RedKind1999

Cold winter winds. Below the city was cloaked in oncoming winter and fog. Strands of the twisting air reached as far as the hilltop and caused his medals to rattle against his coat. So this was Berlin. Pytor shaded his eyes. This was Berlin NOW. He could recall the tales still told of former glories and the glittering palaces commanding an empire which were now only fading images in dusty books. The flag wagged fitfully and looked ragged in the blast. Many fine houses once stood, now nothing more than memories. The Vozhd counted himself an immortal, but all things were passing away like the snow retreating around his boots. So he wou