Stargazing

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General Frederich Metternich stood tall in front of the mirror in his house, straightening his uniform. Unlike many of the other men he served with, he only had the one formal one and he took care of it like his own child. Spots were quickly cleaned, he brushed it himself and he couldn't count how many hours he spent polishing the buttons and various decorations he had received.

It looked well on him in the mirror, tailored to fit him precisely.

He smiled a bit as he checked the fit, Sophie had tailored it for him. He had chuckled to see his sister wandering around him with a packet full of pins, when he and his brothers made sure that she had the finest dressmakers they could afford. But she had always been the one to want to take care of his uniform, and he knew he was the only one who spot the small, fine stitches on the left cuff from the one time he had ripped it. Sophie had immediately pulled it off of him and fixed it, giving him a lecture about taking better care of his clothing.

He had made her sit down and teach him a few stitches, just enough to keep his clothing in good status. He kept minimal staff in Berlin, always passing it off with a shrug and saying that it kept him from spending too long in the city. But even at home they economized, most of the estate was shut up. Although now, now they were able to open part of it back up and he could actually afford a housekeeper for his house.

Frederich could smell her cooking, and despite the delicious smell of the veal she was cooking, he wrinkled his nose. Every time he thought about how nice it was to have something new, he reminded himself exactly what was affording that. His sister, his sweet little Sophie, married to some boor of an American. Dancing attendance on him, having his children, he had fought against it. He had always told Sophie that they would figure something out, but she had insisted.

They had sacrificed much to see her kept in comfort, she would do this to better their family's position, that way they all could live as they should.

Every time he noticed something new he had, he cursed himself for not realizing what Zachary was. He had been charming when he had first showed up, with his fine clothes and excellent German, and he had quickly made himself at home in the Berlin scene. When approached he had been quite honest about looking for a good German woman to marry, that he much preferred them to American women. The girls back in America were too fast, too frivolous, and too absorbed in themselves. So he had come back to where his grandfather had left, looking for a girl to take back with him.

When word of the wealth he would bring with him came around, Sophie had selected a new dress, had her hair dressed stylishly, and set out to charm him. She batted her eyes, she pretended to be empty headed when he would discuss more serious matters and she always made a point to be the first to greet him at every party. Otto had remarked that it made him skin crawl to see Sophie acting like such a fool, but it had worked.

The highlight of the season had been their engagement and return to New York.

Frederich had been sad to see her leave, and all three of her brothers had seen her off together. Berlin seemed far less exciting when Sophie was gone, it was colder and Johann had retired to their estate after a week. Otto had fled back to Kiel until they had visited her, and Frederich had been left to what he always did. Flatter the Kaiser, discuss strategy with the others and try to earn himself some kind of reward for his services. That seemed to be all he was good for, and what he needed to do now.

He shook his head, taking his hat in hand as he left. His valet had already called for a car to be waiting to take him to the palace, and Frederich had him let him out a few blocks away. It wouldn't do him any favors to have everyone see him get out of cab instead of being dropped off in his own private car. The servants always thought that he was simply a healthy man and thought nothing of it, letting him into the palace with little hassle.

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