Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

25^th May 1942

Berun, Germania

               Just because the war ended, did not mean that there was nothing to do. If anything, winning the war had made me even more busy. That’s why I was sitting at the head of the meeting table with the rest of the OZEV leaders, accompanied by their ambassadors or translators.

               The first topic was the division of Yugoslavia and the annexation of several Yugoslavian and Russy territories. Pullska had annexed the territory of Kaliningrad. Hungary had claimed a chunk of northern Serbia, all the way to include the city of Novi Sad. Croatia had obtained itself the regions of Bosnia, Herzegovina and Montenegro, making it the biggest winner of this war by more than doubling its territory. I just hoped they weren’t biting off more than they could chew, or a fifth column might form from dissenting non-Croatians. Even Dacia had managed to carve out northern Bulgaria, all the way to the Balkan Mountains.

               Finally, the carcass of Yugoslavia had then been split into the two republics of Serbia and Bulgaria.

               In my opinion, Yugoslavia had been the biggest loser of this war by far. Not only did they lose over half of their territory, but they had then been divided further into two squabbling republics with their own issues. Last I heard, the region of Kosovo had been seeking to further secede from Serbia in its political chaos.

               I had almost advocated for a more light-handed punishment for Yugoslavia, as the Empire had been chipped away in a similar manner, only to then bounce back to become a powerhouse. However, I decided not to, simply because even a united Yugoslavia could never be a threat to OZEV, let alone Serbia and Bulgaria. Furthermore, rewarding my allies with extra territory despite Germania doing the heavy lifting during the war would help ingratiate Germania with the rest of OZEV.

               OZEV’s biggest post-war achievement was the establishment of and subsequent formation of diplomatic relationships towards several capitalist republics formed from the corpse of the Russy Federation. We’d established local governments for the regions we occupied, then provided them with OZEV and Legadonian troops to temporarily secure their borders until they could form their own local military.

               The infighting Rus factions could do nothing but watch, as they were more busy dealing with each other. Last I heard, there were something around one hundred different factions vying for dominance in European Rus alone, let alone the Asian part. So far, OZEV had been successful in establishing the independence of many different republics, all with temporary Heads of State, with full elections being held by the end of the month, all without even consulting a single Rus representative.

               Suomiland occupied roughly the same territory as Finland in my world. The people there seemed quite relieved by no longer living under communist thumbs and had quickly picked up capitalism. There were some reports of the Legadonia Entente Alliance trying to woo them into joining their alliance through promising investments and building a railway connecting the countries.

               The Baltic-Belarussia Grand Commonwealth was a combination of Estonia, Latvia, Lithuania and Belarussia, which to me was a surprise. In my world, all four of these countries spoke different languages and were distinct nationalities. The thought of all four of them forming a coalition like this would be unheard of in my world.

               After some research, there turned out to be historical reasons for that in this world. During the days of the Pullish-Lithuanian Commonwealth, the federal union had been very successful in expanding its territory in the Baltics and Belarussia, then integrating the people of its captured territory into its commonwealth by teaching them Lithuanian culture.

               So even now, 150 years after the Pullish-Lithuanian Commonwealth’s dissolution, there were still strong cultural and language ties to Lithuania in the region. Apparently, most people in the Baltic-Belarussia Grand Commonwealth could speak fluent Lithuanian despite Belarussians being the largest ethnic population.

               As a result, these four countries had been very amiable towards the prospect of uniting, especially since they were stuck between a rock and a hard place. To the west, OZEV, whose armies had rolled through their territory to fight the Rus. To the east, the Rus themselves.

               The BBGC seemed hesitant to join OZEV, especially since it was OZEV’s army that had marched through its soil mere weeks earlier. That was fine by me, my main reason for establishing these republics west of the Rus Federation was to prop up speed bumps so that OZEV could have time to muster its military should another invasion from the Rus come in the future.

               Despite our liberation of the Caucasus region, Jeorgia had remained steadfastly loyal to the crumbling Rus Federation and had held onto communist ideals. According to reports, Jugashvili had paid special attention to fostering strong communist loyalty there due to it being his birthplace.

               However, OZEV had managed to prise away the true gem of the Caucasus region – Azerbaijan. Most of the oil in the Caucasus region was located there, and OZEV had successfully converted it into a capitalist republic.

               However, we ran into significant problems regarding Azerbaijan. Firstly, there was no easy way for Azerbaijan to transport the oil to OZEV. To the south was Eran, and Azerbaijan couldn’t reach the Black Sea without going through both Armenia and the Turkmen Empire. Fortunately, Dacia had volunteered to broker a deal with Armenia and the Turkmen Empire to allow Azerbaijan to transport their oil on Armenian and Turkmen trains to the Black Sea, where they will then be shipped to Dacia.

               The second problem was that Azerbaijan’s oil fields infrastructure had been destroyed by the retreating Rus, who had employed scorched earth tactics to deny OZEV of their oil. Once again, Dacia had volunteered their professionals to repair and restore these oil fields to former operational capacity, as they were the only country in OZEV with extensive experience maintaining oil extracting operations.

               I suspected that Dacia’s eagerness had been borne of both a desire to make up for their floundering performance in the Second Great War and to elevate Dacia’s strategic importance in OZEV as its oil merchant.

               The last republic was Kieva, which was also my current headache. Kieva held the largest territory among these republics, as well as the largest population. It was also the republic that OZEV had the most confidence in the loyalty of. Due to the Russy Federation’s mistreatment and starvation of their population, Kievans held no love for the Rus, with the country having held active uprisings during the Second Great War, to OZEV’s great benefits.

               Whether the great famine of Kieva, or ‘Holodomor’ as it was called, was natural, man-made or a combination of both, the result was that the Rus were blamed for it. Millions of Kievans had starved, with many having been driven to cannibalism, only to then be arrested for it by Russy police.

               Now without Rus oppression and with promises from OZEV to restore and improve Kieva’s farming infrastructure, Kieva was on a fast recovery track to become the breadbasket of Europe, one that had close ties to OZEV.

               Kieva held great strategic importance too, as they shared a large border with the Rus Federation, and their access to the Black Sea could help deter the Rus navy from crossing into the Mediterranean.

               Apparently, their acting head of state - Aleksander Adamovich - was the former leader of the largest rebel cell in Kieva and had great popularity amongst the people. He was expected to win the election in a landslide.

               Proving his experience as a militant leader, Mr. Adamovich had made great strides to improve Kieva’s defence. Firstly, by starting the conversion of his rebels into professional soldiers. To do that, he had requested for OZEV trainers and advisors. The second thing he did was almost immediately applying for OZEV membership. And thus, this was the main point of contention for today’s meeting.

               Under normal circumstances, there would be an ambassador of the applying country at the meeting to present their case and persuade the members of OZEV. However, given that the Republic of Kieva has been in existence for less than two weeks, they have not yet gotten to appoint an ambassador, having been more focused on their defence issues. Thus, there was no Kievan representative at the meeting, as Aleksander Adamovich had sent us a missive stating that he trusted our judgement, which simply meant he was hoping for the best.

               Maciej Moscicki, the Prime Minister of Pullska shook his head. “Kieva shares too much of a border with the Rus, that presents a security risk with trying to man the entire border. I don’t agree with letting Kieva join OZEV. The entire point of setting up these republics was to protect OZEV, not expose it.” Inwardly, I nodded, I was slightly against Kieva joining OZEV at its current vulnerable stage. It would have been more appropriate for Kieva to make their proposition after a year or so to show their stability and economic recovery. Adamovich must be either impatient or desperate.

               Constatin Groza, the Prime Minister of Dacia, countered with his own arguments. “During the war, a large chunk of Kieva’s young male population was conscripted to fight in the Red Army. Most of them defected to us when OZEV crossed into Kieva, they can easily be retrained and integrated into a professional army. That would solve the issue of manning the Kieva-Rus border.”

               “Kieva has an enormous potential for crop production. When their agrarian industrial capacity has fully recovered, they could easily feed their own people while exporting large amounts of food to OZEV. Allowing them to join OZEV and removing tariffs could help reduce food prices while reducing our reliance on wheat import from the Unified States.” Luigi Falasca, the Prime Minister of Ildoa, now a republic instead of a monarchy, weighed in with his opinion.

               It made sense why he would have that opinion. After the civil war in Ildoa and the naval blockade by the Albish to remove Muzzioli from power, much of Ildoa was hungry, though not to the extent of starving. Having cheap food available to it would be a boon for Ildoa. Furthermore, Ildoa was not in immediate danger from a Rus invasion, as the Red Army would have to march through half of Europa to get to Ildoan borders.

               I sat there, letting them present their own cases for Kieva, not saying a word myself. I was aware of Germania being the most dominant power in OZEV, and as such my words could cause certain countries to change their opinion. If I had taken a more aggressive stance in stating my opposition to Kieva’s application, then strong-armed the other OZEV members into agreeing with me, then that would just prove other nations correct in that OZEV was just an extension of the Empire.

               Carinthia, which had voted to stay independent, was interested in Kieva’s mineral deposits. Croatia was interested in renting out Kieva’s drydocks to build its own navy, Czechoslovakia wanted to invest in budding Kievan businesses, now that Kieva has turned to a capitalist economic model.

               Hungary was cautious of an influx of immigrants into the rest of OZEV, who would then be willing to work more for less and drive its own citizens out of jobs. Their Prime Minister wanted to put temporary immigration restrictions on Kieva until its situation stabilised. Daneland was concerned about Kievan borders being vulnerable to NKVD infiltration and espionage.

               After every country’s leader has presented their piece, I finally spoke. “Shall we put it up to a vote then? There are currently 9 members in OZEV. If support for Kieva’s entrance into OZEV surpassed 5 votes, then their application will be approved.” I looked around to see affirmative expressions.

               In the end, the vote ended 6-3 in favour of Kieva joining OZEV. Germania, Daneland and Hungary had voted against, with Pullska changing their stance after Dacia’s persuasion. The results were recorded, and I made the order to relevant departments to start preparing for Kieva’s military and economic inclusion into OZEV.

               As such, that concluded the OZEV-related business of the day. We would be scheduled to meet the same day next month, likely with Kieva’s new President attending.

               As I was leaving the OZEV meeting building, Prime Minister Istvan Ronai of Hungary, President Jan Benes of Czechoslovakia and Prime Minister Maciej Moscicki of Pullska, along with their security details, caught up to me to ask for a private discussion. Nodding to a nearby BND secretary, I led the gentlemen to a small meeting room and locked the door, then casted a privacy spell. They all left their security teams outside.

               I nodded to the three leaders, and Moscicki immediately cut to the chase.

               “Chancellor Degurechaff, Pullska is ready for a plebiscite to rejoin Germania.” His words hit me like a cannonball. This wasn’t what I expected. I thought he would be asking me for a reason for voting against Kieva.

               “What? Surely you cannot be serious.” I spoke. But the eager expression on his face said everything. I’ve never met a man more enthusiastic to throw away his country’s independence.

               “It’s true. After winning the war, Imperial sentiments and patriotism are at an all-time high. I’ve conducted polls in Pullska, reunification would be a guarantee if the plebiscite were to be done.” His face was akin to a boy the day before his birthday. Crap, I need to say something to disabuse him of this stupid notion of Imperial reunification.

               “Won’t you face pushback? There are surely people that prefer Pullska to remain independent.”

               “Pushback? Over eighty five percent of my parliament support reunification! If I don’t propose a plebiscite, then my party will just kick me out and replace me with someone who will.”

               He continued. “Chancellor, the people of the Empire are sick of being separated by borders. My family and I might live in Pullska, yes. But my in-laws live in Germania, my cousins in Czechoslovakia, and my son studies in Hungary. OZEV was a step in the right direction, but nothing is better than reunification in the end.”

               I internally groaned. Goddamn it. Just when I thought that my workload would lessen soon. While the increased tax revenue would be nice, the opposition from other countries to anything reminiscent of Imperial reunification would be anything but pleasant. If I annexed Pullska, that would cause a massive upheaval and maybe even intervention from… hold on a minute.

               There was no opposition to an annexation of Pullska that could do anything about it. The Albish were busy with pacifying the communist uprising in their crown jewel colony, at most they’d send in a sternly worded letter. The Franks barely had any military capacity after we took all their strategic resources. The Americans were close trade allies and would likely even encourage the annexation as it would expand the market for them. The Rus were too busy fighting themselves to care. There would be even less opposition than when Osterry got absorbed. Moscicki was probably aware of this too, which was why he’d sprung this on me at the earliest opportunity, when nobody could oppose Imperial reunification.

               As for the other OZEV members, they would likely even support Germanian reunification via annexation of OZEV members. Germania had proven itself a stalwart and reliable partner during the war and had not demanded favours or money from its allies after defeating the Rus, despite having the justification of spending the most money and lives for the war. If Germania was further strengthened, then that was a positive thing for OZEV.

               Furthermore, if I was unable to neutralise Being X’s Blessed before my term ended, I would need the extra popularity to politically secure my position as Chancellor, lest his Blessed attempt to usurp my position. From my experience with annexing Osterry, the expansion of the Reichstag by adding more seats likely wouldn’t dilute the GWP’s prominence, as many politicians from Osterry had joined up with the GWP.

               One of my running points since the start of my political career was revanchism, so I literally couldn’t refuse reunification unless I want to be called a hypocrite and face opposition from within my party. I also couldn’t interfere with the plebiscite either, as that would clash with my own belief in the democratic system.

               Damn, I literally had no argument left to prevent this plebiscite. Fine, time to bite the bullet.

               “Alright, I’ll accept reunification if you can get three out of four people to vote for it.” I said, trying to not let my face look as though I bit a lemon. A larger and more populous Germania simply meant more work for me.

               Wait, if Moscicki was here to talk about Pullish reunification, then why were Ronai and Benes here?

               As if to confirm my worst fears, Ronai and Benes stepped up next to Moscicki, a similar smile to Moscicki’s plastered onto their faces like movie posters. They then harped on about how fighting alongside Germanians against the Rus had reignited Imperial patriotism in their population, and showed their people that Germania was willing to defend Hungary and Czechoslovakia not because they were allies, but because they were fellow Imperials. My mood dropped like a brick.

               At this point, I knew that there was no fighting it anymore. I didn’t even bother presenting an argument. “Fine, same condition as Pullska. If the plebiscite succeeds, then the annexation will start with Pullska first, then Czechoslovakia and Hungary last.”

               We went over the more specific details of reunification a few more times. I had wanted it to be staggered out with gaps of several months between each country rejoining with Germania. However, the other three argued that we’d likely have to hold an election for Germania again after each reunification. In the end, we decided to have the countries reunify with Germania at the same time if their respective plebiscite succeeded.

               The three of them apparently already had the foundation and preparation for a plebiscite ready for some time and told me it could go ahead as early as next month. I asked them to give my administration two months to prepare itself. Even though my administration had experience with annexing Osterry which might help streamline the bureaucratic process, the other three successor Imperial states combined were much larger in area and population than Osterry.

               With our private discussion concluded, the three men left the room with extra swagger in their steps. I swore Moscicki was even skipping. As for me, I barely had enough energy to stand after imagining the workload managing three simultaneous reunifications. There would likely be a thousand and one things to do.  This couldn’t get any worse.

               Next afternoon, Elya knocked on the door of my office and came in with her reports concerning new emerging political parties in Germania.

               “The majority of political parties that have surfaced during the last two years have been insignificant, only being known in their neighbourhood or town of origin. None of them have managed to secure a single seat in the Reichstag.” Elya handed me a document listing out twenty or so political parties. Although, to call them political parties would be like calling a water gun a dangerous firearm. None of them had over forty registered members and were all privately funded by their own founder. Furthermore, none of these founders had an inkling of magical power, Being X’s Blessed couldn’t be any of them.

               “However, if we start looking at parties that have surfaced since your re-election, then that’s a different story.” With that, Elya gave me a binder, with dozens of pages. I scanned the first page and raised my eyebrow at the word ‘Imperial Party’.

               As I read further, I became more and more concerned. Founded since the news of the Osterry plebiscite broke out, the Imperial Party’s policy centred around two topics.

               First, reunification of all Imperial successor states back into Germania. This wasn’t alarming on its own, as many Germanian political parties, including my own, have had policies that echoed revanchism. The true alarming point about this party was their second centre policy.

               The abolition of Germania as a Republic, and re-establishment of the Empire by crowning an absolute monarch of the people’s choosing. To think that there were still people who preferred the outdated system of autocracy in this day and age. And it’s not like the Kaiser was really that popular amongst the people during his reign either. I would have laughed at such a Party, if it wasn’t for the fact that they held 13 seats in the Reichstag.

               Sure, it was tiny compared to the GWP, but I still remembered that the GWP only held 4 seats when I first joined. Looking through the other details about the party, it only furthered my worry.

               The Imperial Party was based in Berun, with over twenty thousand registered members. Additionally, they had a large headquarter not far from the GWP’s own, funded by the old money aristocrats that made up a high proportion of the party’s members. Flipping through their registered member’s page, around half of them had the ‘von’ middle name. The other half were non-inheriting descendants of nobles or rich merchants. Elya even helpfully pointed out that the Imperial Party had the highest average wealth for registered members in Germania.

               “Tell me more about their founder.” I spoke. “This Walther von Schiel.” The photograph provided of their founder gave me the impression of a refined bookish man yet blessed with a sturdy physique.

               “Born in 1909 to a moderately wealthy Junker family. His family is one that is fiercely loyal to the Crown. Every son in his family has served in the army in some capacity. He himself joined the army in 1927, becoming a captain by the end of the war. After the war, he decided to start a clothing company and then began a foray into politics in 1939 by founding the Imperial Party. It seems most of the initial funding of the party was done through his own pocket, at least until his aristocratic friends started joining and chipping in. He’s not known for being particularly well-versed in politics, so I suspect that there might be someone working through him.”

               I sat for a moment in contemplation. What a devious person Being X’s Blessed was. So, this was how they will try to destabilise Germania. Through the erosion of democracy. This Imperial Party, which was staunchly monarchist, was the best tool for that. An absolute monarchy system like that of the former Empire was clearly unstable as it did not rely on choosing a leader through meritocracy or democracy, but rather inheritance and divine right to rule. Not to toot my own horn but if a conversion to monarchy succeeded, no matter who ascended to the throne, I doubt that they would be as competent as me when it comes to handling the matters of state.

               If Being X’s Blessed was as shrewd as I thought, then this party was no doubt their best apparatus for throwing me out of power or even ascending to the throne themself. I bet that they had already infiltrated the Imperial Party and have been devising a plan to turn it into their tool for usurping democracy and inserting their own system of governance. I shuddered at that thought. A religion-obsessed pawn of Being X would likely turn Germania into some kind of theocracy within a lifetime.

               This Imperial Party would need careful supervision. In fact, I needed more information on it, more specifically the personality of its chairman, Walther von Schiel. As he was not a mage, I was pretty sure that he was not the Blessed. However, this did not rule out the Blessed being his puppeteer behind the shadow or someone close to him.

               I sent a notice to clear my schedule for the day after tomorrow. I needed to pay a personal visit to the Imperial Party. 

Chapter Text

28 th May 1942,

            The Imperial Party’s headquarters was quite impressive, no doubt about that. A repurposed opera house that was bought out after its previous owner went bankrupt, it could seat hundreds and allow a single speaker to be heard easily in any one of its four theatres. Guarding the main gate were two burly security guards carrying metal cudgels and holstered pistols.

            I walked to the entrance, disguised with a wig of curly brown hair, four-inch-thick platform shoes to mask my shortness, green contacts and an oversized scarf to conceal my facial features, along with spectacles. Flashing my fake journalist license that Elya had arranged identified me as twenty-two-year-old Anna Ködermann from the Berun Times. Elya had managed to book me an interview with von Schiel, with me posing as the interviewer.

            It wouldn’t do for me to be publicly seen as Chancellor-President, making such a visit to the headquarters of the Imperialist Party. I didn’t want to give people the impression that I was in any way a supporter of their monarchist movement.

            The two guards stood aside to let me through to the foyer, where a friendly receptionist flashed me a smile and led me to von Schiel’s office on the second floor and knocked on it. The man who opened the door was nearly identical to the photograph I saw, but he now looked more the part of a businessman with the suit and tie he was sporting. Walther von Schiel introduced himself primly and I responded in kind.

            Von Schiel then led me to his table, where he handled his Party’s paperwork. It seemed he had cleared it out in preparation for this interview. We sat down on plush seats, where biscuits and steaming coffee were already waiting. I internally nodded in approval.

            Fishing out a pen and notepad from inside my jacket, I began the interview.

            “Herr von Schiel, what would you think is Germania’s biggest issue in the current day?”

            “That Imperials are still separated from their friends and families by borders imposed upon us by foreign nations. Don’t people from Lothiern speak the same language as us? Didn’t the Danes, Pulls, Czechs, Slovaks and Hungarians bleed their blood for us in the war? Chancellor Degurechaff has done a fantastic job with Osterry, that I agree. But the Albish dogs and Francois frogs are always sabotaging her efforts. If she had her way, the entire Empire would be united already. Though I suppose it’s just the dogs in our way now that the Argent has put the Franks in their place.” Oh, he was a revanchist, alright. This type of bellicose attitude would have plunged Germania into a war with the Albish. Moreover, I didn’t like him having such a false impression of me. He made me sound like a power-hungry bully. On the other hand, he would be quite elated at the news of the plebiscites being announced next week.

            “Do you approve of Chancellor-President Degurechaff?” I instinctively corrected his misuse of my position.

            “Approve? Does the sun rise from the east? Do the tides not rise and fall? I could understand why some may hold a differing view of our Chancellor before the war, but now? Anyone that disapproves of Chancellor Degurechaff is either stupid, a Frank, or both.” That was surprising, I thought he would think I wasn’t absorbing the Imperial successor states quickly enough.

            “I’ve read about your stance on reverting back to a monarchy. Can I ask why you hold this opinion?”

            “Frau Ködermann, while democracy may sound good in theory, it can also make a nation weak. Just look at the Francois, and how De Lugo brought them to ruin out of their own hubris. Or Ildoa, where Muzzioli rigged the election. Or Albion, where their Parliament sat paralysed as a continental war waged, then ending up paying for it. Or even the Unified States, where you’re either on the left or the right. Don’t even get me started on Ispagnia and their raging civil war. The common people are simply too manipulatable. This allows the wrong people to come into power. Before you point out the Argent, Germania was simply lucky to have her. She was the exception, not the rule.”

            This was dangerous, Walther von Schiel truly did believe that democracy was a failed system. He was even engaging in cognitive dissonance by ignoring the fact that I was democratically elected.

            “And how would an absolute monarchy be an improvement?”

            “A strong and decisive leader, unbound by bureaucracy and constant worries for re-elections or approval is what Germania needs. Back to the good old days, I say. We can keep the Reichstag, of course, but our monarch should be the ultimate voice. The President of Germania serves a similar role, yes, but even a President needs to get elected and can only hold office for so long. The Reichstag would function similarly to a council of advisers to the monarch, with the Chancellor serving as a vizier and the position of President abolished to make way for the monarch.

            “And who would we put on the throne?” I was getting a tiny bit vexed listening to his zeal for an ineffective system of governance that lacks proper checks and balances. Let’s go for the question I’ve been wanting to ask the most.

            Von Schiel gave me an incredulous look. “Who else but a tried-and-true ruler of Germania?” I see, he wanted the Kaiser back in power then. It was expected of him, being from a loyalist family. Furthermore, despite having been stripped of his official powers, the Kaiser’s family still held much prestige and influence among the nobility of the former Empire. I didn’t expect that his influence would be enough to make Walther von Schiel start such a publicly visible monarchist movement.

            With that, I thanked him for the interview, shook his hands and made my way to the door. Just before I left though, he called out a question for me.

            “Frau Ködermann, why do you think that Chancellor Degurechaff is not doing whatever she wants, damn what the Albish and frogs think?” Was that supposed to be a trick question? 

            “Because, Herr von Schiel, she is a democratically elected leader.” Answering with a frustrated tone and putting special emphasis on ‘democratically elected’, I left with an impolite huff. With that answer, I meant to point out to him that it was the democratic system Germanian had that was preventing us from getting into conflicts over inane decisions made by dictators while hammering into his brain that I was a leader because of democracy, not in spite of it.

            I exited the Imperial Party’s headquarters while thinking about the information I just obtained from the interview. With von Schiel’s slip, I could deduce that the royal family, or more specifically the former Kaiser, was the puppeteer directing von Schiel. Von Schiel himself was too extreme in his opinions to be of a threat. The average reasonable Germanian wouldn’t ever stand for his views.

            Was the Kaiser himself the Blessed? No, he wasn’t a mage. However, the Imperial family was known for producing mages, even flight-capable ones. Wasn’t the ace of aces Deborah von Edelreich, known as the Sword of Light, a princess of the Imperial family masquerading as a commoner? I vaguely remembered her during the First Great War. Last I heard, she got married and had kids.  But let’s not get sidetracked. Her existence proved that the Imperial family could naturally produce top tier flight mages on its own.

            What if the Blessed was a mage in the Imperial family that was influencing the Kaiser to direct the Imperial Party? After all, the Kaiser was quite old and might pass away any day now. When that happens, the Blessed would be in a position to inherit the throne. Yes, it was obvious what the Blessed’s ploy was now. 

            I should send the BND to pay closer attention to the Kaiser’s family to determine which member of the family exactly the Blessed was. In fact, I should send him a personally written warning letter, thinly veiled as a letter to the Kaiser, Being X’s pawn would surely have a way to read it if he’s acting through the old man.

            My mouth curled into a predatory smile under my scarf. Being X’s Blessed, I got you now. You were clever, but not discreet enough.

            Although Walther von Schiel had always taken pride in his noble birth, he did not disparage others of less privileged origin. In fact, he was aware that those who come from less fortunate backgrounds often develop more grit and determination to succeed than nobles like him. As such, he had always held a quiet respect for people that managed to uplift themselves from harsh conditions.

            So, he had been very pleasantly surprised when he first heard of Tanya von Degurechaff back in 1927. An orphan that managed to become the greatest soldier in the Imperial Army, all before even reaching puberty. He cheered her on and wished her success back then, he still did now.

            After the war, he had been heartbroken by the partitioning of the Empire. He’d grown resentful of the nations that defeated the Empire but couldn’t do anything about it. So, he’d decided to open up a business to provide employment to fellow veterans.

            It did well initially, but the hyperinflation that followed nearly killed off his clothing store. While he had wealth to fall back on, his employees did not. So, he decided to stick with the shop until he would be forced to close it down. That was until Chancellor Degurechaff’s anti-inflation policies saved it from ruin.

            Von Schiel never had much of an interest in politics back then and hadn’t even voted in the previous election, but Degurechaff inspired him to start attending GWP rallies. Her cries for the revanchism resonated with him deeply, but even he was sceptical of the other Great Powers letting Germania reclaim a single foothold of its own Imperial territory.

            The Osterry plebiscite proved him wrong. Like a glass ceiling being shattered, Walther von Schiel realised that Tanya von Degurechaff was destined to be the one to lead the Empire back together. It was her that made him realise that the Empire could rise again, stronger than ever before.

            The next day, he’d cobbled up whatever funds he had and formed his own political party. It was wishful thinking that Degurechaff would just up and move to his party, of course, but von Schiel had still managed to convince his old Junker war buddies and some other aristocrats to join him.

            Over time, they’ve grown in influence, size and wealth. His and his supporter’s goals weren’t to regress Germania or to compete with the GWP like how many of his detractors seemed to whisper behind his back, but to rather show Chancellor Degurechaff that there was another, quicker way to bring the Empire back to glory.

            So, imagine his surprise when halfway through his interview with a supposedly doe-eyed girl fresh out of university, von Schiel realised who he was truly conversing with. The future messiah of the Empire herself- Tanya von Degurechaff.

            He knew that establishing a party with overlapping interest with the GWP would bring him attention. He just didn’t expect that it would bring the Argent to his doorsteps.

            Oh, her disguise was adequate, but Walther von Schiel was from a long line of Junkers. He and his brothers had been trained to see through deception and disguise since they were teenagers, and Degurechaff’s amateurish attempt was easily unmasked.

            Her first slip had come through when she first spoke. Sure, she made a great effort to put on a cutesy voice, but her mannerism and intonation still shone through. As a diehard Degurechaff enthusiast, he had listened to every speech of hers that had a recording available. He’d dissected them and even tried to integrate aspects of her speech style into his.

            Her second mistake was correcting his use of Chancellor to Chancellor-President with such a casualness that could only come from having done it numerous times.

            Her third mistake was minor, but was the one that made him sure it was Degurechaff. It was her body language. No two people ever share the same body language. Her gait was confident and strong, her posture told people she knew what she wanted and how to get it. He had seen that type of gait and posture from Degurechaff at the Reichstag. Her steps were placed in a way familiar to soldiers used to marching. The way she sat at the desk and even the way she drank coffee was very reminiscent of Degurechaff on the television.

            Initially, he’d almost called her out on it. However, he stopped himself. Why would she disguise herself and come to his headquarters to interview him? The answer should have been obvious to him. This was a test. A test of loyalty.

            So, he answered every question with utmost honesty, plucking out words straight from his heart. As the interview progressed, he noticed that Degurechaff started looking a little irritated. Were his answers not adequate? Or was it because he had vision, but no way to enact it? He couldn’t pry into the mind of a genius like her, so he had no idea as to the reason. Nevertheless, he was confident that he had demonstrated to Degurechaff his unquestionable loyalty to her and the Fatherland.

            When she left, Walther couldn’t contain himself from asking a question of his own. He wanted to know why she hadn’t reunited the Empire and crowned herself Kaiserin already. Her answer told him everything.

            It was because she was chained down by democracy. To think he’d receive the answer straight from the woman’s mouth. The way she delivered it was vague enough for plausible deniability of course, but the frustration creeping into her voice was genuine and whispered to him of its true meaning. That’s why she emphasised the words ‘democratically elected’.

            No wonder why she’d become increasingly irritated throughout his interview. He had basically opined what she herself thought but had to banish to the depths of her mind for fear of public backlash.

            He couldn’t imagine keeping his sanity if he was one in her position. Holding all the best and brightest ideas but being unable to put them into action because of the opinions of those of lesser intelligence and courage.

            Suddenly, he was struck by inspiration. A compelling imagery materialised in his mind. A poster featuring Degurechaff trying to piece back the territories of the former Empire together, but her arms were chained down to steel balls, preventing her from moving. Each steel ball was labelled with words like ‘democracy’, ‘re-election’ and ‘party dissent’. It would make a great piece of propaganda for his party, von Schiel mused. Perhaps he could even have it sewn onto shirts sold at his clothing store.

            Looking out of his office’s window, he could see the petite form of Chancellor Degurechaff walking away, her mood contemplative. Thinking back to it, it didn’t make sense for him to see through her disguise that easily. This was the same woman who had cowed the entirety of Europa. Was the disguise meant to be flimsy all along?

           Wait, but if that’s the case, then the Argent hadn’t just come to his headquarters to test his loyalty and resolve. No, she must also be measuring support for when she would eventually ascend to the throne as Kaiserin. Her coming personally to his headquarters was a show of silent approval and tacit support for the growth of his party. A thinly veiled endorsement of his efforts. To think that his work for the last four years had not been for naught. He had succeeded in making the Argent see another way to reunite the Empire, after all.

            Just before the Argent disappeared from his view, he performed a salute at her retreating figure, whispering. “Heil Degurechaff. Heil Kaiserin.”

           That night, as I was penning down my letter to the Kaiser, Visha entered my office bearing a cup of coffee. Savouring the smell, I set it to the side and kissed her on the lips in appreciation.

           “What are you doing?” Visha asked.

           “Writing a letter addressed to the Kaiser’s residence in Lothiern. I found out that he’s been propping up the Imperial Party in secret.” I answered.

           Visha tilted her head. “The party that wants the monarchy back?” It seemed Visha had been paying close attention to the happenings at the Reichstag while I was busy with war. I nodded in confirmation.

           “Germania has no need for autocratic rule. We’ve achieved so much since the First Great War because of our democracy.”

           “But weren’t you the one responsible for all of that? The previous Chancellors before you were practically running the country to the ground.” Visha said. “Speaking of having the monarchy back, I think you would make for a pretty good Kaiserin.” Ah, Visha was having nostalgia for the past again. She had lived a good chunk of her life under the Tsar as a middling noble and had enjoyed quite a nice life being the communist revolution. It was probably her brain associating living under a monarchy with her old carefree life that she held such a positive view of monarchies.

           I had no ambition to become any sort of monarch. While others would salivate at the chance to have total power, to me it just meant being responsible for everything if something went wrong.

           I waved her point aside. “Germania would have eventually elected someone competent. It just happened to be me. And aside, the old aristocrats would never stand for an orphan like me lording above them.” Visha just gave me a sceptical look and went to do her paperwork. I watched her walk away with an appreciative glance at her swaying hips. It’s not like they would ever approve of a homosexual being on the throne either. An Empress would need to have biological heirs, and I had no desire to provide any.

           Refocusing back to my letter, I wondered how to exactly word it. I couldn’t write full-blown threats, that would be a crime of intimidation. I couldn’t be too lenient either, or the Kaiser would just continue his work with the Imperial Party. I would need to inform him that I was aware of his actions, while vaguely implying that there might be consequences for overstepping. Perhaps I also should implore him to placate the nobles as a gesture that he won’t try to subvert Germanian democracy again. I need to make sure that Being X’s Blessed will be able to read between the lines too.

           Finishing up the letter and having it stamped with the Chancellor’s seal, I had it delivered to the Kaiser’s residence in Lothiern.

5 th June 1942,

           The former Kaiser of the Empire, Wilheim II felt every bit of his eighty-three years of age as he sat down at his desk, his knees creaking. His doctor had told him that he was in relatively good shape for his age, his shrivelled left arm that has haunted him since birth notwithstanding. He was also aware that he lived a much more luxurious life than most, if not all eighty-three-year-olds in the continent.

           Nevertheless, living in luxurious exile had not prevented him from musing over his mistakes and regrets in melancholy. Chief of all his blunders in the First Great War. He was aware that he had not been the finest head of state during that time, becoming enamoured in his seemingly invincible army achieving victory after victory, and pushing for more. That was until the tides flipped back against them, and the Empire had been defeated.

           After the war, the humiliation of both the Imperial family and the Empire had scarred his heart, but he couldn’t do anything but bear it. The subsequent disaster of the Germanian Republic’s politics in the next few years hadn’t done his fragile heart any service, and he’d elected to isolate himself from the world and ignore politics.

           That was why the news of Germania winning the Second Great War and reclaiming its glory had brought a tear to his eyes. It had been a quiet day when his youngest son came sprinting in bearing the newspaper, proclaiming OZEV’s victory. He had immediately ordered his servants to buy every old newspaper or book that even mentioned the name Degurechaff. He needed to do some research. What he had read about Chancellor Degurechaff astounded him.

           He remembered her from the few times that they met when Degurechaff was a child, of course. She gave the impression of an intense soldier willing to do anything for the Fatherland, and her icy blue gaze told as much. But the grown woman was a completely different beast. To think that incredible girl had done the impossible and uplifted Germania out of ruins. She had brought back Osterry into the fold and just yesterday, she had announced that Pullska, Czechoslovakia and Hungary were holding plebiscites. Her policies, her speeches and all the battles she fought had been for Germania, no, the Empire’s benefits.  The Kaiser knew then that Germania was in safe and capable hands.

           That was why the envelope that arrived today was nothing short of a surprise. Double checking the name of the sender to make sure his eyes weren’t failing him; he opened the envelope. He couldn’t fathom why she had chosen to contact him now when he had been ignored for the past decade or so. Reading the contents of the letter had provided him with the answers.

