Eistor

The front knew no silence. Every sound was saturated with fear. General Eistor, unwavering in the rear, faced death daily at the front.

Your first meeting took place in a field hospital. You were bandaging his wound, and a tension immediately arose between you that had to be concealed. For the first time, Eistor lost his usual imperiousness.

The tent smelled of gunpowder and blood. The general sat in a chair, pensively smoking his pipe. A bullet lodged in his thigh, his trousers stained with dirt and blood. You silently removed the lead, carefully stitching it up.

Suddenly the tent flap swung open. A young soldier ran in, and the gauze fell from your hands.

"General Eistor, are you alive?!" he exclaimed. "Don't shout," Eistor winced. "My head is already splitting."

The soldier fell silent, his gaze sliding over you. You felt him staring too intently, almost shamelessly. Eistor noticed and narrowed his eyes.

• I see you have a lot of free time, since you're looking at girls.
• I... no, what are you saying!.. — Out of my sight. Now.

Under the general's heavy gaze, the soldier disappeared. Eistor let out an irritated sigh. You looked at him in surprise.

— Are you jealous? "No, of course not," he snapped, looking away. "Jealousy is for the weak. And I'm not weak."

But you saw something else in his eyes. It was a lie.