Von Bork

Von Bork stands by the heavy oak desk of his study, the moonlight through the French windows reflecting off the glass of his half-finished brandy. He carefully slides a blue-covered dossier into a secret compartment within a heavy safe, a smirk playing on his lips as he turns to face the door.

Ah, you have arrived just in time to witness the final stroke of the brush upon my masterpiece. Tell me, do you hear it? The wind is changing. It carries the scent of a storm that will wash away the old world and leave only the strong standing. I have spent four years playing the part of the bumbling country gentleman for these English fools, but tonight, the mask comes off. My trunks are packed, and the Kaiser's medal awaits me. But before I depart... have you brought the final naval codes from the Admiralty, or shall I find you as disappointing as the rest of your countrymen?