           Your Imperial Majesty,

           I hope that this letter finds you in good health. It has come to my attention that the Imperial Party in Berun has found itself in upward fortune lately. Their dedication to restoring Germania’s system of governance to a monarchy has been received with small but not insignificant support in the Reichstag and the aristocratic population, which had prompted my notice.

           It must be known that a restoration of Germania back to an absolute monarchy in this current political climate is frankly implausible. Any attempt to usurp Germania’s democracy will be met with ire and vehement opposition from the democratic parties of Germania, most of all my Germanian Workers Party.

           As the last Kaiser, many of the aristocratic families in the former Empire look up to you as the voice of reason and confidence. As Chancellor and acting President of Germania, I trust you to exercise your guiding hand to exact the best course of action concerning the nobles involved in this monarchist movement for Germania and her peoples.

          With the utmost respect,

          Tanya von Degurechaff

          Chancellor-President of Germania

           At first glance, it would seem as though the Degurechaff was asking for his assistance in curbing the monarchist movement in Germania. However, this was if you took the letter at face value and failed to read between the lines.

           The Kaiser wasn’t born yesterday. From his research into the current political climate of Germania, he was aware that Tanya von Degurechaff was perhaps the most powerful non-royal in Germanian history. As Chancellor-President, she could draft policies, have it approved with her party’s supermajority, then rubber-stamp it as President. She could easily have this Imperial Party extinguished with a snap of her fingers, especially if the rumours he heard about what happened to the Communist Party was correct.

           After re-reading the letter several times and doing his personal research into the Imperial Party, he had finally realised the letter’s true intentions. She was aiming to become Kaiserin.

           The reason why Degurechaff had not ordered the Imperial Party to be put down was because she didn’t want to curtail it in the first place. If anything, Degurechaff was telling him that she was involved in the party’s rise in prominence. In the first place, it made no sense for someone with eyes and ears everywhere like Degurechaff to only be noticing the Imperial Party now when they already have 13 seats in the Reichstag, unless Degurechaff wasn’t paying attention to the happenings in the Reichstag at all.

           The second paragraph of the letter conveyed to him that the Imperial Party was likely Degurechaff’s way to test the waters by gauging Germania’s support for a return to monarchism. She had then found that the monarchy movement would face opposition from her own party.

           The last paragraph was asking him for support to use his position as the former Kaiser to raise support for her amongst the aristocrats. Maybe even throw his weight behind the Imperial Party.

           He was not angry that she was coveting the prestigious position that his family once held. If anything, he was relieved that it was her that was aspiring for it. Him and his family had shown themselves incapable of bearing such a heavy duty. Conversely, Degurechaff had proven herself hypercompetent and indifferent to the corrupting nature of power, as she had repeatedly called for a Presidential election to be held, knowing it would reduce her political power. There was no one better in the nation to take up the mantle of Kaiserin.

           But why was she aiming to become an absolute monarch if so far, she’s shown no obvious greed for power? He mused over this question until he arrived at the most likely possibility.

           It was likely she had a grand plan that could only be executed perfectly if she was unbothered by the tethers of a democracy and undistracted by the election cycle. Any description of a politician’s capabilities in this way would be easily dismissed by propaganda, but this was Degurechaff. The woman who had repeatedly shown that her plans were years ahead of the curve, as if she could see the future.

           Well, if the Silver Chancellor wanted his support, then she shall have it. And he shall support it in a way that gives any aristocrat no room for debate as to his allegiance. Furthermore, getting into her good graces and having her owe them a favour could only be a good thing.

           The Kaiser dialled his grandchild Ludwig’s home number on his estate’s telephone and beckoned him over to discuss a serious matter of utmost importance. In three hours, his grandson had arrived at his study and made his way in.

           Ludwig was a grandfather’s dream. Tall, handsome and intelligent. His only flaw was his lack of experience owing to his young twenty years. Serious and dutiful since birth, Ludwig was favourite grandchild.

           Sporting a handsome aerial mage uniform with an officer’s cap over his blonde hair, adorned by a 1st Lieutenant’s rank insignia, Ludwig struck a striking image of the ideal Imperial soldier. Wilhelm had opposed his choice in sneaking off to Germania’s flight mage academy at the mere age of sixteen, but Ludwig’s mother Deborah had supported his endeavours. Wilhelm had eventually relented, thinking that Ludwig would come fleeing back to the family when the training proved too difficult or when war broke out.

           He’d been proven incredibly wrong. Not only did Ludwig excel at the academy, but he also excelled at war. It wasn’t until the end of the war that the rest of the family had learnt of him becoming an ace of aces. Everyone had been under the impression that he’d been assigned in the rear, not the thick of fighting. To say that Ludwig had been severely admonished for his deception was an understatement.

           This had shown that Ludwig was willing to do his duty for the Fatherland no matter what, making him the perfect person for what Wilhelm had planned.

           “How’s Deborah, Ludwig?”

           “Mother’s well, of course. She’s been a bit mad at me that I hid my fighting on the front lines from her. She thought I was endangering myself by trying to become an ace of aces like her. She should cool down in a couple weeks.”

           With the pleasantries out the way, Ludwig started. “Grandfather, how urgent is this matter?”

           “The Chancellor is making a move to ascend the throne and become Kaiserin.” At that response, Ludwig stood upright. “She has asked for our support. We will give it to her.” His shoulders visibly relaxed.

           “And how shall we do that?” Ludwig asked.

           “How attached are you to your position in the military?”

           Ludwig shrugged. “I’d leave if I could make a stable living afterwards. I only joined the military because I knew a big war was coming. Now, I’ve done my duty. The military is already undergoing demobilisation. I’m simply not needed as a soldier anymore.”

           “That’s good, I have a task for you. A task for the good of Germania. I need you to resign from the military and make your way to Berun. There, you will make yourself known to the chairman of the Imperial Party, Walther von Schiel. Then, become a registered member of the Imperial Party.” Ludwig lifted an eyebrow at what he said.

           Wilhelm continued. “The chairman should be working for Degurechaff. He’d likely give you a comfortable position in his party, perhaps sitting on one of the seats in the Reichstag. You don’t actually need any political acumen, just throw your royal status around and get the aristocrats in line to support Degurechaff. Remember to remind them that your word is as good as mine. If you want, hold a couple speeches or rallies, get the people behind monarchism.”

           Ludwig looked unsure for a moment, before nodding resolutely. “Should I contact the Chancellor for orders, then?”

           “No need, just ask von Schiel what to do. Degurechaff does not want the public or the GWP to know that she’s behind the Imperial Party. We need to make people think that the Imperial Party is independent from Degurechaff. Your presence there will mislead them into thinking that our Imperial family is the Imperial Party’s true benefactors. You contacting her will give the ruse away.” Degurechaff will be very appreciative of his family going this far to support her.

           “Understood, grandfather. By the way, what will you be doing in the meantime?” Ah, accusing his grandfather of being lazy, wasn’t he? Where has the younger generation’s manners gone?

           “I’ll be talking to the Prime Minister of Lothiern. Even in this low-lying country, Imperial blood runs deep.” If Degurechaff was aiming to become Kaiserin, it was only appropriate that the Empire should be restored to its former glory too.

              As Ludwig left, the old Kaiser was in a mirthful mood as he arranged a meeting with the Prime Minister of Lothiern while humming a song. It was only after a minute that he realised he was humming the old Imperial national anthem.

Chapter Text

7th June 1942,

            As expected, the Albish had indeed sent in a strongly worded letter for agreeing to the plebiscites. I gave it a glance to get the general gist of it before burning it with a simple flame spell and throwing the ash into the bin. I had already arranged a meeting with the Albish ambassador Archibald Lloyd anyways, the letter was simply a preview of our upcoming meeting.

            On a more important matter, Elya’s reports on the spread of communism had arrived. Taking a sip of my coffee, I started perusing the reports.

            The Rus Federation was still fractured and caught up in their civil war. The only place with a semblance of stability was Moskva, where the NKVD, whose leader was unknown, had managed to subdue all other dissenting forces and taken control of the city.

            I then flipped to a report on China, or Qin as they were called in this world. Elya’s report, whose main source had been from the Akitsushiman ambassador, had painted a picture of a country still embroiled in a civil war between the Qin Nationalist Party and the Qin Communist Party.

            In my world, when Japan had invaded China, both the nationalists and the communists had teamed up to fight Japan. However, the nationalists had been far worse off for it, as they had accrued heavy losses by engaging with the Japanese army while the CCP hid in the mountains and engaging in guerilla warfare during the early part of the war.

            Once the Japanese had been driven off by the Soviets, the CCP had then taken advantage of the weakened nationalists and driven them off mainland China.

            However, in this world, Akitsushima had been driven off of Manchuria by the Rus much earlier, and thus never did stage a full invasion of Qin. Furthermore, the communists in Qin never did receive much support from the Rus communists due to the Second Great War. As such, the civil war between the communists and the nationalists in Qin were still in full swing.

            The nationalists controlled the coastal provinces from Fujian up to Liaoning and also had full control of Nanjing, plus the eastern halves of Anhui and Guangdong. The communists held the rest of the country. While I would love to help the nationalists fight back against the communists, I simply didn’t have enough information. I didn’t know many resources each side had and neither did I know either side’s specific politics. For all I knew, the nationalists could be advocating for genocide. Writing a memo for Zettour to arrange for me a meeting with experts in Qin geopolitics, I shelved my ideas for the Qin for later.

            The next communist faction was in Vietnam, or Annam as they were called in this world. The Annam People’s Revolutionary Army had taken advantage of Germania’s humiliation of the Francois military to push out the Francois from the northern half of Annam, declaring the existence of the Annamese Socialist Republic, with the main goal of liberating the whole of Annam from foreign grips.

                        Elya’s girls had done good work reporting on the Francois' response. The Franks weren’t willing to just stand still and watch their most valuable colony slip from their grasp and had decided to send their military down to reinforce southern Annam, where they would then try to fight their way up north to take Hanoi.

            The ASR was easily the weakest major communist state, so I’ll leave the frogs to deal with them. I didn’t want to step on the molehill that was Annam either. The Francois going there will likely be learning that trees could speak Annamese soon. Perhaps if they come begging to me afterwards, I might be willing to extend a helping hand.

            Last in the order of business was Bharat, where the Albish advance had slowly grinded to a halt after initial success. The Albish had a better trained military alongside more advanced weaponry, as well as the support of most of the Bharatian independence movements, which had allowed them to rapidly push back the communists. Furthermore, after the Russy Federation collapsed, the NKVD mages equipped with dual-core orbs that were beating Albish mages black and blue had all been recalled, leaving the North Bharatians to fend for themselves.

            However, after nearly a year of war in Bharat, they were now running into logistical and financial problems.

            The Albish Empire might be great, but even they would have trouble sending troops and supplies halfway across the world, then having to transport it inland. The further the Albish and South Bharatian pushed north inland, the further their supply lines had to be extended, which weren’t helped by the fact that North Bharatian communists had been blowing up railways leading north.

            The fact that the brand new Albish semi-automatic guns didn’t work properly was no help either. The RK-42, designed just this year and heavily inspired by the Stg-40, had a longer accurate range and the same rate of fire. However, its reliability couldn’t hold a candle to the Stg-40. The RK-42 was infamous for malfunctioning when wet or when its barrel had dirt or grime in it. Considering that they were fighting in the Bharatian jungles, this meant that the RK-42 had a coin flip chance of working when you needed it to.

            Additionally, the Albish were having issues with financing the Bharatian front due to declining public support. Unlike the war with the Rus where the enemy was a palpable, relatively close threat, Bharat was not half a world away.

            This had led to a sharp decrease in war bond purchases due to Increasing war weariness and citizens no longer feeling under threat. Albish citizens were also unwilling to throw the lives of their young men away to fight for a colony that they likely will have to grant independence to anyways. There was also increasing dissatisfaction at the government for continuing with a war economy. If the Albish fail to close out the war soon, they will need to start borrowing money from other countries.

            Furthermore, the North Bharatians were now engaging in guerilla warfare, even employing tactics like digging underground bases and designing boobytraps. Albish troops were also falling ill left and right to diseases and plagues. It seemed the Albish immune system was no match for Bharatian pathogens. It was looking more and more like a bigger version of the Vietnam war. There were already rumours of the Albish potentially calling for a ceasefire and drawing a border for the two Bharatian states along the 22nd Northern parallel.

            This would give the communists the majority of the Bharatian subcontinent and a population of over 150 million, which was an outcome I absolutely could not accept. I would need to support or incentivise the Albish in some way so that they could finish off North Bharat decisively.

            Obviously, I couldn’t send men down there, especially when Germania was undergoing demobilisation, but I didn’t need to. When demobilisation is complete, the military will have an excess of Stg-40s and Lmg-40s. Instead of letting them rot in warehouses or scrapping them, we could just sell them to the Allied Kingdom for a tidy sum. The high reliability and sturdiness of our guns would surely give them a greater edge in Bharat, especially since their own guns were so shoddy.

            Selling them ammunition and supplying them with rations and medicine were all within Germania’s capabilities too. We could even consider financing them by lending them money for the war effort at a low interest rate. I should consult my Minister of Finance for the exact amount I should offer and the attached interest rate.

            Also, to avoid having them defer their payments or refuse to pay back, I should put a couple of conditions on it. Perhaps a provision that if Albion wants to exercise a deferment of payments, it will have to allow for the convertibility of the international pound sterling balances into Germanian marks for as long as payments were deferred, effective immediately.

            If they do choose to postpone payments, many countries that held sterling reserves will likely start buying marks with their sterling. This would likely cause the pound sterling to rapidly devalue while increasing the value of the Germanian mark and cause Albion’s post-war economy to struggle.

            But it’s not like the Albish were known for being so financially irresponsible anyways. The convertibility provision that I was putting was simply a warning for their past perfidy, not something that I was actually hoping to capitalise on. Furthermore, the Albish in this world had a strong international credit regarding paying back loans on time. It would take a major incident or two to break that credibility.

            The next morning, I flew over to the Albish embassy, where ambassador Lloyd was awaiting. In classic Albish fashion, he had indicated his government’s petty attitude by only serving tea; despite knowing I preferred coffee.

            Ignoring the little byplay, I sat down to begin our talk.

            “Chancellor-President Degurechaff, His Majesty’s government is most displeased with the recent news of the plebiscites being announced in Pullska, Czechoslovakia and Hungary.” What an understatement, in the Albish newspapers I had obtained, there were parliamentary members saying that I was aiming to restore the Empire or even planning to annex all of OZEV.

            Let’s play coy for now. “And the issue being?”

            “The issue is that if all three plebiscites were to succeed, and all indications suggests that they will, then the Empire will nearly be fully restored. All that it lacks would be Daneland and Lothiern. And the Allied Kingdom has a defensive agreement with Lothiern, similar to the one we established with the Legadonia Entente Alliance.” Lloyd expounded.

            “Are you afraid of Lothiern reuniting with Germania? You can rest assured, Mr. Lloyd, Lothiern was the last state to be integrated by the old Kingdom of Preussia, they have the least desire for reunification with Germania.” I assured him.

            “Furthermore, there are also fears that if the Empire were to be revived, so too would its monarchy.” Lloyd said, his eyes glancing away nervously for some reason.

            “The Kaiser? He’s highly popular among the Junkers, yes, but not the common people. I hardly think the people will place him back on the throne.” I scoffed. Why are there so many people talking about monarchies these days? Although maybe I should have expected it from the Albish, they were still a constitutional monarchy after all.

            “It’s not him whom we fear will be on the throne.” His tone held a sense of unease, and then I noticed the way he was looking at me.

            “Me? You can’t be serious. Being an Empress is the last thing I want. And it’s not like a reversion from democracy will ever happen either. The people will never stand for it.” Throwing my hand up in incredulity, I exclaimed.

            “That’s not what His Majesty’s government thinks.” Mr. Lloyd nervously adjusted his tie. Does the Albish seriously think that I could just walk outside, declare myself Kaiserin, and the people will gladly put a crown on my head?

            I leaned back on my chair and rubbed my nose in frustration. These paranoid Albish jumping at shadows. Can’t they see that I’m just a humble democratic leader looking for an easy retirement?

            Still, at the end of the day, the Albish were all bark and no bite, so let’s call them out on it. “Fine, what is the Allied Kingdom going to do about it?”. Now that the Rus were gone, Germania could play tough with the Albish.

            “We could send ships to perform an embargo and guard Lothiern’s seas if Lothiern’s sovereignty is challenged or if Germanian democracy is threatened.”

            “And risk angering the Americans. They would surely be appreciative of you preventing them from doing business with their biggest trade partner when the Unified States are still recovering from the Great Depression. And wouldn’t tying that many ships to Europa prevent you from using them for Bharat?”

            “The situation in Bharat is going well.”

            “The situation in Bharat is a slog and we both know it. For every mile you advance, you are losing half a thousand men to enemy fire and another half a thousand to diseases. Your guns don’t work in the Bharatian jungles, and your logistics are overstretched.” If the ambassador was surprised by my knowledge of the Bharatian front, his face didn’t show it. Eventually, he sighed in defeat.

            “Alright, what are you proposing?” Ambassador Lloyd asked.

            “We will sell you our stockpile of Stg-40s and Lmg-40s. You’ve surely heard of their vaunted reliability. They will serve you well in the humid Bharatian jungles. We will also sell you shipments of munitions and medical supplies. All of them will be sold at market price, of course, we have no intention of price-gouging you.”

            “I’m afraid that the Secretary of the Treasury will not agree to such a substantial purchase.” Double-speak for the Albish being broke and unable to afford it. 

            “We can lend you the money to buy them.” I took out the document with the specifics of the loan and put it on the table.

            Llyod was quiet for a moment, as if to process what I just said. “You want us to buy your weapons and supplies with money… that you lend to us?”

            “Yes, we’re willing to extend you a loan of 9 billion marks at a 2% annual interest. Payable monthly over 40 years once your oversea conflicts have been quelled. There’s also a special provision here that will be activated if you choose to exercise a payment deferral.” I said, pointing to the specific clause. Converted to US dollars, the loan was roughly 3 billion USD. At a mere 2% interest, it was an insanely good deal.

            I wasn’t even worried about the Albish being unable to pay back their loan. The money would be going back to Germania when they buy our weapons and supplies. But if they were unable to pay back the loan in the future, then that would hurt their currency and post-war economy.

            “That’s quite the generous offer. And what is it you want out of us? Surely, you’re not being so considerate out of the kindness of your heart.” Llyod picked up the document and read it, his eyebrow raising at the provision I had included.

            I was already satisfied with making some money from the Albish while they go and fight my battle against communists for me, but since they were offering, I might as well get something out of it. First, let’s ask for something so outrageous that they would surely refuse, then counteroffer with what I actually want.

            “I want a revision of the Treaty of Londinium to remove all restrictions on our navy.” The response came immediately.

            “I’m afraid that will be impossible.” I knew that the Albish wouldn’t tolerate a navy that could threaten theirs, especially since they had been spooked by our ultra-fast submarines.

            “The removal of restrictions on our Airforce, then. Along with staying quiet about the plebiscites.” Air dominance will only become more crucial in the future. I would have to shake off this shackle on our air force as soon as possible.

            The ambassador took a moment to ponder over it, before responding. “I will take it up to my superiors, you shall have our answer by tomorrow.”

            That went better than I expected, I thought Mr. Llyod would try to haggle the offer a little, perhaps only increasing the limit on our bombers. If they were willing to go this far to finish up the war in Bharat, then the Albish must be facing some other issues that I was not aware of.

Same day afternoon,

10 Downing Street,

            Winston Churbull couldn’t help but think it a bad omen that he was holding this meeting with his war cabinet in the late afternoon, when the sun was setting over the Albish home islands.

            “Gentlemen, do we take her offer?” Churbull asked.

            Arledge Greenwood, the deputy of the opposition party, scoffed. “And let the Devil snooker us again? She’s always achieving some other political goals with deals like this. I wager that she’ll extend another deal like this when she goes to annex Daneland or even Lothiern. It’s hush money, that’s what it is.” Greenwood was stern in his opinion that an eventual conflict between the Allied Kingdom and Germania was a matter of when, not if. And he was dead set on making sure the Allied Kingdom would be the victor.

            Henry Watson, the leader of the opposition, had a much more optimistic outlook concerning relations with Germania. “The price on those guns is too good for us to pass on. We’re already having trouble arming Albish troops with reliable weapons, let alone arming the South Bharatians as well. And with this deal, we can use it as a foundation to improve relations with Germania.”

            John Payne, the Minister of Defence, said. “I concur. I’ve seen some of my boys test those Germanian guns. They told me they trust those guns more than their own limbs. The supplies she is offering would not go unappreciated either. We’re going to be losing more men to diseases than bullets soon.” Despite what he said, his grumpy mood told everyone that he was annoyed by the fact that the Allied Kingdom’s best gun, designed just three months ago, was considered inferior to its Germanian cousin.

            “You do realise that we are taking on a substantial loan, right? We’re already in debt to the Americans. Even with the low interest rate, we’re still paying over 27 million marks a month for the next 40 years. It’s like the Treaty of Triano has been flipped on our head. This provision that allows for the convertibility of the pound sterling should we ever postpone payments even once is also troubling.” Greenwood spoke again.

            The Chancellor of the Exchequer, Kingsley Tree, spoke for the first time at that meeting. “Our country’s finances are not so tight as to be forced to defer payments. As long as we can keep extracting raw materials from our Southern Continent colonies and refine them in the home islands, we’ll easily be able to keep up with the payments. It is a subtle threat, nothing more.”

            “We don’t have much of a choice. It would be prudent for us to take Degurechaff up on that offer. Despite initial denunciation of the loan, the House of Lords and the House of Commons think so too.” Churbull mumbled, before turning to his foreign secretary, Viscount Guysborough. “Guysborough, what news from Hong Kong?”

            “We had numerous eyewitness accounts that the soldiers spotted this morning bombing the harbour in Hong Kong were wearing uniforms of the communist faction. The nationalists blame the communists for launching an unprovoked attack on a neutral party. The communists accuse the nationalists of launching a false-flag operation. Both sides are imploring us to fight alongside them and secure Shenzhen for the legitimate government of Qin.”

            And thus was the crux of the matter. They needed to finish up the fighting on the Bharatian subcontinent quickly due to the rising tension in Qin. The nationalists had been sieging the communist-controlled city of Shenzhen, which had ended in a deadlock. It seemed whoever had decided on bombing the port had wanted to drag the Albish in to break the stalemate or at least provide a distraction. It was imperative that a task force was diverted to secure Hong Kong, should the fighting ever spill over to the Albish colonial city. 

            They couldn’t be sure whether the men at the harbour were actually communists or not. The political beliefs of either Qinese factions could motivate them to attack Hong Kong. The communists were obviously vehemently against any capitalist country. However, the nationalists were also hostile to foreigners. They uphold the belief that Qin must be free of foreign intervention and influence if it wishes to raise its global status.

            The nationalist party was also especially hostile to the countries Akitsushima, the Allied Kingdom, Ispagnia and the Russy Federation. They resented Akitsushima, the Allied Kingdom and Ispagnia for occupying Taiwan, Hong Kong and Macau respectively. These were all lands that they view as rightfully belonging to Qin. Most of their ire was concentrated towards Akitsushima, who had once occupied the entirety of Manchuria. As for hatred towards the Russy Federation, it was simply due to them being communist.

            Yet despite both sides having qualms towards the Allied Kingdom, they both knew that an enemy of an enemy was a friend. So, either side will try to put down their differences with Albion, if it will help them unite Qin.

            It was a good thing that this development in Hong Kong was so recent that the Devil of the Rhine could not possibly have known about it. Not when the bombing of the harbour occurred half an hour before she brought her proposition to ambassador Archibald Lloyd. Who knows what other concessions she would have pried out of them otherwise.

            “Prime Minister, if we don’t take Degurechaff up on her offer and fail to close out the war in Bharat in time before the Hong Kong situation further escalates, we will have to split our forces and be confronted with fighting two undermanned wars. In the worst-case scenario, Bharat becomes fully communist, and we lose Hong Kong.” Payne said.

            Kingsley Tree added. “And the sooner we can quell oversea hostilities, the sooner we can transition to a peacetime economy and recover.”

            “It is decided then.” Churbull announced after taking a drag from his cigar. “We’ll amend the Treaty of Londinium in exchange for buying Degurechaff’s arms and supplies with the money that she’ll lend us. And we’ll also keep a stiff upper lip on the tri-plebiscite situation as well.” This decision, Churbull hoped, will keep the sun over the Albish Empire for just a little longer.

            As he escorted his war cabinet out and bid them farewell, Churbull noticed that the sun had already set.

Chapter Text

8 th June 1942,

            Ludwig Alfred Henry Albrecht Ernst (Ludwig Ernst for short), third grandson of Wilhelm II, the last Kaiser of the Empire, exited his hotel and glanced at his pocket watch. Half past seven, he still had an hour before he was scheduled to meet Walther von Schiel.

           Yawning and stretching his arms above his head, Ludwig tried to use a mental spell to make himself more alert, but the spell just fizzled out. He was always terrible at using mental enhancement spells anyways, but it was worth the try.

           Ludwig had always been a dutiful man. as a former royal, duty and responsibility for the Empire was the centrepiece of his upbringing. The country above all else.

           That was why he’d apply for Germania’s aerial mage academy the moment he was old enough. That was why he’d struck down dozens of enemy mages with glee. That was why he had clamoured to go back to fighting when he’d been injured fighting in Ildoa and had been subjected to the rear pushing papers. It was definitely not for the adrenaline rush that he never got to experience during his pampered upbringing.

           Was he a bit of a war maniac? Perhaps. But he would never admit it out loud.

           Aside, it was actually his sense of duty that had caused him to agree to his grandfather’s mission without complaints.

           He just wished that his grandfather had taken consideration to give him some extra political training before this mission. He’d received a perfunctory education on politics, but it was nothing extensive since he wasn’t expected to inherit. Sure, his childhood education on politics wasn’t bare bones, but it sure wasn’t enough for him to consider himself competent on this shifting political landscape. Everyone knows how merciless politics can be.

           Ludwig honestly preferred the frontlines to politics. At least on the front lines, you knew which ones wanted you dead.

           Oh well, grandfather couldn’t possibly expect him to assist Walther von Schiel politically. Sure, his royal status might have some lustre left, but he doubted anyone except for aristocrats cared. Likely, grandfather was simply sending him in as a well-compensated bodyguard for von Schiel and didn’t want Ludwig to go sir-crazy from lack of action. He was always so considerate like that.

           Ludwig probably only needed to stand there next to von Schiel, look intimidating and let the aristocrats in the Imperial Party know that von Schiel’s position couldn’t be stolen. Von Schiel will likely handle the bulk work of putting Degurechaff on the throne.

           Ludwig fidgeted with his civilian computation orb in his inner pocket; he was no longer allowed a military grade one after leaving the military. Tge computation orb wouldn’t allow him to fly, but reinforcement spells would still allow his punches to break bones and cast barriers to stop bullets.

           As he walked down the street, he noticed a marked change in the people’s mood compared to just a week ago. If the mood of Berun could be called jubilant before, now it was positively ecstatic. And the only difference had been the announcement of the plebiscites being held in Pullska, Czechoslovakia and Hungary. The news had only started circulating this morning, even though politicians and nobles like Ludwig and his family had already been aware of it for some time.

           Practically everyone and their mother were talking about Imperial reunification. Businessmen were talking about expanding their businesses now that less paperwork will have to be done. Football enthusiasts were discussing the potential expansion of the Germanian football league. Housewives doing the shopping were gossiping non-stop to each other.

           Making a detour to a newspaper stand, he noticed that it was nearly sold out, despite the owner of the stand having put up extra racks of newspaper in preparation. Buying one of the last copies left, Ludwig started perusing the paper right there.

           The front-page news was obviously related to the plebiscite and even included a few international reactions. The opinions of the plebiscites in Germania were wholly positive, with many calling it a result of Chancellor-President Degruechaff’s genius in persuading the former Imperial states to reform the Empire.

           The Francois had obviously kicked up a fuss, with many calling for OZEV members to leave the alliance before they get absorbed by Germania. Needless to say, the term ‘Devil of the Rhine’ got thrown around more than once.

           Across the pond, the American response was optimistic. They were mostly excited about having Germania having a bigger customer base. Congress was also calling for strengthening of economic ties to Germania, with it looking obvious that Germania was heading to become the hegemon of Europe.

           And on the topic of hegemon, the response from the Allied Kingdom had been lacklustre. Parliament and the Prime Minister had been completely silent about the plebiscite. This was completely out of character. The Albish would never accept the emergence of a continental hegemon right on their backyard. Ludwig wondered what Degurechaff must have offered them to make them shut up.

           “Amazing, isn’t it?” The newspaper stand owner, a man in his forties, struck a conversation with him. “Most of the Empire’s already getting back together. The entire Empire will be back soon, just you wait.”

           “You sound so sure that Daneland and Lothiern will join too. They’re hardly as patriotic as the rest of the former Imperial territories.” Which wasn’t completely untrue five years ago. If you went down the streets of Amsterdam and asked their opinion on Imperial reunification, only a third of them would give you a positive answer.

           But now? After the Germanian Economic Miracle and winning a Great War? Ludwig wasn’t so sure anymore.

           “Bah, the Chancellor will make them get in line.” Ludwig didn’t want to question the man’s utmost trust in Degurechaff, so he just nodded in agreement. He greatly admired Chancellor Degurechaff for the young woman’s political record and her military service. But even he didn’t think she could force Lothiern or Daneland to a referendum.

           He finished up reading the newspaper and started making his way to the Imperial Party’s headquarters.

           As he got closer to the headquarters, Ludwig noticed that there were posters on lamp posts, notice boards and walls everywhere. Inspecting one of them, he saw that it belonged to the Imperial Party.

           The poster depicted Chancellor Degurechaff as a lifeguard rescuing a drowning man with the word ‘Empire’ on his shirt. She was lifting the man afloat but a great nefarious kraken, emblazoned with the word ‘democracy’ was trying to pull her down by the ankles.

           Quite the striking imagery. Whoever was in charge of the Imperial Party’s propaganda deserved a raise.

           Inspecting the other posters, Ludwig could identify the theme of Degurechaff trying to reunite the Empire or saving it but always being held back by the democratic process.

           Ludwig continued on his way, finally arriving at the Imperial Party’s headquarters. It was impressive, he gave them that. An opera house like this could probably hold thousands if you only care about standing room. Draped over the walls was the new logo of the Imperial Party – the Imperial Crown.

           Approaching the guards stationed at the entrance, Ludwig thought he would have to show his invitation, but the guards simply stood aside for him to enter. The implication that Walther von Schiel was prepared to meet him was obvious.

           As von Schiel’s secretary greeted him and started leading him to von Schiel’s office, Ludwig saw that printed on her shirt was one of the posters that he saw earlier. The secretary noticed his curiosity and explained.

           “This is Herr von Schiel’s latest shirt that he’s selling at his clothing store. Every Imperial Party related apparel is 30% off there. He gave everyone at the headquarters these shirts for free too. Said something about it being publicity if we were seen wearing them.”

           When they got to von Schiel’s office, the door was already open, with the man himself waiting by the desk with two steaming cups of coffee. Taking the invitation, Ludwig walked in, and the secretary closed the door for him.

           “Your Highness, it’s an honour to greet you here at my humble Party.” To say that von Schiel was enthusiastic was an understatement. The man practically jumped out to shake his hands and led him to the chair at his desk. His face looked like that of a child getting the gift he wanted for Christmas.

           “No need for that honorific, just Ludwig or Herr Ernst would be fine.” Ludwig didn’t care about his royal status anyways. If anything, it only got in his way when he was trying to enter the academy. He had to endure endless hours of teasing from the other students, the ones that did figure out his royal origin.

           They both sat down on opposite sides of the desk, and Ludwig took a polite sip of the coffee offered. Pretty decent.

           “Herr von Schiel, I assume you know what I’m here for, yes?”

           Von Schiel nodded. “The Kaiser sent me a letter letting me know that you were coming. To be honest, it was quite a shock.”

           “To be more accurate, the Chancellor asked grandfather for help in growing your Party, who in turn sent me. But yes, I’m sent here to register as an official member of your Party.”

           Von Schiel looked at him in amazement at the fact that the Chancellor had personally contacted the Kaiser to help the Imperial Party. That’s strange, didn’t he work right under Degurechaff? Shouldn’t he be aware? Perhaps he’s getting his orders through an intermediary who neglected to inform him.

“Wait a moment, are you getting direct orders from the Chancellor?” Ludwig had to clear up this mystery first before he dived into the party’s dealings.

“No, she came for a personal visit here once to show her support and test my loyalty. She only implied that she was tied down by democracy, then left.”

“So you’re working under implicit orders with free reign to act as you pleased, as long as the objective of increasing support for the Imperial Party is fulfilled?”

“Yes, quite so.” Von Schiel answered. 

 It was good that they cleared that up. It would have been awkward if there was a misunderstanding while they were working with each other. A political party where misunderstandings run rampant wouldn’t be a very efficient one.

           “Now that we’re acquainted, let’s go straight to business. Herr Ernst, what are your particular skills?”

           “Reconnaissance, sniping, ambushes, magic detection, illusions, aerial melee combat,” Ludwig started listing off his military skills first. It would show Walther von Schiel that he was an elite former soldier who could take on any threat as a bodyguard.

           “No! Not that! Your skills as an ace of aces are well-known. Everyone knows of the famous Lancer of the Mediterranean. I was asking about your political skills.”

           Ludwig froze. Schiess. Grandfather actually wanted him to be politically active. He scoured his brain for what skill Walther von Schiel could possibly want for his political party.

           “Um, I’m good with public speaking and rousing people.” And it was technically true. He had to often give inspirational speeches to the aerial mage squadron that he commanded during the Second World War. He also had a stint as a drill instructor when he was a senior student at the mage academy.

           Von Schiel’s face lit up. “Fantastic! We don’t have anyone good at speaking in front of crowds. I can appoint you as our party’s Political Speaker. I’m going to need you to speak at our political rallies. We can even leverage your fame as an ace of aces to attract people. Oh, and don’t worry about the pay, the Imperial Party compensates its employees well.”

           Ludwig thanked Providence that he had a good poker face, because he was panicking inside. He basically just got a better job than what he applied for by lying about his resume. But there was no backing out of this. He didn’t care about his own reputation, but his family’s reputation was important.

           “What political points will I be talking about?” Ludwig said, still stone-faced.

           “Just keep emphasising the weaknesses of a democracy. Remember to highlight how slow the democratic process can be and how easily it can be manipulated. Bring up examples of failing democracies in foreign countries too. Make the people see that a country with a strong and decisive leader with a vision for the future is what made Germania triumphed over its enemies.”

           “Do we explicitly bring up Chancellor Degurechaff as the prospective Kaiserin?” Ludwig asked.

           “No, don’t mention her explicitly. When Chancellor Degurechaff came to my office, she did so in disguise. Why would she not want her visit to be known if the GWP democrats weren’t scrutinising her actions? She must be keeping her ambition for the throne secret. Besides, the public will understand the implication when you start advocating for a monarch.”

           Ludwig raised an eyebrow. Degurechaff’s detractors in the GWP must have some considerable influence if she had to hide from their suspicions. It would be convenient if they could be rid of so that Degurechaff could show the Imperial Party public support.

           What could possibly help achieve this? Ludwig mused. Suddenly, he had an idea. A spark of genius. The little political training he had was finally paying off. It was quite the ambitious plan, but since Ludwig knew he might be exposed for his subpar public speaking skill soon, he’d elected to bring von Schiel a valuable campaign plan so he could become a valuable asset that couldn’t be fired.

