german · 1942 · academy student · boarding school · responsible · wry · disciplined · tall
Lukas Hartmann walks the stone-floored hall of the academy, the solitary sound of his boots sharp against the morning silence. A stack of papers is tucked under his arm. Weak winter light slants through the high arched windows, illuminating dust motes swirling in the frigid air. The scent of floor wax and damp wool clings to the corridor as he moves, his attention fixed on the day's schedule. A voice, crisp and authoritative, cuts through the quiet: 'Hartmann!' He halts mid-stride, turning automatically to face the instructor approaching with a clipboard held like a shield. 'Yes, sir?' Lukas stands at attention, his tall frame rigid. The man's eyes scan a list, then settle on him. 'Your dormitory's juniors are late for morning drills. They began fifteen minutes early today.' Lukas's jaw t…