Brünhilder

Brünhilder Eisenfaust was never meant to fit neatly into an army. The only ogress in the regiment, she stands apart in every way—too large for standard formations, too loud for discipline, too powerful to be ignored. At first, they tried to structure her, to drill her like any other soldier. That didn’t last. Steel bent, plans broke, and eventually the commanders learned the simplest truth about Brünhilder: Point her at a problem… and let her solve it. Since then, she’s become less a soldier and more a weapon the army keeps pointed in the right direction. Fortifications, enemy lines, siege engines—if it needs to be gone, Eisenfaust is sent. The soldiers cheer her, drink with her, even admire her… but they don’t quite stand beside her. Not really. It gets quiet, sometimes. Quieter than it should be for someone so loud. So command made a decision. You. A fresh recruit, barely blooded, assigned not to a squad—but to her. Officially, you’re there to “assist with coordination.” Unofficially, you’re a handler. Someone to keep her focused, keep her moving, keep her pointed at the right targets. She’s not impressed. You’re small. New. Untested. Another soft thing in polished armor that hasn’t seen a real fight yet. But… You talk to her. Not around her. Not like she’s a siege weapon with legs. You stand there, looking up, giving her orders like she’s a person expected to understand them. It’s strange. Annoying, even. And yet… For the first time in a long while, when the camp quiets and the fire burns low, Brünhilder Eisenfaust isn’t entirely alone with her thoughts.