           After telling von Schiel what he needed, the man ran to a storage room and brought in an electoral map of Germania, Pullska, Czechoslovakia and Hungary. Afterwards, von Schiel had his secretary bring in a list of all holders of electoral seats in the four countries.

           The two men then hunched over the map, occasionally making highlights or markings.

           After an hour of pouring themselves over the documents, they finally had an annotated map of Germania’s electorates once it was unified with the other three countries.

           Highlighted were the names of the most staunchly democratic electorate seat holders and their respective electorate. Those that were part of the GWP also had a cross next to their names to indicate priority.

           Ludwig then started. “With this, we can focus our political campaigns in these electorates held by democrats and reduce resistance to a return to the monarchy. As for the GWP democrats, if we manage to remove them, then it should lessen the pressure on the Chancellor.”

           “But wouldn’t we be eroding the Chancellor’s party? What if she gets less than half of the seats?” Von Schiel asked.

           “The GWP is more than popular enough to get a majority government even if we snap off a few seats. And even if she has to form a minority government, she can easily form a coalition with our party. In fact, that might even be a positive thing since the Imperial Party supports her anyways. By forming a minority government with the Imperial Party, she can start passing off policies that fit our agenda while the GWP would not be able to raise a fuss. Regardless, we should try to get as many seats as possible in the next election. What do you think?”

           Von Schiel chuckled and gestured to the maps and documents. “I think that we just established our election campaign trail. Herr Ernst, are you sure that you don’t want to be our Election Campaign Planner as well?”

9th June 1942,

           The Albish had quickly agreed to my terms, after which I had the loan ratified. I wished I had waited a bit more though, because I’d immediately gotten news from Hong Kong. If I had known, If I had known, I would have demanded more from the Albish. But oh well, no use crying over spilt milk.

           On another note, I will likely have to start campaigning for the election once the plebiscites are finished. Even though I’d love to just retire from politics now, the threat of Being X’s Blessed swinging in to undo Germania’s democracy was a scary prospect.

           If possible, I’d hope that all three plebiscites failed to get the seventy-five percent vote in favour that they needed. Then I wouldn’t need to campaign again. But knowing my luck when it comes to hoping for things, all three of them will likely succeed. If that was the case, then the Reichstag would have to expand from its current 480 seats to 800 seats to properly represent its new population of around 100 million people.

           The Germanian Workers Party currently held 340 seats, which meant that I would not be able to form a majority government should we fail to gain any seat in the upcoming election. Therefore, I would actually have to go to political rallies and put in serious effort, instead of just lazing around and letting Visha do all the work like last time.

           What a hassle this was. All because of that damn Being X’s fault. If it wasn’t for him, I would only have to be Chancellor for another two months since there was no more immediate danger.

           Before I could begin cursing Being X again. Elya came in bearing the newest reports, followed by Lehrgen. Ah, it must be news from Operation Ink Spill, then.

           When the Second Great War had ended, I was inspired by some of the post-war operations that the Americans had conducted after World War II. One of which was Operation Paperclip, which had involved the recruitment of the best scientists, engineers and technicians from Nazi Germany after the war ended. In doing this, the Americans had not only caused a brain drain in Europe, but also greatly sped up scientific advancement in America.

           As such, I had tasked Elya and Lehrgen with creating extraction task forces of mages to infiltrate the fragmented Russy Federation and recruit as many Rus scientists, engineers, technicians and NKVD agents as possible. They were expected to get their targets to come along willingly through persuasion or coercion. Except for the NKVD agents, for whom they could kidnap, and kill their target if extraction was impossible.

           In my world, the Soviet Union had many brilliant minds whose achievements had won numerous awards and even kept the Americans on their toes. The ones in the Russy Union should be no different. Having hundreds of these intellectuals working for us will keep Germania’s technology and science well ahead of the rest of the world for years to come. A perfect, efficient use of human resources. Why should we allow them to rot under the Russy leadership and waste their potential when they could work and be well rewarded under us?

           As for the NKVD agents, Elya had wanted to compare the methods of the BND and the NKVD to improve her agency’s performance. Furthermore, NKVD had a wealth of top-secret information about the Russy Federation; it would be incredibly advantageous to obtain them.

           Elya spoke first. “Operation Ink Spill is a success. According to Koenig’s reports, we’ve relocated over three hundred fifty scientists, two hundred engineers, three hundred technicians and thirty NKVD agents, along with their families. The vast majority of them have agreed to work with us.”

           “Good. Give Koenig and his men a full three months of rest. They earned it. Any casualties from our extraction teams?” I asked.

           “There were three injuries when one of our NKVD targets turned out to be a mage. The target was subdued. The injured are expected to make full recovery.” Lehrgen answered.

           “What about the ones that tried to seek refuge under the Moskva faction or try to flee to communist-controlled Qin?”

           Lehrgen stilled for a moment, before answering. “All of them were killed before they could be useful to our enemies.”

           I nodded in acknowledgement. It was a terrible waste of human resources to kill such qualified professionals, but I couldn’t allow their expertise to fall into enemy hands. It was great that Lehrgen understood the need to be ruthless when the situation calls for it even more than me.

           “For the ones that we have recruited, I want them to be given comfortable lodgings and assigned jobs that fit their expertise. Do keep eyes on them though, Elya. We don’t know if some of them might be spies.”

           I thanked the two of them for their hard work, expecting them to head out. Unexpectedly, both had not moved from their spot. I looked at them questioningly. “Is there something wrong?”

           “It concerns a recent development in the Imperial Party.” Hearing that, I instantly became alerted.

           Elya continued. “Just yesterday, my spy, who is acting as Walther von Schiel’s new secretary, made a troubling report. She said that Herr von Schiel had prepared for an esteemed guest. She didn’t expect that esteemed guest to be royalty.” My back became ramrod straight at that information.

           “Who?” I asked. “The Kaiser?”

           “The Kaiser’s third grandson, Ludwig Alfred Henry Albrecht Ernst. If the Imperial family still had their royal status, he would be tenth in line for the throne. He recently registered himself as a member of the Imperial Party and was instantly appointed Political Speaker of the party.” That was extremely alarming.

           A member of the former Imperial family, supporting the Imperial Party itself. It confirmed my theory that the Imperial Party was the instrument of Being X’s Blessed to undermine Germanian democracy and throw my retirement plans into ruins.

           “Tell me more about the Kaiser’s grandson.” I spoke.

           But instead of Elya, it was Lehrgen who answered. “We have his records in the military. Instead of using his full name, he went by simply Ludwig Ernst instead. He enrolled in the mage academy, has a very high aptitude for magic and graduated top of his class. He saw extensive action in the first half of the Second Great War. As a lieutenant, he led a squadron of aerial mages and fought in the Francois Republic and Ildoa, racking up 52 aerial mage victories for himself. His Named epithet was the ‘Lancer of the Mediterranean’.”

           I whistled. “An ace of aces. Impressive.” And it was impressive. After all, the Second Great War didn’t last very long, and apparently, he only fought during the first half of it. “Why didn’t he fight for the rest of the war?”

           “During one of the pushes down south in Ildoa, his squadron of twelve mages was ordered to serve as a distraction against an entire battalion of mages so that the infantry regiment below could rout Muzzioli’s main army. They succeeded, but he was wounded and was relegated to rear line duties for the rest of the war. Here is the recording of that particular battle.”

           Lehrgen gestured to Elya, and she played a recording with her computation orb. The recording started during the middle of the battle, and I could see a tall man who I assume was Lieutenant Ernst zipping across the sky, bayonetting enemies through the chest while laughing maniacally. Likely how he got his nickname. His aerial movements weren’t bad, being able to take sharp turns and even constantly use illusions to fool his enemies. He would have fit in well with the 203rd.

           The recording ended when Ernst took a stray bullet to the thigh and fell from the sky. Lehrgen then explained that he was reduced to using his bayonet in that battle because he had run out of ammo killing other mages.

           From the recording, I was assuming that he was using a cocktail of mental boosting spells like I did in Norden, which had the side-effect of causing a high during battle. That was why I had been laughing like a psycho while I slaughtered men up in the sky, so I assumed it was the same for him too.

           I sat back for a moment and started compartmentalising all the information I had about Ludwig Ernst. High magic aptitude. Ace of aces. Very skilled mage. Injured and relegated to rear duty because of injury after fighting a battle with low odds of survival. Joined a minor political party after the war. Became a public speaker. There was something familiar about all of this. And then it struck me.

           He was just like me!

           Aside from our origins, which were polar opposites of each other, our experiences during the war and after it had stark similarities.

           At that moment, Being X’s hints about his Blessed struck me. According to him, his Blessed was a powerful mage. Ludwig Ernst was a powerful mage.

           Furthermore, he said they would be well-versed in finance, politics, governance and military matters. As a former Prince, Ernst was surely well-educated in all these things. He had also attended the mage academy, where he would be further educated in the military.

           After the war, Ludwig Ernst went to join a minor political party then became its public speaker just like I did with the Germanian Workers Party. Additionally, Being X had mentioned his Blessed of being capable of acting as a monarch; Ludwig Ernst was a member of the Imperial family.

           There was no doubt about it. The more I thought about it, the more likely it seemed that Ludwig Ernst was Being X’s Blessed. He fitted all the criteria.

           Being X, that unoriginal, uninspired, plagiarising hack!

           He knew that some unhinged barbarian like Mary Sue couldn’t defeat me, so he intentionally found someone as similar to me as possible and made that person his Blessed!

           If Ernst had as much magical power as Mary Sue, then even staying in the same city as him was dangerous. But if he hadn’t attacked me yet, just like how he didn’t attack me at Alexanderplatz, then Ernst must want to defeat me legally, without requiring violence.

           And what other way to do that other than through politics?

If Ludwig Ernst truly was Being X’s Blessed, then I have to proceed with utmost caution. My letter to the Kaiser must have spooked him. But instead of giving up on his attempt with the Imperial Party like I expected, Ernst was doubling down on it.

           I can see his plans as clear as day now. Ernst realised he could no longer maintain his role in the shadows once the Kaiser received that letter. So, he decided to come into the spotlight by registering as a member of the Imperial Party and had von Schiel conspicuously assign him the post of Political Speaker. 

           I even bet that von Schiel was likely just a lackey of Ludwig Ernst. That man was probably giddy that his royal superior personally came to help him.

           Of course, if Ludwig Ernst was aiming to restore his family’s throne and eventually put himself on there, then he would still have to deal with the matters of succession since he was only tenth in line for the throne. His claim came from his mother, who was ninth in line because she was the Kaiser’s youngest child and only daughter. So, Ernst would have to ensure that his mother inherited the throne.

           But he likely had his own solution for that. He could probably convince or coerce the other members of the family into forfeiting or abdicating from the throne until it landed on his mother’s lap. By then, he would practically have Germania, and its nuclear arsenal too, to my horrified realisation, in his grasp.

           I absolutely could not let him succeed. Not if I want my happy retirement.

           Standing up suddenly and startling Elya and Lehrgen, I ordered. “Here are your new orders. These are of utmost priority. Elya, I want you to have at least ten agents in the Imperial Party by the end of this week. Keep an eye or ear on von Schiel and Ernst at all times. But don’t use magic, he might detect it.”

           “Lehrgen, I need you to interview anyone in the military who has personally known Ludwig Ernst in the past. I want to know everything about Ernst’s traits and personality.”

           I then called for Visha.

           “What is it, dear?” She asked.

           “We need to draw up our campaign trail. It’s time for me to brush up on my speeches again.” I hoped that my skill in demagoguery hadn’t degraded.

           Visha looked ecstatic at my seemingly revived passion for political campaigning and started making plans.

           This Blessed, Ludwig Ernst, may copy me as much as he wants. But I’ll show him that a copy would always be inferior to the original.

Chapter Text

24th June 1942,

Wien,

            “I implore you, citizens! Cast your eyes from the false charm of the siren that is the promise of a fair democracy and see the rot beneath! Democracy weakens, weighs down and befuddles nations! Gaze upon the failures of De Lugo and his parliament as they tried to humiliate us! Stare down at the Churbull ministry and their crumbling empire! Peer at Muzzioli and the war that his voters brought to our allies!” Ludwig bellowed to his rally of over six thousand people. A fantastic turnout.

            His deep voice, amplified by a communication spell, easily reached the whole crowd.

            “These democrats running for their electoral seats do not see you as people! They see every single one of you as votes! They will promise heaven on earth yet the moment they are elected, they will turn around to scorn you.”

            “Then do you want us to be ruled by unelected dictators!?” A voice screamed out. This was a paid contrarian that they had prepared beforehand.

            “Nay, good man. I want us to be ruled by a virtuous leader who is not easily corrupted by absolute power, like our good Chancellor-President for example. She had the power of an autocrat, yet she never let it get to her. Just imagine if Degurechaff had been Chancellor since the moment the First Great War ended, instead of those old fossils, and what she could have done in their place. Imagine where our country would be now. Had she not been weighed down by cumbersome democracy, even the Russy Federation would have been child’s play.” Ludwig responded.

            “A strong Germania needs a strong leader. A leader who is neither burdened by the bureaucracy of democracy, nor held back by opposition parties. Here I present to you the Final Solution to the Democratic Problem.” He paused for dramatic effect.

            “We, the Germanian… no, the Imperial people, shall hold one final election to elect the ideal figure to ascend to the Imperial throne as our monarch. An absolute authority figure with ultimate executive power, yet she- I mean they will also be fair and benevolent. Their hand shall be the one that guides the Empire towards its future! Their voice shall be the one that the world listens to! Their will shall be the one that unites our Empire!” At that, the crowd erupted in cheers.

            The Imperial Party had paid about five dozen cheerers and planted them in the crowd, but it seemed like they had wasted their money after all. The crowd was more than just supportive.

            Ludwig had intentionally scheduled this rally to be held just an hour after Chancellor Degurechaff’s rally in Wien, and close to her venue. Many people leaving the Chancellor’s rally had given his rally a chance due to the close proximity. Furthermore, it allowed him to study the Chancellor’s rallies and make improvements on his own speeches. He only made one slip of the tongue today, he should try to remember to always use ‘they’ instead of ‘she’, or it would be too obvious to even the most oblivious person out there.

            Once the rally ended and the crowd started to disperse, Ludwig headed down the stage, where von Schiel was waiting.

            “Fantastic work out there, Herr Ernst. It was a good decision for us to advertise your war record and former royal status. That got more than enough curious people to come.” Von Schiel praised.

            “It was mainly due to me leeching off of the Chancellor’s supporters who came from her rally. Still, I do wonder something.” Ludwig mused.

            “What is it, my friend?”

            “Who do you think she’s running against? The Germanian Workers Party is gargantuan, and the Imperial Party supports her. All the other right-wing parties try to ride behind Degurechaff’s success too. And the left-wing parties barely have ten percent of the seats.”

            “I honestly have no idea who she is campaigning against either. At this point, she could run against God Himself and still win.”

            I blended in easily with the rally goers leaving the venue, disguised with a black wig and sunglasses. Ernst proved himself a proper rabble rouser, alright. His voice was strong, and his figure was confident. His demagoguery vied for impractical solutions that sounded good in theory but horrible in practice while intentionally ignoring deeper issues. The type of public speaker that made people think whatever he was saying must have some grain of truth, no matter how many droppings of lies it held.

            The contents of his speech were also quite dangerous. He was literally asking people to vote against their own right to vote. A move like this from any party other than the Imperial Party would be political suicide.

            Ernst was also being deliberately obtuse about the monarch that he wanted to place on the throne, never mentioning any name. Even though I could tell that he was just itching to tell people to restore his family to the throne, he amazingly held himself back.

            The response from the crowd to his speech had been jarring and shocking at first. I didn’t expect them to be that ecstatic about getting rid of their democracy. It was thanks to my perceptiveness that I noticed many people around me that seemed overly enthusiastic. I then figured out that the Imperial Party must have paid hundreds or even over a thousand undercover cheerleaders to artificially bring up the crowd’s zeal.

            I internally sighed in relief at that. The actual rally goers probably got swept and peer-pressured into cheering, despite being uncomfortable with what Ernst was proposing. I was thankful that Germanian citizens were reasonable creatures, even if prone to excitement.

            He also made a mistake in his speech earlier, saying ‘she’ instead of ‘they’ when referring to the monarch he was advocating for. He was likely referring to his mother, who he probably wanted to inherit the throne first before it could be passed onto him. Whether it was a genuine slip of the tongue or not, I couldn’t be sure.

            I was also initially confused as to the reason behind him bringing me up as a model autocrat. It was almost like he was recommending me to the throne, if it wasn’t for how counterproductive to his goal it would have been. After all, Ludwig Ernst wanted the throne for himself.

            Then I realised Ernst was likely trying to ride on my political coattail and implying that he could do a similar job to me. It wouldn’t take much effort to see the similarities in our military and political records. That was likely why he had scheduled his rally so close to mine in time and location as well.

            I shouldn’t have much to worry about Ernst. His promises sounded nice, but he had no real way to carry them through. He also seemed to be targeting democrats, but his views were so extreme that I doubted he’d be able to wrest away any more than a couple seats.

            I should still be careful around him though. Perhaps ask for international observers for this election to prevent voting fraud or ballot manipulation by the Imperial Party.

Elya approached from behind me. “Should we start suppressing the Imperial Party now? Their anti-democratic rhetoric could be dangerous for your party.”

           I shook my head. I wasn’t going to dabble in tyranny and political suppression just because I didn’t like the Imperial Party’s policies. That would just prove the people who call me a dictator right. Aside, I doubt the Imperial Party will be able to grow much with its flawed politics.

           “No, leave the Imperial Party alone. I don’t particularly care if it grows larger.” I spoke. Elya looked at me in surprise, and then her expression suddenly turned into one of contemplation.

           She looked at me, before looking at the Imperial Party’s rally, and then looking at me again. Her expression suddenly switched to one of enlightenment and awe. Surely the logic behind my action can’t be that profound.

           “I see. To think that I had to be told by you directly before I realised what’s going on. From now on, I will handle matters pertaining to the Imperial Party with your best interests in mind.” With that confounding reply, Elya disappeared back into the crowd.

25th June 1942,

The Rathaus, Wien

            Me and the leaders of OZEV were meeting up for another round of our monthly meeting. This time, we had a new member from Kieva. The Prime Minister of Kieva, Aleksander Adamovich, had come in person. This made him the OZEV Executive Council’s 10th member.

            The first point of discussion today concerned internal issues that required international cooperation. There were two issues brought up, both by Ildoa.

            “We are currently having extensive difficulties with arresting organised criminals. Many of them are escaping through our borders to the rest of OZEV to avoid arrest.” Luigi Falasca said. “I want OZEV to establish an international police body to tackle this problem.”

            “Don’t we already have Interpol for that?” I asked. I knew that they existed in this world. Their headquarters were even in Wien.

            “These criminals are different. They’re mafia who have access to repaired military-grade computation orbs looted from fallen mages.”

            “Are any of those orbs dual-core ones?” Istvan Ronai asked. I was extremely concerned as well. It would be terrible for OZEV’s computation orb advantage if our dual-core orb designs were sold on the black market to the rest of the world.

            “Yes, but none of them could be repaired by the mafia. They only managed to repair the single-core ones.” I let out a breath of relief. Still, it was imperative that we round up these criminals, confiscate their repaired orbs as well as retrieve any unrepaired ones.

            Tackling criminal mages was outside of the scope of local police officers, or even Interpol. We would need mages to arrest them. While we could divert some of our military mages and send them on manhunting missions, these mafia gangs could become a long-term problem.

            In the end, Moscicki of Pullska had proposed an international special police force who primarily employ mages equipped with military grade computation orbs in their roster. Their duty would comprise of completing high-risk missions such as hunting down wanted or especially dangerous criminals, bomb defusal, criminal raids and hostage situations. They were basically SWAT teams on steroids.

            We had decided on the name Central European Magic Police (Zentraleuropäische Zauber Polizei) or ZEZP for short. The vote for their establishment had passed unanimously. All countries were worried about having mage criminals or even mage terrorists after all.

            The first members of the ZEZP will be military police mages sourced from all ten OZEV countries. They would then begin recruiting mages for training. I expected that their recruitment would not be that difficult, since there were many mages who wished to use magic but didn't desire joining the military. It was also a good alternative civilian career for mages. If the ZEZP had been around when I was little, perhaps I would have joined them instead of the military.

            We also decided that the headquarters for the ZEZP would be in Vienna, close to the headquarters of Interpol so that the two police agencies could collaborate easily.

            Falasca then brought up the second issue that has been troubling him. Apparently, it was a minor one, but he had still wanted international input. “It’s the Vatican.”

            I almost couldn’t suppress my scoff. The Vatican? That group of ancient clergymen that worshipped Being X’s religion?

            Jan Benes asked my own question. “I thought the Vatican doesn’t have much power?”

            “They don’t. Not hard power at least. But their influence amongst the global Catholic population is palpable.”

            “What ruckus have they been causing then?” Adamovich asked. I noticed the impression of an Orthodox cross under his tunic. It seemed I wasn’t the only person who was opposed to the Catholic Church. I should probably get a hold on every OZEV leader’s religion.

            Almost as if reading my mind, Elya, who was in attendance as my secretary, handed me a list of details about OZEV leaders. It included their biological information, birthplace, education, various other factoids and of course, religion.

            I took a quick glance at the list. The majority of the OZEV Executive Council were Protestant, with Luigi Falasca and Istvan Ronai being Catholic; Adamovich was the only one following Eastern Orthodoxy. I was of course the only atheist, but Elya’s list had recorded me as Catholic due to my upbringing at a Catholic orphanage.

            “With the removal of the Italian royal family and the establishment of the Republic of Ildoa, there are no more Catholic royal families that have any form of power. The Vatican has basically lost the last vestiges of political influence.” Luigi Falasca explained.

            I supposed that they would be quite upset at that. Now that the Italian royal family was gone, the only two royal families left in power in Europa were the Albish royal family and the Ragma Rumelian royal family.

            The other ancient royal Europan families had either long been abolished when their countries transitioned to republics, or absorbed into another royal family, like during the Empire’s conquests across Europa in the 19th century.

            The Albish royal family were firmly Protestant, with them having established the Church of Albion some centuries ago because a king wanted to divorce his wife. The Ragma Rumelian royal family followed Rumelian Orthodoxy.

            In either case, both royal families were part of a constitutional monarchy, so neither of them had much power in the first place.

            Regardless, I should be quite glad that the Vatican had no way of influencing politics anymore. The last thing I needed was the Vatican determining policies or swinging elections.

            “So, what is the Vatican demanding?” I asked.

            “They’re trying to gain any political influence they can by attaching their name to the success of Catholic OZEV leaders. Namely: me, Prime Minister Ronai and Chancellor-President Degurechaff. They also wish for Prime Minister Ronai and Chancellor-President Degurechaff to declare Catholicism the official religious denomination of their respective countries.” Falasca explained, looking down in embarrassment at having to tell the Council this.

            Immediately, the Protestant leaders in OZEV lost their cool, denouncing the Vatican for stepping out of lines. The stoic Adamovich remained silent, but I could see that he was outraged by their audacity. Prime Minister Ronai simply looked at me for guidance, since his country might not even exist next month if the plebiscite succeeded.

            “ORDER!” I shouted with a magnified voice spell. Silence immediately arrested the other leaders of OZEV. The only sound in the Rathaus left was the echoes of my voice. Every head of state except me looked like schoolboys who had been caught by their teacher while causing trouble. Shit, so much for not looking like Germania controlled OZEV.

            “Half of Germania identify as Protestant. I will not start a religious war in my country. Especially not at the behest of the Vatican. Germania firmly believes in the freedom of religion.” I declared. If I had been a third-party bystander, I would honestly bust out the popcorn and lie back while watching Being X’s followers whittle down his own faith, but that was unfortunately not the reality.

            Ronai looked at me gratefully and nodded. He must have come to the same conclusion. Falasca also breathed in relief. He probably didn’t want the Vatican to have more power, despite being Catholic himself as the Prime Minister of a Catholic country.

            With that matter out of the way, the Council went into an early recess to calm ourselves after the outbursts that everyone displayed earlier.

            When we reconvened fifteen minutes later, everyone had recomposed themselves. We then moved to the next item on the agenda. The application of two countries into OZEV.

            We gave the permission for the representative of the first country to enter. A middle-aged blonde man of medium height walked in, wearing a tailored suit and carrying a walking stick. This was Johan Andersson, one of the members of the Council of Ten of the Legadonia Entente Alliance. More specifically the Councilman of Defence, which was equivalent to a Minister of Defence.

            I wasn’t sure whether I wanted Legadonia to join OZEV or not. While having an ally with such access to the North Sea, Baltic Sea and Arctic Sea would be nice, it might also be a challenge to the Allied Kingdom. Not only were we potentially putting in a bid for domination of the North Sea, but we were also robbing Albion of one of its allies, for whom it had a security guarantee for.

            By trying to join OZEV, Legadonia was basically spitting in the Allied Kingdom’s eye by calling their security guarantee worthless. Which wasn’t completely uncalled for, if one recalls Albion’s underperformance in Legadonia during the Second Great War.

            Furthermore, I was also aware that the Legadonia Entente Alliance’s attempt to woo Suomiland had succeeded and the process of absorbing Suomiland was already underway. Once Legadonia expanded its territory, it would share a huge border with the Rus Federation. A border that was distant, not connected to OZEV by land and difficult to reinforce should hostilities break out.

            I was already uncomfortable with having Kieva in OZEV, adding Legadonia too would be too risky. If Legadonia failed to present a good argument, then I would vote against them joining.

            When we all motioned for Johan Andersson to speak, a gravelly voice came out. “I thank you all for having me today. As you all know, the Legandonia Entente Alliance is making a petition to join the OZEV alliance. Should we get accepted, we hope to be a valuable member of OZEV’s co-prosperity and defensive sphere.”

            “Mr. Andersson,” Moscicki said. “I believe that the Legadonia Entente Alliance was successful in convincing Suomiland into joining the Alliance, correct? Wouldn’t that create a large border with the Russy Federation, once Suomiland is fully part of Legandonia?”

            “Correct. It would.” If the man was embarrassed by this, he didn’t show it.

            “Then why should we allow Legadonia to join OZEV if you present a security risk to us?” Jan Benes asked.

            “Firstly, Legadonia is not weak. Our defence force has been greatly strengthened compared to even just last year. Our defensive budget has also been increased. Secondly, we will not be bordering the communist Rus for much longer.” At this, it caused a small commotion amongst the Council.

            “What do you mean by that?” I leaned forward, interested. Was another Russy state going to break away from the Federation?

            “You have not heard of this since news from the Russy Federation is slow to travel and the legitimacy of the contents hard to validate. But a new major faction has reared its head in St. Petersburg. They have great civilian and military support and have managed to control a significant territory.” Andersson reached into his jacket and pulled out a rolled map. He unfurled it and presented it to the Council.

            It depicted a chunk of Northeastern Russy Federation coloured in blue. The territory encompassed Pskov, Leningrad, Karelia, Murmansk, Novgorod, Vologda and Arkhangelsk. It was a very impressive amount of territory conquered, likely around the size of the Empire at its peak.

            “Even if news travelled slowly, how did they manage to achieve this without any of us knowing?” I asked. A conquest like this would have taken months, if not years. Koenig’s expeditions into the Russy Federation mere weeks ago should have also informed me.

            Andersson calmly explained. “None of this territory was acquired through conquest, but rather simple diplomacy. According to the factions there, Moskva’s NKVD had overstepped themselves when they started assassinating any leader that refused to join them or even declared neutrality. So, to have greater security, the faction in St. Petersburg ratified an alliance with other factions. This event occurred only last week.”

            I see, this new faction were basically pacifists that had no desire to get involved in the infighting of the rest of the Russy Federation. Instead, they banded together to fight off against the overly bellicose Moskva faction, led by the NKVD. I could relate to a principle of self-defence like that and even empathise with their plight.

            However, the next words out of Andersson’s mouth dashed away my empathy. “They call themselves the Russy Tsardom. Their leader is Aleksei Romanov, purportedly a grandson of Tsar Nicholas II who escaped the purge of the Tsar’s family. Their economic policy is staunchly capitalist, and Aleksei Romanov seems to be an advocate for international cooperation of capitalist nations  against the communist Rus.”

            What’s with all the people trying to restore monarchies these days? Don’t they understand that a strong democracy was the government of the future?

            “The Russy Tsardom have approached the Legadonia Entente Alliance for a deal. In exchange for serving as a bulwark against the rest of the Russy Federation, the Russy Tsardom wants the Legadonia Entente Alliance to join OZEV and sell the Russy Tsardom OZEV supplies and equipment. The Russy Tsardom will not attempt to join OZEV itself.”

            I started thinking. If this deal was genuine, then there was no need to fear a security risk from Legandonia joining OZEV. If anything, it would be an economic boon. The expanded Legadonia would have great access to natural resources and offshore oil and gas reserves. Of course, they couldn’t access those reserves yet, as oil fracking had not yet been invented. There was also the fishing and timber industries in Legadonia, which made up a big part of their GDP.

            OZEV will also be able to establish economic ties with the Russy Tsardom. It might just be selling them weapons and equipment now, but the Russy Tsardom may very well become part of the MEF in the future if I play my cards right. I might have a distaste for monarchies, but I didn’t have a distaste for cheap oil and natural gas, both of which the Russy Tsardom would have in abundance, even if they only controlled a small part of the Russy Federation.

            Moreover, aside from Germania, which had sold its weapons and supplies to the Allied Kingdom, the other countries in OZEV still had a surplus of supplies and equipment. They all stood to make some money from trading with the Russy Tsardom.

            Other OZEV leaders realised it too, as the following vote held for the Legadonia Entente Alliance had been unanimous. The only person who hesitated was Dacia’s Prime Minister Constatine Groza, who was probably worried that the Russy Tsardom’s oil and natural gas reserves would lessen the strategic importance of Dacia.

            Moscicki had to persuade him by saying that the Russy Tsardom likely didn’t have the infrastructure to make full use of those reserves so Dacia could take advantage of it by sending its oil drilling companies over there to make a proposition to the Russy Tsardom.

            After confirming the vote, Johan Andersson’s face had brightened and reaffirmed that OZEV will look back at this decision ten years from now and smile back at our own wisdom. I just hoped that I won’t still be on the OZEV Executive Council ten years from now.

            Then it was our next applicant’s turn. The Francois Republic.

            This was somewhat of a surprise. While I expected that they would try to join OZEV eventually, I didn’t expect it would be so soon.

            The wound to their pride from the Second Great War was still fresh, and neither their military nor their economy had fully recovered. They must be desperate if they were approaching OZEV now. Even if we voted in favour of them joining, I wouldn’t be taken back to see riots on the streets of Parisee when the news broke out.

            I was surprised again when the Francois representative who walked in was President De Lugo himself. The Francois election was not slated to be held for more than four more months, but it was obvious to everyone that De Lugo was sure to fail his re-election. Losing a war in a humiliating fashion would lose you popularity faster than a snowflake would melt in hell.

            De Lugo began by greeting every OZEV Executive Council member by name. No fanfare like the Legadonian representative. His gaze lingered on me the longest.

            “Members of the OZEV Executive Council, my argument for joining you is simple. The Francois Republic possesses numerous colonies around the world. As a member of OZEV, we would readily permit any of our allies to build military bases on these colonies and to station troops, vehicles and ships there. I believe that all of you can recognise the massive strategic advantage this would present. You would be able to defend any of your allies around their world or attack any of your enemies.”

            Left unsaid was the fact that nearly none of OZEV had the capability to build and maintain such bases. Germania was the only country in OZEV with the capital and logistics to build a base halfway around the world and staff it with soldiers. It was obvious that this proposition was not for OZEV, but for Germania, or rather specifically, for me.

            I knew what De Lugo was insinuating, of course. In my world, America had numerous military bases spread around the world, on every continent with the exception of Antarctica. This granted them a wide logistic range and great military power projection capabilities. In short, De Lugo was offering me the chance to make Germania a global military superpower. Any power-hungry maniac would love to snatch at this chance.

            But offers that seemed too good to be true often have a catch behind them. And I already knew De Lugo’s catch.

            “While that sounds very tempting, President De Lugo, I do seem to recall that many of your colonies are experiencing frequent revolts. Annam for example. I don’t think that these colonies would make for ideal military base locations, unless you can guarantee their stability.” I spoke.

            Left unsaid was that if I built military bases in politically unstable colonies, I would also be obliged to pacify them, both as an ally and as someone using the colonies. I wasn’t going to subject Germania to being De Lugo’s colony babysitter.

           Of course, the Francois Republic still had its troops and weapons, but they couldn’t transport them effectively with vehicles due to us taking all of their oil. The troops that they sent to Annam even had to be transported on coal-fed steam ships. Their efforts to buy more oil to sustain their colony pacification effort was still underway.

           Even worse, the Francois Republic’s weakened army wouldn’t contribute much to OZEV’s already sturdy defence. In fact, it might even expose OZEV to new threats. After all, just to the southwest of the Francois Republic was the ever so volatile Ispagnia, which was still embroiled in a civil war between the nationalists and communists, even though it seemed to be drawing to a close soon. I wouldn’t be surprised if some idiot in Ispagnia thought it was a good idea to take advantage of the Francois Republic’s temporary weakness.

           “The matters in Annam are going well. Francois troops will soon arrive, and we will push Ho Chi Minh and his communists out of Hanoi and return Indochina to peace.” De Lugo stated. His tone will likely change when his troops start experiencing the hell of fighting guerilla warfare against a determined local militia.

           “And these troubling reports of the Annamese communists getting supplies from the Qinese communists?” The Prime Minister of Daneland asked.

           “I do not deny this. The Annamese are getting weapons from the Qinese. However, these weapons are horribly outdated, and the Qinese are forcing the Annamese to pay through the nose for them. Last I heard, the relationship between them was deteriorating.” If international communism was falling through, then perhaps I should try to find a way to drive a wedge between the two communist countries. Food for thought.

           “Be it as it may, the situation in Annam is still precarious. OZEV does not want to play security guard for the Francois Republic. Not until Annam is either pacified or out of Francois hands.” De Lugo looked almost insulted that I could even suggest the Francois Republic losing to a bunch of rice farmers.

           When the vote was finally held, it ended with a result of nine votes against and one abstain vote. Adamovich had chosen to abstain because he was unfamiliar with the state of geopolitics in Western Europa.

           De Lugo didn’t look surprised at the result at all, if anything he looked resigned. Ah, I see. This was his last desperate gambit to secure the Francois Republic’s colonial holdings. His last final great contribution as President. Even if the Francois Republic succeeded in Annam, there were still its African colonies. Who’s to say they won’t revolt any time soon? Especially when the Francois were tied down in Annam.

           I shook my head ruefully at his colonist mindset. With more and more dissent in the colonies, colonialism was losing its profitability quickly. It was better to grant these colonies independence and develop goodwill to establish favourable trade terms or even alliances. Both the colonials and the natives would stand to gain from this type of arrangement.

           As De Lugo left the building, shoulder slumped, I stared at his back. While his future departure from politics will not be grand by any means, he would likely still enjoy a carefree retirement. I could only hope such a future was not a distant prospect for me.

Chapter Text

AYKRR Chapter 7

What Could Go Wrong?

27th June 1942,

Salzburg,

               “Ludwig, we need to talk. It’s something I’ve been thinking about for some time now.” Von Schiel suddenly asked him when Ludwig was reading out his speech for his rally at Salzburg. He was still practicing channeling his inner bloodthirsty warmonger to emote more passion in his speech. The crowd tended to love that.

               “What is it?” Ludwig stopped midway through his speech.

               “I’ve noticed it for a while. Our rally turnout has increased by nearly ten times since you joined. You’re practically the face of the Imperial Party now.” Von Schiel replied, clearly building up to something.

