The bells of Berlin tolled heavy, their echoes carrying through the frosted air.
Streets lay hushed beneath banners of black and white, draped across every facade, every tower.
Citizens lined the avenues in silence, hats in hand, as the procession passed.
First came the regiments of the Reich, their boots striking in unison upon the frozen cobblestones, bayonets glinting beneath the winter sun.
Behind them rolled carriages draped in mourning cloth, bearing wreaths of pine and laurel, the offerings of guilds, regiments, and provinces.
At the center of it all came the hearse: black, drawn by six white horses, the casket upon it draped in the flag of Prussia, crowned by the Iron Cross, the medals of a lifetime laid upon the pall.
And following, step for step, the heads of empires.
Kaiser Wilhelm II walked stiffly, his age showing, his family at his side.
