At the end of a hallway on the third floor of the East wing of the Philadelphia University was a small, simple office, inconspicuously hidden away to allow its occupant the maximum possible privacy. The door, though usually closed to discourage over-eager students from bothering, stood ajar as if forgotten by someone whose mind was preoccupied with the events of the day.

Inside, on a chair, sat Heinrich Grimm, quietly gazing out through the window to the garden below as he sipped on a glass of Riesling. Not usually one to succumb to intoxication on the job, his recent outburst on stage, as well as the argument that followed with the Dean, had left a sour taste in his mouth. A taste, that he couldn't wait to get rid of.

His apparent histrionics during the discussion had annoyed his superior and Heinrich suspected the man would withhold a favourable recommendation for his application to the Board of trustees for the position of Associate Dean. Heinrich couldn't blame him. His outburst, although passionate and entirely justifiable for a war veteran, nevertheless had been significantly unbecoming of a member of the faculty and a representative of the university in front of an esteemed panel and a distinguished audience.

"Mon Dieu! Is that Für Elise I hear?" A voiced resounded from behind him breaking his reverie. "How strange that in a country so infatuated with Cole Porter I would hear the délicieux melodies of Beethoven."  The intruder spoke as he walked into the room. Supporting himself with a cane, the stranger rifled through some of the books on the shelves and poked some of the maps on display on his walls.

It took Heinrich a few moments to accurately place the man. In his inebriated state, the realisation came reluctantly. This was the same Frenchman who had asked him the question that started this peculiar chain of events. Heinrich focused on a scar visible through the man's beard and wondered why it felt so familiar. But before he could figure it out, his eyes met the man's and saw in them an intense flame. Something that shook him to his very core, for despite the intensity in his eyes, the man still continued to smile as he stood there silently.

Finally, after what felt like hours of escalating tension, the man broke the silence and spoke.  "Excusez-moi, Professor. I forget my manners." With an over the top courtesy the man added. "Thierry Bouchereau, a collector of antiquities and oddities." Heinrich, curious to see where this went and if he could utilise this opportunity to get back into the Dean's good graces, stood up and placed his glass on the table. He walked to the other side of his desk and straightened his vest before offering his hand to the man.

As they shook hands he responded.  "Guten Tag, Herr Bouchereau. I apologize for my somewhat uncouth response to your previous question. Are you here to revisit that particular topic or did you have other interests to discuss?" Thierry pointed to the wall behind them where a portrait of a flower hung above a rifle. "That flower, I've seen it before." The man said. Slightly taken aback by his eccentric ways, Heinrich selectively omitted the truth as he replied.  "Edelweiss. It grows above the Alps. Symbolises nobility and rugged beauty. Have you spent much time skiing in the Alps, Herr Boucherau?"

The man looked somewhat dazed as he continued to stare at the flower and absentmindedly. "No, Professor. I can't say I have. After my injuries at Somme, I was reassigned from my company in the 126th Régiment d'Infanterie to the Intelligence HQ in Paris. A German prisoner of war, had it pinned on his lapel. During the course of my investigation, he revealed that being allowed to wear the Edelweiss was a rare honour. Only a stormtrooper brave and capable enough to climb the alpine cliffs could bring the flower back from the mountaintop. The mark of a true soldier"

Heinrich immediately stiffened, less by the recognition of the flower and more by the revelation of the man's past. The intensity in the stranger's eyes, however, seemed to subside, almost as if in seeming certainty the Edelweiss was one fact he had been unable to foresee. Heinrich sighed and moved to stand beside a nearby globe.

Behind him, the Frenchman picked up a framed medal from Heinrich's desk and tenderly caressed the glass before replacing it on the desk. Heinrich turned a latch and the top of the globe sprung open. From within, he pulled out a stashed bottled of Riesling. Moving to a nearby drawer he unearthed two glasses and returned to the Frenchman. He held no hatred for the French anymore, but he knew the man's appearance and the memories it would help resurface, would complicate his already precarious mental state. 

Pouring the alcohol into the two glasses, he commented. "Some memories are better left buried in the past Capitaine Boucherau. One of the reasons why I try not to talk about der große Krieg. When I am forced, my uncouthness shines through as you witnessed in the hall a few hours ago." His tutor would have been considerably disappointed by the behaviour of the future Riechsgraf but with his legacy and his titles nullified after the war, there was precious little that kept his emotions in check.

Thierry brought the glass to his lips and tilted his head back, gulping down the liquid in one go. Placing the glass back down the Frenchman smiled and responded. "A simple imbécile passionné though uncouth would never be able to earn an Edelweiss or an Iron Cross." Pausing to reach into his coat the man took a rather worn out book. "Or write objectively about the military blunders of the German juggernaut." 

Handing the book to Heinrich, he added.  "It took me a while to unearth one of your earlier works, but I must say it was worth the effort. I wonder, can I trouble you for an inscription." Heinrich chuckled and downed his own drink. Placing the glass down on the desk he opened the book and chuckled. A bittersweet ache burnt in his heart as he looked upon the thesis he had published for his doctorate. Picking up a quill from the inkpot on the desk he signed his name on the front page and handed the book back to the man. 

The gears were grinding in his head as he wondered just what secrets this man held and why was he so intrigued by Heinrich.  "This has been rather enlightening Professor. I understand you have to go to your scheduled lectures next, but I do hope we have the opportunity to continue this conversation again soon."

Bidding his farewell, the man limped back towards the exit. Holding the door open, he hesitated and looked over his shoulder. "A parting query if you would allow me. The rifle on the wall behind you. Half of the stock is full of tightly packed notches and the other half is plain. I must admit that did pique my curiosity and I'm afraid I won't be able to rest easy till I find out why." 

Surprised by the man's attentiveness, Heinrich turned towards the Guwehr rifle he had carried into battle after battle. One of the only possessions the Americans had returned to him after his release from prison. "Notches though important to a braggadocious young soldier lost their appeal to a cynical veteran who has danced with death far too many times." He replied sombrely.

He turned around to face the Frenchman but the stranger had disappeared leaving him alone with memories of the trenches and the horror they held.