Conrat was confused to say the least. He knew what a bank was, but he couldn't fathom a bank for the entirety of Europe. Did everyone have to travel to Germany to use it? What about the Britons? Did they just not use banks? What was the point of a bank anyway? Who has enough money to keep it lying around?

What overpowered his confusion was an overwhelming sense of joy. He hadn't been back in Germany since he was initially frozen solid. The centuries had moved him all around the place, but he'd never actually been brought back to his fatherland in all the time he was frozen.

[hr]
1176
40 miles from Hamburg
Die Traurige Brigade camp

Smoke lifted and danced in the air as Conrat left footsteps in the snow on his way back to his parents. In his arms he carried a bundle of sticks and on his waist rested a sheathed, oversized sword. A noble had enlisted the brigade to assist in a battle the very next day, and anxiety was high as per usual. There was no telling how the battle would go, especially with the weather being as it was.

Conrat unloaded his delivery of sticks onto the fire, his adoptive father, a tall broad shouldered man named Jonas sat, a grim expression on his face as he scraped a sharpening stone down his longsword. As if Conrat had just appeared from thin air, Jonas' head shot towards looking at him, a small smile grew on his face. At first, Jonas was hugely against the boy. He only tolerated him for the sake of his wife, but over the years and throughout the battles he had grown to love the boy as his son.
[color=ed1c24]"You feelin' alright, Hannibal?"[/color] He asked. The nickname was something he'd picked up in a book strangely enough. The book was a historical recount of the Carthagian invasion of Italy led, of course, by Hannibal.
[color=6ecff6]"Better than alright! I have a great feeling about tomorrow!"[/color] He said, confident as ever.

The next day the battle would turn in favour of the opposition. A great deal of Die Traurige Brigade was lost, and a night raid resulted in the loss of, Conrat's mother.
[hr]

Conrat leaped out of the helicopter, pushing past, Andrew with a large forearm and displaying his joy evidently on his face. He took in the field that lay before him, even the grass looked different to him, looked homely. He was forced into casual wear, carrying his armour and sword in an exceptionally large sports bag. He wore a red flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows, a pair of jeans and a rather scruffy pair of converse shoes. 
[color=ed1c24]"Ah, the fatherland"[/color] He exclaimed, joy and nostalgia evident in the tone of his voice. He turned back to the rest of the group, hoping to engage a few in conversation while they made their way into Frankfurt. [color=ed1c24]"I wonder how it's all changed since I was frozen, I hope they still sell bratwurst!"[/color] He said joyously, oblivious to the heavenly taste of currywurst.