The dog stirred, fixing the tent flaps with an inquisitive glare, and looked back towards the general with a sideways look indicating uncertainty. Graf considered the animal’s odd behavior for a moment before dismissing it, feeling no need for concern. If something was truly amiss, he would have been certain of it.<br/><br/><span style="font-weight: bold">“Enter,”</span>he said, remaining straight-backed in his seat as he awaited his meal. The footsteps outside had given him a sense of hesitation that he didn’t understand, but all would be made clear soon enough. He had a theory, at any rate, but he hoped he was incorrect. He was in no mood to waste time doling out discipline for trivial matters.<br/><br/><br/>Emil took a deep breath, mentally preparing himself. Moving one hand under the tray's center so he could open the entrance, he left the cart where it was for now, and stepped into the general's quarters. While doing so, he glanced toward Graf, his professional stance kept even when he had been alone. Compared to the other soldiers in the mess tent, even higher-ranked ones, it was quite respectworthy. After that, he looked toward his dog. Large and menacing as it was, it was still a dog, and Emil smiled for a moment upon seeing it. He didn't waste any time in getting the entrance closed, however, and as soon as the barrier was in place once more, he took the tray in a solid two-handed hold and approached.<br/><br/>When he was close enough to the table, he stopped and straightened up, once more adjusting his hold on the tray to hold it under the bottom. His now-freed other hand snapped up into a salute.<span style="font-style: italic">"Herr."</span>Emil didn't know very much German, just a few words here and there, but he'd been told by a more helpful higher-up of the squad to use that title when addressing Graf. It was advice he would definitely keep in mind. Despite his form, he was still quite nervous, with lips pursed just a tad too tightly and a slight discomfort held while he awaited the general's allowance to proceed.<br/><br/><br/>Graf’s eyes narrowed behind the spectacles, and he rose to a standing position without any change to his torso or back. The dog sniffed at the man’s boots, but at a sharp sound from the general it retreated to the back of the tent, behind where he’d been sitting. Graf inspected the man, noting his unfamiliarity; a round face, devoid of sharp angles, blond hair and blue eyes the older man was sure he’d never seen before. More noticeable than anything else was the youth, however — this soldier had not seen real war. Not yet. His inexperience poured off of him in waves.<br/><span style="font-weight: bold"><br/>“Marik usually brings my meals. Why this sudden breach of protocol? Who authorized him to forgo his duties? State your name!”</span>he barked, and although his tone hardened and the volume rose, his expression never changed. Down to the last facial muscle, he remained immobile as he regarded the novice.<br/><br/><br/>Already, Emil regretted this. As the general's voice raised, he straightened himself even moreso, tensing up most of the muscles throughout his body. His jaw clenched as he yelled, and despite the internal feeling of fear that struck him, he spoke with a professional firmness that his training had instilled in him. "Tech specialist Emil Nylund, sir! Officer Matthias Fuchs requested I deliver this to you," He explained. His expression faltered slightly around his eyes, and a noticeable bead of sweat formed on his forehead despite the chill in the air.<br/><br/><br/><span style="font-weight: bold">“I see,” </span>Graf said, observing the nervous young man.<span style="font-weight: bold">“Your face is not known to me, but your name is. The Chernovolk remember their own, and I do not forget. I never forget,”</span>he added, taking a step closer to Nylund.<span style="font-weight: bold">“Your family has served in our ranks. Your connections have undoubtedly helped you gain entry sooner than most could have achieved. Tell me, what made you so eager to join us? Many spend years deliberating on making the jump, even after long, storied careers.” </span><br/><br/>He glanced down at the tray in Emil’s grasp and indicated the table near where he’d been sitting.<span style="font-weight: bold">“Set it down over there.”</span><br/><br/><br/>Emil considered his possible answers. The truth behind it would have surely sounded like a child's dream to a hardened general, but he wasn't about to try and make his reasons seem less motivated. "I wanted to do as my family has done for years, sir. Protect and serve the people of Europe and reclaim what's been taken from us," He explained. "The situation required extra help, and I was qualified to take the job, it seemed like a natural decision, sir."<br/><br/>At Graf's command, Emil took another few steps forward, gently setting the tray down atop the table before he turned back to the general, straightening his stance once more.<br/><br/><br/><span style="font-weight: bold">“A natural decision. I see,”</span>Graf said, even as he started to walk around the man in a slow circle.