Adapting to the Shadows

The cobblestone streets crunched beneath the carriage wheels as Aron and Erwin entered into Berlin, all anonymity demanded by their exile. The huge city was cacophonous and full of life, a far cry from the echoing grand halls of their lost former home. Gone were the perfumed gardens and gilded corridors. Here, soot-streaked buildings rose under an ashen sky, and the distant hum of chatter and horse hooves painted a picture of restless ambition. Berlin—a city of opportunity, yet unforgiving to outsiders like them.

The two brothers had moved into a small, but sturdy inn near the market square. Their room was small, functional, with creaking wooden floors and one frosted window that let in just enough light to pierce the gloom. Aron stood at the window, observing the bustle below. His sharp eyes darted from merchants haggling over wares to beggars pleading for scraps.

"This city breathes defiance," Aron muttered, his breath fogging the windowpane. "It's chaotic, but there's a fire here, Erwin. We'll use it."

Erwin, seated at the lone table in the room, polished a worn dagger. He glanced up, a smirk tugging at his lips. "First, we survive, Aron. Then we lead."

The Struggle to Blend

The days that followed were grueling. To blend in, Aron and Erwin shed every vestige of their royal upbringing. Aron worked as a scribe for a local magistrate, his sharp mind and fluency in multiple languages quickly earning him favor. Erwin, ever resourceful, found work as a dockhand, his physical strength proving invaluable. Yet, every moment spent in menial labor was a bitter pill to swallow.

"Do you ever get tired of being beneath them?" Aron asked one evening, as they were sharing a meal of bread and soup. Low was his voice, but sharp with indignation.

Erwin set his jaw harder. "Get tired? Of course. But with every insult, every drop of sweat, just fuels me." They'll know soon enough what we are.

The Queen's Haunting Memory

The brothers would sit in the small fireplace, which had died to a few flickering embers, late at night when the noise of the city had quieted. The shadow of their mother's execution haunted them. Aron would stare into the light of the embers.

"I still hear her screams, Erwin," he confessed one night, his voice barely audible. "I hear them every time I close my eyes.

Erwin put his hand on his brother's shoulder. "We can't do anything about what has already happened, Aron. But we can ensure that her death wasn't without a point. We will rise and see that Charles pays."

Aron nodded, the jaw gelling with resolution. "No mercy. Not for him. Nor for any of them."

Sowing Seeds of Influence

As weeks passed into months, the brothers became interested in exploring the underbelly of the city. They visited taverns where dissatisfied workers and frustrated students met and listened intently to murmurs of discontent about the German monarchy. Aron's charm and Erwin's imposing presence marked them out, but they were not eager to attract too much attention.

"These people are desperate for change," Aron observed one night as they walked back to their inn. "All they need is a leader."

Erwin nodded. "And that leader will be you."

A Fateful Encounter

One evening, their fortunes began to shift. While at a crowded pub near the city's edge, they overheard a heated argument between two men. One was a local merchant, the other a member of the city council. The councilman's careless words revealed rampant corruption within the government.

They're draining this city," Aron hissed. Then louder, to the room, he declared, "And we are letting them do it. Why? Are we not strong enough to stand up together?"

The room was quiet now, its focus all on Aron. He felt the heaviness of the gaze, and the spark was lit.

"This is just the beginning," he whispered to Erwin that night. "We planted the first seed.

The Brothers' Pact

On their last night in the cramped inn, Aron and Erwin sat by the window, looking out at the city that had become their battleground.

"No turning back now," Erwin said, holding out his hand.

Aron clasped it firmly. "For mother. For Laura. For the future."

The two brothers stood looking into the Berlin night as their resolve stiffened in the flickering city lights. The storm was coming, and they would be its architects.