Schmidt and Rob exchanged confused glances.

“I will assume you ‘ave. Rat infestations always seem to come out of nowhere. One day, zere are too many rats in your ‘ouse to deal with, and one must take drastic measures to remove zem. Zee rats are nothing but trouble, eating your food, spreading their filth around your ‘ome, scratching at your walls, biting your furniture. It is difficult and time consuming, but with perseverance, zee rats can be successfully exterminated, and your ‘ome can once again know peace. What people do not seem to understand is zat zee rats do not appear out of zin air. Zee rats ‘ave to be born, zey ‘ave to grow and gather before zey are able to take over your ‘ouse. Zee rats ‘ave been living zere for much longer zan you realize, and suddenly, one day, you notice zem ‘iding in your walls and ceiling. ‘owever, if zee original rats ‘ad been killed before zey breed, zen zere would be no infestation, oui? Only a few dead rats. It would ‘ave saved zee people a lot of time and energy, and saved zee rats from a lot of unnecessary pain.”

Kaplan stood completely still, his gun still pointed unwavering at Rob’s head. “You two, intentionally or not, ‘ave sparked zee flames of unrest within my platoon. I will not allow zis. For zee Empire’s plan to go smoothly, zee soldiers need to be as obedient as possible. If zere is unrest, even in a single platoon of soldiers, it could lead to zee failure of zee plan. I do not zink zat I need to remind you what will ‘appen if zis plan fails, and zee Beans are able to overrun us? You two were in Dijon; you know what will ‘appen. If Dijon was a massacre, zen what zee Beans are planning to commit will be a slaughter of unprecedented proportions. Innocent men, women, and children are going to die if we are unable to defeat zee Beans.”

Kaplan took a deep breath. “I am sure zat you would not want zat to happen. I know Schmidt has a sister, and is close friends with Captain Bösch. Who are you fighting for, Fiedler? I am curious. You may respond.”

Rob’s eyes were distant. Schmidt didn’t know whether that was because he had a gun pointed at him, or if it was because he had to talk about his family, a topic which he had yet to discuss with Schmidt. “My parents…” Rob began. “They’re… uh... dead. I had a brother and a sister, too, but... I haven’t seen them in years... I wish I could go back to them…” Tears began to roll down Rob’s cheeks.

“Zere is no need to cry, Fiedler. You will join your family soon. Do you believe in ‘eaven? I do.” Kaplan cocked his handgun. “It pains me to do zis, but someone ‘as to do it. I will no doubt go to ‘ell for what I am about to do, but I can not sit idly by and watch as you sow discourse in zee Empire’s ranks.”

Kaplan looked between them, his finger hovering steadily over the trigger of the gun. “Your deaths will not be meaningless. I ‘ope you realize zat. Please, go quietly.”

Rob stood up. “You’re actually gonna do it?”

Kaplan aimed the gun at Rob’s head. “Sit down, Fiedler.”

Schmidt stood up too. “We can talk about this…”

“Sit down, both of you.”

Schmidt said, “Put the gun down, Lieutenant. We can talk about this…”

“Zee time for talking is over. We are a week out from our march on Bean territory. Do you zink I am an idiot? I know zat many good men are going to die. I realize zat General Krüger’s plan is insane. But if my men knew I felt zat way, zey would let zeir fear overcome zem. Zey would consider retreat. If you are present on the battlefield, zat zought will always remain in the back of zeir minds. You are an idea, Schmidt, Fiedler. You are zee idea zat zee Empire is weak, zee idea zat zee Beans are strong. Zat idea goes against everything we are fighting for. Zat idea is going to get everyone killed. Not just my platoon, not just Empire soldiers; everyone. Zat is why I need to kill you. You are going to be an example to zem. When my men are considering retreat next week, zey will remember you. Zey will remember ‘ow you died, and zey will reconsider. If zey go down, zey will go down fighting, not running. Your deaths will not be meaningless. Your deaths will serve a purpose. I am sorry. I truly am.”

Kaplan’s cocked gun remained pointed at Rob’s head.

His finger hovered over the trigger.

Rob took a step forward. “Please man, just—”

A single shot rang out.

Then, a thud.

Schmidt’s heartbeat quickened, his breath caught in his throat. His eyes unfocussed as he fell backwards into his chair.

“He fuckin’ shot me,” Rob whispered. “He actually did it. The son of a bitch just fuckin’ shot me.”

Schmidt blinked.

He looked up.

Rob was standing in the same spot, stunned.

Schmidt turned to face Kaplan.

Blood and bits of Kaplan’s brains splattered the bar to Schmidt’s left. Kaplan lay in a growing puddle of blood, a large hole cutting through his left temple. A musket ball was stuck in the wooden wall behind the bar, splintering the wood.

Someone tried to open the door to the tavern. It was still locked.

A thud. The doorframe shook.

A second thud, then a third.

The door burst open. Rolf Bergmann stumbled inside, followed by Marvin, then Greg, who was holding a musket, wisps of smoke wafting out of its muzzle.

Marvin stumbled towards Kaplan’s corpse.

Rolf grabbed Greg by the collar of his shirt. “Ya shot him in the head! I told ya not to kill him! Ya could’ve aimed for the wrist, or the gun, not his god damn head!”

“He was about to shoot Rob!” Greg replied, dropping his musket. “I wouldn’t have had time to adjust my aim before he killed both of them!”

Rob still stood, mumbling to himself.

Schmidt tried to steady his breathing. He failed.

“Oh no,” Marvin whispered, inspecting Kaplan’s corpse. “Guys?”

“Ya just killed our commandin’ officer in cold blood, a week before an important mission!” Rolf shouted. “And I didn’t stop ya! The Empire’s going to hang the lot of us!”

“They’ll understand, they have to understand, Kaplan didn’t have the authority to execute anyone, we acted in self defense!” Greg replied.

“Do ya really think they’ll take the word of five soldiers that shot their commanding officer?”

“Guys,” Marvin said, a little louder. The others ignored him.

Rolf shoved Greg hard, knocking him onto his back. “God damn it! God damn it!”

Greg stayed on the ground.

Rob sat down, running his hands over his face. He turned to look at Schmidt. “He shot me, Barry.”

Schmidt swallowed. “Nope.”

“Yeah.”

“Nope. You’re fine. Kaplan was the one that got shot.”

"What?”

Rolf walked out of the tavern, pacing just outside the door.

“Hey!” Marvin shouted. “Come look at this, now!”

Greg was sitting on the floor just inside the tavern, hyperventilating. Rob remained on his chair, inspecting his body for holes. Rolf paced outside, talking to himself.

Schmidt stood up without thinking, making his way towards Kaplan’s corpse. He joined Marvin, standing over Kaplan’s lifeless body. Schmidt’s right foot was in the puddle of blood.

Marvin simply pointed. Schmidt followed his finger.

The blood had begun to seep between the gaps in the floorboards. The smell was almost enough to make Schmidt gag. In the puddle of blood were pieces of Kaplan’s brain, pink chunks of meat among the sea of red.

It took Schmidt a moment to realize what Marvin was pointing at.

Ripples spread slowly through the puddle of blood.

Mixed with Kaplan’s brains and blood were Crimson beans.