Taking one last glance at the chicken infested platform, Armin sighed and opened the staff room door. Theodor stood in the far corner, one claw resting on a chair, the other caressing his sabre.

Same expression as always. How can he be so calm?

Armin moved towards him when Bruno suddenly extended a wing across his path, gently stopping him, then nodded for Lena to proceed with the ceremony. She cranked the gramophone and lowered the tonearm onto the record. A hoarse voice began singing the ‘Kaiserhymne’ in the most heartfelt way imaginable.

You must be joking… Armin resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

The stationmaster straightened, clenched a claw over his chest, and fixed his gaze onto the Kaiser’s portrait. Lena made sure the chorus repeated exactly five times before carefully lifting the tonearm, casting the room into silence. Theodor wiped away a tear.

“Stationmaster Dienerfeder, we are honoured to celebrate you on the occasion of your fiftieth birthday…” Lena proudly recited her speech with Bruno nodding along.

Are they seriously going to pretend nothing happened earlier?

Armin phased out, his thoughts drifting back to the inspector’s words.

No more reassignments…

The phrase lingered on his mind like a pest, gnawing harder each time it repeated.

End of the fiscal year… but when exactly is that?

His heart sank as it occurred to him that accounting might follow a different schedule than the calendar.

“When is the end of the fiscal year?” he blurted out, breaking the ceremony's solemnity.

Everyone paused, their eyes drifted towards the furniture, avoiding his. The silence was unbearable. The uncertain future of the station weighed heavily on all of them, whether for its sake, or their own. Only Theodor appeared unfazed. Lena, her speech cut short, was the first to recover.

“Uh… I think… the first few days of January? Is that right?” She looked to Theodor for confirmation.

“The thirty-first of December,” he clarified. “The imperial railway aligns with the calendar year. Is that all? We’ll have time to discuss it later…”

“No!” Armin snapped. “I can’t believe you’re… Just… It’s not fair!”

“Armin…” Lena tried, but the stream of his emotions had already breached the dam.

“We have about… what? Four months? Four months and it’s all over! My life is over!” Armin shouted, his gaze shifting between his colleagues as he held back his anger.

“Are you really only concerned about yourself?” Theodor finally said, calm as ever. “The Directorate of the Imperial Railway wouldn’t make such a decision lightly, but we must…”

“You’re defending them?” Armin swiftly interrupted. “I can’t believe you’re taking their side!”

“Come on, Armin, let it go. We’ll talk it over once we’ve thought it through.” Bruno nudged Armin’s shoulder with his talon and offered a smile.

“Forget it for now, all of you. Calm down…” Lena urged, finding her voice again.

“I am calm!” Armin squawked, hushing the room once more. “No more reassignments…” he muttered under his breath.

“Finished?” Theodor asked, his tone carrying a faint edge of venom.

Fuck you.

“Just stop it already, please.” Lena closed her eyes and sighed.

The tension was palpable. Theodor waved his good wing dismissively, while Armin dropped his gaze to the floor. Meanwhile, the others tried to salvage whatever remained of the festive atmosphere.

“I need a drink…” Bruno growled, wiping sweat from his brow.

Lena took a deep breath and mustered a smile. She picked up a tray of glasses and set it down near the group.

“Right, let’s not keep the birthday griffon waiting,” she announced brightly as she flew over to her desk. From a drawer, she retrieved a gift box, handling it with care, and approached Theodor with a touch of formality.

“Happy birthday, Uncle Theo, I hope this gift finds you well, despite the circumstances.” Lena said warmly, shaking Theodor’s claw before presenting the box.

Without hesitation, Theodor untied the ribbon and revealed a bottle of ‘Readewetter Royal Red.' For just a second, a sincere smile crossed his beak as he ran his talon along the fine glass.

“You shouldn’t have gone to the trouble. I already have one on display in my office,” he remarked.

“I know,” Lena chirped enthusiastically, “but this one you can open!”

Theodor squinted, surveying the room, the wine, and the tray of glasses. A quiet chuckle escaped him as he raised his talon to start pulling on the cork.

“A birthday to remember. Today, we drink like the Duchess!” he teased.

The jest pulled Armin back to reality. As the cork came free with a soft pop, the bottle released a faint wisp of mist. Theodor passed the wine over to Lena, who poured each of them a glass before placing the bottle on the tray.

“May Eyr keep the land bountiful, that such grapes may grow!” Theodor proclaimed, raising his glass with pride.

“May Arcturius keep the trains running, for our sakes!” Bruno snorted, lifting his own with a crooked grin.

“May Boreas grant us fifty more years of your company, Uncle Theo!” Lena squeaked, waving her glass in such a way she nearly spilled it.

