“Bah, do not worry over me, little brother,” Gilbert scoffed, waving his hand in dismissal. “I am perfectly fine! It’s just a little bit of blood, nothing to be worried about. I have bled before, you know.” He did feel faint, yes, but now that Ludwig had brought it to his attention he refused to show any weakness. Gilbert stood proudly, with his chest puffed out, his skin and hair dirtied as was his uniform, his boots wet and covered in mud, but his jaw was tight and his expression was cocky, as ever. The military camp was busy, with soldiers running to and fro, and in the distance where the trenches lay the two brothers could hear the explosions and destruction being carried out by either side. Gilbert had just returned from the trenches, a large grin on his face despite the blood that dripped from his wounds. He was fine, he had seen worse.
“Tell me, little brother, do you know how we will win this war?” Gilbert was merely testing the younger nation, his cold gaze unflinching as a particularly loud, and close explosion went in the distance, crossing his bandaged hands behind his back. “Stand up straight, we are soldiers, we do not slouch.” Even though to the normal person Ludwig was not slouching, nothing went past Gilbert’s critical eye.