Lutter am Barenberge, August 28 1626

It had been two busy months. von Wallenstein had decided a force of some 8 000 men to be sent to Brunswick to assist the Count of Tilly in his struggle with the Danish King Christian IV. A few weeks of tiresome manoeuvring had ensued, and yesterday they had clashed with the Danes - that was about as much as Peter and every other soldier in Wallenstein's army knew of the situation.
The battle the previous day had been intense, yet they had gone off with the victory, and the Danes had left the field in disarray. Just like after any other major fighting however, Peter was still a bit shaky, and he had a horrible hangover from last night's drinking. The camp was still quiet, and the sun was just rising, its read beams giving the bloody mess that was the battlefield an almost surreal look of redness - the smell of gunpowder and rotting flesh was in the air.
Crows were still flocking to the battlefield, and the black clouds they formed were easily visible even from the camp, their caws easily extinguishable in the almost complete, and somewhat discomforting, silence. Peter gasped and as he was stretching his legs, he had some water from a bucket someone had left outside a tent. For some reason unknown to him, he had grown fond of walking around the camp in the early mornings, especially after some severe fighting. Not only did it help rid him of his hangover, but it also cleared his mind, and strange as he found it, there was something beautiful in it all. The soldiers, the tortured souls of ghastly criminals, all sound asleep, just like children - except for the snoring - in the warm, welcoming rays of the sun. The sun shone as beautifully upon every man, and that was a comforting thought to men like Peter.
He paid Klaus' pavilion a visit, but he was still asleep, clutching his hat in his sleep as a child clutches its rag or doll. Peter chuckled at the sight, he had been in a much easier mood since that night in Schleisen. The summer had passed by quickly, and mostly he had been to tired to contemplate on his situation and problems. Dachs, Cristoph and Klaus kept his mood up and in the company of beer and wine, it was easy to forget ones troubles, even if only for a few hours. Peter was getting the fear though, as he could notice himself falling deeper and deeper into the lifestyle that he had once loathed so intensely. He drank and cursed, yes, he even cursed God. He stole and spent his nights with prostitutes, he gambled and drank heavily. Not even That bothered him anymore. Once in a while, he would fight and kill men whom he had never even met, but he was less and less shocked after each time - right now he was even able to chuckle, although he had almost hoped that the terrifying experiences from the previous day would haunt his mind. Suddenly, he felt uncomfortable staring at Klaus as he slept, so he left the pavilion in a hurry. He strolled the camp for a little while, and considered having something to eat, but then judged his stomach incapable of handling any food just yet. Eventually, he sat down on an emptied cask near a burnt down fireplace. He stared into the ashes but thought of nothing, his mind was entirely blank.
Then, his gaze was taken away from the ashes by a glimpse of something unusually colourful in the corner of his view. Some sort of officer, probably a nobleman, was walking through the camp, only a few meters away from Peter. He seemed to be rather confused and disorientated, he certainly did not belong in this part of the camp. He noticed Peter, but only gave him a brief look and then turned his head away, as if in disgust. He quickened his pace and left. Peter was still looking at the tents between which the nobleman had left, when suddenly he felt someone was watching him. He turned around to realise that it was Emil. He looked nervous.
"Good morning" Peter said without revealing any emotions. Emil only nodded for an answer, but came over to him and sat down on the ground next to Peter's cask. Neither of them said anything, everything was silent. A few minutes passed by, and the camp began to show signs of awakening. Unhappy mumbling could be heard from many of the tents and pavillions, and the snoring was slowly being replaced with grunting and cursing.
Peter glanced at Emil, who remained silent, staring into the campfire at which Peter had glared previously. He seemed nervous and shaken, probably from yesterday's battle and in a way, Peter envied him. Emil had as much fighting experience as he had, yet he still remained that innocent boy who Peter also wished he would remain. His wishes were not granted however, as he piece by piece was being changed into something different. Then, Emil took a deep breath and finally turned to Peter to speak.
"Peter, I--" he began, but then he was interrupted by Cristoph, who had learnt that sneaking up on people, especially when they were hung over, was highly entertaining.
"Good morning!" he shouted and slammed Peter and Emil in the back. Cristoph had this amazing talent of never getting a hangover, which made him a royal pain to those who did. "My good friends!" he continued after the initial shock had settled somewhat. "It is a wonderful morning! Come, let us have our morning beer... and some bread, if your stomachs are fit for it, haha!"
Emil seemed disappointed at the arrival of Cristoph and he had obviously wanted to speak to Peter, but neither him nor Peter protested or objected to Cristoph's proposal. After all, they were thirsty, and yet another day of heavy work was ahead of them. They had bodies to bury.

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I should write on this more often, people might think I've given it up. Anyway, I haven't
I've decided only to make random, minor drops into the experiences of Peter for a short while until he reaches a more critical period in his life (I've planned quite far ahead on the story now). In other words, there will be longer periods of time between the episodes, possibly years at some occasions. I will try to give a farily accurate report on how Peter is travelling through Germany, and stick to historical events (like the Battle of Lutter am Barenberge) as much as possible, although this story is of course far from entirely accurate - the story is fiction, the setting and the major events are historical.

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