The cobblestones of Warsaw were still slick from the morning rain, reflecting a sky the color of a bruised lung. It was October 1939. Friedrich von Hohenstaufen stood by his Mercedes, the silver skull on his cap catching the dull, flat light. To the men under him, he was the iron spine of the regimentt.To himself, he was a failure named Elias who had died in a 2024 car wreck, clutching a history textbook he never finished grading. He remembered the smell of antiseptic and the screech of tires; then, he woke up in a world of wool and iron. He had inherited Friedrich's memories—the childhood in a drafty estate in East Prussia, the rigid Junker father who beat him for crying, and the cold pride of the 1933 rallies—but Elias's conscience was a fever that wouldn't break. He was a modern man stuffed into a monster's skin, forced to play a role he despised to stay alive."The reports from the sector, Hohenstaufen," General Nebe said, stepping out from the shadow of a requisitoned townhouse. "They say you've been… hesitant."Friedrich didn't turn. He watched a line of civilians being herded toward the square. In his past life, he was a teacher who valued every human story. Now, he wore a uniform that felt more like a shroud. He knew how this war ended—he knew the names of the trials and the locations of the graves."I'm ensuring efficiency, General," Friedrich said, his voice as dry as a dead leaf. "Chaos is the enemy of order.""And mercy?" Nebe leaned in, his eyes narrowing. "Mercy is the enemy of the future."Friedrich finally looked at him, his expression a mask of cold glass. He wasn't the original Hohenstaufen; he was a ghost who ownedd a future that hadn't happened yet.Later that night, with the smell of woodsmoke and wet wool hanging in the air, Friedrich sat at a heavy mahogany desk. He didn't reach for his Luger. Instead, he pulled out a blank ledger. Using his knowledge of the future, he started writing. Not body counts, but names. Names of people he knew would be lost if he didn't use his rank to rewrite the timeline