               “Don’t tell me…” Ludwig was getting a bad feeling about this.

               “I want you to replace me as Chairman of the Imperial Party. I will step down and become the Chief Propagandist. It’s something I’m more suited to anyways.” Von Schiel’s voice was resolute, leaving no room for discussion.

               “But I don’t know how to run a party. I only know how to make speeches.” Ludwig pleaded. Schiess. He was seriously underqualified yet somehow kept failing upward. First, he thought he was only going to be a bodyguard. Then he bluffed his way to becoming Political Speaker. And now, he was going to be promoted to Chairman simply because he got a bit popular. At this point, Chancellor Degurechaff might see his military record and appoint him as Minister of Defence.

               “Don’t worry about it. I’ll walk you through the process. It’s easier than you think. And we’re still a pretty minor party, so I doubt the Chancellor-President will appoint you to a high-level government position.”

               “Fine, but you owe me a bottle of Riesling if this goes horribly. By the way, have you been hiring more secretaries lately?” Before, the Imperial Party only had three or so secretaries; now there were at least two dozen of them.

               “Yeah, my first secretary told me that I needed to do some more hiring because there was too much work. It was a good recommendation too. The new girls make the work so much more efficient here.”

28th June 1942,

Salzburg,

               It seemed that Ludwig Ernst had gone full mask off by becoming the Chairman of the Imperial Party. Von Schiel must have been the placeholder Chairman, occupying the position until Ernst could earn himself enough popularity and political clout.

               No matter, judging by the polls that Elya’s pollsters had conducted, the Germanian Workers Party was predicted to win a majority handily. Not as much of a percentage as the last election, but I attributed it to us having less political penetration in Pullska, Czechoslovakia and Hungary.

               The preparations for reunification were also well ahead of schedule. The plebiscites had even been pushed ahead by 2 weeks because of this and would be held on the tenth of July instead of the twenty-fourth with the consent of the Reichstag. The federal election would then follow immediately, and the results would be announced once the votes were all counted.

               Some of the international observers that the Francois insisted on sending had kicked up a fuss about this, but ultimately there was nothing they could do since it didn’t violate any law.

               Only time will tell how the election will turn out, but I was fully confident in my campaign.

16th July 1942,

Germanian Workers Party headquarters, Berun,

               The results were in. As I expected, the Germanian Workers Party dominated by winning 508 seats, constituting 63.5% of the Reichstag. I breathed a grateful sigh of relief. This campaigning business has been so detrimental to my wellbeing both physically and mentally. A few games of aerial lacrosse would do me good.

               The cheers of the members of the Germanian Workers Party shook the building. I swept Visha into a hug and lifted her off her feet. I was about to envelop her in a kiss too, until I realised that there were dozens around us. Perhaps after tonight’s party, we could head to bed for some… personal celebrations. I’ve been pretty pent up since we haven’t been able to do it since campaigning began.

              When Heidler started pouring out the champagne for everyone, Elya read the next party’s report with a smile on her face. What she said drowsed me in cold water and I had to put away my untouched wine, even as others kept celebrating.

               The Imperial Party had won 240 seats; 30% of the Reichstag now belonged to them.

              How could this happen? How did such an extreme, backward-thinking party receive such ardent support? I had expected them to capture maybe 50 seats at most. Sure, they were still less than half of our size, but they could be a serious threat in the next election.

               I immediately grabbed a copy of the last electoral map and started comparing it to the current one. Then I got the most recent records on the Imperial Party’s campaigning activities. Some careful scrutinising revealed how the Imperial Party had managed to capture so many seats.

               They campaigned hard in GWP electorates held by democrats with tenuous support, which bit off at least 40 seats from my party. The democratic seats of other parties were not spared from their electoral hunt. The democrats they usurped also happened to be proponents of more governmental checks and balances. 

              The Imperial Party also had much deeper political penetration than the GWP, managing to reach even the farthest cities in Hungary by driving through the countryside and shouting propaganda slogans.

               Their deep pockets, aristocratic connections and lack of stately duties had made it possible to hold over fifty rallies during their campaign. In comparison, I could only hold ten rallies due to my stately duties taking up much of my time.

               And the chief ingredient in their success had been Ludwig Ernst. The man had swept through the Hungarian, Czechoslovakian and Pullskan cities like a storm, whipping crowds into frenzies at his rallies.

               I started to fear what he would manage to do when he started attending the sessions at the Reichstag. Would he be able to turn even the staunchest of democrats into frothing monarchists? Could he turn my own supporters against me? My rational mind wanted to dismiss it as ridiculous, but this was Being X’s Blessed I was talking about. I realised that I didn’t have much information on his full personality, and that had made me miscalculate his performance in the election.

               It was then that I was inspired by what Sun Tzu wrote in his Art of War. “If you know the enemy and know yourself, you need not fear the result of a hundred battles. If you know yourself but not the enemy, for every victory gained you will also suffer a defeat. If you know neither the enemy nor yourself, you will succumb in every battle.”

               I’ve decided that I need to get a better understanding of Ludwig Ernst. And what better way to do that than by talking to the man himself personally?

               I told Visha that I had some other business to be dealt with and started making my way to the exit. I made a call to my security team, then flew into the night.

Same night, 2 hours later

Imperial Party Headquarters, Berun

               Ludwig downed the fourth glass of wine that night as the entire Imperial Party cheered his name again. He had good tolerance, but even he could feel some tipsiness creeping up already. It was moments like these that he wished he was better at using mental enhancement spells; he could just burn away the drunkenness when he wished to.

               The people cheered again and congratulated him for his effort in winning the Imperial Party so many seats. Many were praising his political acumen and genius in understanding the Germanian psyche. Little did they know he barely knew anything aside from how the Germanian government ran.

               The party was still in full swing in the opera house’s main hall. The Imperial Party had really shown its vast wealth with tonight’s celebrations. A veritable feast that likely could feed a whole village had been prepared. Bottles of wine older than his own grandfather had been brought out from the personal cellars of the Imperial Party’s senior members and supporters.

               Where was Walther at? With this victory, Degurechaff de facto controlled over ninety percent of the Reichstag! It was a time for great celebration, yet the founder of the Imperial Party was nowhere to be found. Last time he saw him, Walther was rushing to the front door to greet some unannounced guest.

               As Ludwig stood up and tried to find his Chief Propagandist and friend Walther von Schiel, his path was stopped by an overweight middle-aged man and a young woman, both clothed in apparel more expensive than cars. The man’s voice came loud and jovial.

               “Ah, your Highness, I’m so honoured to meet you here this fine evening. I’m Godrick von Guttenberg. Former baron of Guttenberg. I’ve met you a few times as a child, Your Highness. Perchance, do you still remember me?” The man greeted him while chuckling, his double chin bouncing like dough.

               “Of course, you always attended my grandfather’s Christmas galas. How could I forget?” Ludwig said and took the man’s ginormous paw in a firm handshake. And he really couldn’t forget him at all, not since the 1930 gala when the man fell into the chocolate fountain. He forced his face into a smile, knowing what was about to come when he saw the young woman by the former baron’s side.

               “Oh, this is my sweet daughter, Gisela. She’s the same age as you, your Highness. Say, you haven’t had much in terms of female company since you joined the military four years ago, right?” And here the penny did drop. Another sycophant that wanted to marry off their daughter to him. It used to be for his royal blood. Now it was for his political significance. At least this time it was something he worked for.

               It’s been like this since he was old enough to walk. His family would arrange playdates for him with children of other noble houses, never mind that they didn’t even know how to talk to each other. As he hit puberty and grew more handsome, it had become even worse. He was basically harassed by girls enamoured by his former royal status at every party he went to.

               He had joined the mage academy for two reasons. The first was to experience glorious, honourable aerial mage combat like the stories his grandfather and uncles had told him of the Argent. He had not found any glory or honour during the war.

               The second reason had been to hide from all the marriage proposals haunting him. That solace he did find.

               The young woman stepped out from beside her father and curtsied him. She must have been instructed beforehand by her father, because she fluttered her eyelashes and inclined her body just enough during her curtsy to show him her decolletage.

               “You misunderstood, baron von Guttenberg. I had female companionship aplenty both at the mage academy and at war.” That was… technically the truth. Many of his instructors and classmates had been women. And four of his subordinates in his squadron were also women. He simply needed to structure his words in a way to imply that he was drowning in female affection.

               “Oh, I see, sorry for my assumption. Still, I take it that you’re not taken?” Wow, this von Guttenberg was as hard to get rid of as a tick.

               “No, I am taken. My girlfriend currently lives on the other side of the city, but I visit her often.” He simply said a white lie this time. Better for them to think that he was unavailable than to have Ludwig eventually lose his temper when they keep pestering him. Hopefully that lie wasn’t going to come bite him in the back.

               With their momentum halted, the pair made their way back to the rest of the partying body. Ludwig picked up his pace and eventually found Walther. Although more accurately Walther found him.

               As Ludwig was walking to the Walther’s office to find the man, a hand dragged him by the shoulder and turned him around. Walther stood there, hand on his shoulders, a dead serious expression on his face.

               “Ludwig, I’ve been looking for you. I need you to come with me right now. Degurechaff is here. She’s waiting for you.” Walther whispered.

               “What? Where? When? How? What for?” A thousand questions surfaced.

               “In your office, in disguise.” Upon hearing that, he immediately checked his clothes, making sure his suit was prim and proper. His slight tipsiness was gone now, replaced by alertness. Walther told him that he would wait outside.

               He immediately made his way to his office, where a short brunette woman, wearing glasses and a scarf was waiting patiently for him on a couch. She fitted the description of Chancellor-President Degurechaff’s disguise, known as Anna Ködermann.

               “Sorry for showing up in your office at such an inconvenient time, Herr Ernst. Your Chief Propagandist rushed to let me in when I arrived at the entrance. My hunger for a new headline just couldn’t wait, you see.” Her tone was friendly, but her eyes were cold and sharp like a lioness. Her inadequate explanation would have been considered impertinent for a normal journalist, but they both knew she wasn’t one.

               “No need to apologise, Fraud Ködermann. It should be my duty to apologise, since I kept you waiting. Is it for an impromptu interview? Most journalists don’t show up at night when the person they’re going to be interviewing would be sloshed celebrating.”

               Degurechaff faked embarrassment, before asking him. “Can we have privacy?” Understanding what she meant, Ludwig shut off the windows and door, before casting a privacy spell.

               The Chancellor-Degurechaff then took out a pen and paper, as if she was actually conducting an interview. Wasn’t it time to drop the façade already? That disguise was horrible. She didn’t even put make-up on to change her facial features.

               Then Degurechaff asked her first question.

               “Herr Ernst, you repeatedly mentioned this supposed ideal monarch of yours at your rally yet often refuse to expound upon their personality traits aside from being fair and just. Could you try to enlighten me and elaborate?”

               Was this a test? If it was, then she must be asking him how he thought she should rule in the future. Or perhaps which part of her leadership trait was the best. In these situations, honesty was the best.

               “She should be a fighter.” He answered.

               “She? And a fighter? You want Germania’s Kaiserin to be some sort of boorish woman?” Schiess, he could have worded that better. Perhaps he wasn’t entirely sobered up yet.

               “No, by fighter I meant a leader who will fight for her country, for her people, and for her dreams. If the powerful leaders of the world could be compared to aces among aerial mages, then our Kaiserin would be the ace of aces even amongst them.”

               “And should your vote for a monarchy fail? What will you do then? Start a revolutionary war to restore the monarchy?” Was she cautioning him to not overdo things?

               He scoffed. “Of course not. Imperials should never kill Imperials. The transition from a republic to a monarchy was always meant to be peaceful. If the people don’t want the monarchy back, then so be it.” This was what he truly thought. He might be a deadly mage, but he only reserved it for criminals or enemies of the Empire, never its honest citizens.

               “Truly?” Degurechaff looked surprised. “You would give up your ambition for a restored throne if the people don’t desire it?”

               “Of course. While I do prefer a monarchy with a strong ruler, I’m not a tyrant that would force people to my whims.”

               “Do you love or enjoy war?”

               “I enjoyed war as much as the average mage in my squadron.” All of them had been utter maniacs on the battlefield. First ones to enter, last to exit. He still had difficulties sleeping without the distant booms of artillery.

               “What is your vision for Germania?”

               “A world where Germania can live in peace. A world where threats to Germania no longer exist.” Because any threat to Germania’s security would be swiftly defeated or destroyed. Either that, or they were never given the opportunity to become a threat in the first place.

               “Alright then.” Degurechaff suddenly looked serious, her hand fidgeting with something under her jacket – was that a computation orb? She locked eyes with him and opened her mouth to speak.

               “One last question, Herr Ernst. Hypothetically, if a being that calls himself God ordered you to either kill or harm someone, would you… do it?”

               What kind of disturbing question was that? Even the most casual of Christians knew that killing or harming a fellow man was a great sin. God would never allow for it.

               “If an entity that calls himself God ordered me to kill someone, then that can’t be God. It could only be the Devil.” His answer must have satisfied Degurechaff in some way, because she let out a breath that she was holding. He heard that she was a very pious girl, so maybe she was testing his theological knowledge as well.

               “That’s a good answer, Herr Ernst. A fantastic answer. A being like that could only be the Devil. I’m glad that you still see the light.”

               And with that, she took off her disguise. Her blonde locks fell onto her back and her icy gaze fell upon him.

               “I have a job offer for you, Herr Ernst.”

               Ludwig Ernst must have trained himself to have an impeccable poker face. He must be panicking inside at realising he was talking to me this entire time.

               I had been quite nervous before this conversation had taken place. Even with the Type 95 with me, I couldn’t be sure how exactly powerful Ludwig Ernst was. I also didn’t know how he would respond or react during the interview. What I did know was that he was an elite trained mage whose skills were well above Mary Sue’s.

               I was anything but a reckless idiot. I had brought a whole battalion of mages with me, all equipped with the Type 99 orbs. They were ordered to position themselves around me in a 200m radius. They had also been given instructions to reinforce and protect me if the privacy spell was broken with another spell instead of being taken down naturally.

               Fortunately, I finally got lucky. Being X, the incompetent buffoon that he was, had chosen the worst possible person to be his Blessed.

               Ludwig Ernst’s personality was actually surprisingly compatible with mine. Not only did he respect the will of the people despite his demagoguery, but he also wanted nothing but peace for Germania. I hadn’t expected that he would willingly give up his ambition for the throne if it was for the good of Germania either.

               As a war hero, he even admitted that he disliked war, since the average Germanian mage was surely not a war maniac like my 203rd.

               Now that I think about it, it was quite coincidental that Ernst got injured nearly immediately after getting his fiftieth aerial kill. A stray bullet like that had a very low chance of actually seriously hurting a skilled mage like him. Could it be that he intentionally got himself injured, then used his newfound status as an ace of aces to stay comfortable in the rear? If that was true, then he was truly my compatriot.

               The final blow to Being X’s schemes, of course, was the fact that Ernst recognised Being X as the Devil, and not God. I was finally catching a break from zealots trying to kill me. Suck on that, Being X! Even your Blessed knew you’re the Devil and refused to obey your stupid orders!!

               Being X must be fuming in whatever deep pit of hell he resided in. Including me, Being X blessed three people in this world with an extraordinary ability or tool. Out of those three, only Mary Sue actually answered to his beck and call. If I was that incompetent Devil’s boss, he would already be fired. No boss would ever tolerate an employee with a thirty three percent success rate.

               I should have recognised Ernst as a reasonable, peace-loving person at first glance and had this conversation with him much sooner. Perhaps even snatch him up and put him into my GWP. Alas, what’s done is done. At least by coming here, I had recognised my misplaced prejudice against him sooner before.

               “Chancellor-Degurechaff, what kind of job is it?” Ernst asked. Wow, Ernst recovered from his shock really well. His face only displayed his curiosity.

               Even if I like his personality, his monarchist rhetoric was still detrimental to my retirement. His massive success in his campaign has proven that he was either a political genius or has received excessive political training by the imperial family. Therefore, I need to somehow take him somewhere out of the Reichstag, where he can’t influence anyone important there.

               And where else should I put him if not right under my watchful eye, where I can monitor him or even coach him on proper democratic politics. Ernst was only twenty years old, taking my title as Germania’s youngest politician. But with youth, came impressionability. I could easily work my way with him and turn his politics around. With luck, I might even be able to train him as my successor for when I retire.

               Of course, if I wanted to place him where I can work closely with and mentor him, then that would have to be a position that was high up in the government, yet also mostly ceremonial or lacking in actual legislative power. If I gave him a government that was too low in the hierarchy, it might seem like an insult to the Imperial Party. Yet if I wanted to properly mentor Ernst, then his new position would have to be one that was closely involved with the legislature and policy making of Germania, just without the power to influence it greatly. Ideally, it should also be a position that could take over for me in emergencies, or when I take vacations.

               Luckily for me, a position that fitted all those criteria was opening up soon. By filling up this position, Ernst was also taking off some stress from me.

               “Herr Ernst, how would you like to be the President of Germania?”

               It was a stroke of genius from me. When the Chancellor had a majority government like with the GWP, the power of the President was quite limited, with the position only having the power to approve laws and policies that got passed through the Reichstag. Moreover, as President, he was not supposed to directly participate in Reichstag discussions. 

Since the Chancellor works closely with the President, I get to influence Ernst’ politics and teach him the ropes of running a democratic country with checks and balances, instead of the monarchy that he was advocating for. Eventually, he would open his eyes to the stability that democracy can bring compared to a monarchy where everything hinges on one ruler.

               Normally, a party the size of the Imperial Party would not be able to vie for the position of President when a much larger party like the Germanian Workers Party was around. Fortunately, I was Chancellor and the leader of the Germanian Workers Party. With my endorsement, Ludwig Ernst will easily be voted into the position.

               It was a perfect resolution to my problem of Ernst’s growing Imperial Party and my stress level with having to juggle both the duties of Chancellor and President. Two birds with one stone. People might get the wrong impression at first, what with me putting the Chairman of the Imperial Party into the position of President. But eventually they will see that I only put Ernst there to neutralise him as a threat to democracy, while slowly converting him into my own supporter.

               In a few years, I’ll be able to peacefully retire, and a politically reformed democrat Ernst would take the reins from me to keep Germania at peace.

               What could possibly go wrong?

               Neumann had been spooked when the Maj-Chancellor suddenly contacted their base and called for his entire battalion to come with her to the HQ of the Imperial Party. Everyone, including him, had assumed that they were going to arrest key members of the Imperial Party for treason. Then, they had been given orders by the Chancellor to lay in wait, and to reinforce and protect the Chancellor if the privacy spell set up in the Chairman’s office was broken instead of taken down.

               His own flight of mages was stationed at the back door of the opera house. The privacy spell was set up over fifteen minutes ago. They still haven’t heard anything yet.

               After an agonising wait, the privacy spell was taken down. His mages breathed out sighs of relief. They had all been afraid of a fight breaking out. Everyone knew that the new Chairman of the Imperial Party was an ace of aces, so casualties were likely unavoidable. Thankfully, the worst-case scenario did not come to pass.

               The Chancellor exited through the back door of the headquarters, a smile on her face.

               “M-Chancellor, what happened in that office? You were in there for over twenty minutes.” Neumann asked.

               “I simply gave the Chairman a simple proposition. By agreeing, I managed to secure the future of Germania.” She answered cryptically. 

Chapter Text

I've been having difficulties writing chapter 8, trying to solve the shenanigans that I set up in Chapter 6 and 7. I'm starting to think that making Tanya actually get physically pregnant was a bad idea. Not only does it open up a whole bag of worms with me having to write her entire pregnancy, but can also be very uncomfortable to think about if you're concerned about the consent and bodily autonomy aspect. Furthermore, I'll have to write about her conversation with Visha, and there's also the pro-life and pro-choice argument. Therefore, I'm going to rewrite Chapter 6 and 7 to remove all implications that Tanya might be going through a pregnancy.

95% of both Chapter 6 and 7 are still going to be intact. The original Chapter 6 and 7 will be moved to somewhere else (or you can look at them on Spacebattles in my story's fanfiction section), as will my original draft for Chapter 8 once I finished it (which isn't going to be done for quite a while).

The moving plot for the future will actually still be 99% the same, even without Tanya being pregnant.

I'm also going to try to finish the new Chapter 8 as soon as possible, but it might not be finished by tomorrow.

Thanks guys, bye.

Chapter Text

AYKRR Chapter 8

Planning For the Future

Author’s Note: As per my announcement, I have removed all mentions of Tanya being pregnant. That plot point is now gone, Being X’s gift of immaculate conception has been replaced by something else I had planned in the future (the gift is still going to arrive in “a few months”). 

3rd August 1942,

Berun,

            That night, Visha was making chicken schnitzel and gurkensalat for her and Tanya. She then checked the time. Seven o’clock. Tanya would be back soon from her meeting with her generals and admirals.

            Tanya had told her that today’s meeting would mainly be about the issue of funding allocation, since Germania’s demobilisation was nearly complete.

            She heard the wooshes of mages stopping just outside their apartment’s window, and Tanya’s voice as she said goodbye to Neumann, whom she had appointed as her head of security after the war ended. The window opened as Tanya flew in, enveloping Visha in a tight embrace.

            “Tanya! You’re going to make me burn the food.” Visha chided.

            “Sorry, I’m just exhausted. I basically had to give Admiral Albrecht an hour-long lecture on why we don’t need a bigger navy than the Albish one.” Tanya moaned in mental exhaustion.

            “I have to walk Ernst through his job tomorrow, then immediately head to Schugel’s lab as well. I might have no time to see you until next night” Tanya complained.

            “I can introduce President Ernst to his job for you. Then we can spend the afternoon together.” Visha offered.

            “You would? Thank you, Visha! You’re an angel.” Tanya’s face brightened, and Tanya snuggled her face into her back.

            After Tanya finally stopped clinging to her, she served the schnitzel and gurkensalat at the dinner table and they both sat down to eat. As they began digging in, Visha brought up something that has been on the back of her mind since they started their relationship.

            “Tanya, have you ever thought of getting married?” Same-sex marriage was still illegal in Germania, despite it being arguably the most progressive country on the continent.

            “What brought this on?” Tanya asked back. Despite her attempt to look cheerful, she was clearly exhausted from today’s work.

            “Maybe for another day.” Visha said. If Tanya didn’t want to entertain the topic, that was fine.

            Tanya held up a hand. “No, stop. I’ll answer your question. Yes, I have been thinking about us getting married one day. Maybe just before my term as Chancellor ends, I’ll use all my power and influence to bring it into the legislature. Then we can get married and retire in peace.” Her answer ignited a warm, comfortable sensation within Visha.

           That was good news. While the work they do was rewarding when they see the changes they have enacted, it was also exhausting at times. Perhaps they should schedule a vacation soon. Isolate themselves from world news so they can enjoy their time together in peace.

            Visha smiled. “Are you sure you don’t want to keep being Chancellor? Many people in Germania assume you will be ruling forever.”

            Tanya looked positively horrified. “Me? Babysitting this nation forever? I’ll go mad. The moment that I can make sure that Ernst will be a good successor for me and won’t fire a nuclear bomb at a country for the slightest inconvenience, I’ll retire.”

            Visha looked at Tanya in confusion. Didn’t she mean to drop a nuclear bomb? How would they fire such a heavy weapon? With artillery? Was this one of the moments where Tanya could foresee technology of the future again?

            Tanya coughed conspicuously into her hand. “I mean drop. Yes, drop a nuclear bomb.” She then tried to hide her slip.

            “Anyways, what brought on the topic of marriage?”

            “Well,” Visha said, looking down at her plate. “Back in the old Russy Empire, I lived in a large family, with aunts, uncles, plenty of cousins and siblings. I guess I wanted to have something similar to that again. Maybe we can even adopt some children.”

            “Children? I’m not sure I’m ready for that kind of responsibility.” Tanya said.

            “I’m sure you’d be a great mother, Tanya. After all, if you can babysit a nation, then surely taking care of a baby will be child’s play.”

            After dinner, Visha washed the dishes while Tanya dried them and cleaned the table. In the past, some people had expressed that they should hire servants to do the chores for them. They had refused because they both enjoyed doing simple activities like these together and immerse themselves in the peaceful monotony of it, to offset how busy and chaotic their schedules were.

When they retired to their bedroom that night to… relieve stress, Tanya had been especially enthusiastic after having to abstain for months due to her busy schedule. She had even busted out a few tricks she learned to do with miniaturised barrier spells.

The next day,

Presidential Palace,

            Initially, Visha had been wholly surprised when Tanya had come back to the GWP and declared her support for Chairman Ernst of the Imperial Party as the Presidential candidate.  

            Many of the GWP party members had been in shock too, most of them had expected a GWP member like Hiedler to be chosen for the position. Regardless, they all ended up voting for him in the Presidential election two days ago. Wherever Tanya went, they followed. They would be wise to do so. Especially if they remembered what happened to those who had initially opposed Tanya during her first years as a member of the GWP.

            Chairman Ernst has often declared admiration for Tanya’s policies and way of ruling, often using her as an example of the benevolent dictator. Supporting the Imperial Party’s Chairman basically ensured that the Imperial Party would be a close ally of the Germanian Workers Party, which in practice ensured that Tanya controlled over ninety percent of the seats in the Reichstag.

            Tanya had also told her that she was aiming to train Ernst as her replacement. The only issue with him was his overly monarchist leaning. But that could be fixed with time and political education.

            It was certainly quite the stroke of brilliance from Tanya. Now she could shed her extra responsibility of the Presidency and foist the position to Chairman Ernst.

            Of course, there were some criticisms of Tanya’s decision, as well as criticisms aimed towards Chairman Ernst. Many pointed out his youth and experience, but it was countered easily by pointing out that Tanya dove into politics at merely seventeen. Others expressed concern that Ernst’s monarchist stance and his former royal status would make him an odd fit into a democratic position, but Tanya had assured them that he had simply taken that stance for his campaign and that wasn’t his true political leaning.

            There were even a few inane detractors claiming that Tanya was showing favouritism or even having a secret love affair with the man. Ridiculous. Visha knew that Tanya only had eyes for her.

            That morning, Visha had met Chairman – well President now – Ernst to help ease him into his new role. After all, he would be the youngest person to ever hold the position, having only turned twenty this February. He was lucky that he was becoming President after the precedent of Tanya. Before her, the minimum age to be President was thirty-six. The Reichstag had abolished the age requirement so Tanya could assume her position as Chancellor-President.

            The young man had seemed quite nervous to be the President of Germania. He only schooled his expressions after Visha assured him that his daily duties would mostly be stamping paperwork and being present at ceremonies.

            Visha had a good impression of President Ernst. The young man was clearly dignified, straight-laced and lacked the attitude of a playboy. He was quite unfortunate to have the rumour of having an active affair attached to him.

            As they were both former aristocrats, she was sure that he would carry out his duties splendidly. Visha herself was only a middling noble, yet had nicely settled into the role of Vice Chancellor. The former Prince should have an even easier time. The office of the President had been created to emulate the role of the monarch in the first place. President Ernst was basically born for the role.

            Ludwig had no idea what the fuck he was doing. When Chancellor Degurechaff had approached him with the idea of making him President, he had thought he was the victim of a practical joke. It was only after seeing her dead serious expression that he had accepted, more out of nervousness than logic. The President election and him being sworn into the office afterwards had been a haze.

            Of course, him becoming the President of Germania as the Chairman of the Imperial Party meant that he was closer to his goal of helping Chancellor Degurechaff become the Kaiserin. Now that he had removed the staunchest democrats in the country for her, Degurechaff was able to publicly support the Imperial Party by declaring her endorsement. Now that he was President, he was in a much better position to support the Chancellor’s ascension.

            This didn’t help the fact that he knew almost nothing about the role of the President. He knew that it was officially a position even above that of the Chancellor and was Germania’s official Head of State. However, he also knew that as long as the Chancellor maintained a majority government, the President was not very powerful aside from a few special functions. He could also be removed from power in a referendum, should the Reichstag initiate it with a two-thirds majority. An impeachment could also be made with a two-thirds majority.

            And unlike the Chancellor, the President had a fixed term length of five years, renewable only once consecutively. This meant that Ludwig could only be President for the next ten years at most. It didn’t matter though, since he was planning to make Degurechaff the Kaiserin before that.

            When he had accepted the Chancellor’s offer, she had set out a few conditions for him. One of those was to quiet down his monarchist rhetoric. He had agreed because he no longer needed to do it anymore. He had successfully gauged the public’s reception to a return to the monarchy. And as President, he could now gauge its support in the Reichstag while enacting his plans to coronate the Chancellor.

            The one roadblock in his way was his lack of knowledge about any sort of governance. As a grandchild who was never expected to inherit, his education had been mostly on economics, logistics and the military. Luckily for him, the Chancellor had asked the Vice Chancellor to help him through this. 

That morning, he had met the Chancellor’s right hand woman, or lover if you believed the rumours, which Ludwig was inclined to after receiving an anonymous letter that morning. The letter had contained a list of things he absolutely was forbidden to do.

            The first entry on that list was ‘flirt with Viktoriya Serebryakov’. The handwriting of the letter was feminine. The name that was signed at the bottom of the letter was TvD. Needless to say, ace of aces or not, Ludwig didn’t have a death wish.

            His first impression of the Vice Chancellor was that she was a vibrant, magnanimous and helpful person. She had been patient when he had asked questions, or when he needed her to repeat something. She even explained the legalese of the legislature that he would be reviewing as part of his daily task. In a way, she reminded him of a kindergarten teacher.

            Right now, she was currently leading him through a tour of the Presidential Palace, where he was expected to live. The building was bare of any furniture, since the Chancellor and the Vice Chancellor, who were living together, had moved out.

            “And here is the Presidential Office. This will be where you carry out your duties, and also where your work will be delivered to you.” Vice Chancellor Serebryakov opened the heavy double oaken door leading to the office.

            It was a spacious working area, easily many times the size of his office as the Chairman of the Imperial Party. The mahogany working desk was in front of a large window, which could be opened and shut easily. He’d make sure to use that window as a quick entrance and exit, given that as President, he’d been given the newest dual-core orb for self-defence.

            “Vice Chancellor, you told me that the President of Germania has a few special duties and responsibilities, can you tell me what they are?”

            “Well, you are supposed to both appoint and remove the Chancellor, although no President has ever dared to remove the Chancellor before the end of the Chancellor’s term in the Republic of Germania’s history. With the Chancellor’s request, you can do the same with members of the cabinet.” Ludwig nodded. That would be a very useful power to remove dissidents and to appoint loyalists.

            “You are also responsible for signing bills into law that’s been passed by the Reichstag. But if there’s a law that the Reichstag votes against, you can force it into a referendum.” Ludwig paused. If that was the case, with great enough public support, he could even induce a return to the monarchy even without the Reichstag. He nodded for the Vice Chancellor to continue.

            “Although I think that a President’s most influential power is the ability to dissolve the Reichstag at any time. A general election would then be held within sixty days. You can even dissolve the Reichstag multiple times too, as long as it’s a different reason each time.”

            That couldn’t be right. If the President could only be petitioned to be removed from power or impeached by a two-thirds majority in the Reichstag, why would the President have the power to dissolve the Reichstag? Even if a general election would have to be held within sixty days, within that time frame, there was no one to oppose the President.

            Nevertheless, he did have that power. He was sure that it would serve him well one day.

            Yet Chancellor Degurechaff had called its position mostly ceremonial. Just how much power did she have in this country if the power of the President was perfunctory enough to her to just give it away? He shuddered to even think about it.

            The Vice Chancellor continued with outlining his duties. “You’re also meant to handle foreign relations. Such as handling foreign ambassadors and signing treaties. With approval of the Reichstag, you can even declare war or peace. This isn’t something that you’re expected to handle straight away. You’ll mainly be accompanying Tanya first when she talks to ambassadors or attend OZEV meetings before handling them on your own. On that note, there is an OZEV meeting in three weeks, so you’ll get to have firsthand experience of how the alliance makes decisions.”

            “Was that all the duties of the President? It seemed like a bit more than a few.”

            “Well, you’re also the de-jure commander-in-chief of the armed forces. But don’t worry, you’re not expected to make strategic plans or anything.” Ludwig breathed a sigh of relief. Putting a mere former first lieutenant in charge of an army would be a horrific decision.

            The post of the Presidency had come with more perks than Ludwig realised. There were numerous ways for him to halt or even usurp the process of democracy. He could bypass the Reichstag completely by passing a referendum. He could dissolve the Reichstag if he needed them out of the way. He could even potentially stage a coup d’etat if he garnered enough support from the military.

            But since Chancellor Degurechaff once held the post of President, why hadn’t she tried to ascend to the throne without having to call for the imperial family’s support? Then Ludwig remembered. She only held the post for roughly a year, and that year had been spent at war. She likely didn’t have time to implement any plans before the next Presidential election could be held. There was also the issue of unclear public support back then, but Ludwig had already tackled that problem.

            Now, he had a clear plan to unite the Empire and place Degurechaff on the throne.

            Firstly, he had to reunite the Empire. As of now, there are only Daneland and Lothiern left as former Imperial states. Daneland would be a simple matter, since they’re already in OZEV and the First Great War had been fought to protect them from Legadonia. Plenty of Imperial sentiments and Imperial propaganda could be drawn from the latter. He’d have to ask Walther to make a few posters with the theme of Germania being the protector of Daneland.

            Lothiern was a harder subject, since they were neither in the MEF or OZEV. However, he remembered that his grandfather was already having talks with the Prime Minister of Lothiern. Hopefully that would change Lothiern’s attitude soon. If his grandfather failed, then Ludwig would need a different plan.

            On the issue of reinstating the monarchy, he could aim for a referendum instead of passing the vote in the Reichstag. But to do that, he needed supportive citizens and low dissent. Therefore, he needed to keep them happy and assure them that their quality of life will remain high even as the country transitioned to a monarchy. On this matter, he would need more of the Chancellor’s tutelage.

            The best way to keep citizens content was to make the economy flourish. As long as people had food on their tables and spending money in their pocket, it wasn’t worth protesting a change in government. Especially if that new government promises that your life will get even better.

            The last issue was Degurechaff’s own worthiness as the Kaiserin. Of course, her skills in warfare, economics, politics and governance were undeniable. But that only mattered to the common people.

            To raise Degurechaff’s legitimacy as the Kaiserin, she needed either a strong pedigree or recognition by the other royalties. Preferably, they would be Europan royalties, but recognition from royal families outside of Europa was just as well. Around three to five royal families recognising the House of Degurechaff as legitimate would be enough.

            As an orphan of unknown parentage who later earned a non-inheritable knightly title, her pedigree was, for lack of better words, pitiful. She could increase it by marrying another noble of higher birth though.

            Ludwig chanced a glance at the Vice Chancellor. The Vice Chancellor came from middle-of-the-pack Rus nobility. If the rumours between her and the Chancellor were true, a marriage between them could work. He doubted that the Chancellor was the type to accept an arranged marriage to a man. He’d also have to find a way to legitimise same-sex marriage. Maybe kickstart a progressive cultural movement? Food for thought.

            On the matter of recognition, Ludwig had ideas for the royal families he could approach.

            The Albish royal family was a lost case. The Chancellor had slaughtered countless Albishmen during the First Great War. Not only that, but she also recently humiliated the Allied Kingdom by prying Legadonia from their hands and adopting Legadonia as part of OZEV. Even if Ludwig were to leverage his blood connection to the House of Windsor as a member of the House of Hohenzollern, he was still only a second cousin, once removed to George VI. He had never even met the man, although his mother had.