Armin raised his glass and nodded absently. After the glasses clinked, he murmured, “…may Maar find me before the Reich does…” The bitterness caught in his throat, the words barely audible. None seemed to have overheard them.

‘Readewetter Royal Red’ was widely regarded as a wine of rich and satisfying taste. Perfect balance of sweetness and acidity, each sip unfolded in layers, smooth and juicy, with hints of strawberries and a subtle touch of woodiness. It was truly a drink worthy of royalty, both an appetizer and a finish to Duchess Gabriela’s daily meals. Undoubtedly, once the Kaiser came of age, he would uphold the tradition of importing barrels of it to his palace in Griffenheim.

But today, it was the modest staff of Griefenrast station who had the rare pleasure of sampling one of its finest vintages. Or so it might have been, had their commoner tongues possessed the necessary refinement to fully appreciate the wine’s complex flavours. Bruno downed his glass in a single gulp, as though it were a pint from the local pub, while Armin and Lena winced at the sharp acidity, only managing to finish theirs after a couple of small sips. Theodor alone adhered to the proper ritual of wine sampling, savouring every sip with appreciation. The gift, it seemed, had struck the right note.

Glasses emptied, the griffons set them back on the tray and exchanged a few reserved smiles, each pondering what to say next. Sensing the growing awkwardness, Bruno stretched and stepped forwards, extending a claw to Theodor for a clawshake.

“Well, Theo, it’s that time of year again,” he began in a friendly tone. “Another year older, another year of ‘blessing us with your company’… Hah, happy birthday, old friend.” He chuckled as their claws met in a firm shake. Theodor gave a simple nod, his gaze already shifting to Armin, waiting for his next move.

You can do it, just one clawshake…

Armin released a quiet sigh, feeling the weight of everyone’s eyes on him. Straightening up, he slowly approached Theodor with a forced smile.

“Stationmaster Dienerfeder…”

“Signaller,” Theodor swiftly retorted.

“Uh… Stationmaster Dienerfeder,” Armin continued, faltering briefly. “On the occasion of your birthday, I wish you good health and continued success in your career.” He mumbled through his rehearsed words, extending his claw as the norm dictated.

Just take it…

Theodor offered an unreadable smile, nodding slightly as he accepted the gesture and politely shook Armin’s claw.

“Thank you, Armin,” he said simply.

You better be…

With his obligation fulfilled, Armin stepped back, his gaze dropping to the floor once more as he silently willed this birthday farce to end. Theodor, noticing Armin’s obvious discomfort, turned his attention to the others, observing their similarly troubled expressions.

“Thank you, Lena, for the thoughtful gift, and thank you all for your kind words,” he began, his voice unusually tender. “I wish we could proceed with the celebration in our traditional manner, but the circumstances compel me to address the dragon in the room…”

“No birthday lunch since Albert closed Café Rila and moved to Starclaw?” Bruno quipped, his smirk fading when both Lena and Theodor shot him disapproving looks.

Theodor sighed deeply. “As you’ve heard earlier, The Directorate of the Imperial Railway has made its decision. The last ‘R-B-C’ train will depart from our station in just two weeks.” Removing his cap, he rubbed his temple with his left claw briefly before continuing. “The station itself is scheduled to close by the end of this year. I won’t deny this troubles me as much as it does all of you.” He replaced the cap, straightening his posture as his gaze swept over them. “But we mustn’t falter, for Boreas is watching over us, and I’m convinced Griefenrast hasn’t breathed its last just yet.”

Uneasy glances passed between the group, Theodor’s apparent optimism doing little to dispel their doubts.

“Easy for you to say,” Armin muttered, shaking his head as his eyes met Theodor’s. “We’ve got four months. What’s your plan?”

“There’s only one griffon in the Reich that can put Griefenrast back on the map.” Theodor answered without hesitation.

“The cartographer?” Bruno ventured with a sly grin, drawing a faint chuckle from Lena despite the tension.

“His majesty, the Kaiser of Griffonkind!” Theodor declared, his voice rising with conviction. Gripping the wine bottle with his left claw, he took several long gulps, his eyes fixed intently on the Kaiser’s portrait. Without another word, he turned sharply on his talons and strode into his office, the door clicking shut behind him. This time, Armin couldn't resist the urge to roll his eyes.

“Uh… what did he mean by that?” Lena asked carefully, her brow furrowing.

“We’re doomed.” Bruno deadpanned, folding his wings.

“Stop it.” Lena snapped. “And you still haven’t delivered on your birthday promise.”

“No loss,” Armin grumbled.

