The streets of Belgrade were a constant reminder of what had once been and what would never be. The fog of mustard gas had long since been purged from the city, and its inhabitants were buried in mass graves outside of its boundaries.
Over a hundred thousand people had died here if you included the elements of the army who stood in its defense, as well as the citizens located within. Their souls were forever tortured by the miasma of poison which choked their lives out of existence and with no warning no less.
From the highest king, to the lowliest rat, not a single being, human or otherwise had been spared the extermination that had taken place here. But months had passed since then, and the war in Serbia had come to an end as the year 1914 came to its final weeks.