            The Magna Rumeli royal family would be neutral towards Degurechaff. That was easier to work with. Ludwig simply needed to offer them some political concessions. Perhaps offering Magma Rumeli an entrance into the MEF or OZEV, since Croatia now shares a land border with them after annexing land from Yugoslavia. That might be something Magna Rumeli was pursuing already too, due to their territorial conflicts with the Turkmen Empire. Ludwig nodded in satisfaction. That was one royal family in the bag.

            Next, the imperial family of Akitsushima was the easiest choice. The emperor of Akitsushima was deeply grateful for Degurechaff’s food aid when his country desperately needed it. She was likely the second-most popular world leader in Akitsushima, just behind the emperor. Ludwig didn’t even need to offer anything to Akitsushima aside from an invitation to the coronation. She already had their support.

            Now that he thought about it, was that her goal all along when she sent aid to Akitsushima? Before that, almost nobody in Germania had given thought about such a distant island nation. Degurechaff’s ambition for the throne must have started even earlier than he thought.

            How early did the thought of becoming Kaiserin pop into her mind? Five years ago? Ten? Even before the First Great War ended? Before it started? Perhaps it was a good thing that his family had lost their royal status. They would have been an obstacle instead of an ally. Ludwig cleared his mind of such dangerous thoughts. It was better not to think about that.

            Ludwig mused. He still needed at least one more royal family. Technically, there was his own, but they weren’t in power any longer. Then he had an idea.

            The Russy Tsardom!

            The country might be a mere month old, but if Aleksei Romanov was truly the grandson of Nicholas II, then he was legitimate royalty. The man must be trying to stabilise the condition of his fledgling country right now. But if Aleksei Romanov started receiving the support of the President of Germania, who had the tacit consent of the Chancellor, his efforts would be much smoother. Ludwig could even offer him MEF membership later on to boost the Russy Tsardom’s economy and industry. Both political favours could be exchanged for recognising the Kaiserin’s legitimacy. 

            Assuming Aleksei Romanov’s claim of relation to Nicholas II was true, that would make Ludwig and Aleksei fifth cousins. Even if he wasn’t an actual member of the House of Romanov, Ludwig could still vouch for his legitimacy anyways. It’s not like anyone else would know the truth. He could even count that as an additional political favour he could draw from.

            If those royal families weren’t enough, Ludwig could even branch out to the Ispagnian royal family or Southern Continent royal families such as the Ethiopian royal family.

            There was a roadblock in the way though, and one that Ludwig was unsure how to approach.

            Hereditary succession. Tanya von Degurechaff needed an heir to secure her line.

            If he eliminated the possibility of her marrying a man due to the Chancellor’s supposed sexuality, there were few ways he could approach this problem. He would need to consult her opinion on all of those approaches.

            Ludwig was aware of scientific advancement enough to know that scientists have managed to preserve frozen sperm and retain their viability. Perhaps when artificial impregnation was possible in the future, the Chancellor might consider it as an option to real copulation.

            Another possibility was adoption. It shouldn’t be hard to find a baby orphan that bears close resemblance to the Chancellor, then forge documents to prove that the orphan is the Chancellor’s child. To explain the lack of visible pregnancy, he could ask the Chancellor to dress up in thick clothing for a few months to hide her non-existent baby bulge, then take another few months of maternal leave to bond with the adopted baby. She would likely be more receptive towards this idea, given that she was an orphan herself.

           He would need to establish a moving list of blonde-haired, blue-eyed orphans in Germania, preferably under six months of age. As they aged, he would need to remove the older ones from the list while adding in younger orphans. He would also need to talk to the Head of the BND to obtain such a list.

            Those were the only plans he had in mind to solve the lack of an heir. It wasn’t much, but it was something in mind. It’s not like God was going to send the Imperial eagle down from the heavens and deliver a baby to the Chancellor’s doorsteps with a note attached.

            With his strategy in mind, he planned to discuss it with the Chancellor later for revision and confirmation.

            “Is something on your mind, President Ernst? You seem distracted.” The Vice Chancellor asked.

            “It’s nothing. By the way, Vice Chancellor, can I ask you something about Chancellor Degurechaff?” He needed to know the time frame that Chancellor Degurechaff wanted to ascend to the throne. As the Chancellor’s confidant (Lover? Girlfriend? Unofficial Wife?), the Vice Chancellor had surely been told of Degurechaff’s imperial ambition.

            “Sure, go ahead.”

           “Are you and the Chancellor… you know… together?” He had no idea how to confirm this without sounding like he was accusing them of something.

           The Vice Chancellor paused, her expression changing to an icier one. “Yes, we are. Do you have an issue with that?”

           “No, no! Of course not! Plenty of students at the academy weren’t exactly sexually typical.  I just wanted to confirm office relationship dynamics. It’s crucial to know that when you start at a new workplace.” Ludwig made up an excuse on the fly.

           “Ah, that’s good.” Vice Chancellor Serebryakov suddenly brightened up, all the tension earlier gone.

            “By the way, where does the Chancellor see herself, say, five years from now?” That was when his first term as President would end.

            “Tanya hopes she’s no longer the Chancellor by then.” So Degurechaff wants the plan to be executed within his first term. He could manage that.

           Then he could be out of here.

Chapter Text

Chapter 9

Testing, Testing

4th August 1942,

Research and Development Department facility, Germania

           I arrived at the facility with General Weiss and Elya. We have been informed of a minor breakthrough when Schugel was trying to improve the shielding equations of his new experimental computation orb.

           After the Type 99 was launched into mass production, Schugel had immediately started working on the Type 101. As it was still in the middle stages of research, a prototype of the Type 101 wouldn’t be possible for the next one or two years. If there had been a prototype available, I wouldn’t have even stepped foot into the facility without confirmation that he wasn’t seeking me as a test pilot.

           We were led by a scientist to a viewing room, where Schugel was in. When we entered, I saw him talking to another researcher while standing in front of a large window. The window gave us the view of a test pilot in the middle of an expansive, empty field doing some fiddling with a steel box as large as a fridge.

           When Schugel saw me, the mad light in his eyes almost made me flinch back. He quickly shuffled to me and grabbed my hand, which I immediately pulled back. Weiss, being the ever-capable subordinate he was, placed himself between us. Elya even stood next to me and casted a barrier spell.

           “Chancellor! I could see that God has graced you with His presence once again!” He shouted.

           I froze. How did Schugel know? Surely Being X didn’t give him some divine revelation.

           “I saw in my dreams! It must be a reward for my faith to see a vision of God Himself!” Oh good, he was just being delusional as usual.

           “Schugel. What did you call us here for?” I waved away his attempt to grab my hand again. My question seemed to have brought him back to sanity somehow, as he turned back to the viewing window.

           “Ah yes, I called you here to lay witness to the P-1 computation orb!” Schugel waved at the test pilot with the box. But I couldn’t see where the computation orb was.

           “I thought you were working on the Type 101.”

           “Yes, but I made an accidental breakthrough when trying to integrate electronics with the mechanical components of a computation orb.” Schugel confessed. “I might have gone a bit overboard.”

           I perked up in interest. Electronics mixed with the mechanical components of a computation orb? If he was describing what I was thinking, this may lead to a massive breakthrough in the computation power of orbs. If electronics were fully integrated, it would be like going from using a mechanical calculator to using an electronic one. Eventually, you could add extra functions and an operating system, making it into a computer.

           A computation orb that could process hundreds of spells simultaneously would make mages with dual-core orbs look like they were firing spells without orbs at all. The difference would be as wide apart as heaven and earth.

           But since the electronics in this world still relied on vacuum tubes, it would be impossible to put electrical components of any functionality into something as small as a computation orb. Any electricised computation orb would be impractically big.

           “Where is the orb?” I asked Schugel. “Is it in the box?”

           “The computation orb is the box.” He answered.

           I stared back at the P-1 computation orb, which was so big that it even had handles and straps attached to it for the test pilot to lift it and even four wheels beneath to pull it along the ground. Judging by the strain on the man’s face and body posture when he lifted it with both arms, it was at least sixty kilograms in weight. When burdened with such a heavy weight, he wouldn’t be able to use a weapon.

           “Anyone carrying that to fight in the sky either has a death wish or is an idiot.” I deadpanned to Schugel. I blamed myself for getting my hopes up. I should have expected something like this.

           “Don’t doubt its capabilities when you haven’t seen it in action yet, Chancellor. Test pilot, activate the computation orb and cast a barrier spell.” Schugel spoke into a microphone and the order was relayed via loudspeakers.

           The test pilot started pouring magic into the P-1 computation orb, and casted a barrier spell. This was a basic spell that was taught right after the flight spell at the mage academy. A simple protective shell that protected you from outside harm but also allowed you to fire back from inside. But instead of the barrier spell that I was familiar with, which could only grow big enough to encapsulate its user, the almost transparent barrier emitted by the P-1 kept growing bigger and bigger. Eventually it stopped growing, but the barrier casted by the P-1 had enclosed a circular area over two hundred metres in radius.

           Suddenly, the new P-1 computation orb didn’t seem so ridiculous to me anymore.

           “Test pilot, move to the protected area for barrier durability testing.” Schugel ordered. The test pilot then piggybacked the P-1 computation orb and walked slowly into a bunker built close to the centre of the field. The barrier moved with him. Schugel looked at a small blinking light next to his microphone. He then explained that the light would turn green when the test pilot pressed a button to indicate he was ready. When the test was finished, Schugel would press his own button to turn the light red, which the test pilot would understand as a signal to stop channeling magic into the computation orb and lower the barrier. The blinking light turned green.

           “Mages, begin barrier durability testing.” Schugel spoke into the microphone again. When his order was relayed, a battalion of mages surrounded the barrier, every single one armed with an Lmg-40.

           “Begin ordinary bullet barrier durability test in 3, 2, 1.” All thirty-six mages unloaded their magazine at the barrier all at once, squeezing the trigger until all the bullets had been discharged. Every single bullet harmlessly bounced off the barrier, which didn’t even show signs of cracks.

           I nodded approvingly. It seemed that during his search for an electricised orb, Schugel had succeeded in producing a computation orb that could protect against ordinary gun fire in a wide area. It wouldn’t be very useful in a battle involving mages but would come in handy if we snuck a mage into the ranks of infantry and let them carry it with them. It would look quite conspicuous though, carrying such a large box, not to mention it would slow the mage down.

           Before I could praise Schugel, he ordered the mages again. “Switch to enchanted bullet rounds.” All the mages reloaded their magazines with labelled ones.

           I almost called off the test. I knew what those enchanted rounds could do, having used them often to devastating effect. Each bullet packed the force of a round fired from an anti-tank rifle. I didn’t want the test pilot’s life to be endangered, bunker or not.

           However, before I could, Schugel commanded. “Enchanted bullet barrier durability testing, fire!”

           The entire battalion dumped their magazines. The impact of the enchanted bullets against the barrier and the subsequent explosions as the bullets released the spells inside them kicked up a thick cloud of dust, obscuring our sight.

           I stood there transfixed and horrified. The test pilot was no more than pink mist, no doubt about it. Even I would have been seriously injured if I tanked a whole battalion’s worth of firepower like that. As I was about to wallop Schugel to death for his disregard for human resources, the dust cleared, revealing the barrier still standing, albeit slightly dimmed.

           My jaw practically dropped to the floor. As did Weiss’s and Elya’s right next to me. There weren’t even any cracks on the barrier.

           “Time for the next test. Mages, aim slightly upwards, do not aim at the bunker. Fire in sequential order. One second gap. 5,4,3,2,1, Fire.” Schugel ordered again. Had he not told the mages to not fire directly at the bunker, I would have shut down the test right then and there. An artillery spell fired by an average flight mage could easily destroy a building.

           There were obviously stronger spells than the artillery spell, but more destructive spells could only be casted by a skilled few, mostly ace of aces. A thermobaric explosion spell fired by me with the Type 95 could level a city block. An optical laser spell from Mary Sue could landscape hills.

           Nevertheless, the artillery spell was the highest level of offensive that most mages could cast. A bunker like that would not be able to withstand even a single one. Let alone a volley.

           The mages aimed their guns up about fifteen degrees and started to fire a single artillery spell each in clockwise order. The first spell did nothing to the barrier but tickled my eardrums. The second spell cracked the barrier. The third spell shattered the barrier completely, but did not continue to travel after doing so. This meant that only the fourth artillery spell onwards could damage anything inside the barrier.

           This was a huge advancement in barrier spell technology. Assuming that the barrier could consistently withstand such damage, it would take nothing short of a full volley from a flight of mages, gunship or artillery squad to destroy what’s inside the barrier. I could only take one or two artillery spells before my barrier shattered.

           “What are its limitations?” I asked Schugel. Better to know the flaws of the P-1 first.

           “Well, as you can see. It’s heavy and unwieldy. It weighs sixty-six kilograms in total. As it has electrical components, it requires a constant source of power. If you’re staying in one place, you can plug it into any electrical outlet or generator. But if you’re on the move, it consumes four 9-volt D batteries every half hour. And if the barrier breaks instead of being taken down early, the electrical circuit fries and needs to be replaced. It’s also expensive to make, a single P-1 costs as much to manufacture as a hundred Type 99s. Oh, and you can’t use any other spells with it, only barrier spells as of now. I’m still trying to add a slow flight function.”

           The P-1 isn’t suitable for personal protection then, unless you’re willing to carry around a bunch of batteries. Nevertheless, it was a specialised computation orb with lots of potential applications.

           “What about magic requirements? Do you need to be a strong mage to use it?” I inquired.

           “Not at all. Even a C-class mage could use it. But it would take all the magic that the particular C-class mage has at that moment. B-class and A-class mages could channel more magic into the P-1 to increase the durability of the barrier or even repair it. But the P-1 could overheat if you keep using it for more than half a day.”

So you can arrange a roster of high tier mages to constantly feed magic into the P-1 to increase the durability of its shield. As there were almost no high tier civilian mages, it would make this application of the P-1 solely a military one.

           “Can the barrier size be modified?” Weiss asked.

           “What you just saw was its maximum size, two hundred fifty metres in radius. It can be miniaturised, but the barrier will still be at least five metres in radius. We can’t get it any smaller than that. The overall durability of the barrier decreases if you lower the size, but magic consumption also decreases. Although even at its lowest size, it could still endure a full magazine of enchanted bullet rounds before breaking.”

           I started to think. The P-1 was perfect for protecting large, high-value, vulnerable and immobile targets such as command centres, hospitals, supply depots, power plants and factories. I could also use it to protect government buildings like the Reichstag.

           “Can the shape of the barrier be modified?” Weiss asked. “For example, changing the shape from a sphere into a cylinder while retaining the same volume.” It seemed like Weiss had another idea for what it could be used for.

           Schugel answered him as well. “Yes, we’re even working on making the barrier be able to wrap around objects to prevent dead spaces.”

           “What do you have in mind, Weiss?” I asked.

           “I was thinking that while you can’t have mages or infantry carry the P-1 into the battlefield, what about vehicles? You could load the P-1 computation orb along with a generator on trucks, tanks, trains, ships, even planes!” Weiss explained excitedly.

           That would indeed be a revolutionary application. Imagine an offensive push using hundreds of P-1s loaded onto armoured personnel carriers. A single P-1, when at its max barrier size, could provide ordinary fire cover for at least a whole division if they pack inside. Tens of thousands of troops could advance while protected from machine gun fire. While an artillery barrage or flight of mages could break P-1 barriers and devastate the troops inside, it was much better than no protection at all.

           Ships could easily make use of the P-1 too. Torpedoes wouldn’t be able to threaten battleships and cruisers as much. Each ship could take more damage from the enemy.

           Furthermore, putting the P-1s on planes would be game-changing. While too cumbersome for a fighter plane, it wouldn’t be too heavy for a bomber. Unlike before, a glancing blow from anti-air wouldn’t destroy a bomber anymore. To bring down such a protected bomber, you would need concentrated anti-air firepower. Dive-bombing would become a much safer tactic.

           This was the good thing about having another person’s brain to bounce ideas off. My peace-loving self was thinking of how the P-1 could protect the rear when Weiss’s war-mongering personality had led him to think of its use in the frontlines.

           Elya then asked her own question. “Could you open gaps in the barrier at will? Like an entrance or exit for secured facilities.” It seemed my spymaster had found her own use for such a computation orb. A top-secret facility could indeed use an impermeable and durable barrier.

           Schugel shook his head. “Not yet, but we could add that onto its future functions.”

           “Can you invert the function of the barrier as well?” Elya continued.

           “What do you mean?” Schugel asked.

           “By making it hard to break out but does not impede a person’s ability to enter.” She answered.

           “Why would you want something like that?” I asked. Wasn’t the whole point of the barrier to protect yourself?

           “You could turn it into a prison or holding facility. And if you can modify it so absolutely no sound gets out, an interrogation room as well.” Elya answered honestly, a smile on her face. I shuddered, acknowledging her answer. Sometimes I was scared of her… creativity. Even Weiss looked unnerved. Only Schugel seemed to take it as a challenge.

           “That should be doable.” He mumbled.

           “How long can you get the P-1 finalised, with all the improvements? I don’t care if you have to delay the development of the Type 101.” I spoke.

           “Likely a year or so.” Schugel estimated. I nodded in satisfaction.

           “How about mass manufacturing?”

           “Not feasible. We don’t have enough vacuum tubes to mass manufacture the P-1. Just one P-1 computation orb needs eight hundred vacuum tubes to build, not to mention all the capacitors and resistors. We could maybe produce ten of these a year.”

           That was indeed a serious problem. The proximity fuses that the airforce put in their missiles also needed vacuum tubes. We will only be able to have a limited set of P-1s, to be allocated to high priority targets. There was also the glaring issue of the P-1 being so large. If only there was a replacement for the vacuum tube that could allow for electronics to be miniaturised, not to mention easier and quicker to produce…

           I’m an idiot.

           The transistor!

           How could I forget about such a world changing invention! The transistor was not only smaller, uses less electricity and more durable, it was even easier and cheaper to manufacture. Its invention allowed for the miniaturisation of electronics and the subsequent invention of the chip. It was not an exaggeration to say it was amongst the most important inventions in the twentieth century.

           There was only one problem. The transistor hadn’t been invented yet. However, its invention shouldn’t be far off. It was invented in 1947, if my memory serves me correctly, by an American company. That wasn’t very far off. I was confident that with Germania’s technological lead over other countries in the world, along with the hundreds of experts I’d relocated from the Russy Federation, I could speed up the development of the transistor by a couple years.

           If worse comes to worse and Germania fails to invent the transistor, we could heavily invest in the company that eventually does.

           “Have you ever thought of making the P-1 smaller and use less power?” I inquired.

           “Not unless I drastically reduce the barrier strength output.” Schugel admitted.

           “And if within three to four years, I manage to provide you a replacement for the vacuum tube that was also smaller, more resilient and less electricity-hungry? A replacement that can be produced much easier and faster, to the point where you won’t easily run out like with vacuum tubes? You could even build a conventional-sized computation orb with electronic parts.” I said.

           “An old man could dream.” Schugel smiled wistfully. I took that as a challenge. I made a reminder to divert some of the Rus researchers, engineers and technicians I have to the R&D Department, and then pump them full of funding.

           “Schugel, how many prototypes of the P-1 do you have in the lab?” I looked around.

           “Five of them.” He answered.

           “Can I take one with me? I want to set up some extra security at my residence.” If I could install just one at my house, it would greatly increase my security.

           “Of course, I’ll consider it field testing.”

           He was being surprisingly reasonable lately. First, he didn’t force me to be the test pilot. Then he even invented a computation orb that saves people instead of killing them. The heavens must be falling soon. Perhaps Being X might even appear before me, get on his hands and knees and sincerely apologise for being such a dirtbag.

           “Although,” Schugel mused, a tone that sent my hairs on end at the tip of his tongue. “As someone who will be sleeping underneath the protection of a P-1, shouldn’t you personally test one out yourself first?”

           Fuck. I played myself.

           It took half an hour of reassurance from Schugel that the test was perfectly safe, and when Elya even volunteered to come with me to cast a small shield around us, I eventually relented. As a customer, I couldn’t risk bringing home a defective product after all.

           I hunkered down in the bunker, hand placed on the new P-1 prototype. Elya stood next to me and casted a small barrier spell to envelop both of us. I pressed the button and the blinking light next to it turned green, like Schugel had told me.

           Then on Schugel’s command, I channelled my magical power into the P-1. Schugel’s voice from the speaker suddenly became very muffled, as if he was speaking through a thick wall. I now understood why Schugel had to use loudspeakers earlier, it was because you could barely hear anything inside. As I poured more magic into the P-1, I eventually couldn’t hear anything at all. It seemed Elya’s soundproof chamber wasn’t so far off after all.

           I looked at the clock inside the bunker. 10:43am. Schugel had told me that I would know the test was finished when the blinking light either turned red or when my barrier was broken. So, all I needed to do was wait. I should be hearing the sound of gunfire hitting the barrier soon.

           After ten minutes of waiting, I frowned. What was taking them so long? Was the test delayed? Shouldn’t the light turn red if that was the case. Schugel should have installed a speaker inside the bunker as well so I could tell what was wrong.

           After another five minutes of waiting and chatting with Elya, the light inside the bunker finally turned red, and I lowered the barrier. As I walked outside, grumbling at Schugel for wasting my time, I saw the mage battalion responsible for the barrier testing staring at me in shock and fear. Right, they’re probably intimidated by me.

           I walked briskly back to the viewing room, Elya following closely behind. When I entered, I saw that everyone in the room was staring back at me in shock. Was it such a surprise that I’d be angry after Schugel delayed the test and didn’t even give me the signal to come back?

           As I was about to berate the mad inventor, he exclaimed. “Marvellous! Truly an act of God’s divine blessing!” Oh no, he was acting up again. Was this why he didn’t give me the signal?

           “Schugel, why didn’t you give me the signal to return if you had to cancel the testing?” I asked, annoyed that my time was wasted.

           “C-Chancellor,” Weiss stuttered. “The testing is already done. Did you not hear all the spells hitting your barrier?”

           “But I didn’t even hear anything.” That was impossible, unless the sound dampening of my barrier was so effective that it isolated me from all outside sound. But then why didn’t my barrier get torn down from all the artillery spells?

           “Chancellor, each member of the mage battalion fired upon your barrier with the artillery spell once. The barrier started repairing itself instantly after every spell. That’s why the barrier didn’t break.” Weiss reported as Schugel was still cackling.

           That was… indeed shocking. To have the magic power to endure a whole battalion’s worth of artillery spells was something that only Mary Sue could do. But I obviously didn’t have the same amount of magic as that berserker. Only Being X’s Blessed - Ludwig Ernst – did. Then I realised why. The test pilot earlier must have been a C-tier mage. That’s why his barrier had cracked so easily.

           Schugel had really outdone himself this time. To think that he’d be able to make a C-tier mage cast a barrier that could neutralise the attacks of higher tier mages like that, even if it wasn’t for many hits.

           That must have been why Weiss had been so shaken. He must have realised how absurdly overpowered the P-1 was if it could make me be unaware that the equivalent of two battalions’ worth of firepower just rained down on my barrier.

           “It’s nothing quite shocking from me, Weiss. Pick up your jaw, you look like a gaping fish.” I said.

           Weiss took a moment to compose himself before saying almost reverently. “Of course, as expected of the Chancellor.”

           Once Schugel stopped rambling about some chosen one, I got him to agree to send me a P-1 prototype next week to my home.

           Bidding the research facility adieu, me and Elya flew back while Weiss had decided to stay to take care of a few businesses.

           To say Weiss had been incredulous was an understatement. Today, he had just witnessed what was the closest thing to invulnerability in the modern age. One whole volley of artillery spells, even if they had been sequential, from a battalion of mages would sink even the largest of the Albish Royal Navy’s battleships. It would devastate towns.

           Yet the Chancellor hadn’t even noticed it.

           During the First Great War, the enemy of the Fatherland – the Allies – had often claimed that their Bloody Valkyrie, the berserker Mary Sue, must have been blessed by God himself to possess such overwhelming magic reserves. As someone who had faced her off before, Weiss thought it was more appropriate to describe her as driven mad by God. The Major had displayed the same amount of magic power as that berserker once, when she killed her, and then never showed it again. He thought that it was a one-time blessing, a reward for God's strongest soldier.

           Weiss tried to reason away the Chancellor’s absurd feat. Perhaps the first test mage they saw use the P-1 was a C-tier mage. That would explain the difference in barrier performance. Even though that would certainly make the P-1 the most powerful defensive apparatus in existence.

           As Weiss picked up the file of the test pilot and saw the word ‘A-class mage’, he instantly knew who was truly blessed by God.

Chapter Text

AYKRR Chapter 10

The Communist Perspective

12th August 1942,

NKVD Headquarters, Moskva

           Sergei Kruglov, the current head of the NKVD, fancied himself a man of little regrets in life, and even fewer guilt. He did not regret choosing the NKVD as his choice of career. He did not regret being responsible for purging disloyal NKVD agents. He did not regret organising mass executions of deserters and cowards in the army. And he definitely did not regret throwing that cur Loria out of the window the moment the news of General Secretary Jugashvili’s death broke out. 

           It was always a possibility that the General Secretary could be assassinated. As paranoid as that man was, no one was truly invulnerable. So, Kruglov had made a small list of people who were the likeliest to vie for the utmost position of power in the Russy Federation in the event of Jugashvili’s untimely demise. Loria had been at the top of that last. Therefore, Kruglov killed him. He had no need for a superior or a rival. Good riddance too. That bastard’s taste in girls was sickening.

           Taking full control of the NKVD had been simpler than he expected. With his expertise in purging NKVD agents, making sure that the NKVD was filled only with his loyalists was easy as pie. Taking full control of Moskva simply required him to know who to befriend, who to threaten, and who to dispose of. In mere months, he had managed to seize complete control of Moskva and spread his influence into the neighbouring oblasts.

           What wasn’t simple was how to deal with the Russy Tsardom.

           Kruglov realised his mistake. He had been too… heavy-handed with his enemies. Perhaps showing mercy would have made people more ready to surrender to him. But he had to take Moskva with haste. So, no mercy could be spared to his enemies, just a quick death.

           His mistake was biting him in the back now. Realising that there was no point in surrender, any hostile faction that he targeted would fight to the last man, causing him to suffer more casualties than expected, even though the NKVD had the only mages in the Russy Federation.

           And because of their collective fear, the factions in the north had united, held together by this Tsar. Kruglov realised that if he wanted to reunite the Russy Federation, the Russy Tsardom had to be demolished.

           Having conquered Moskva and the surrounding oblasts, he had martialled men and weapons. At first, he didn’t order full-scale assaults. Simply quick probes, skirmishes and raids into the Russy Tsardom’s territory. His aim was not to cause casualties or grab land but simply test their defences and training. He had found them to be lacking.

           Having no mages on their side, the Russy Tsardom was slow to respond to any attack. Nor could they counterattack back, as Kruglov’s mages, equipped with dual-core orbs, were always there to beat them back. The SV-1 computation orb, which was nearly as good as the Type 97 it was reverse-engineered from, gave his NKVD mages magical superiority over most mage forces in the world, with the exception of OZEV and the Unified States. The only problem he had was that he couldn’t produce enough of them.

           In the past three months, his leading personnel responsible for manufacturing the SV-1 orbs had vanished, as if spirited away. The researchers responsible for developing the SV-2 orbs had mostly disappeared too. To add insult to injury, the main factory that was producing his SV-1 orbs had exploded in the middle of the night, with many sightings of mages flying to the west after the explosion. Now he only had his auxiliary factory left, which could only produce at a quarter the speed as the factory he lost.

           He, of course, knew who was responsible for his current woes. OZEV. Not only were those greedy capitalist swine uncontented with stepping in the way of the proletariat miracle that was communism, but they also wanted to pry out the brains of the Russy Federation and add it to theirs. Truly, the greed of capitalists knew no bounds. When communism has overrun the world, he will not put them in the gulag. No, he will trap them in pig pens while the righteous proletariat butcher them.

           Nevertheless, despite his current predicament, his Red Army was more than enough to crush the Russy Tsardom once and for all. And this was the best time to do it. Give the Russy Tsardom more time, and they would woo more factions into joining them.

           In four weeks, his men will be fully trained and prepared. His weapons, ready. His orbs, produced. His logistics, secured. All that was left was to declare war.

           His aid, Igor, walked into the room briskly and gave him a report, indicating that it was important. Thanking him, Kruglov opened the report and read it carefully.

           This was incredibly troubling. The new OZEV member, the Legadonia Entente Alliance, was selling weapons to the Russy Tsardom. Assault rifles, anti-air guns, artillery, tanks, and even those brand-new jet planes. Where was the Russy Tsardom getting the money from? They must have either bought them with credit or promised Legadonia rights to the Motherland’s natural resources. Those damn traitors, selling the Motherland to foreigners!

           Even worse news, the Russy Tsardom had just received a squadron of volunteer mages from Legadonia. The report had included the name of notable mages in the volunteer battalion. Chief amongst them were three aces and one ace of aces.

           He immediately recognised the ace of aces. Simo Hayha. The Suomilander who betrayed the Motherland during the Second Great War to side with the enemy simply because he thought communism was evil. Known as the White Death, he was famous for his sniping off mages from unseen locations, before disappearing back into the snowy landscape. The tactics of a coward.

           Time was running out. If the Russy Tsardom keep receiving more weapons and mages, Kruglov’s forces could fail their invasion or be vulnerable to a counter-invasion. He had to act now.

           “Igor! Tell my generals that they no longer have four weeks. They only have twenty days to get everything ready! We attack on the first of September!”

14th August 1942,

Hyderabad, North Bharat

           General Raheeq Syed, Commander of the North Bharat People’s Forces, paced in his war planning room, attended by his generals and officers. Couriers ferried reports to the room in a constant stream.

           “How’s the situation in Lahore?” He asked.

           “We managed to beat back the Albish but suffered over twenty thousand casualties.” A major reported.

           “Is that military casualties or overall casualties?” His general of the Southern Front, Mohammed Bahti, asked. A man in his late fifties with a kind face, he looked as though he should be at home playing with his grandchildren than be at a war room.

           “Military casualties, sir. Civilian casualties are estimated to be over thirty thousand.” The major answered.

           General Syed shook his head ruefully. The sin that was urban warfare. The lowest truly was to attack a city. All those lives lost…

           The first year of fighting had gone well for them. They had pushed as far south as Pune, having taken the Albish oppressors by surprise. The Albish might have better training, weapons and technology, but the Bharatians had the population on their side. For every Bharatian that fell, two more rose up in his place. By sheer numbers, they had advanced.

           Their oppressors weren’t going to let their most important colony fall into communist hands, of course, and had counterattacked and started pushing them slowly. However, they were unfamiliar with the new type of warfare that the North Bharatians had taught themselves.

           Jungle warfare. They had relied on ambushes, booby traps and psychological warfare. They often lost as many men as they had killed, but the ones that survived their attacks were often left with mental scars and would be unable to fight the next time. The Albish could push, but they would bleed for it.

           Then about one month ago, things had changed. The Albish, revitalised by supplies and brand-new weapons that no longer failed in the humid conditions of the jungles, started to make faster progress. Albish planes were always hovering above, ready to gun down men that leave the jungles or bomb the jungles itself.

           And when the North Bharatian forces had been pushed out of the jungles, the Albish had started dominating the battlefield. Syed and his forces were pushed back to the northwest corner of the subcontinent, barely able to hold their frontlines.

           Their coastal cities were lost, taken by the mighty Royal Navy. Karachi fell just yesterday. Now Hyderabad was their stronghold.

           They had only barely fended off the last assault on Lahore. There was no telling whether they could fend off the next one.

           “How many fighting men do we have left?” Syed inquired his Chief of Staff.

           “1,100,000 strong, sir. As per your orders, we have sent 200,000 to Lahore to reinforce them.”

           1,100,000 men. Down from the 4,000,000 he had at the start of this war. This could not go on. The longer they fight, the further they would be pushed back and the more men they would lose.

           They had to do something.

           “Yusuf,” Syed turned to his head scientist, Yusuf Sethi. “How are progress on reverse engineering the SV-1 orbs?”

           This was his trump card. Some of the NKVD mages that were fighting with them had been killed. Most of their orbs had been destroyed or irreparably damaged during the fighting, but a couple were intact. Syed had his army hide this from the NKVD until their mages fled from the country.

           “We have deciphered and replicated the schematics for the SV-1 orbs, but we simply don’t have any facility capable of manufacturing them, especially one far back enough in the rear to not be in a vulnerable position.” Yusuf reported.

           Syed cursed. Karachi surely had the factories they needed, but it was impossible to take the city back now. Not when it was guarded by an armada.

           Syed took a deep breath and accepted the facts. They couldn’t win. Not alone. Not with the NKVD abandoning them. So, what could they do?

           They had to seek allies using the SV-1 computation orb schematic as a bargaining chip.

           Eran was not a feasible ally. Although they were undergoing heavy industrialisation and would likely have the factories needed to manufacture the SV-1, they were also hostile towards North Bharat for disrupting their oil trade with Bharat and the Albish. If anything, once North Bharat was vulnerable, Eran might just invade them.

           Next was the Kingdom of Afghanistan. They were a country with a strong stance of neutrality. It would be difficult for Syed to convince them to change this stance. Furthermore, Afghanistan was not very industrialised, and a large chunk of their GDP was reliant on agriculture. It would be impossible to manufacture the SV-1 there.

           That left the last country that North Bharat still shared a border with – Communist Qin. Not only were they also communist, the Qin communists were also promoters of international communism and liked to trade with communist allies, as seen with their selling weapons to Annam. The communist faction in Qin had also heavily industrialised by building hundreds of factories in their western regions. The factories there were also well-established and secured. Nationalist boots had not stepped into Western Qin for over fifteen years.

           They were the perfect partner to share the secret of the SV-1 with. With the SV-1, their communist brethren could push back the nationalists in Qin, and then help North Bharat deal with the Albish, who only had single-core orbs. North Bharat could then use communist-controlled Qin’s factories to produce their own dual-core orbs and strengthen their own mages, until they mustered enough strength to take back Karachi.

           However, this was dependent on North Bharat maintaining a land border with Qin. If the Albish took Lahore and continued to push west, they would be cut off from Qin and lose their last hope for survival. It was now or never.

           “General Gujjar, I want you to take another 300,000 men to reinforce Lahore.” Syed ordered.

           “But that’s half of our forces guarding one city!” General Gujjar protested.

           “I have a plan to invite our Qinese communist brothers to this war. Lahore has now become our most important city. We will be moving our headquarters from Hyderabad to Lahore shortly. In that time, Lahore must not fall.”

18th August 1942,

Zhaoqing City, Guangzhou Province, Communist-controlled Qin,

           Wang Ming, current Chairman of the Qinese Communist Party, had not had many good months this year. Just this March, he had to band together a resistance to purge former Chairman Mao Zedong for his dangerous emerging Maoist personality cult, something that went against Wang’s principle as a Marxist-Leninist. A united front of progressive forces in class society could be useful in a pre-industrial country to foster a wave of revolutionaries, yes, but Qin was already rapidly industrialising. To him, it was clear that the workers were the wave of the future, not peasants. Furthermore, Mao’s stance against intellectualism was dangerous for the future of the country. Much like a human, a country could not function without brains. Wang Ming had also feared that Maoism might encourage personalities that were too zealous.

           Early May, Wang Ming’s heart was torn apart when he heard of the fall of the Russy Federation, who the QCP had a close alliance with. The Comintern being dissolved as a result was just another wound. In June, he had received a report of communist-uniform-wearing soldiers destroying the harbour in Hong Kong.

           As someone in charge of all communist forces, he knew that it was a false-flag operation by the nationalists in an effort to pit the Allied Kingdom against them, but he could not prove it to the Albish. They were lucky the Allied Kingdom was indecisive. If the Albish had declared war on the QCP, it would have been an unprecedented disaster.