“Nah, she’s right.” Bruno countered, his grin reappearing. “Come on, Armin, you’re helping me carry the thing to the workshop.”

“Just do it right, for once,” Lena muttered as the two griffons made their way out of the building, Bruno waving a dismissive claw.

Noon was approaching, and the sun mercilessly scorched everything within its reach. Neither Armin nor Bruno spoke as they trudged to the open chicken coop, its gate hastily tossed aside. Bruno pulled out a cigarette, struck a match to light it, and wiped sweat from his brow.

“It’s too busted,” he mumbled around the cigarette in his beak. “Had to take it off the hinges.”

Armin nodded, watching a lone chicken peck idly inside the coop.

“It’s not heavy. Pick it up and follow me to the ‘workshop,’” Bruno ordered, already waddling towards a beaten shed.

Workshop, huh?

Hesitating briefly, Armin wrapped his claws around the gate and tried to lift it.

Not heavy my flank…

Bruno chuckled from a distance, holding the shed doors open and waiting patiently. After several pauses to catch his breath, Armin finally made it, dragging the gate to the workbench before slumping over it.

“Anything else?” The signaller managed, visibly exhausted.

“No, not really,” Bruno said with a laugh. “But I’d appreciate the company.”

“Right…” Armin retreated to a shaded corner, still breathing heavily.

“You know, things weren’t always this shabby around here.” Bruno gestured towards the chicken coop, casting a sidelong glance at Armin to ensure he was listening. “I’ve got family in Brenna. My old griff moved here just before the revolution.”

That explains the accent.

“He moved here voluntarily?”

“Just so,” Bruno said with a hearty laugh. “Back then, there was a future here. Or so he claimed. Who’d have guessed the republicans would turn Brenna from a backwater town to an industrial hub?”

“It was always a town, no surprises for me. Griefenrast is a village, and it’ll remain one no matter what.” Armin removed his cap and tucked it under his wing.

Bruno chuckled. “Maybe it was the fresh air. Or running from the law. Your guess is as good as mine.” The jest fell flat as Armin’s stern gaze met Bruno’s.

“Where are you going with this?”

Bruno’s grin faded, replaced by a more serious expression. “You know, I’m not cut out for army service either. I’ve got a… uh… ‘contact’ in Brenna. There’s a chance to make a good idol, if you catch my drift… certain ‘logistics.’”

Armin’s feathers perked up, curiosity winning out over scepticism.

A scheme to abandon a sinking ship?

“I can’t do it alone. But together, there’s enough in it for both of us to make it worth our while.” Bruno fiddled with his cigarette as he sorted through a clutter of tools.

“And Dienerfeder?”

“Don’t worry about him. With the line closing, there’ll be plenty of chances to go through with it.” Bruno flicked his cigarette stub into a rusty bucket, the ember snuffing out.

“That’s not what I’m worried about...”

“You really think the Kaiser himself is going to swoop in and save the station?” Bruno scoffed. “Dienerfeder’s a relic. Clinging to past glories. Just because he met Grover beak to beak ages ago doesn’t mean he matters to them now.”

“I’m just… not sure…”

Each of Bruno’s statements left Armin with more questions. He didn’t feel comfortable dedicating himself to another rebellious venture, not after last time, but the idea still intrigued him. Before he could press further, the steady beat of wings interrupted his thoughts. Lena descended, her shadow skimming over the shed.

That annoying griffoness…

“They should arrest somegriff for this,” Bruno cursed, striking the broken gate on the workbench with a claw. “I hope you’re bringing good news, Lena.”

“I’m afraid not,” she said as she landed and shook her head. “Theo sent me to wrangle the chickens, but I need help. Is Armin free?”

Armin stared at the broken gate on the workbench. Bruno’s words still lingering in his mind.

“You two look like you’re conspiring,” Lena jokingly said, glancing between them. “Don’t let Theo catch you slacking. He’s already on edge.”

Oh, poor ‘Uncle Theo.’

“Hah, sure, I can take it from here. Thanks for the help, Armin, I’ll see you around.”

Armin gave Bruno one last glance before taking off to follow Lena to the platforms, spending the afternoon silently wrangling hens like some peasant. The tedious rhythm of the work did little to quiet his thoughts, and Lena’s attempts at idle chatter soon faltered, replaced by an awkward silence that lingered for the rest of the day.

I just… cannot… risk it… again…

Author's Note

I initially intended to include the 'birthday scene' within the first chapter, but went on to dedicate it a chapter of its own. Looking back, I might have dragged it out more than I should, but I suppose it all belongs to the process of learning. Thank you and feel free to let me know what you think.