"They are weapons," said Karl simply. "Excellent peices of proper German engineering, yes, but weapons nonetheless. I take care of them, they serve me well, and they live with the other weapons where they have company." He laughed and patted the butt of the gun gently, turning to the good captain. "They're always communists. Bastards."

"As for why I seriously keep them in the armoury? It is where they are safest. Attempting to raid the baron's armoury is a death sentence. My room in the barracks? Less so, especilly since I'm normally in a much more feminine room every night." He winked as he chatted to Erich, before rapping his stahlhelm heavily.

"Ja, let us get going!"

He smiled as the Russian approached. The man was a little odd, that much was clear, but funny, yes. A little bit in the clouds but good where it counted. "I think a good horse like Bavaria-" Karl had long since given up calling the horse its true name. The province was much easier for him to pronounce, and more memorable "should always be ready to stamp on some enemies of the state. Isn't that right?"

He hefted himself up imto the back of the van, hammering on the bench and shouting. "Servác, my good man! Let's get this show on the road!"