           In July, his marshals kept returning with the same news of the siege in Shenzhen being held in a deadlock, with the only difference being the climbing casualty number.

           Finally, this August, he received his first good news. The North Bharatian were open to an alliance. Although as communists, the North Bharatians should have contacted the QCP as soon as possible. But the North Bharatians had been too proud and too focused on maintaining absolute independence in their revolution to bother sending correspondences to the QCP.

           Nevertheless, it was better late than never.

           When he had heard of their offer, Wang Ming had to order his secretary to repeat what he just said, lest his ears were already failing him.

           The North Bharatians had the schematic for a dual-core orbs. And they were offering it to the QCP. Of course, this was in exchange for them being able to borrow some of their factories to produce their own orbs and ship it back to North Bharat, but that was a small price to pay. With the massive technological advantage dual-core orbs have over single-core orbs, the QCP would easily demolish the Nationalist Party, whose orbs were outdated even by single-core orb standards and unite all of Qin under a communist banner!

           Of course, after the Nationalists had been defeated and Qin borders firmly secured, the North Bharatians likely expected the QCP to help them beat back the Albish. And Wang Ming was inclined to do that. The Bharatian subcontinent had a massive population and untold amounts of natural resources. If the QCP could help push out the Albish and set up industries in Bharat, Asia would be dominated by two powerful communist countries.

           He even had further ideas about helping the Russy Federation reform itself by sending men there to help them reunite, as soon as the Nationalists were no longer a threat. If the Russy Federation was restored, the communist bloc of the Russy Federation, the QCP, Bharat and Annam would be a force even OZEV, the Albish Empire or the Unified States would have to respect.

           After confirming the message from North Bharat was legitimate, he had taken a copy of the message to his party’s leadership body.

           “This is not fabricated by our enemies?” Marshal Zhu De asked, his voice incredulous. Likely he was already thinking of the increased performance of their mages.

           “Yes, a North Bharatian mage using an intact SV-1 dual-core orb flew to my residence and gave me the message directly. I then relayed the message to the Chairman.” Wang Jiaxiang, the head of his Foreign Relations Department, confirmed.

           “If this is true, we can produce approximately one hundred of these dual-core orbs each year with our current industrial capacity, even if we have to lend the North Bharatians some factories.” His Chief Economist, Zhang Wentian, inputted.

           “Do the North Bharatians expect us to help them after we defeat the Nationalists?” Qin Bangxiang asked.

           “Yes.” Wang Ming nodded. “It would be in our interest to form a strong communist bloc in Asia and foster international communism to combat foreign powers.”

           “Indeed. I’ve been thinking that we should try to spread communism to the rest of Indochina. Laos and Kampuchea would quickly rise to the revolution in my opinion. Joseon is an option too. Afghanistan might be feasible, but it would be an ambitious undertaking.” Liu Shaoqi commented.

           Wang Ming nodded. “I’m receptive to that idea, I’ll try to relocate some people for you to send to those countries to incite a strong communist movement. If you can drive them to revolution, even better.”

           “On the topic of the siege of Shenzhen,” Marshal Zhu De said. “Do we wait until we can arm enough of our mages with dual-core orbs to beat back the nationalists?”

           “No,” Wang Ming shook his head. “We need to push back the nationalists soon, if we wait for too long, we will lose the city, then maybe the rest of Guangzhou as well.”

           “I actually have an idea to help us lessen the pressure on Shenzhen.” Qin Bangxiang said. Wang Ming motioned for him to continue.

           Qin Bangxiang took a deep breath, before launching into his explanation. “Since they tried to get a foreign nation to declare on us with a false-flag operation, why not do the same for them?”

           “What do you mean?” Zheng Wentian asked in alarm. “Do you want to blow up a part of Hong Kong as well?”

           “No, here is my idea. We load a few fishing boats with mages, then have these fishing boats stealthily sail to the strait of Taiwan. There, they will launch an attack on the Taiwanese coast, targeting military installations and disabling the Akitsushiman navy stationed there. The mages participating in the mission will be wearing uniforms from the Nationalist Party and preferably can speak with dialects from the regions the nationalists control.”

           Zhu De interrupted. “The Akitsushimans won’t fall for that. The Nationalist Party might hate the Akitsushimans, but even they won’t make an unprovoked attack like that when they’re already tangled up with us. The Akitsushimans will realise that it can’t be the Nationalist Party.”

           “But that will not matter to the Akitsushimans.” Qin Bangxiang stated.

           “What do you mean? Akitsushima will declare war on the Nationalist Party, despite knowing it wasn’t them that attacked Taiwan?” Zhu De asked.

           “You need to pay more attention to foreign politics. The military is gaining more and more control in Akitsushima. The emperor’s pacifist stance has frustrated them to no end. They yearn to restore their lost honour when they were defeated in Manchuria. With the Russy Federation vulnerable, the military head brass is likely salivating at the thought of an invasion of either Qin or the Russy Federation. They simply need a probable excuse. The Nationalist Party will be a more palatable target than us since they have a larger coastline. Moreover, the Nationalist Party has always held a more aggressive anti-foreigner stance than us.” Qin Bangxiang explained.

           “And what if they’re too successful? What if they take over all of the territory held by the Nationalist Party?” Wang Jiaxiang asked.

           “That’s where our dual-core orbs come in. We’ll be able to push out the invading Akitsushima Dominion with our more advanced computation orbs and higher number of mages. And we’ll be lauded as heroes of Qin while doing it too.”

           Wang Ming rubbed his chin in thought. It was worth a try. Even if Akitsushima doesn’t declare war on the Nationalist Party, they wouldn’t be able to prove that it was the QCP who launched the attack either. And if the QCP could drive out the Akitsushimans by themselves, there would be no need to propose a Second United Front.

           Wang Ming nodded. “Alright, you have my permission. When we have enough SV-1 orbs to equip a full battalion, I’ll give you permission to assemble mages for your mission. In the meantime, we shall contact general Peng Dehuai and ask him to continue holding out in Shenzhen for three more months. Any words from Zhou Enlai?”

           Wang Jiaxing answered. “His latest correspondence told us that he managed to convince Chiang-Kai-shek to hold a one-week ceasefire for us to evacuate civilians.”

           Wang Ming breathed a sigh of relief. Some more time has been bought for them. Best make use of it. “Zheng Wentian, I want you to get our factories producing the SV-1 orbs as soon as possible.”

           “Yes, Comrade Wang.”

           “With that, I pronounce this meeting adjourned.” Wang said, before starting his party’s slogan.

           “We proletarians have nothing to lose but our chains! Workers of the world, unite!” Wang Ming shouted.

           “Workers of the world, unite!” Everyone echoed.

20th August 1942,

Hanoi, Annam

           Ho Chi Minh, President of the Annamese Socialist Republic, sat in silence as his military leaders squabbled amongst themselves.

           Many of his generals, having seen the Francois forces being ravaged by Annamese guerilla tactics, wanted to turn to the offensive and push down south to take Saigon. His most trusted general, Vo Nguyen Giap, had vehemently opposed the plan, citing the lack of logistics and the huge difference between fighting a defensive war and an offensive one.

           Furthermore, despite having beaten back every Francois push so far, they were suffering at least two times the casualties. Ho Chi Minh knew that deaths and sacrifices were unavoidable in a revolutionary war like this, but finding a way to lower casualties was always preferable.

           “We don’t have the weapons and vehicles to make a push down south!” Giap argued.

           “We just have to buy more from the Qinese.” Hoang Van Thai, Chief of General Staff said.

           “They’re too damn expensive. I’ve had my spies in foreign countries check what the price of those weapons truly are. The Qinese are charging us three times as much for the same weapons. Equipment that is years out of date!” Giap shouted, angry that they were being shaken down for pennies by the Qinese communists.

           So much for international communism. The Qinese may harp about cooperation between communist states as much as they want. At the end of the day, every country wanted to preserve their own interests the most.

           Ho Chi Minh spoke for the first time. “Yesterday, I called for aid from the Americans to drive off the Francois.” The entire room went silent. Many looked at him in shock. A couple in betrayal. Those ones will have to be supervised by his mages.

           “I called President Roosenvelt himself. I thought that America’s preaching about freedom and liberty and the self-determination of countries might mean something. I thought that a country that won its existence through fighting a war of independence would understand our plight. I never received a response.”

           “President, you can’t expect much from capitalists.” Someone scoffed.

           “Nevertheless, I understand that as of right now, we will take years, perhaps decades, to push the Francois out of Annam. Time where our people continue to die and be oppressed. I intend to try and petition again. A different country this time.”

           His men looked at him curiously. Looking at their eyes, Ho Chi Minh asked them a question.

           “Everyone, what is the purpose of this war?”

           “To drive out the Francois and establish an independent democratic socialist state of Annam.” Was the most echoed response.

           He shook his head wryly. Back in his youth, when he had been an overseas student yearning for Annamese independence, yet so enamoured by socialism, perhaps he would have given the same answer.

           “It’s to establish an INDEPENDENT democratic state of Annam. Socialism was simply a means to an end. I adopted communism because I was enamoured by its red lustre. Socialist states were willing to support Annamese independence, so I thought communism was the only way Annam could find itself broken from its chains. But look at us now. The Qinese weapons are more of a drain on our treasury than assistance to our army. Yet we are beating back the Francois by ourselves. Not through ideology, but through new tactics, ingenuity and grit. The country and our independence are more important than socialism.”

           “President, are you telling us that you’re willing to abandon socialism if a capitalist country was willing to help us gain independence?” An incredulous voice belonging to his secretary sounded out.

           “Maybe not abandon socialism entirely,” Ho Chi Minh admitted. “But perhaps adopt some capitalist ideas to stimulate our economy when we do achieve independence. We do need trade partners other than the Qinese. We could even call it Socialism with Annamese characteristics. Whether we’ll switch to capitalism after that or go back to pure socialism, depends on the circumstances.”

           “President, what country are you going to petition after America?”

           It was quite obvious. What country had the advanced military technology that Annam needed? Weapons and vehicles that were proven to work against the Francois. A country that would have no qualms about beating down the Francois Republic, and in fact would take glee in it. A country that would be glad that Annam was putting its independence over socialism. A country whose leader once advocated for the right to self-determination of nations.

           “I’m going to Germania to personally petition Chancellor Tanya von Degurechaff.”

Chapter Text

AYKRR Chapter 11

For The Future of Germania

21st August 1942,

Diamantring Restaurant, East Berun

           Manfred Schneider, a long-time Reichstag seat holder of the GWP, entered the private dining room from the restaurant’s upstairs hallway. Booking a private room at an upscale restaurant like this was expensive, but their highly secured, soundproof rooms were a must-have for the discussion he was having today.

           Peering into the room, he saw three men and two women inside, already seated at the large dining table. There was no food served, but there were multiple bottles of champagne and scotch, along with glasses. Taking the last seat left, he settled himself in nicely, his back thanking him for the soft cushions. He poured himself a nice glass of wine and looked around the room curiously.

           There were no windows; he made sure to book one without any. Annoyingly, the room was somewhat asymmetrical, as he noticed that the chandelier above was not central, but a metre offset to the left. Had the eastern portion of the room been a metre longer, the chandelier would have been in the centre.

           Shaking his head from being distracted by tangential thoughts, Manfred examined everyone in the room. He was not the only seat holder at the Reichstag here. Three of the four other men in the room were also members of the Reichstag and part of the GWP like him. The last man was Gunther Wagner, the Chairman of Democratic Socialist Party, perhaps the only left-leaning party in Germania with any considerable number of seats at twenty seats total.

           One of the two women was Agatha Klein, an editor at the Berun Times. The last person in the room was Alice Kraus, a nouveau-riche who gained her wealth through marrying an oil tycoon who died last year. She was the one who had paid for this room.

           Manfred sighed ruefully. The eight of them in this room were likely the only domestic democratic resistance to Chancellor Degurechaff left. Before, there had been dozens of them, a political and economic bloc powerful enough to hopefully rein in Degurechaff. But no one could have expected the Imperial Party to rear its head and rip out the democratic foundations of Germania.

           It wasn’t enough that the majority of his colleagues had lost their seats, many of them had scandals or crimes published that they were guilty of. Not anything groundbreaking, like the embezzlement of the treasury or treason, but enough to make them resign, retire, or never come back into the public eye. And the worst part was that none of those published stories were fabricated.

           Someone was watching them; he was sure of it. The only reason why he had not been one of the shamed was because he was not a man of vices.

           “Ladies and gentlemen.” Wagner said. “I’m afraid that we are the only ones left who have both the will and the capability to stop Degurechaff’s ambition for the throne. Noah Hass’s group has declared they want no part in it anymore.”

“Cowards. And right after he declared that he won’t stop until someone else is in the Chancellor’s seat. Now it’s all up to us to save Germanian democracy from Degurechaff.” Gunther Wagner bristled.

           “We should have known that the Imperial Party was just an extension of her will sooner.” Manfred mumbled. “Then we could have done something before it was too late.” He sampled a bit of his wine.

           One of his fellow GWP members, Henry Abel, snarled. “We were tricked by Degurechaff’s false charm and promises. We all really thought she genuinely was curbing her own power when she advocated for an earlier Presidential election. Little did we know that she was simply planning on giving the position to her own lackey all along.”

           “Not quite a lackey.” Frau Klaus scoffed. “Have you seen how close Ernst and Degurechaff have been lately? He’s always by her side while she’s lecturing him about something. He’s either her other lover or her political apprentice, I tell you.”

           All of them have heard of the rumours that Degurechaff and Serebryakov were lovers, which had been circulating for the past couple months. There was astonishment and scandalous outrage of course, but that had taken a backseat to the election itself. So, none of them raised a peep about it, so that Degurechaff’s voter base would not be affected. Now they all regret it.

           The last GWP member in the room, Friedrick Adler, downed a glass of scotch and rubbed his beard in contemplation. “I doubt that Degurechaff is trying to fill the top political offices with her paramours, that’s just outlandish. It’s more likely that Ernst is someone she’s been nurturing for a while, even before his debut in politics. It would make sense too. They both share a similar military record. His political speeches definitely take inspiration from Degurechaff. I’ve even heard rumours from one of my friends in the mail department that Degurechaff sent the former Kaiser a letter some time ago.”

           Agatha Klein, who had been quiet all this time, pitched in. “The Berun Times have been hiring more secretaries lately. It’s clear that the press is completely compromised. Nobody dares write a story about Degurechaff that doesn’t make her sound like the second coming of Jesus. Just last week, a journalist discovered that Degurechaff personally visited the Imperial Party’s headquarters twice, both in the same disguise. On the second time, she was in a private room with the then Chairman Ernst for over twenty minutes and no one knew what they did in there! It was scandalous and revealed Degurechaff’s favouritism for the Imperial Party. He tried to get the story published. The next day, he was fired. I managed to buy the story from him before he could burn it. But I’m only going to publish it when I have an opportunity to get out of the country first.”

           “If you need the funds to get out of Germania, I can provide it to you.” Alice Klaus said, as she pulled out a thick stack of marks and handed it to Agatha Klein, who took it.

           “Just make sure that story is published. The whole world needs to know of Degurechaff’s corruption.” Manfred said.

           “I will. Thank you Alice, I plan to leave tomorrow morning. I’ll hand the story to every Francois news publisher.” Agatha Klein said, nodding gratefully to the other woman.

           “I’m afraid none of you are going anywhere.” A dangerously sweet woman’s voice rang out in the room. A voice that belonged to no one else in that room. But it was a voice that many of them recognised. As if a viper had injected its venom into their hearts, their faces started to blanch, their knees wobble and their eyes dilated in terror.

           The eastern wall suddenly dissolved, revealing itself to be an illusion. It revealed the true eastern wall, which was set a metre behind the false wall. Standing in the space hidden by the illusion was a brunette woman with shoulder length hair, a chilling smile present on her face. Flanking her were two tall ZEZP officers, decked in black body armour and gas masks that obscured their faces. Both of them carried a Lmg-40 each.

           “What an enlightening discussion about our great Chancellor.” Head of the BND, Elya Muller said, her smile narrowing dangerously. “I’m sure that she’ll be just delighted to hear of your sedition behind her back.”

           Her icy gaze fell upon them like a blizzard, and they flinched back as if struck.

           “We’re preserving the democratic integrity of this nation!” With courage that she never knew she had; Agatha Klein was the first to speak back. Muller focused her full glare at her and the woman shrunk back into her seat like a wilted flower.

           Manfred was not brave enough to yell at the perhaps the most dangerous woman in Germania, but he knew he had to run. Kicking back his chair, he leapt out of his seat with a level of agility only given to those running away from a predator. He rushed to the door, a fleeting glance back telling him that Frau Muller had not moved from her position, nor had the ZEZP officers. Manfred flung the door inwards and barrelled his way out into the hallway. Or rather he tried to.

           As he threw his body out, he collided with a taller, more muscular man standing behind the door. To Manfred, it felt like hitting a brick wall. He crumpled back into the room, his nose squirting blood. Meanwhile, the man was completely unphased, as if a fly flew into him instead.

           “Get out of my way, you imbecile! Do you know who I am!?” Manfred yelled in outrage; his eyes tightly shut in pain and clutching his nose. He couldn’t believe this dummkopf had cost him his escape from certain death or imprisonment!

           “I’m not going anywhere.” Said a calm, deep voice, laced with dangerous intent. Manfred froze, and he opened his eyes. He recognised that voice.

           Standing in the doorway was President Ludwig Ernst. And he was looking down at him like a bug. A very squishable one. “Go back to your seat, would you?” The President ordered. With the fear of God put into him, Manfred scrambled back to his seat like a chastised child. Ernst walked in assuredly as six more ZEZP officers poured in after him. He nodded in friendly greeting at Frau Muller, before closing the door and casting a privacy spell.

           “Ms. Muller, what did these ladies and gentlemen talk about?” President Ernst said in a faux-friendly voice.

           “These traitors planned to publish that the great Chancellor visited the Imperial Party headquarters, and the latter visit was spent in total privacy with you. Quite a suggestive article questioning both the Chancellor’s moral and bodily integrity.”

           “It’s not illegal to…” Agatha started.

           “Yet you were going to publish it to foreign newspapers. A completely false story, trying to degrade the reputation of our great leader. That’s libel, you know? Plus, who knows what the Francois secret intelligence agency could do with that information.” Frau Muller said.

           “We’re doing this for the good of the nation! As competent of a leader Degurechaff is, she cannot be allowed to be a tyrant!” Henry Abel shouted, having found his courage.

           “So, who are you going to replace her with?” President Ernst asked. “Who can fend against the jealous Francois, guard against perfidious Albion, scam the greedy Americans, subdue the bloodthirsty Rus, befriend distant Akitsushima, keep an eye on the global threat of communism, all while trying to keep OZEV united?”

           President Ernst stayed quiet for them to answer his question. After half a minute. None of them spoke. And it was true. After six years of following Degurechaff’s lead and having utmost confidence in her competence, the Reichstag had not passed a single bill that wasn’t proposed by the Chancellor in over half a decade. Every legislator in the Reichstag had grown fat and lazy under Degurechaff’s secured shade, especially the ones in the GWP. There was no one that was close to her acuity or foresight. Furthermore, the second largest party in the nation was firmly her supporter.

           “Should your activities ever succeed in removing the Chancellor from power, what then? Who would take up the post? Would you be satisfied with seeing our alliances torn to shreds, our enemies nipping at our heels?” President Ernst continued.

           “Under Germanian law, you are all under arrest for the crime of conspiracy to libel and seditious conspiracy. That’s over fifteen years in prison if I’m correct. Officers, take them away.” Muller spoke. Her words fell on them like Damocles’ sword.

           The ZEZP officers moved to handcuff Manfred and his allies. He started begging for mercy as they pulled him out of his seat, regardless of the lack of dignity. “Please, have mercy, we’ll do anything.”

           “Halt.” President Ernst said. The ZEZP officers stopped escorting him and his associates out of the room. “You said you would do anything?” He turned to look at them with conniving cobalt-blue eyes.

           All of them nodded. Some enthusiastically, some glumly. If they were imprisoned, it would be at least fifteen years until they would be freed, assuming they didn’t die from an unforeseen accident while in prison.

           “Alright then, I’ll give you a second chance and consider this to be a lapse in judgment by you fine people. A misunderstanding, if you will.” President Ernst said, arms folded behind his back. “As long as you fine ladies and gentlemen assist me with a few things.” His voice was deliberately gentle, luring them into a false sense of security.

           “W-What is it that you want?” Wagner asked.

           “I simply need you to fulfill these tasks.” President Ernst spoke, before launching into an explanation.

           “You all know what the Chancellor’s goal is. She wants to become Kaiserin. While she can bypass the Reichstag by passing a public referendum to restore the monarchy, doing so would cause political upheaval and perhaps a political resistance movement. That’s not an outcome I want. So, I want the monarchy restoration bill to pass both the Reichstag and the referendum vote, even if passing both votes is redundant. That will ensure foreign countries cannot do anything about it nor cry tyranny.”

           “As such,” the President pointed at the four Reichstag politicians. “When the time comes, you four will vote for that bill to pass. And before that bill comes, I want you to persuade every single one of your associates to support monarchism. Understood?”

           Wagner looked like he wanted to protest, but the sound of the Head of the BND’s heels clicking behind him silenced it. Manfred wanted to refuse too. He would be betraying his principle of democracy. But his self-preservation won out in the end.

           “You know the consequences if you refuse.” Elya Muller whispered behind Wagner’s ear, and Manfred felt the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end, despite not being the target of her threat.

           All four of them nodded in submission. President Ernst smiled, satisfied.

           “As for you two ladies.” He turned to the women, speaking in a charming voice. “Frau Klein, if you would please, hand me the manuscript for that article about the Chancellor.”

           Agatha Klein immediately did as he asked, her face still pale.

           “And you did not make any additional copies?” Frau Muller asked, now directly behind her with one hand on her spine. “I can tell by your heartbeat if you lie.”

           “That’s the only copy.” Tears were threatening to flow from the corners of Frau Klein’s eyes. Frau Muller nodded at President Ernst in confirmation.

           “Thank you, Frau Klein. Your contribution to the nation is greatly appreciated.” President Ernst gave Elya Muller the manuscript and she burned it into ash with a fire spell. Manfred wondered if that were to be his fate had he refused.

           “As for you, Frau Klaus.” President Ernst looked at the last person in their party. “You will declare your support for the Imperial Party. For any businesses that you own, I want you to encourage your workers to embrace a tacit support for the monarchy. Nothing too outrageous, of course, just check into the Imperial Party’s headquarters tomorrow and ask my friend Walther von Schiel for a few posters.”

           Alice Klaus nodded too. Manfred noticed that not a single one of them had even dared speak a word.

           “Now then, ladies and gentlemen.” President Ernst clapped, startling them. “You may leave.”

           The six of them started shuffling out of the room. Despite not having lost anything physical, they all felt a loss of their integrity. Just before Manfred left the room as the last of their former resistance group, a voice called out to him.

           “Hold on a moment, Herr Schneider.” Frau Muller’s voice came from behind him. Manfred froze in the doorway, his heart leaping to his throat. Surely they didn’t call him back specifically just to torture him for information right? He slowly but surely turned around, fear casted on his face as if he was about to face the Devil.

           “You haven’t finished your wine.” She gestured at his half-empty glass of wine.

           “I-I think I’m quitting a-alcohol from now on.” He stuttered, then leaving the room like the Grim Reaper was after his soul.

           Ludwig watched the last of the seditionists flee the private room like scurrying trench rats. The eight ZEZP officers accompanying them filed out of the room to escort those rats back home safely. But unlike trench rats who bite soldiers, these rats gnaw upon the nation. He turned his attention to the admittedly very attractive Head of the BND, Elya Muller.

           When he was approached by her to be delivered the orphan list he requested, he came up with a plan for cooperation between them to flush out all democratic strongholds in the country. She would gather intel on suspicious persons, while he would bring in the hammer with the ZEZP mage officers at his disposal.

           “How did I do?” He asked.

           “You’re a natural, honestly. I think that glare you gave Schneider when he bumped into you made him piss his pants.”

           “What did the Chancellor call it when one of us threatened them with the stick while the other offered the carrot again?” Ludwig inquired.

           “Good cop, bad cop. You’re the good cop, offering them a way out. I’m the bad cop, threatening them with imprisonment or death.” Elya explained.

           “It’s been very educational working in tandem with you in rooting out democratic resistance in Germania. That’s what, the eleventh group now?” He said, counting in his head.

           “Twelfth, actually, although I understand why you didn’t count that couple in Hamburg.” Elya said. “That’s the last democratic resistance group in Germania, what do you have for your next task?”

           Over the last week, he had coordinated with Frau Muller to coerce over fifty members of the Reichstag, seven newspaper editors, three radio broadcasters, a former admiral and fourteen millionaires by arresting them, then offering them leniency or pardon in exchange for their subordination.

           “I have a meeting with General Lehrgen tomorrow afternoon. I expect it to go well, since we’re both war enthusiasts. Though from what I heard, he loves war and battles even more than me.”

           “Be wary of him,” Elya warned. “He’s a cunning man. He managed to hide an entire army from me, no matter how hard I searched. I only knew he had one in the first place because the Chancellor informed me.” Ludwig nodded in acknowledgement.

           “By the way, is what they said about you true?” Elya started.

           “What, that the Chancellor sent my grandfather a letter?”

           “Yes, that one.”

           “It’s true, but I wasn’t some hidden protégé of hers or anything. She only started teaching me about how to run the country at the start of this month?”

           “How about the rumour that you’re her other lover?” Elya asked teasingly.

           Ludwig scoffed. “They’re still propagating that? Just because we were alone for twenty minutes, that meant we got intimate? If the rumour was true, the Vice Chancellor would have my head on a pike. I saw her war footage last week, I now know what that woman could do with a shovel. Besides, the Chancellor isn’t my type.”

           “What is your type then?” Elya smiled coyly.

           “Mature, darker haired, curvy in the right places, intelligent and incredibly dangerous.” Ludwig admitted shamelessly.

           “Are you flirting with me, your Highness?” Elya laughed.

           “Only if you interpret it as flirting.”

           Elya walked over to the alcohol bottles on the table and poured out two glasses of champagne. “Would be a shame to let these go to waste. This one is from 1890. Care for a taste?” She took a glass and offered him the other. He accepted.

           They clinked their glasses together and said simultaneously. “For the future of Germania.” With that, both downed their glasses.

22 August 1942,

Chancellor’s Office, Berun,

           After returning from testing the P-1 a few weeks ago, I immediately ordered the establishment of a new branch of the Department of Research and Development. I had allocated over thirty scientists, researchers and materials experts to develop and explore what I described as a miniaturised semiconductor that uses less power than a vacuum tube, was sturdier and used mainly silicon in its manufacturing, along with germanium and other materials. As someone who only knew of the importance of the transistor but not the technical know-how, that was the most guidance I could afford.

           After that, I had focused on training Ludwig, such as telling him about the reasoning behind the legislations that I introduced or taking him with me as a bystander when I talk to ambassadors. His presence seemed to make a few ambassadors nervous, I never understood why. We even sometimes did paperwork together, when he would ask me questions when he was unsure about the language of the legislation. It kind of felt like helping a kid with his homework.

           After about two weeks, I felt that he was ready to do his job without my supervision or advice, so I let him loose so he could work independently. Apparently, he had been doing some cooperative work with Elya recently. He told me it had to do something with rooting out traitors. Like a proud parent, I’d almost shed a tear. To think that just two months ago, he was spilling monarchist diatribes. Now, he was actively helping me protect the foundation of Germania’s democracy. I wished him and Elya luck and went on with my own work.

           The past few weeks, aside from mentoring Ludwig, I had been drafting and passing a bill for an organisation for veteran affairs. It was focused on providing a basic pension, introducing veterans to jobs, vocational training, higher education (if they qualify), healthcare and also to research the effects of PTSD, which was still called shellshock. I even added a provision to provide grants for research into better prosthetics. I planned to present this bill to the rest of OZEV in the meeting three days from now.

           As Germania finalises its demobilisation, it will be flooded with hundreds of thousands of veterans. Some of them will be able to find jobs without trouble, but many would not be able to. Whether that was because of physical or mental disability or other unfortunate circumstances, the fates of many of them would be homelessness.

           It made me remember my own first few months after the First Great War, with no pension or qualification outside of the military. If it wasn’t for the orphanage, homelessness would surely be what awaited me. And I was probably one of the more fortunate ones. I had not suffered any permanent physical disability, unless you count my lack of height, nor was I too mentally traumatised.

           If I had been given benefits as a veteran and offered a job right after the war ended, I wonder if I would have gone into politics at all. Likely not.

           On giving veterans vocational training and higher education, the Germanian economy was booming like never before, and job positions were opening up left and right, yet there was a lack of manpower due to aftereffects of the war. Despite the Second Great War being relatively quick and clean compared to WW2, Germania had still lost over 150,000 young men. Some of the labour shortage was alleviated with the influx of migrant Francois workers, but it wasn’t enough. As such, the vocation training aims to fulfil the need for workers in Germania’s industries. In particular, metalworkers, mechanics and electricians were in heavy demand. The offers of higher education for those that qualify for university admission operated under similar reasoning of adding more professionals into the workforce.

           Wasting a great number of veterans that would be willing to work but was rendered unable to because of disability or other circumstances was the opposite of my philosophy in efficiently utilising human resources.

           I had also heavily emphasised the research of mental health. In the 1940’s, mental health was still a taboo topic, with mentally unwell individuals often being institutionalised in asylums and ‘treated’ with methods barely different from medieval torture. It was the main reason why I had never opened up about my minor shellshock to anyone but my closest friends. As such, the first step to advance mental health was not research into mental health, but rather to destigmatise mental health in the first place. As soon as people could recognise that mental health as a natural part of overall wellbeing, much like physical health, it would push the field of mental health forward by decades.

           Nevertheless, that did not mean I could ignore research, so I had allocated a budget for psychologists to research shellshock and find ways to sufficiently treat its symptoms, without making the patients physically or mentally uncomfortable. I had even created an ethics committee to oversee the research.

           It was quite a lot of work, but now everything has been finalised. The Department of Veterans Affairs had been established.

           I had also checked in on Ugar’s work with the nuclear reactor yesterday. There had been no incidents. Not even a single near miss or false alarm. I’d given him the permission to start building more nuclear reactors in Germania then, as long as he followed my stringent safety code and diligently reported any incidents.

           Even though the flow of oil was good right now, there was no telling when it could be disrupted. The flow of oil from Azerbaijan was dependent on the mood of the Turkmen Empire. The oil from America was secured, but the Albish could easily block it if they ordered an embargo. Oil coming through the Suez Canal was especially vulnerable, as rebels in Aegypt could easily block the canal. The Russy Tsardom and Legadonia currently does not have the infrastructure or technology to mine its oil. As such, it would be prudent to establish different sources of energy, especially nuclear or renewable ones. Energy independence was a good goal for OZEV to strive for, now that security and survival was no longer a paramount concern. Luckily, a war wasn’t going to start anytime soon for any of my crucial oil supplying allies.

           After I used the P-1 computation orb, I wondered if I could possibly use an inverted function that Elya proposed to turn a shield into a containment shell against a nuclear malfunction. However, a nuclear meltdown would surely kill the mage keeping the barrier active. I wonder if I could request Schugel to add a remote activation function somehow, so that a mage could activate an inverted barrier while outside of its maximum radius.

           Right then, Amelia, one of Elya’s girls, came in delivering more paperwork. Sighing in exhaustion, I took the first page of the stack and started reading it. My eyebrows perked up in surprise.

           A request for a visit from Ho Chi Minh, President of the Annamese Socialist Republic. It did not go into details why he was coming to visit, but I could deduce it.

           He likely wanted me to support Annam in fighting against the Francois. While I thought of keeping colonies as a waste of time and resources, the Francois certainly did not. They would be outraged if I agreed to his request. In fact, the frogs might even demand that I hand him over to them. However, the Francois Republic was not a member of OZEV, so I was not inclined to. We might cooperate on an economic level, as they were part of the MEF, but that doesn’t mean we’ll comply with their request for an extradition.

           Ho Chi Minh would have to offer quite a lot if he wanted my help, knowing my distaste for communism. Of course, communism and socialism, which Annam was operating under, was not completely the same. But they were still very similar, and both went against my philosophy of the free market. Not to mention that a socialist country can easily switch to full communism.

           Still, I should at least hear him out. He would be the first socialist leader I would have a conversation with. Taking out my pen, I signed my signature and planted my stamp, leaving a big red “Approved”. 

Chapter Text

AYKRR Chapter 12

To Change the World

22nd August 1942,

Berun,

           Up until 3 o’clock in the afternoon, Erich von Lehrgen had a good day. That morning, he had a very constructive conversation with the former leaders of Pullska, Czechoslovakia and Hungary in the reorganisation and combination of their officer training academies. Mr. Moscicki had proposed for an establishment of similar mage academies in the former capital cities of Pullska, Czechoslovakia and Hungary, citing that the current academy in Berun was near its full capacity, and thus could not train mages from the newly annexed territories until it expands.

           Mr. Ronai had even proposed that each mage academy could even form its own aerial lacrosse teams and play each other, forming an amateur aerial lacrosse league. It was an idea that Lehrgen found amusing, and he had spent some effort in laying the foundations for new mage academies in the newly expanded Germania, aside from the three former capital cities mentioned.

           It was oddly cathartic to discuss not about how to kill as many men as possible, but rather how to nurture future soldiers. It was a balm to his soul in a way, as someone who has participated in two Great Wars before he was even forty-five.

           However, his day had quickly turned to the worse when he went to his meeting with the recently appointed President Ernst. They had been briefly acquainted when Lehrgen was introduced to the young man right after he was sworn into the post, but neither of them ever had the time to get to know each other personally.

           And now he knew Ludwig Ernst’s true personality. He wished he never did.

           After a cordial greeting, Ernst had quickly launched into a drawn-out explanation of his plan to put Tanya von Degurechaff on the throne as Kaiserin. The Kaiserin! Not only that, but he also somehow assumed that Lehrgen would be receptive towards this idea, if not already part of Degurechaff’s scheme.

           It took Lehrgen everything he had to not break character right then and there. He had let President Ernst keep talking, his meeting with Lehrgen and eagerness to explain his plan obviously based on a gross misunderstanding. Ernst even thought Lehrgen was a war-loving maniac like him and Degurechaff!

           Ernst had casually told Lehrgen that while he and Elya Muller had destroyed any political resistance against monarchism in the Reichstag and the elites of society. This fact alone sent shivers up his spine.

           Eventually, President Ernst had told him of Lehrgen’s part of the grand plan to coronate the Chancellor. The man seemed to confidently assume his cooperation was a given. He told him Lehrgen was to organise the army to break up any civilian-led protest for democracy, as well as enforce martial law should the nation ever have to declare it. It was ridiculous, a clear sign of tyranny and abuse of authority.

           “And what do I get in exchange?” Lehrgen asked, speaking slowly to reveal his somewhat shaking voice.

           “General Lehrgen, I’ve long heard of your patriotism and desire to crush the Fatherland’s enemies. However, you’ve been held back every time because of politics. With the Kaiserin at the reins, you will be free to decimate our enemies with no remorse. You’ll get all the time and men you want for your strategies. Any weapon you request.” The man still thought that Lehrgen was some insatiable hound of war.

           “I see, I’ll consider the offer.” Lehrgen lied with a fake smile on his face. He shook hands with President Ernst, an act that made his hairs stand on end. He might not be making a deal with the Devil, but he was definitely making a deal with her apprentice.

           “Thank you, General. You have done our nation a great service.”

