Ferdinand Durr

Age: 28
Allegiance: ???
Nationality: German
Rank: Sergeant

Moon light flooded the room, casting shadows everywhere. My wife was illuminated, as if her skin were porcelain. I could make out her curves under the sheets, the spitting image of an angel. I barely had the energy to peel the uniform from my skin before slipping under the covers to join her. She stirred briefly, turning and then melting back into her previous slumber.
Superficially, I could almost say to myself that I had the good life. I had a beautiful wife, two kids asleep behind the next wall, a good home, steady food provided by my steady employment. I remember Germany was starving not too long,
Then I felt my heartbeat- strong, powerful, steady, and enduring. Thu-Thunk, Thu-Thunk, Thu-thunk… A thousand heart beats I have played a part in silencing.
I still see their eyes: the wide eyes of children no older than my own. The down cast eyes of the adults, shuffling forward by sheer force of will. Men, women, young, old, dead. All dead.
Even here, in my home, by my wife, I am careful to limit the emotion leaked into my expression, maintain a solemn, hopefully unreadable face. I would never tell her what I saw, what I did, day by day. I would never dream of darkening her soul with these horrors, sharing the burdens of my sins.
All those people whose hearts became as silent as the moon beams that flooded through the glass. Of course, I could just say I was following orders. It wasn’t my decision to kill those people. It wasn’t my work alone.
As if that meant anything.
If it were just me at stake, that would be different. Flee, fight, die, anything but the life I lead now. If things had been different… but they weren’t. Any hint of insubordination, and any opinion that could possibly be interpreted as anything but pro-Nazi: the lights in the eyes of my children could be extinguished as swiftly and efficiently as a puff of air to a candle. The body of my wife would be a corpse piled next to mine, before the fire turned us all to ash.
But I haven't given up yet. I stumbled across evidence of a great enigma. Templars and Assassins. A secret conflict both imbedded and separate from our current war. A foolish hope on my part that there are people out there working to curb this madness. For now, I silently keep my eyes and ears open, turning a blind eye to certain revelations that perhaps I should have thought to report.


...

"Epilogue"

Ferdinand has been absorbed into the Templar network, and at this point has enough loyalty towards them, short of being forced to torture someone for no apparent reason, to remain a faithful grunt until the day he dies/is killed under Stramm’s command. Meanwhile, he and his family will continue to house Rebecca and provide her basic resources (such as clothing), as they consider her more of a refugee to shelter than as a potential threat. They could possibly help her located affordable shelter to enable her to live on her own. Head canon= they live in Berlin.