Corporal Heinrich Schmelling shivered in the early morning chill. There was frost on the leaves and a layer of mist covered the Konigsee. He licked his lips as he thought of the nude women on their crosses in the cave over there. He imagined their nipples extruded from the breasts in the cold cave. He imagined them, writhing and groaning in a painful and fruitless attempt to keep warm.
He sighed. His colleague, Private Erwin Partz, looked across at him. “You OK?”
“Yeah. Wish I could cuddle up to those girls in there to keep warm.”
“You could try. Last person who went into that cave with K came out in two separate pieces. You’d lose your bollocks, at least.”
Partz was right. Apart from that brief glimpse of Messaline as she arrived from the Schlafende Hexe, no-one had been permitted to go far enough down the cave to see any of the crucified women.
And as for the Lieutenant, or, rather the Captain, the sheer bloody injustice of what had happened to him had outraged every single one of the men. The Lieutenant had been popular among the men, and had shown more loyalty and respect to Kibonreju than he had ever earned. By way of reward his head was now at the bottom of the Konigsee. More than half the men had deserted, morale was at rock bottom, and Kibonreju was too stupid, and usually too drunk to notice. He hadn’t even appointed a replacement; there was something of a shortage of volunteers.
Schmelling was tempted to go, himself. On mornings like this, freezing cold, tedious, he was conscious of life passing him by. He had taken this job because it had seemed easy, low risk. Over the years the wages had got worse. And now men were getting killed. Good men, like the Lieutenant. There was no way that Schmelling would put his life on the line for that fat bastard.
There was a quick movement from Partz, startling Schmelling. “Missed it!” commented Partz.
“Missed what?”
“Squirrel. Couple of them just ran into the cave. Might have made a change for supper tonight.”
“K is a messy bastard. Plenty for squirrels and rats in that cave, and well they know it.”
“Fucking squirrels can go look at those crosses. We can’t. Fucking squirrels get more out of K than we do.”
“Quiet, Partz! He’ll hear you!”
“Nah. That tailor brought him a crate of wine last night. He’ll either be pissed or hung over.”
“He doesn’t deserve us, Partz. And I’ll tell you what else – he doesn’t deserve to have women like that Messaline nailed up in there! Did you see her?”
“Did I ever! Best pair of tits I ever saw in my life! Such a shame, a body to die for, nailed out like that. If I could see her just once more I could die happy.”
“Forget it, Partz. Content yourself with the whores in Bischofswiesen.”
“K is a bast…..what the FUCK!???”
From the south, the sound of blasting trumpets. Two dragons appeared, jets of flame from their nostrils, and thunderbolts being hurled down by the riders. A scene from the apocalypse.
“ALARM!!!!” yelled Schmelling. Men began to pour out of the barrack huts. “What’s going on?” demanded a major.
“Sir, we’re under attack! Sounds like an army coming up from the south! And dragons, sir, look!”
“Archers! To your positions!” bellowed the major.
The archers obediently knelt, and fitted arrows to their bows.
Then they saw the two dragons bearing down upon them, exuding white hot flame and bolts in every direction. At that same moment the advanced guard came racing past. “Run! Run like hell! There’s an army of at least a thousand attacking from the south!”
They disappeared up the lakeside path, with the archers hot on their heels.
Schmelling looked at Partz, and Partz looked at Schmelling.
Seconds later they, and the remainder of Kibonreju’s force were departing northwards without having fired a single shot in his defence.
The major shouted after them, half-heartedly, ”Come back! Stand your ground!” Then he said, “Oh, sod it!” and ran after them.
Overhead, the remains of the flying horse cavalry were also fleeing. Repertor, merciful, let them go.
(Gulden Draak = Golden Dragon)
Commanded by Captain S'log, Major Mistake and General Ignorance? 
