Rémy La Roux stared out his window as he struck a match to light his pipe. He drew in smoke from the bit and a deep groan escaped his mouth. The inner yard of his farm was full of activity. Soldiers were cleaning their weapons and tending to their uniforms. Their fine animals were brought from and to the stables, which had been commandeered. It was an understatement to say that Rémy had not much enjoyed these last few months. Most of his horses had been commandeered by the French army, which had twice passed through his property. Once in the optimism of their forward march, a second time in the shame of their retreat. Ragged, wounded men had trickled past the farm house, and those that were offered a glass of wine and a meal told tales of horror, blood and death.<br/><br/>The way the Prussians had been described to Rémy, he was expecting a pack of half human, half monstrous beings to ride through his gate one day. What he got instead was unit of Hussars commanded by a stern-faced but mostly respectful commander. He had been forced to give up the use of his stables, which didn’t really bother him much, as he had no more own animals to put in them. The fact that a large group of the soldiers had taken up temporary residence in his farm was more of a concern. What little of his farming operation that was still active was significantly hampered by the presence of the soldiers. Not to mention that they walked around like they owned the place. Which they did, to a certain extent. Rémy was keenly aware of the fact that if he or one of his workmen became too much of a problem, they would be rewarded with a nice round bullet between the eyes.<br/><br/>He hadn’t worked up the La Roux name to one of some standing to lose everything in a war he never asked for. As far as he was concerned, he was going to ride this thing out by keeping his head down and then see where the dice might fall once the dust settled. The people of this area would still need horses and crops regardless of whether they were part of France or Prussia. Rémy took another drag from his pipe before calling out for Marie Claire.<strong>“Marie Claire, ma chère, go and get us some firewood from the shed.”</strong>As the girl readied herself to go out, her employer seemed to reconsider.<strong>“Actually, it might be best if you stayed in… Crapaudvigne, va aller cherche du boix pour le feu.”</strong>The man whom Rémy ordered to perform the task instead of her was Crapaudvigne. His name was as unusual as his appearance. He was a very tall man, certainly the tallest that Marie Claire had ever seen. No one knew exactly where he had come from, the story was that he had turned up at Rémy’s farm as a young man and Rémy had taken enough pity on the lad to offer him a job and a place to stay.<br/><br/>A gentle giant of a man, Crapaudvigne spoke in hushed tones and wore his dark hair long. It always appeared slightly greasy and often times clung to his face. He was missing his top two incisors and the teeth he still had were in a terrible state for his age. No one knew exactly how old he was, but Marie Claire guessed he was no older than 30. Rémy had soon found out that Crapaudvigne was unsuited for work on the fields, let alone with horses. Which is why he was one of the few male staff members who worked in the big house. Mrs. La Roux mostly allowed him to assist in the kitchens.<br/><br/>Crapaudvigne nodded his head at his boss’ request and was out the door almost immediately. Marie Claire joined her boss at the window and saw Crapaudvigne cross the yard towards the small shed where they kept their firewood. He returned a couple of minutes later with his long arms filled with the logs. Marie Claire opened the door for him upon his return and assisted him in stoking the fire. Rémy watched them work for a bit before tapping out his pipe and putting on his coat.<strong>“Marie Claire, I am going into town for a few hours, inform mrs. La Roux of as much when you see her. And make sure to take care when you do go out yourself, the officers seem to run a tight ship but these men have been away from home for a long while now and harsh discipline alone cannot always dull blind lust.”</strong>He let his maid figure out the meaning of his words on her own as he took his cane from its usual spot by the side of the door and departed his house. Before the war he would have traveled the few kilometers into town on horseback, but the French regulars had even taken his own pride and joy of a horse, which meant that he had been forced to do most of his commute on foot since then.<br/><br/>He would never admit as much, but the reality was that he quite enjoyed these walks. He tipped his hat as he passed one of the Prussian officers and passed under the old, stone archway that lead into his farm’s inner yard. He caught himself humming an old tune as he descended towards Falquemont, already visible in the distance.<br/>