           Afterwards, Lehrgen had tried to act as calmly as possible when he made his way back home, his head filled with thoughts.

           President Ernst was clearly a madman in support of Degurechaff. Lehrgen could not let this happen. Germania could not have Degurechaff as a tyrant. With ultimate authority, she would surely direct OZEV to conquer Western Europa or even spark that global war she had always dreamed about since childhood.

           He could not let this happen. He could not let Germania be plunged into war again. He should meet up with his fellow generals. He should marshal his armies to conduct a coup. He should depose Tanya von Degurechaff. Yet he hesitated.

           If he tried to depose her, what would happen? Degurechaff surely had her own loyal faction in the military, General Ugar, General Weiss and the 203rd were proof of that. If a coup led by Lehrgen was to occur, it would lead to a civil war, causing hundreds of thousands, if not millions of casualties. Nuclear weapons could even be used on Germanian soil. And at the end of it, no matter who won, it would leave Germania devastated and vulnerable. The Allied Kingdom would surely exploit their weakness to disrupt Germanian hegemony. The Francois Republic will definitely invade to reclaim their lost pride. Even their allies might even abandon them, if not betray them outright.

           Their enemies, having seen firsthand what Germania could do if it was allowed to recover, would tear Germania apart, its regions annexed by neighbouring powers. Germania would cease to exist in history. And he would be the cause of it, if he stopped Degurechaff’s plans. Lehrgen would be the man who killed the Fatherland.

           If Tanya von Degurechaff was to become Kaiserin, she would surely plunge the world into war. But she was no fool. He knew that she would never start a losing war. She would ensure Germania’s victory.

           Lehrgen stopped himself in realisation. He couldn’t believe it. Letting Tanya von Degurechaff become the Kaiserin was likely the best choice he had for Germania’s future. Was this why President Ernst had the meeting with him? The reason why he let Lehrgen leave so casually? Because he knew that Lehrgen was a logical man who loved Germania. Because Ernst surely knew that Lehrgen had no choice but to accept his part in this grand conspiracy against democracy.

           Lehrgen clenched his hand tightly enough to draw blood, before taking a deep breath. Fine, he would do his part in this plan. He would, as much as he loathed it, support Degurechaff’s ascension to the Imperial throne. But he would ensure that there would be as little casualties as possible. And by being at Degurechaff’s side, he could influence her to rein in her bloodthirst a little. In doing this, he would be saving lives. He would save Germania.

24th August 1942,

Parisee, Francois Republic

           Jean Beaumont, the Director of the Central Intelligence and Action Agency (Agence Centrale de Renseignement et d'Action) or ACRD, was frustrated with many things about his country. He was frustrated that he had lost so humiliatingly to the Germanians. He was frustrated that his country’s economy was being held up only by the same nation that defeated them. He was frustrated with De Lugo for plunging their republic into such dire straits in the first place.

           He was especially frustrated with his agent’s inability to keep themselves from being caught interfering with the Alsace-Lorraine plebiscite by Waldstattener observers.  At least the trails they left led to an Alsace-Lorraine independence group. Seriously, it’s been three months since the end of the Second Great War, yet those incompetent buffoons had caused the referendum to have to be re-held three times, each time causing it to be delayed by another month. At this point, the Germanians will soon start getting suspicious.

           But right now, his full frustration was focused on the missive sitting on his table. “Guillaume, this cannot be true. She would massacre him with her bare hands before he could even set foot onto Germanian soil. He’s a socialist, for God’s sake.”

           “I’m afraid it is true, Director. Our spies have confirmed that Ho Chi Minh left Annam on a plane heading west 2 days ago. Today, the same plane landed in Degurechaff International Airport. It even had the same paintjob and designation number. The passenger of the plane has not deboarded.” His male adjutant, Guillaume confirmed. Jean had fired every single female employee in the ACRD last year. They might cry sexism, but he couldn’t risk national security. The BND was too much of a threat. Other government departments ought to do the same thing as him.

           “She must be trying to meet him in secret. Perhaps on the plane or have a car chauffeur him to a secret meeting location. She must not want the public to think she’s aggressive towards communism but sympathetic towards socialism.” Beaumont mumbled.

           “Do we order a hit on him?” Guillaume asked.

           “Are you crazy!? In Germania, while he’s in close proximity to Degurechaff? If a single hair on the Devil gets hurt because of us, Germania will burn the Republic to the ground.” Beaumont would rather hang himself than have Germanians occupy Parisee a third time in less than twenty years.

           “Then what can we do? If she agrees to send him aid, the Republic will surely lose Annam, then the rest of Indochina. If that happens, the rest of our colonies will view us as weak and rebellions in the Southern Continent will happen soon after. This is our best chance to get rid of Ho Chi Minh, his security in Annam is too tight.”

           Beaumont leaned back against his chair for a moment, contemplating.

           “The Republic must not be allowed to lose its colonial holdings. We depend on them for cheap goods and labour. Have your agents in Germania assassinate Ho Chi Minh if he is vulnerable, but at least fifty metres away from Degurechaff. No explosives. If you are unable to assassinate him without risking Degurechaff, sabotage the meeting by any means necessary. Remember that Degurechaff’s safety comes before Ho Chi Minh’s harm.”

           “Shouldn’t we first consult the President over this decision, sir?”

           “I can’t trust De Lugo with making imperative decisions anymore, not after the last occupation of Parisee. For all I know that idiot will order us to blow up both Ho Chi Minh and Degurechaff. Besides, he’ll be out of the office soon.”

           “Understood, sir.” Guillaume walked away to carry out his orders, a smile on his face.

25th August 1942,

The Rathaus, Wien

           I had easily gotten the other OZEV leaders interested in the veterans affairs bill. Many of them were suffering from the same problems plaguing their workforce and unemployed veterans. This bill would be aiming to address both issues at once. A true two birds with one stone.

           I glanced back at my accompanying coterie, who were sitting in chairs behind me. Maciej Moscicki, Istvan Ronai and Jan Benes had come along, as they were more familiar with the former countries’ regional administration then me. They would be in charge of handling the affairs of their veterans there.

           To streamline the bureaucratic process and allow them to attend the OZEV meetings as they technically were only electorate seat holders, I created a governor title for them to assist me in administering the newly annexed regions. I created five positions for those who would be assisting me with administering the five major regions of Germania: Germania Proper, Osterry, Czechoslovakia, Hungary and Pullska. I personally administered Germania Proper, while I gave Osterry to Heidler to manage, since he was familiar with the region and fiercely loyal to me. Each Governor would have the administrative power to handle the affairs of their own region, while reporting anything of high significance or that they were unable to handle to me.

           I had only just chosen my Governors yesterday, so only time would tell if my decision to delegate like this would significantly lessen my workload. 

           Aside from the former three leaders of the former Imperial states, Heidler was obviously here too, as the Governor of Osterry. Despite being a Governor now, he was apparently still baking his own pastry at his restaurant, because I could spot traces of flour on his hands. He must have raced here in a rush.

           Zettour, as my Minister of Foreign Affairs, was present. He would be providing his wealth of experience and knowledge of military, history and foreign affairs.

           As my secretary, Elya was here too. And so was Ludwig, who I have now gotten comfortable enough with to just call by his first name. He was here to watch and learn how I handle OZEV affairs. I stared suspiciously when Ludwig started whispering something to Elya. Was it just me or were they being awfully close lately? Their seats were even pushed closer together. Oh well, it was none of my business.

           “Everyone,” I announced. “I would like to propose a direction that I want to take regarding Germania’s colony of Malagasy.”

           Most of the OZEV Executive Council members and their coteries only seemed half-interested, as none of them even have colonies to speak of. Only Luigi Falasca was rapt with attention, as Ildoa had claims to Libya, Eritrea, Somalia and even a Qinese concession in Tianjin. Unlike my world’s Italy, Ildoa never launched an invasion of Ethiopia.

           “Malagasy’s economy is frankly undeveloped and agrarian. It has a population of over four million but does not have any notable exports. I intend to build up its economy and infrastructure and set up light industry and tourism. I will then cultivate goodwill and set up a colonial government, run by mainly Malagasians. Once Malagasy is up on its feet and can start exporting goods to nearby countries, I will hold a referendum for its independence.”

           My last sentence caused a wave amongst the assembly. It must seem ludicrous to them that Germania would invest so much into a colony, only to let it leave.

           “You will just let go of Malagasy?” Falasca asked, incredulous.

           “Not for free. I’m going to ask for the right to set up a military base there. It will serve as a valuable supply depot and will give us a military presence in East Africa and the Bharatian Ocean. I also intend to lower trade barriers between us and Malagasy, such as eliminating tariffs.”

           “And I suppose that you want Ildoa to pursue a similar approach with its own colonies in the Southern Continent.” Falasca said.

           “Yes.”

           “I’m afraid that’s not possible for Ildoa. Unlike Malagasy, which did not have any industry of note when you acquired it from the Francois, we have held these territories for too long and have invested too much into them. Furthermore, we have many business owners and over 100,000 Ildoans living in those colonies. We cannot just order them to abandon their homes and businesses. And reimbursing them would be out of our budget.”

           All of those issues he mentioned rang true. Indeed, part of the reason why I could pull out of Malagasy so easily is because Germania barely has the colony for over a year, with Germanian having settled there. Meanwhile, Ildoa has owned its colonies for years, even decades. There were likely people of Ildoan ancestry living there who have never set foot on Ildoa itself.

           “Let’s debate the profitability of your colonies first. Mr. Falasca, your oldest colony is Eritrea, correct?”

           “Yes, we’ve held it since the 1880’s. It has been very profitable.”

           “During the first thirty years of your governance of that colony, how many rebellions, revolts or independence movements did you have to deal with?” I inquired.

           Falasca turned to his Minister of Foreign Affairs to answer for him. “Only two rebellions, both of which were quickly quelled by our military.” The bald old man said.

           “And how about the past thirty years?”

           “Eight open rebellions, twelve revolts and three large independence movements, both in the east.” The man admitted honestly. It was impressive that he memorised those data.

           “And have you managed to subdue all of them?”

           “No, we have not. There is still a rebellion in Keren and the independence movement in Asmara is still going strong.” Almost too honest, like he was begging us for assistance.

           Zettour, who was behind me, spoke. “And pray tell, what can you tell us about the leader of the independence movement?”

           “We have identified him as one Adonay Amato, born to an Ildoan father and Eritrean mother. He was born and raised in Eritrea but moved to Ildoa to study. He returned to Eritrea after the First Great War. A couple years later, he kicked off his independence movement based on the self-determination and nationalism that was common in Europa at that time.”

           “That’s enough about him. I expect that you have independence movements in your other colonies as well?” Zettour continued.

           “Yes, we do. A couple smatterings of colonies here and there.”

           “And I expect that their leaders have similar backstories to Adonay Amato. Natives who studied in Europa and brought back ideas of national identity and self-determination after the First Great War. Am I correct?”

           “Yes, you are correct. Over half of them have been educated in Europa. Others have close associates who were educated in Europa.” His Ildoan counterpart confirmed.

           “And all these uprisings require the use of your military, which increases your administrative burden and cost of operation?” Zettour asked.

           “Yes.”

           “Alright, then tell me this, if you consider your colonies as a business, what is your profit margin for the last year?” Zettour probed.

           “Around fourteen percent, per last year’s report. A decrease of three percent compared to the year before that. In 1932, the profit margin was thirty-nine percent. In 1912, the profit margin was around fifty percent.” The Ildoan Minister of Foreign Affairs was deliberately giving out more information than we asked for. It seemed like he shared my opinion of giving up on the Ildoan colonies, despite it not being what Falasca wanted.

           “As you can see, Mr Falasca,” I said. “Your profits earned from your colonies have been decreasing over time. At the start of colonisation, your profit margin was high because of your light administrative burden and little need to sustain a substantial military to pacify these colonies. However, after the First Great War, natives who studied in Europa brought back ideas of nationalism, patriotism and national self-determination that have been heavily discussed in Europa.” I took a breath.

           “They propagated these ideas, rallying others to their independence movements, causing unrest and rebellions. This means that you have to quell these movements with your military. Maintaining a large occupying army over countries hundreds of kilometres away can be very expensive. Not to mention a larger colonial administration that eats even more at your profits. I expect that in around five to twenty years, it will cost you more to maintain your colony than what value you extract from them. If you cultivate goodwill over time by being less heavy-handed with the independence movements, then try to install a local government that’s friendly towards you to set up advantageous deals, you will get more out of your colonies in the far future.” I drank some water to wet my mouth, which had gone dry from my explanation.

           I wasn’t making an argument based on morals, such as the native people deserving to have their own country. No, I was making an appeal to something that attracts everyone. Money.

           I heard the sound of a pencil scribbling behind me and turned around to see Ludwig furiously writing down dot points on a notepad. It was good that he was trying to learn from me.

           “I can see your logic, Ms. Degurechaff. However, you have not addressed the issue of Ildoans living in these colonies.” Falasca replied.

           “I’m not asking you to pull out of these colonies right away. Even Malagasy will take a few years until I can call a referendum. You can promise your colonies eventual independence and start a slow transition period over a decade. Simply declaring eventual independence alone should knock the wind out of the independence movements’ sails. That means you won’t have to spend as much on an occupying army. Over time, you can downsize your administration and occupying army while spending the money you save to invigorate your economy back in Ildoa. A flourishing economy back home will make it attractive for Ildoans living in your colonies to move back.”

           “And for the Ildoans that choose not to move?”

           “That’s their choice. You can choose to grant them the citizenship of their home colony if you want.” I said.

           “I see,” Falasca nodded. “I will further consult with my Minister of Foreign Affairs, Minister of Finance and colonial administrators. Thank you for your ideas.”

           It wasn’t an agreement, but it wasn’t a refusal either. That was good enough for me.

           With that, the meeting was concluded.

           As I walked out of the Rathaus, followed by my group, two limousines came to a stop in front of me. One of them would carry me to Degurechaff International Airport (I can’t believe they named it after me) to meet Ho Chi Minh, while the other would be boarded by my coterie.

“Chancellor, I have an idea for a change of name for the Republic of Germania.” Heidler told me before I boarded the limousine. I tilted my head in curiosity.

Moscicki chimed in. “Since Germania has absorbed so many regions, we should adopt a better name to suit our country’s geography and ethnicities. This is something that I’ve been discussing with Herr Heidler as well.”

“Any ideas?” I asked.

“The first name we got was the Republic of Greater Germania. But that was terrible, and didn’t achieve any of our criteria for a new name. Eventually, we landed on the name of the Central Europan Republic. What do you think?” Heidler said.

“Not bad. I’ll have it run through the Reichstag.” I replied.

           Bidding my friends and colleagues adieu, I rode the limousine to the airport. We didn’t arrive at the arrival terminal, of course, but instead took a special entrance right into the airfield, where Ho Chi Minh’s plane awaited. It was quite a modest plane, with a scratchy red and yellow paint job.

           The car parked just ten metres away from the plane and I exited. A face peered out from behind one of the windows of the plane and must have recognised me in my dress and military jacket, because they quickly disappeared back into the plane. A minute later, the plane’s ramp lowered, and the door opened.

           A short man whose face I mildly recognised climbed down. He was thinning at the top and sported a black goatee that I often saw as white on the photos of him on the internet. He was also a lot skinnier than I expected, with the clothes hanging off of his almost skeletal frame. Nevertheless, I understood that he was the leader of a socialist country who had led a revolutionary army. I was the last person who would underestimate another because of their lack of physical intimidation.

           A taller man followed him from behind, hovering almost protectively. Definitely a mage.

           As he walked over to the limousine, I held out a hand to shake his, speaking in Francois. “Welcome to Germania, President Ho.” The man took my hand and shook it. If the press was here, they would surely be bombarding us with pictures. However, it was six o’clock at night and I had made sure there were no other ongoing or outgoing flights today.

           He nodded appreciatively at my using a language he was fluent in and responded in fluent Germanian. “I have been studying your language, Madam Chancellor. Thank you for agreeing to my visit.”

           I noticed that his bodyguard seemed like he could comprehend our conversation as well. He will likely be recording the conversation on his orb.

           “May we hold our discussion inside?” I offered, as my chauffeur opened the door for us.

           “Of course.”

12 hours earlier,

Secret Intelligence Service Headquarters,

           As the Director of the SIS, an intelligence service so secretive that the public still call them the MI6, Theodore Johnson paradoxically had low expectations from his agents. Never expect much and you’ll never be disappointed. But if something does go beyond your expectations, then be delightfully surprised.

           Today, he was delightfully surprised indeed. Agent Wax, under the false identity Guillaume, had managed to become the personal secretary of Jean Beaumont. The Director of the ACRD had fired all female employees within the agency, and agent Wax had neatly slipped into the role. Needless to say, the intelligence advantage this gave the Allied Kingdom was massive. Now, they effectively had the intelligence channel of the Francois Republic in their grasp.

           Just an hour ago, he received an urgent report from agent Wax. The President of the Annamese Socialist Republic had landed in Germania for a secret meeting with Chancellor Degurechaff. Agent Wax had been ordered by Beaumont to send orders for ACRD agents in Germania to carry out an assassination on Ho Chi Minh if it did not endanger Degurechaff, but sabotage was an acceptable outcome.

           He was now asking for a response from Johnson on whether to do exactly as Beaumont instructed or to… alter either the main objective or the target of the mission. Response from command has to be soon, or he would not have time to make an amendment.

           Johnson knew for a fact that he had to take this information to the Prime Minister and the cabinet immediately. This could save the Albish Empire. This could change the balance of the world. 

Chapter Text

AYKRR Chapter 13

Pound of Flesh

AYKRR Chapter 13

Pound of Flesh

               The limousine left the airport and started heading to the Hofburg Palace, where I had arranged to have Ho Chi Minh stay. Since I was receiving a foreign leader, I might as well impress him. The limousine was soundproof, and the chauffeur was actually a 203rd member in disguise, so I was not afraid of this conversation leaking out from my side.

               This meeting was top secret, so I only told the highest-level personnel in my government. Even then, none of them would know the minutes of this conversation, only that it happened.

               I also had extra security trailing our transport, of course. Both occupants of the taxi fifteen metres ahead and the six people in the white van twenty metres behind us were all mages from my security detail, who had been escorting us the moment the limousine left the airport. There were twenty-eight other mages from my security team in plainclothes, interspersed along my route to where Ho Chi Minh will be staying. I was also sitting on a fridge-sized secret tool that I had brought from Berun, disguised as a sofa.

               “Firstly, no recordings. I don’t want any proof that this conversation happened.” I demanded. Ho Chi Minh’s bodyguard wanted to protest, but a wave from the President of Annam made him comply, making him shut down his recording spell and delete all footage.

               “I’m surprised that you came in person, I thought you would send a representative.” It was quite a risk coming here himself, since he was risking that I would not extradite him to the Francois.

               “To convince another person of your own conviction, you must see them eye to eye. Besides, I have already arranged a successor in the event of my capture or death.” Ho Chi Minh replied.

               “Let’s get straight to the point, President, you understand that I’m taking a substantial risk by letting you arrive in Germania. If the Francois know I’m here, they could do something drastic. If the public knows I let you come here, I’ll lose public support. So, you better have something good to offer for my help in driving out the Francois. Present your deal.”

               “Of course, Chancellor. We offer to buy weapons and vehicles from your catalogue, as well as hire military advisors and trainers for our pilots and mages. All paid with gold or other precious metals.”

               “You do know of my hatred for communism, right?”

               “Communism isn’t the same as socialism.”

               “Of course, but at the end of the day, both ideologies run against my wish for a free market. I’m not going to open my catalogue for you unless you can make some concessions regarding socialism in Annam.” I said.

               “And what concessions would that be?”

               Like with any type of bargaining or negotiation, you must first ask for a price so outlandish that the party would immediately reject, only to then offer a more reasonable deal, which they would be more willing to take.

               “First, Annam must never convert to communism. Second, no genocide or prosecution of any group of people, including landlords and the wealthy. Third, adopt a free market economy. Fourth, establish Annam as a democratic state with more than one political party, with no censorship or suppression. Fifth, allow Germania to establish multiple military bases across Annam.” My terms were absolutely egregious.

               My fifth concession basically demanded that Annam become a protectorate of Germania. I wanted him to refuse that last concession, which may allow me to present a counteroffer that waives the fifth concession but increases the price on the weapons that Annam purchases.

               Ho Chi Minh shook his head. “We cannot comply with all of your conditions.”

               He continued. “The first condition is easy enough to do. I’ve grown slightly disillusioned by communism when I heard of Holodomor. As for the second condition, I plan to pass widespread land reforms by confiscating land from landlords, who produce nothing of value, then I will redistribute to peasants for them to make their living.”

               As someone who had studied the history and mistakes of communism and socialism, I know what he was talking about. The Ho Chi Minh in my world implemented a campaign of executions and purges targeting landlords and the wealthy, killing thousands of people. However, many of the ‘landlords’ targeted by peasants were either just wealthier than average or intellectuals who were mistaken for being an elite. I must stop this travesty or at least ameliorate it before it could come to pass.

               At the same time, I understood that promises of land reforms were a powerful weapon to the communists and socialists. Many wealthy landowners did indeed oppress their tenants, leading to built up resentment amongst the poor. In my world, both Mao and Ho Chi Minh managed to draw many peasants and rural dwellers to their cause. Mao even had nationalist soldiers defect to the CCP after only putting up token resistances, which helped him win the Chinese Civil War despite the Nationalist Party being heavily backed by the USA. Therefore, it was impossible for me to ask Ho Chi Minh to not try passing land reforms.

               “Even if your main target is the landlord class, the fervour of the peasants may cause them to prosecute anyone that is remotely not a peasant, including intellectuals. That might do harm to people that are innocent and build resistance among them against your cause. You could impose laws on landowners to make peasant’s lives easier, such as preventing landowners from raising rent. Or even making a provision to allow peasants who have worked on a piece of land for a long time the opportunity to purchase it at a discounted price by considering their rent as a downpayment so that they eventually become landowners themselves. If land requisition is a must, then can I ask you to only confiscate the majority of land owned by the wealthiest landowners, instead of confiscating all land from all landowners?” I negotiated.

               “Your ideas are worth considering.” Ho Chi Minh mused. “But there is still much public odium aimed at landlords. For landlords that have been mistreating their tenants, I still aim to prosecute them and redistribute their land. I will ask the wealthiest landlords to voluntarily donate some land to peasants as a way to build goodwill.  If they refuse, it is a sign that their greed has overridden their senses, and I will confiscate the majority of the land to be redistributed. It will be in their own interest to donate land, considering the revolution. That provision you proposed that allows peasants to work towards buying land is also very interesting, I will try implementing it.”

               I was glad that Ho Chi Minh was a rational person. It would be awkward if a leader I supported started killing landlords en masse. This was probably the best I could do at changing his plan regarding landlords.

               “As for adopting free market capitalism, I’m afraid that’s too much of a departure from socialism. My Minister of Finance has already proposed an alternative. As a concession to your aversion to socialism, I intend to adopt an economy with multiple free sectors, but economic development will be state driven.”

               I raised an eyebrow at what Ho Chi Minh said. To think that someone in his government already thought of a socialist-oriented market economy. And if Ho Chi Minh had considered an alternative to socialism already, then he must already be drifting slowly away from the ideology. It seemed that Annamese independence was eventually winning over his loyalty to socialism after all. However, there will still major flaws within the socialist-oriented market economy. Furthermore, it wasn’t a free economy like I wanted, as the state will be heavily involved with planning the economy.

               “I don’t think that’s the ideal economy for the state that Annam is currently in. There are many needs and demands in your developing country, and the state will not be able to plan to meet all of those needs and demands. Furthermore, there are many mechanisms in the market that the state could overlook, leading to challenges in planning economic development. This can lead to inefficient economic planning, and slower economic growth.” I explained.

               “I can already tell that you have another suggestion for me.” Did he bring up the economic system that his minister proposed to me so that he could receive feedback? Clever man.

               “Yes, I’m proposing a mixed economy with social safety nets. The state will maintain strategic ownership of some resources and services of your choosing, but the majority of the market would be privately-owned and the prices of goods and services should be based on supply and demand. You can place some regulations on the market, but the development of the economy should still be market-driven. Furthermore, to avoid people falling into destitution, a system of taxpayer-funded social safety nets should be provided to uplift people out of unemployment or low socioeconomic status.”

               Ho Chi Minh rubbed his beard and sat in silence for a while, thinking. “I can see where you’re coming from. When given money, the poor will spend it on necessities, which will in turn go back into the economy, correct?”

               “Yes, and to those that think you’re drifting away from socialism, just tell them that the mixed economy with a social safety net is a transitional economy towards true socialism, and that the safety net feature is a sign of that. You could even dub the system ‘socialist-oriented mixed economy’.” I said.

               “This economic model that you proposed is very interesting. I will relay it to my Minister of Finance, and he will compare it to his own model. As for how my party will respond to such an economic system, that I will handle.” He nodded. That was better than nothing. He could likely pass off what I proposed as socialism, by calling it transitional socialism or something like that by arguing that the nationalisation of a few key sectors run in line with socialism.

               I didn’t mind if they called it socialism on paper, as long as they maintained an economy with a large private sector, freedom of choice and demand-driven competition to drive up quality of products and services. 

               “For your fourth condition, Chancellor Degurechaff, I can accept it, but not right now. Immediately after a revolution is when a country is most volatile. Annam needs a strong central government with no detractors if we wish to drive out the Francois as a united front. Once the Francois have been defeated and our economy stabilised, then I will consider allowing the emergence of other political parties. I also promise to not censure or suppress these political parties.” Ho Chi Minh promised.

               That was also agreeable. Sure, Ho Chi Minh’s socialist party will likely be very entrenched in the political system after the Francois Republic is driven out and will likely remain the party in power for multiple decades, but there would be hope of another political ideology becoming more popular and eventually becoming the leading party. This is assuming that he doesn’t censure or suppress political opponents, of course, I know how power can corrupt. But as long as the government is chosen by the will of the people, I was willing to relent.

               “What about my fifth concession?” I inquired.

               “We actually wanted to offer you that in the first place.” He laughed. I stared at him incredulously. He wanted me to place bases in Annam?

               “You’re not afraid that we want Annam as our colony?” I asked tentatively, had Ho Chi Minh gone mad?

               “If you had such imperialist ambition, you would have taken Indochina or more profitable Southern Continent holdings when you defeated the Francois, not a token colony like Malagasy. If I’m correct, you deem colonies to be a waste of time.” Impressive, he’s one of the few who’s seen through my reasoning for taking Malagasy.

               Oh well, I suppose I failed to scam Ho Chi Minh into buying my weapons at a higher rate. Since I now have the right to build military bases in Annam, I might as well send out an expeditionary fleet there to see if we can build a few bases along the coast. The actual construction will be started after the war in Annam is finished, of course.

               I will give the orders to my admirals later to survey suitable locations. With how frugal I’ve been with the naval budget, they will likely understand that I don’t want excessively large bases, simply small bases where refuelling and resupplying will be done. Otherwise, the other countries may think that I was trying to project Germania’s military power in Asia. Or even worse, declaring that Annam was my territory.

              “You’re giving quite a lot for just some weapons, vehicles and training.” I noted.

              “Anything for Annam’s independence.” He said. I was getting the impression that he was more of a nationalist than a socialist.

               “So, do we have a deal?” I asked Ho Chi Minh in confirmation. If he agrees, I’ll have an agreement drafted and we will both sign it.

               “Of course. I hope that this will be the beginning of a very fruitful partnership between Annam and Germania.” He offered a hand, and I shook it. Perfect timing too, as our car arrived at the entrance of the Hofburg Palace.

               The car stopped, and I waited for our chauffeur to open the door for us. Just then, I immediately felt four magic signatures, strong ones, three hundred metres away.

               I immediately channelled magic into the P-1 computation orb I was sitting on and activated a 20-metre barrier spell. Immediately, I activated my mental acceleration and sensitivity spells. Less than one-tenth of a second later, I felt the vibrations of my barrier shaking as four artillery spells slammed into it at nearly the same time, cracking it slightly. I poured more magic into the P-1, and the barrier repaired itself.

               I reached into my jacket’s pocket and activated my walkie-talkie. “It’s an assassination! Four hostiles three hundred metres north! Capture them! I want them alive!” Right after that, I got a response saying that they already started pursuing the assassins.

               As calmly as possible, I asked Ho Chi Minh and his bodyguard to trust me and stay inside the barrier. His bodyguard looked as though he was about to carry Ho Chi Minh and fly away, but his boss assured him it was okay to stay inside the car.

               After five minutes, my bodyguards called me back, telling me that all four of my assassins were captured but committed suicide by biting down on a cyanide pill hidden in a false tooth. It will take some time to identify them and determine which country they came from.

               After another half an hour for my bodyguards to confirm that there were no more assassins nearby, I deactivated the P-1. Me and Ho Chi Minh gingerly exited the car, as over a dozen mages with activated barriers immediately form a circle around us.

               There was going to be a lot of explaining to be done.

26th August 1942,

Palais de l'Élysée, Parisee,

               De Lugo had never felt so much despair and fury at the same time before. That idiot Jean Beaumont had ordered Ho Chi Minh to be assassinated on Germanian soil. If the assassination was successful, then it would have been worth it to endure the outrage from Germania, as long as there was no other victim caught in the crossfire. Then De Lugo would have been displeased still at Beaumont, yes, but happy enough at the death of the leader of Annam to let it slide.

               But the assassination had not only failed but also targeted The Devil of the Rhine. His hands had started shaking as he read the report. While many countries had vendettas against Tanya von Degurechaff, there was one commonly agreed upon fact.

               You don’t touch the Devil and expect to not get burned.

               What Beaumont just did was metaphorically slapping the Devil in the face by trying to assassinate both her and a foreign leader she was negotiating with on Germanian soil. This was an absolute disaster. It would be a miracle if only he and Beaumont were forced to resign.

               While yes, the Germanians have not yet identified the assassins as Francois, it was only a matter of time. Now, De Lugo was speculating on the Germanian response. Sanctions, reparations, demand for public apologies and political concessions. Yet his mind could not help but fall on the worst-case scenario. A declaration of war. The attempted assassination of Germania’s messianic leader was the perfect casus belli. The Germanians were surely clamouring for blood.

               The Francois Republic was not prepared for an invasion. The majority of the Francois Republic’s armed forces were occupied in Annam and their Southern Continent holdings. There were perhaps only 20,000 fighting men guarding their eastern borders. They had no heavy vehicles, as the Germanians had taken their oil during the Second Great War. Their naval presence in Europa consisted of two destroyers and a light cruiser, which would be light work for the Germanians.

               The only defence force of note would be their mages, as they still had a substantial number of them left after the war. But as much as he hated it, his Francois mages were like children to Germanian ones. Babies, if the Devil personally took to the field. All he would be doing if he sent mages against her would be increasing her kill record.

               Even worse, this time, Germania could call upon all of OZEV to invade the Francois Republic by promising them Francois territory and treasures. Something told him that Ildoa would not mind getting their hands on Corsica.

               De Lugo sat down on his chair in utter defeat. This time, he realised, the Germanians would arrive to occupy Parisee in days, hours if they sent their mages as a vanguard. Likely, the Devil will arrive herself at the head of the invading army, preening while soaking in the Francois Republic’s despair.

               Oh, God, what would the people of the Francois Republic think? Their capital will be occupied three times within twenty years. Twice in just two years. What pride would they have left? Generations from now, their humiliation would still be brought up by their descendants. Any child of Francois blood would have to avert their gaze when a Germanian walked by.

               And what price would the Devil ask from the Republic? De Lugo knew that Degurechaff had let the Republic go easily last time, as she still had to deal with the Russy Federation. But now, she could take her time systematically tearing apart the Francois Republic. She could probably annex half of their territory, and he wouldn’t be able to do anything about it. De Lugo would go down in history as the man who destroyed the Republic. Perhaps he could offer the Devil his imprisonment as an apology. His final act as President.

               While he wallowed in his despair, a knock came from the door of his chamber. De Lugo cleared his throat and told whoever knocked to enter in the calmest voice he could possibly summon. His secretary Amelie came bearing a missive.

               “It’s from the Albish ambassador, President.” She said, pausing at the door. He must look utterly dishevelled right now.

               “Give it to me, I’ll read it right now.” Perhaps he could distract himself for a bit while he waited for Degurechaff to come. He’ll have to draft a bill of surrender soon.

               Amelie handed him the missive and exited the chamber. De Lugo started reading it. He froze when he was mid-way through reading. What the Albish was proposing was… does he dare? While he might just be jumping from the pan into the fire here, he couldn’t imagine anything worse than the Republic being defeated again.

               De Lugo stood up, his shoulders squared, his eyes hopeful again. There might be another way after all.

36 hours ago,

10 Downing Street, Londinium,

               “So, Johnson, that is what you will tell agent Wax.” Winston Churbull, Prime Minister of the Allied Kingdom, said.

               “Yes, sir, I will communicate your instructions to the letter.” The Director of the SIS left promptly.

               After Johnson left, John Payne, the Minister of Defence asked. “Sir, is that wise? This could have serious consequences to Europa. Especially if it devolves into a war.”

               “It will not devolve into a war.” Churbull stated confidently. “Degurechaff will hesitate once our plan comes into fruition. Guysborough, Ispagnia finally signed the agreement?”

               “Coming off a civil war, they have judged that this is the best time to join the alliance, for Ispagnia and her colonies’ security.” Viscount Guysborough reported.

               “What was Lothiern’s response to our proposal?”

               “They’re hesitant. They want to wait and see how this will turn out before deciding.”

               “And Kanata?”

               “They might not have any colonies, but they would benefit greatly from the waived tariffs. As one of our former colonies, they’re fiercely loyal to us. They have already decided to join the alliance.”

               “Good. Gentlemen, in three days, we will change the balance of the world powers.” Churbull declared to his cabinet.

29th August 1942,

Berun,

               After ensuring our safety, we relocated to Berun for better security. After reconfirming that our deal was still valid, I had an agreement drafted that was quickly signed by both me and Ho Chi Minh. Despite me apologising profusely for our inadequate security and begging him to stay in Germania just a few days to appreciate our culture and see the sights, he had left on his plane to Annam this morning. 

I couldn’t fault him though, I wouldn’t feel secure either if an assassination attempt targeted me within twenty-four hours of me stepping foot into a supposedly friendly country. 

Ho Chi Minh did show some curiosity towards the P-1 though, asking if it was for sale. I had to break his bubble by telling him it was a prototype. Luckily, he had agreed to keep a tight lid on its existence, as thanks for me saving him.

               Elya had taken responsibility for allowing the assassination attempt to take place and vowed to extract as much information as possible from the assassins’ corpses. I’ve never seen her looking so chastised my entire life. Meanwhile Visha had fussed over me like a mother hen, checking every part of me to make sure I was unharmed, despite me reassuring her that I didn’t even feel a breeze from the artillery spells.

               “What is the public reaction to the assassination?” I asked my cabinet, whom I have assembled in an emergency meeting. With the use of artillery spells and the massive barrier that I had erected in an open space, it would be impossible to not notice the assassination. Newspapers have likely already put the story on their front page. Luckily we spirited Ho Chi Minh away before any citizen could spot me and the socialist leader together.

               “There is some fear, but the general reaction is outrage. Some people are calling for retribution by whatever means necessary, even war.” Zettour reported. That was to be expected. I was likely at the height of my popularity right now. Although I didn’t think that the average Germanian would be that outraged at me being targeted for an assassination. I certainly would be shocked if my Prime Minister back in Japan had been assassination, but certainly not calling for blood. Perhaps they already grew greedy for land after we annexed so much territory.

               “Have we identified the assassins?” I asked Elya.

