Bruno had taken an armored train to the alps, more specifically the Tyrolean Alps, along with the men beneath his command. And while this was happening, his wife was at the family estate, gazing out the window of the villa's library, with a book in her hands, and a deeply complex expression on her angelic face.
The book was nothing of note, nor was she really paying attention to the details contained within. Rather, she was gazing out at the spring rain as it fell upon the palace gardens, bringing life to all that lived within it.
Whether that be the myriad of flowers and trees which soaked up the mist which caressed their leaves, roots, and petals, or the insects within the yard that used this beautiful time of year to propagate.