<span style="font-weight: bold">“You are one of many who have been promoted earlier than what would have been possible in the past. The pups of the Chernovolk, eager to prove themselves, ready to risk their lives for the cause.” </span><br/><br/>He returned to Emil’s front and stopped, watching him closely.<span style="font-weight: bold">“It is good that you wish to serve your people. That you want to fight, to reclaim what has been taken from us. I am told I have a reputation,”</span>he said, his face unreadable.<span style="font-weight: bold">“I’m told that I am cold, and that even my own men fear me. But I am not an enemy to those who fight for good.” </span>The dog moved back from the rear of the tent and sniffed at Nylund’s boot once more before retreating to Graf’s side.<br/><br/><span style="font-weight: bold">“If you fight at my side, and you do what is required of you, you need not fear me - or <span style="font-style: italic">any</span> man. If you understand my vision, the vision of the New European Union, if you can see a world free of danger, free of mutants who kill and maim the innocent, and you are willing to fight for it, to die for it…” <br/><br/>“Then I would lay down my life for you,” </span>he said firmly, extending his hand to the young soldier.<br/><br/><br/>A reputation was something that Graf certainly had. Emil had heard quite a lot about him, how he was merciless and emotionless in his pursuit of victory for the army. As he recounted those ideas, Emil could not help but tense up slightly more, especially with the stone-faced gaze locked directly on his face. What came next was utterly surprising. Emil's expression very visibly faltered, brows raising and lips slightly parting in confusion. From the general's renown, the display was entirely out of expectation. Even so, it was not an unpleasant surprise. His eyes went to Graf's hand as it approached, and when he looked back up, his shock had turned to a smile.<br/><br/>He extended a hand of his own, taking Graf's into a firm and somewhat excited shake. "Yes, sir! Thank you, sir!" He quickly spoke. The air of nervousness about him seemed to melt away, his entire form becoming less unnaturally tightened up. "I'll do my best, we all will!" Emil was positively giddy to have been given such an honor, especially so early into his career with the Chernovolk. He never would have anticipated it even after the potential years of upcoming service. It might have simply been a method to calm down an obviously nervous soldier, but it resonated with him.<br/><br/><br/>Graf allowed himself a smile, the slightest upturning of the corners of his lips. The boy was just that, a mere child, unweathered and untested. He had training, that was a certainty, and he was eager to do his part, but the conditioning the general had in mind was not of the physical variation. Being a member of the hand of the NEU was a job that required a mental fortitude most people lacked. It needed a will of steel, and a sense of duty that trumped trivialities like empathy and moral high grounds.<br/><br/><span style="font-weight: bold"><span style="font-style: italic">Some have what it takes. Others crumble. Which will you be, Emil Nylund? Only time will tell.</span><br/></span><br/><span style="font-weight: bold">“I have the utmost faith in you,”</span>he said, releasing the soldier’s hand.<span style="font-weight: bold"> “Now, if you are a tech specialist, I assume you just returned from the tower. Which means you are free to return to your leisure. Rest is necessary for one to be ready when duty calls again. Dismissed.” </span><br/><br/><br/>"Yes, sir!" Emil withdrew his hand as the handshake ended, and before he left, he gave Graf a quick salute. When he turned away to leave, his already-sizable smile grew wider, and once outside he allowed himself a small celebration in the form of a fist pump and some quiet, enthused laughter. Maybe he'd do better out there than he thought for himself previously. What he knew for sure was that he'd do his damnedest to be useful for the team. With that in mind, he took the cart away from Graf's quarters, and pushed it back to the mess tent with a newfound spring in his step.<br/><br/><br/>Graf moved to the table and lifted the metal lid from over his meal. The dog trotted over, looking up expectantly, and the general dropped the entire metal plate onto the ground in front of the animal.<br/><br/><span style="font-weight: bold">“Vorgehen, Jäger,” </span>he said, moving back to his chair. The meal was satisfactory enough, judging by its appearance, but Graf had no appetite for food. Not at the moment. The hound began eating with enthusiasm, and Graf took a seat, inhaling slowly as he closed his eyes. Many lives were going to be changing, and soon. The soldiers would see the change firsthand, and they themselves would change as well. Life rarely swept on past a person without leaving its mark, and the task set before them all would gouge deep, leaving furrows in the flesh as well as the spirit.<br/><br/>The Chernovolk would cleanse the land, restoring safety and order to a world plunged into chaos, where monsters were permitted the same rights as people. Where the tainted commanded respect and fear as they spread their own brand of hellish ruin.<br/><br/><span style="font-weight: bold">“But no more,”</span>he said quietly, clenching his fist.