oriented clothes.

Kaplan looked around the building in awe. “Zere are so many officers ‘ere…”

“One might expect that of a military headquarters,” Greg said.

“Do you zink zey will promote me for zis? We are zee reason zey are ‘aving zis party in zee first place, oui? I need to find General Krüger, ‘e will definitely— look at all zee food! Zee smell alone is incredible! I can not wait to eat!” As Kaplan began walking towards a long table filled with various meats, cheeses, and breads, he said, “Do not embarrass me while we are ‘ere.”

“You have our word,” Greg replied.

“Don’t forget about Krüger, lieutenant!” Rob added. “This is your chance for a promotion!”

“What could we even do to embarrass him?” Marvin asked.

“Dunno,” Rob said, glancing around the foyer. “I think it would be kinda rude if we, like, attempted a coup or somethin’, that would probably be pretty embarrassin’ for him.”

“I know you’re joking, Rob, but don’t say that too loud,” Schmidt said. “Krüger seemed kind of intense; I wouldn’t want to get on his bad side.”

“Yeah, ok, mom,” Rob replied, still looking around the foyer. Many of the soldiers and officials scattered around the room were tall, so Rob had to stand on his toes to get a good view.

“Who are you looking for?” Greg asked.

“I wanna talk with Mr. Sauer about the beans,” Rob replied as he began climbing onto a chair to get a better view.

“This is exactly what Kaplan asked us not to do,” Marvin mumbled.

“What do you want to talk to him about?” Schmidt asked as he shooed Rob off the chair, returning it to a table.

“Well, I have a theory I want his input on.”

“Why him of all people, though? There are other people here we could talk to about your theories. And I’m sure there are plenty of women that would love to talk to a survivor of the Bean attacks,” Schmidt said.

“I actually kinda liked him. He was really nice, helpin’ me with my arm, and, you know, comin’ up with the plan to get us out of Dijon. And the women can wait, Barry. Science is more important than love.”

“What does this Mr. Sauer character look like, then?” Greg asked.

“He’s tall, got circular glasses, dark hair,” Rob replied.

“Scary face,” Schmidt added.

“Yeah, scary face. Just imagine a mad doctor and you’ll probably be pretty close. Mad like angry, not, like, British mad.”

“Do you know if he will be with anyone?” Greg asked.

Schmidt replied, “Yeah, he’ll be with that woman doctor from Dijon. She was with him when we presented our report. What was her name again?”

“Ms. Reist,” Rob replied. “She’s blonde, average height, wears her hair in a bun.”

“Is that them?” Marvin asked, pointing to a small group of people in the back corner of the room. Among them were Sauer and Reist, each holding a glass of wine.

“That’s them all right,” Rob replied, walking towards them.

“I will be right with you,” Greg said. “Kaplan was right; the food does smell good, and I have not eaten all day.”

Schmidt followed Greg, saying, “I’m starving too. This is going to be amazing compared to our rations.”

Marvin mumbled something, then followed Rob to meet Sauer and Reist.

Greg grabbed a small plate and began piling it with various cheeses, while Schmidt examined the meats. He recognized some of them; steamed chicken, beef, and duck, but there were even more that he didn’t recognize. All of it smelled amazing.

As he finished filling his plate, he saw Greg eat a chunk of cheese and make his way to meet Rob and Sauer. Schmidt was about to follow when two impressively strong hands gripped his shoulders, causing his stomach to drop.

Bösch’s voice was barely above a whisper. “Do not trust anyone here, Barnabas. Something is wrong.” Bösch squeezed his shoulders once, then let go.

Schmidt stood for a moment, trying to process what had just happened. When he turned to talk to Bösch, he had already left.

For a moment, he thought he had imagined it. Bösch wasn’t the kind of person to leave a conversation before it had even begun. But if he had imagined it, then why? Even more concerning was that if he didn’t imagine it, why would Bösch say that? He must have had some reason to say it. It could have had something to do with their last conversation, two months ago in Besançon, the one about Sofia—

Sofia. She was in Stuttgart right now, wasn’t she? Bösch wanted him to see her. That’s what all of this was about, making him see Sofia, wasn’t it? Yeah, that was it. That had to be it.

Schmidt closed his eyes tight, shaking his head, attempting to dislodge his thoughts. He had earned this party. He had earned the right to enjoy himself. He wasn’t going to let Bösch take that away from him.

He wasn’t hungry anymore. He left his plate on the table and made his way to the back corner of the room.