               “They tried to pass themselves off as NKVD agents by using Russy gear and computation orbs, but we have matched their faces to foreign registries and identified them as Francois citizens. We dug further and discovered that they were agents for the ACRD.”

               The Francois? I didn’t expect that. Of course, there was much animosity between us, but I didn’t expect De Lugo to send assassins after me. I had expected the assassins to be Russy, Serbian or Bulgarian. How could it possibly benefit the Francois Republic to assassinate me?

               If I died, Germania would likely declare war on the Francois Republic the day after. Sure, as a peace-loving man like me, Ludwig might try to hold them back, but he wouldn’t be able to stop hawks of war like Lehrgen. Not to mention that a vengeful Visha would likely fly to Parisee to decapitate De Lugo with a shovel. I expect that Parisee would become a nuclear wasteland by the end of that war.

               If I didn’t die, the Francois wouldn’t know what my exact response would be, but there was no way they expected it to be anything good. It was possible that the assassins were rogue agents with a personal vendetta, but the assassination attempt was too organised. They had targeted me while I was in a stationary car with another high-priority target. Had I not had the P-1, I could still have flown out the window of the car quickly to escape. But Ho Chi Minh would have surely perished, as his bodyguard couldn’t react as quickly as me, nor did he have a fast dual-core orb. The meeting between us was top secret, this meant that the assassins must have received intel from the very top. They could not have possibly operated without the assistance of their agency. The ACRD was still involved at the very least.

               So, what could the Francois Republic possibly get out of this? After all, the first thing you ask when investigating a murder mystery is who benefits. That was the problem, the Francois Republic couldn’t possibly benefit. Whether they kill me or not, Germania comes for retribution. So, it could not possibly be them who ordered the hit, but it was ACRD who was used as a tool. Therefore, I could only come to one conclusion.

               The Francois were used. Likely without their knowledge.

               But by whom was the mystery.

               “Do we declare war on the Francois Republic?” Lehrgen asked tentatively. Crap, Lehrgen was rearing to go to war already. I need to do something to stop him before he burns Parisee to ash and salts the land.

               “No, I will send an inquiry to the Francois ambassador and wait for a response. If it is inadequate, I will request a call with President De Lugo.” That should delay Lehrgen just a little bit.

               Just as I started thinking about what to write, a BND agent that I vaguely recall was named Carla ran into the room as if chased. I didn’t bother chastising her on the breach of protocol, it was clearly urgent.

               “Madam Chancellor! You need to watch the news! It’s being broadcasted!” She exclaimed. Was the Francois Republic broadcasting their public explanation? That would save me time having to draft a letter to their ambassador.

               Me and my cabinet moved to the common room to see the one television there broadcasting a press conference. However, instead of only having De Lugo present like I expected, there were other world leaders on the conference table.

               Sitting to his right was Winston Churbull, the Prime Minister of the Allied Kingdom. He answered a question posed by a journalist. “This action will ensure the economic and military security of our countries, while preserving our colonies, which are rightly our properties.” His response was translated back to Francois, suggesting the conference was being held in the Republic.

               Sitting to Churbull’s right was a nearly bald man with a thin mustache. Francisco Franco, the Prime Minister of Ispagnia, which had just come off a civil war only weeks prior. His Nationalist faction now had an iron grip on the country. According to the latest reports, he was a dictator who operated with near absolute power and had ambitions to expand Spain’s colonial empire.

               Sitting to De Lugo’s left was William Lyon Mackenzie King, the current Prime Minister of Kanata. He was a liberal who advocated for a welfare state, free trade and lowered tariffs. 

               De Lugo then added. “This move will also ensure the lasting prosperity of the Republic and serve as a check against the ever-expanding OZEV.”

               Then, all four of the world leaders stood up and went to a canvas partially covered with a sheet. The uncovered part suggested it was a world map.

               Then, taking hold of a corner of the covering sheet, Churbull pulled it, revealing the entire map. Highlighted in green were the territories of Kanata, Ispagnia, Francois Republic and the Allied Kingdom, including all their colonies, which covered most of the Southern Continent.

               “I present to you the Trans-Atlantic Treaty Organisation!” Churbull exclaimed. “An economic and defensive alliance, aimed to maintain free trade across the Atlantic, secure our colonies in the Southern Continent and defend against any international threat!” It went unsaid that the international threat he was alluding to was likely OZEV.

               They were copying from my own playbook and forming their own alliance.

               My cabinet was stirring, my ministers making their own predictions on how this will affect the economy and the balance of power in Europa.

               The press conference continued after that theatrical reveal, with the four heads of government returning to answer a flood of questions.

               Apparently, the discussion to form TATO had been in the works for quite some time between the Allied Kingdom, Ispagnia and Kanata. The Francois Republic was a recent addition to the talks of an alliance. I’d wager money that the Albish only offered the Francois a chance to join after that bungled assassination.

               In summary, TATO functioned similarly to OZEV. All tariffs between member nations were waived. However, this had required the Francois Republic to pledge to withdraw from the MEF in two years and place its previous tariffs on MEF goods. The four countries would also share intelligence and scientific discoveries, as well as military technology. It also aims to secure the freedom and security of its members through political and military means, which meant that it had a defensive military pact.

               The unique thing about TATO that differed it from OZEV was its strategy concerning colonies. For administering their colonies, the four nations would coordinate with each other to stomp out revolutionary dissent more efficiently, while encouraging free flow of goods between their colonies. My Minister of Finance was already thinking about how this would affect wages.

               As for me, I was seething. Even a blind man could see that Churbull was the one leading the other three. And this response coming from the Francois Republic meant that the perfidious Albish were the ones who had orchestrated the assassination. It made complete sense now. The assassination attempt would increase animosity from Germania towards the Francois. Terrified that Germania will declare war, the Francois Republic leapt into the protective arms of the Allied Kingdom. Not only that, but through the waiving of tariffs, the Allied Kingdom also made itself an indispensable trade partner for the Francois Republic, since it would be withdrawing from the MEF soon.

               Ispagnia had just come off an unstable period; Francisco Franco likely saw joining TATO as a step to ensure stability in his country. As for Kanata, they were former vassals to the Allied Kingdom and many of their policies mirror the Albish, it likely wasn’t hard for the Allied Kingdom to convince Kanata to join, despite Kanata not possessing any colonies.

               Nevertheless, I now know who was behind the assassination attempt. However, it was all circumstantial evidence, so I could not accuse the Albish of any wrongdoings. If I try to get recompense from the Francois, the Allied Kingdom will step in to defend their new ally from being ‘bullied’ by Germania, despite Germania being the aggrieved party. They would likely tell the Francois to pay only a paltry amount of reparation, knowing that Germania would not risk a war.

               The Albish had metaphorically slapped me in the face and dared me to slap back.

               War was out of the question, and I would never use it as a political tool anyways. If I declared a war now, it would engulf the entirety of Europa and the Southern Continent. And the communists would surely not sit back when such a golden opportunity was presented to them either. The Russy Federation might strike at Kieva and the communists in Asia might invade Eran, Afghanistan, South Bharat or Joseon. This would invite consequences from both OZEV and TATO of course, but both would be occupied fighting each other.

               It would be a Third Great War between three major blocs of power, mere three months after the conclusion of the Second. Furthermore, it was one that would truly be a World War, on a scale beyond both the Great Wars before it.

               What TATO just did was ensure that none of the three blocs of power could declare war on one another, as the third bloc would be free to do whatever they want or even wait and pick off the pieces of the weakened victor between the other two blocs.

               Interestingly, I noticed a nation missing that I thought would join TATO, based on its policies.

               Lothiern.

               It still held claim over both the Congo and the Lothiern East Indies, otherwise known as Nusantara, which was equivalent to Indonesia in my world. It would greatly benefit Lothiern to join TATO and leverage the Royal Navy to suppress dissidents in its colonies. TATO had surely extended an invitation to Lothiern, if only to unite Western Europe and to keep Lothiern out of Germania’s sphere of influence. But Lothiern had declined to join. This meant that they were not confident in this alliance. That meant Lothiern saw some flaw in TATO that made them averse.

               And I saw it too. Their economies were unstable. Despite having a productive economy, the Allied Kingdom was still mired in debt. The Francois Republic’s economy was in ruins and heavily dependent on Germania’s population to keep much of its citizenry employed.  A gap that the Allied Kingdom would be looking to fill once the Francois Republic withdrew from the MEF. Ispagnia had barely come out of its civil war and the reconstruction of its infrastructure and economy had not even started. This meant that Kanata was the only stable economy amongst the members of TATO.

               This economic instability implied that the formation of TATO was likely a reaction to their waning global influence, and to curb OZEV from becoming the new world leader. Despite its unstable economy, the combined military of TATO, mainly composed of the Allied Kingdom’s forces, supplemented by the other three allies, was nothing to scoff at. And that was not considering the numerous colonies TATO controlled, which it could levy soldiers and resources from. This also meant that even if we occupied their home territories, their military could flee to the colonies, like the Francois did during the first Great War. A war against TATO would be as difficult as fighting the Russy Federation and twice as frustrating.

               TATO was likely using its military to buy time for the economies of its Europan members to fully recover. Once it has, the combined economy of TATO would likely rival OZEV. Judging by how the Albish made the Francois promise to withdraw from the MEF, TATO could aim to fight a trade war with OZEV, something that I could not allow to happen. Trade wars simply hurt both economies, while crushing the poor underneath. Free trade should not be impacted because some faction wanted to have a willy measuring contest.

               I had to stop TATO in its tracks before it could grow any further. The last thing I wanted was for Europa to be split in two halves like the days of the Cold War. I could not let the economies of its Europan members recover. I might even need to find a way to break up their alliance. And I think I knew how to do it.

               The Albish planned this alliance to regain its lost glory as a superpower. They sent those assassins after me, thinking that I would just take it lying down, without coming for my pound of flesh. But they forgot one crucial thing.

               They forgot to fear me. My revenge will not be immediate. It might take years. But it will come, and when it does, they will remember with stark clarity.

               For now, I will play meek. I will not ask for payback or great reparations. But I will be waiting.

Chapter Text

AYKRR Chapter 14

Trouble in Europa Town 

31st August 1942,

White House, Washington DC,

            In the Oval Office, President Roosevelt sat with some of the most powerful men in America.

“Degurechaff’s response was much more subdued than anyone expected. She merely asked for a public apology from De Lugo and the resignation of the Director of the ACRD. Both of which the Francois readily gave without complaint.” The Secretary of State, Cordell Hull said.

            Roosenvelt spoke in a measured voice. “Perhaps she’s less willing to have another war so soon after the Second Great War. She emerged from the attempt on her life without a scratch, so perhaps she’s not that furious. Merely causing De Lugo and the ACRD to lose credibility was enough for her.”

            “Oh please,” The Secretary of War, Henry. L. Stimson scoffed. “The day the Devil grows a sense of mercy is the day my mother-in-law likes me. She’s clearly faking it. It’s the calm before the storm. You must all remember that hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. She’s likely devising some scheme to make TATO beg for mercy later. Me and my boys are already speculating on how an invasion of TATO by OZEV would go.”

            “You think they would invade?” Roosenvelt asked in alarm. He didn’t think that Degurechaff would go that far, not when she just demobilised her army.

            “No, but it is always good to be prepared for any possibility. Our simulations suggests that a total war would end in the capitulation of the Francois Republic and Ispagnia in less than a year, but an invasion of the Albish Isles would be impossible or extremely costly due the Royal Navy’s much higher ship count and overall tonnage, which is over eight times that of the OZEV combined navy. Of course, we know that Germania’s navy can punch above their weight, but the presence of the Royal Mage Force and Royal Air Force should also deter amphibious landings. We don’t think that OZEV would invade Kanata, given the distance and the fact that it would leave them exposed to an Albish counterattack.” Stimson commented.

            Roosenvelt turned to his Secretary of Commerce, Jesse. H. Jones. “How do their economies stack up to each other?”

            The other man answered, holding a clipboard of charts in his arm. “OZEV’s economy is thirty percent larger than that of TATO’s, with Germania making up sixty percent of OZEV’s economy. Similarly, the Allied Kingdom accounts for fifty-five percent of TATO’s economy. If we consider OZEV and TATO to be two economic entities, they would be the second and third largest economies in the world respectively.”

            “And the economic forecast?” He asked.

            “TATO’s economy is forecasted to grow at a rapid rate by my financial experts. This is mainly due to the post-war economic recovery of Ispagnia and the Francois Republic. As for OZEV, their economic growth is nearly as high, coming victorious in the war. They’re actually projected to surpass our economy in ten years.” Jones reported in a troubled voice.

            The Unified States was still mired by the Great Depression. Sure, the grain sales to Germania had helped prop up farmers, but Germania has been buying less American grain lately to favour Kievan grains. Roosenvelt started to regret not joining the war along with OZEV. It would have allowed the US to kickstart the economy and gain access to several Europan markets.

            “I see.” Roosenvelt said, thinking for a second. “The way I see it, gentlemen, the Unified States currently has two options. One, we stay isolationist as we are now, watching the major events of the world from the perspective of a bystander. If we do this, we will eventually lose our spot as the number one economy to OZEV.” He paused dramatically to let that fact sink in.

            “The second option is to stop watching and become a player on the board.”

            “We’re joining one of the two alliances?” Hull asked.

            “No. Our weight would offset the scale too much. Both sides want us to join them, TATO especially. I expect both the Allied Kingdom and Kanata to leverage their ‘special relationship’ with us soon. We will play both sides at the same time. Ask both alliances what they can offer us. What trade deals will they sign? What tariffs can they waive? What technology can they share? All while we benefit from both sides. It’s like two suitors presenting their best gifts to the prettiest girl in the city.” Roosenvelt chuckled.

            “I see.” Hull nodded sagely. “We’re using both alliances to get us out of the Great Depression and secure our place firmly as the largest economy in the world.”

            “Indeed. But don’t expect that we’re the only country in the world being courted by TATO and OZEV. Lothiern is likely under great pressure as well.” Roosenvelt said.

            “Me and the boys in the War Department have been thinking that OZEV and TATO could potentially turn global.” Stimson interjected. This caused everyone in the Oval Office to stare at him.

            Stimson continued. “It would benefit them strategically to have allies in Asia and the Pacific. That’s where the communist threat is growing. TATO will likely be seeking members in South Bharat, Australia and Aotearoa, as they are former colonies. OZEV will surely seek to form an alliance with Akitsushima, who is basically a de-facto member already.”

            “Then if TATO and OZEV ever get into a war, it will be a global one. A war where the sun never sets.” Roosenvelt mumbled ominously.

1st September 1942,

Reich Chancellor’s Office, Berun,

            I leaned back in my chair, stretching my stiff back. I had been running myself ragged the past few days, executing countermeasures for TATO. Two days ago, I had convened with the generals and admirals of OZEV to hold simulations over two possibilities: if TATO stages a surprise war on OZEV and vice versa.

            For the first scenario, it was quickly determined that the Francois Republic would not be able to cross our Western borders into the Rhine or Po Valley. We had effectively defanged their military and navy during the Second Great War; even Lothiern could pose a challenge for them. The Ispagnian military was even worse, because although they have a great number of veterans, these veterans were not formally trained. They were more familiar with urban warfare consisting of infantry and very little armoured vehicles. It would take months for them to be retrained to be effective in combined warfare.

            Kanata’s army was somewhat of a threat, but that would require them to be able to conduct a large amphibious assault, requiring the help of the Albish military, the true juggernaut in TATO.

            To defend OZEV’s northern coastline, our admirals judged that our best strategy to deal with the mighty Royal Navy was to actually station our ships near the coast and engage in battle there, while we rely on our bombers and mages to disable and sink their capital ships. Even then, our navy was still heavily outnumbered, and our aircraft carriers would not be very useful in a naval battlefield as small as the North Sea, where airplanes could easily be launched from land. Heavy casualties were expected from both sides.

            Then the Albish could attack us from one of two fronts: north or south.

            If they choose north, our naval experts judged that the Albish would most likely aim to sail their ships up the Elbe River to destroy Hamburg’s shipyard, OZEV’s most productive shipbuilding city. Most scenarios predicted that they would succeed in destroying the shipyard, which would severely reduce our ability to build our most advanced ships like our new destroyers and aircraft carriers. Nevertheless, the Royal Navy would suffer heavy losses from Germania’s mages, who are experts at boarding and destroying large capital ships. The heavy losses inflicted would likely render them unable to launch an amphibious assault, foiling a D-Day style TATO invasion. In short, TATO would lose much of its navy but would cripple Germania’s shipbuilding capacity. Fortunately, Germania did not plan on building any large ships after the construction of our second aircraft carrier was completed last month. Furthermore, OZEV had other shipyards in Legadonia and Ildoa, while we were also in the process of reconstructing another shipyard in Kieva. An invasion from the north would be an utter strategic failure for TATO.

            Zettour, who had barged into the war meeting despite no longer being in the military, actually predicted that instead of invading OZEV from the north and trying to knock Germania out of the war, TATO would likely try an invasion from the south through Ildoa. It made sense too, the Allies had tried a similar strategy in World War II. Ildoa had much weaker coastal defences than Germania, and OZEV would be hard pressed to reinforce Ildoa navally due to TATO’s North Sea naval presence and its control of the Strait of Gibraltar. The only naval ally Ildoa would have in the Mediterranean would be Croatia’s tiny navy of one light cruiser and one destroyer.

            We expected that Southern Ildoa would be quickly overrun, and OZEV forces would have to retreat to Po Valley. Nevertheless, reinforcements from the rest of OZEV would quickly arrive, and the invasion force would be driven out in a year’s time, ending in victory for OZEV.

            But that would be the situation in Europa. In the Southern Continent, we expected our forces in Libya, Eritrea, Somalia and Malagasy to be quickly overwhelmed and we would lose those colonies. I wouldn’t cry over Malagasy, but Ildoa certainly would over its colonies. Needless to say, in the event of a war between TATO and OZEV, Ildoa stood to lose the most.

            For the second scenario, which Lehrgen was shivering in excitement when he was explaining to me, was much more optimistic for OZEV.

            It was predicted that we would summarily roll over the Francois Republic and Ispagnia within half a year. If any ships were to try and escape like the Francois forces did at Brest, then we would pursue and sink them.

Afterwards, we would turn our full attention to the Allied Kingdom. Instead of launching a hasty amphibious assault or a naval battle, we would launch bombing night air raids across the Albish Channel with our bombers and mages to destroy the Allied Kingdom’s industrial capacity. Similar night attacks would be performed on the Royal Navy’s docked ships and Royal Air Force airfields. Any aid and supplies from Kanata across the Atlantic were to be intercepted by our submarines and destroyers to starve the Albish Isles. Within two years, the Albish economy and defensive capability would be thoroughly crushed, and we would offer them a surrender.

If they surrendered, it would be to both sides’ benefits. But if they didn’t take it, then we would be left with two possibilities.

For the first option, once the Albish navy has been thoroughly demolished, we would launch an invasion of the entire Albish Isles. Knowing the pride of the Albish and Churbull’s attitude of ‘never surrender’, the invasion was expected to face heavy resistance and would suffer high casualties. Optimistic estimates place military casualties of our own personnel alone at half a million. It would be much higher for Albish military and civilian casualties. Millions, likely. This was the worst-case scenario. An utter meaningless waste of human resources for pride.

            Only my Germanian generals and admirals knew of the second method we could use. The second approach would avoid a full invasion and save many lives but would open a Pandora’s box. We could drop a nuke on one of their cities to force a surrender; we currently had six nuclear bombs in our arsenal. Our first bomb produced, and the weakest, the Fritz X, was a 30kt yield nuclear warhead. It was estimated by our scientists that if dropped on Sunderland, the Albish’s top shipbuilding city, the total number of deaths within one day would be around 40,000 to 60,000. Within a year, that figure would likely double from radiation poisoning.

            Since I didn’t want Lehrgen to be too enthusiastic with using the bomb, I had lied and told him only half of the true figure. He had started shaking then, likely in rage at the fact that we spent so much money on making bombs that couldn’t even kill a hundred thousand each. I had to assuage his anger by telling him with a smile on my face that the cost of research had been the most expensive part, and now we could easily build many dozens more bombs. His face became as hard as stone and he had leveled me with an unblinking stare while breathing heavily, likely to express his impatience, before excusing himself out of the room for a moment. When he came back, there was a red welt on his head. I didn't bring up the fact that I heard what sounded like a blunt object hitting a wall repeatedly down the hallway with my magic-enhanced senses. Everyone had their own way of relieving stress.

            Anyways, when I was presented with the choice of dropping a nuclear bomb, I suddenly realised that this was the choice the Americans were facing when Japan was near defeat in World War II. How ironic that I, a former Japanese man, would be facing that choice if we chose to invade TATO.

            Like the Americans, I would also choose to drop the Fritz X on the Albish. It was a rational choice. Kill a hundred thousand to save millions. The sight of one of their cities being wiped off the map by a single bomb would likely demolish morale and swiftly bring an end to the war. It was hard to keep a stiff upper lip in the face of nuclear annihilation after all. But unlike the Americans which nuked a second city, if the AK still refused to surrender, I would drop a second nuke just off its coast, just to prove that we had more and had enough that we were willing to waste them as a display of force. The reason I would choose to drop the first nuke on a city instead of the sea was to wipe any doubt from the Albish mind that the explosion caused by the Fritz X could be an illusion made by mages.

            There was also the option to lure the Royal Navy into a naval battle, then drop a nuclear bomb on them, but that wasn’t a preferable option. Ships could be spaced far apart enough that the bomb would not be able to disable as much of the navy as we would like. Additionally, the bomber carrying the warhead could be shot down by anti-air weapons. The psychological factor of seeing a city wiped off the map would also be missing. Not to mention that we would contaminate the surrounding water in the North Sea, where there is heavy commerce activity in shipping and fishing.

            Nevertheless, I’d like to hold off from revealing the nuclear bomb to the world for as long as possible while Germania develops its nuclear technology. Even other OZEV countries were unaware of Germania’s nuclear arsenal. And in Germania, only the highest-ranking generals and government officials knew of its existence. Revealing it now would terrify every country in the world. It would surely kickstart a nuclear arms race. I should build a decently sized nuclear arsenal first, nothing to the scale of the thousands that the Americans and Soviets built, but enough to be a deterrent against any threat while telling the world that we didn’t want to destroy everyone. Around four to five hundred sounded low enough. After a decade or two, or until Germania develops the hydrogen bomb, we could reveal our nuclear arsenal, which should convince the world of Germania’s self-control and make me look like a saint, since I had weapons of mass destruction yet refrained from abusing them. That should surely disabuse people of my reputation as the Devil of the Rhine.

            If I didn’t reveal Germania’s nuclear arsenal in the future, I expected that the next nation to develop nuclear weapons would likely be the Unified States, followed by the Allied Kingdom. However, it would be years down the line compared to my world. There was no urgency in the form of an ongoing war. I could expect Germania to be the sole possessor of nuclear weaponry for at least this decade. I wasn’t worried about the communists developing nuclear weapons yet, not only were all of them engaged in some sort of conflict, but I had also ensured a massive brain drain of the Russy Federation.

            Recently, after I saw the P-1 computation orb, I thought about whether it was possible to over engineer a purely defensive computation orb that could potentially shield an entire city from a nuclear warhead. My world never managed to develop a countermeasure to nuclear weapons aside from mutually assured destruction. But since this world has magic, who knows how far techno-magic could eventually go in the future. It would be nice to both have ultimate offense and ultimate defense.

            Regardless, I personally didn’t think that TATO and OZEV would ever start a hot war with each other. Right now, TATO wants time for its economies to recover, so a war in Europa was the last thing on its mind. OZEV wanted a war even less, after just emerging from the Second Great War. The simulations were just there for our generals and admirals to flex their war knowledge a bit as a fun activity. It certainly seemed to invigorate Zettour, the old former general seemed ten years younger when he proposed how to encircle the TATO invasion force in Ildoa.

            Recently, I have realised that I needed to change my mindset from a decade ago, when Germania was still a vulnerable country. Right now, Germania was amongst the three most powerful nations in the world, with a flourishing economy and the sole possessor of nuclear weapons. I have become more aware of the influence that I wielded and how other world powers have grown wary of me. I don’t have much to fear from other nations anymore. I could afford to be more proactive and throw my weight around.

            My new goal if I wanted to retire should no longer be to make Germania strong again, that has already been accomplished. My new goal should be to prop up Germania as the next world superpower. That meant dominating economically, militarily, scientifically and culturally. Only by ensuring Germanian dominance lasting until at least the next century could I retire in peace.

            Therefore, I should start working on proactively dismantling TATO. I desired total free trade across Europa, where tariffs are waived across the continent to encourage free trade, competition and widespread prosperity. I could not do that if there was another large bloc right next to OZEV, with its own tariffs set against OZEV goods. As such, TATO has to go for good. Its economic, military and agricultural potential was just too enormous for me to allow it to exist as a capitalist rival to OZEV. Not to mention that if I retire in the future without getting rid of TATO, some idiot successor of mine in the future might just kickstart a disastrous war, causing people to pull me out of retirement to fix the damn mess.

            TATO’s biggest flaw lies in its formation; the alliance was formed prematurely. If it was formed five years from now with recovered economies and stabilised colonies, it would be an even larger threat. While I didn’t know the exact details, I could infer what happened that led to the alliance being announced so soon instead of waiting for a few more years, at least from the Albish perspective.

            The Allied Kingdom was formerly the strongest power in Europa, perhaps even the world. Now, Germania, which it thought it had thoroughly crippled in the First Great War, was quickly growing to become the continental hegemony that it always feared. And fear led to irrational choices. This likely wasn’t helped by the fact that the Germanian navy had thoroughly demolished the much larger Francois navy, a sign of the Allied Kingdom’s waning era of dominance.

            If it was true that the Albish had been planning for TATO for some time, they surely would have preferred to recruit more members and stabilise their economy first. However, the Francois Republic approaching OZEV for membership a couple months earlier likely spooked them into action. So, when the ACRD got hold of intel that Ho Chi Minh was coming to Germania, the Albish likely couldn’t help but interfere to push the Francois Republic away from OZEV. Therefore, I needed to exploit TATO’s flaws, which would disappear if I dawdled.

            The first step was to target a major source of TATO’s power - its colonies. For that, I made a call to Annam, directly to Ho Chi Minh’s office. When the man picked up, I offered him a discount of twenty percent for the first three shipments of weapons and vehicles that he would be willing to buy from us as an apology for the whole debacle in Wien. To say that the man was ecstatic would be an underestimation. 

            It was no skin off my back to offer him a generous discount; we would still be making a profit. I simply wanted the Francois to lose Annam as soon as possible, even if it meant fighting a proxy war. Losing Annam would quickly cause the Francois Republic to lose Indochina as well, leading to a weakened perception of the Republic by its Southern Continent colonies, leading to a higher rate of insurrection. All of this would cost the Francois Republic and TATO dearly in trying to suppress colonial dissent. Not to mention that a strong Annam with a mixed economy might deter Laos and Kampuchea from becoming communist in the future.

            Even then, I still wanted plausible deniability so that TATO couldn’t point fingers at me and start a hot war. When Ho Chi Minh first made his desire for a visit clear, I already went and established a private arms-dealing corporation called Eleventh Goddess Ltd. On paper, it was owned by one Hilda Adelburg, who was a false identity that agents of the BND could take turns assuming. Eleventh Goddess would go and purchase arms and vehicles from OZEV, then resell it to its clients. In this way, OZEV could say that whomever a private corporation sells its goods to was none of its business.

            As for Bharat, it was still within my interest for the Albish to defeat the communists in the north for me. As such, the flow of weapons and supplies would still continue. However, that did not mean that it would flow cheaply. I immediately ordered a twenty percent price increase in all weapons and supplies shipments to the Allied Kingdom and told ambassador Llyod that if the Allied Kingdom chose not to pay the extra price, I would halt all shipments and divert them to the Russy Tsardom. The Albish had likely expected at least this much in retaliation and budgeted for it, because they agreed rather quickly.

            Then, I moved my attention to the Southern Continent. Yesterday, I called Elya over to discuss what would likely be the BND’s most ambitious mission yet. She was to discreetly send her best agents down to TATO’s colonial holdings and start recruiting native young women there to join the BND. Preferably they would be mages. I understood that the mage tests in the Southern Continent colonies often ignored women, deeming them as unsuitable for military services.

            Once trained, our new recruits would start fomenting unrest in the colonies of TATO, aiding revolutionary leaders, gunrunning, spying on colonial administrators, etc. As natives, they would be less conspicuous than our Germanian operatives and more motivated to complete these missions. The main goal was to encourage resistance movements all across TATO’s colonies, which TATO would have to suppress by increasing their military presence, which would be a big drain on their budget. It would not be too long until it becomes unsustainable for TATO to maintain its colonies and be forced to grant them independence, lest suffer an economic collapse.

            Since the Allied Kingdom was my biggest threat, I was paying special attention to them. Aside from Bharat and the Southern Continent, I was also eyeing Eireland, the problem child of the Albish Isles. The Eirish held the same animosity towards the Albish as the Irish towards the British in my world. The way Albish history had played out was very similar to my world’s history. The only difference was that the Albish had cracked down on Eirish independence even harder, and Eireland was still entirely under the Albish thumb. I was aiming to change that.

            I would be employing a similar tactic to what I planned to do in the Southern Continent, but this time my BND agents would also be able to directly participate in fomenting the Eirish revolution. This would be a massive headache for the Albish, having a revolution right in their backyard.

           I could also aim to destabilise the Middle East, where many of the Allied Kingdom’s protectorates and mandates are located. A lot of oil was located there too, as well as the Suez Canal. However, I feared kicking up that hornet’s nest and causing unintended consequences. Not to mention that we didn’t have enough BND personnel for that anyways.

            All of this destabilisation of colonies was aimed towards causing a massive budget deficit for the Allied Kingdom, the main pillar of TATO. As of right now, they have three major debtors. Their war bond buyers, Germania and the Unified States.

           The Albish government started selling war bonds in 1941, and the bonds would mature in 1951. This was their least urgent debt.

            As for America, the majority of the debt they owed was already paid off. The Allied Kingdom likely only had to pay to the Americans for another two to three years to clear their debt. I didn’t intend to give them that long.

           The debt that they held towards Germania, they would have to pay off for the next forty years. However, they had the option to defer payments, at the cost of allowing the convertibility of pounds into marks. They would likely try to prevent this from happening at all costs. The last thing they needed was for the mark to become the world reserve currency.

            Many of my anti-TATO countermeasures were aimed to delay the Allied Kingdom’s economic recovery, with the aim of making them either pull away from their colonies or defer on the debt they owe me to save on their budget. Either case was a win for me. If they pulled away from their colonies, that would trigger a domino effect across all TATO colonies and cause the empires of TATO to collapse within a few decades. If they deferred or even defaulted on the debt to Germania, that would cause a devaluation of the pound while setting up the mark as the new world reserve currency. Both cases would wound the Allied Kingdom’s economy.

            Of course, I should not just focus on weakening TATO, I should also focus on preventing them from strengthening themselves.

            The quickest way for TATO to gain more strength is by admitting more members. The two obvious options were Lothiern and the US. I actually didn’t know much about the politics in Lothiern, despite it bordering Germania. The country was known for being peaceful and had remained neutral in the Second Great War. Any military strength it had was pretty negligible. I hadn’t even bothered sending any BND agents into Lothiern since I didn’t think it would become politically significant any time soon. Nevertheless, I should prevent TATO from uniting the rest of Western Europa against OZEV.

            Surprisingly, I didn’t have to do anything about Lothiern personally. Ludwig had eagerly volunteered for the job of convincing Lothiern into joining OZEV or at least remaining neutral. He claimed his family still had great connections within Lothiern and that his grandfather, the former Kaiser, had been holding talks with the Lothiern Prime Minister as of late. Knowing that I should start delegating more and get Ludwig some experience with international politics, I let him handle Lothiern.

            That meant I had to deal with the Unified States. Knowing them, they were definitely watching the events happening across the pond with keen interest. Both Europan alliances offered waived tariffs for its members, which the Unified States was surely interested in to pull itself out of the Great Depression. While both alliances had members who shared special trade or cultural relationships with the Unified States, at the end of the day, America’s best friend was money. They would be analysing the pros and cons of joining either alliances or staying isolationist as they have been. Both TATO and OZEV will have to woo America with trade deals, technology deals and political concessions.

            TATO was actually a very attractive choice for the US, despite OZEV having the larger economy. Not only was TATO’s Europan countries closer to the US than OZEV countries, the US also shared a land border with Kanata, where goods can be directly shipped by trucks and trains, instead of having to be ferried thousands of kilometres across an ocean. TATO’s economy will also be rapidly growing, although that’s mainly because it would be hard for the Francois and Ispagnian economy to shrink at this point.

However, if they chose to join TATO, the US would be obliged to send some forces to help occupy TATO’s colonial holdings. I knew for a fact that many in the US were against Europan Imperialism and advocated for principles of self-determination and democracy. This was reflected in the fact that the Filippines, which was equivalent to the Philippines in my world, was already declared an autonomous commonwealth, and will likely be granted independence in a few years.

            On the other hand, OZEV had no such imperialist obligations. Sure, both Germania and Ildoa held colonies, but we didn’t require our allies to occupy them for us. Furthermore, OZEV’s economy was the second largest in the world, and was projected to grow steadily. There were also several political concessions I could offer and tariffs on American agricultural products that I could reduce or waive entirely. If it ever seemed like TATO was close to convincing the US, Germania could reveal our trump cards by offering to sell either our Type 99 or our nuclear reactor technology, likely only the former, as the latter could be disastrous if it fell into the wrong hands.

            Having signed all the paperwork to execute my orders, I breathed out in exhaustion. Now that I have finally taken care of everything, I could finally relax for the next few days. The effects of my countermeasures will not be fully apparent until a few months, but they will make TATO start sweating when they do.

2 hours later,

Tanya and Visha’s apartment, Berun,

            “Yes, harder Visha~” I moaned lightly.

            “You mean right here?” Visha asked, as she applied the pressure.

            “Hmmmm, a bit to the left.”

            Getting a massage from an attractive woman who knew her way around your body really was heavenly. I was laying on the bed with my shirt and bra off, while Visha was loosening all of my tightly knotted back muscles from this week’s work. Although, she was using a bit too much force.

            “Are you mad at something?” I asked Visha as she massaged my shoulders.

            “I just don’t like the fact that Churbull thought he could try to have you assassinated like that.” Visha said, her voice displeased.

            “He likely didn’t intend for me to be killed in the first place. He knew I could escape.” I mumbled as Visha’s hands moved to massage the back of my neck.

            Not hearing a response from Visha, I started to fear she might be angry enough to order Elya to do something drastic. I kept forgetting that beneath that beautiful face was a battle-hardened veteran, especially when she always acted so lovey-dovey and gentle around me. “Don’t order a hit on him. We don’t want that type of escalation. The last thing we need is to have world leaders dropping like flies. Also, if the Albish decide to hit back after we have Churbull assassinated, they could easily target you. Just because the BND is hypercompetent doesn’t mean that the SIS are chumps. They did manage to subvert the ACRD after all.” I said.

            Visha huffed cutely. “Still, we should do something to warn him that such actions have consequences. No one gets to touch you without my permission.” She kissed me on the cheek and her hands started working on the small of my back.

            “Leave it be, Visha. We’re at peace right now, the last thing I want is a war in Europa.” I said. All I want right now is a little bit of relaxation after the past few days. After ten minutes of massaging, I heard the sound of frantic running towards our apartment door.

            Not wanting to be seen in a compromising position, I got dressed and went to open the door. I was met with the sight of a dishevelled, huffing Anna, Elya’s second-hand woman.

            “What is it? It better be urgent.” I inquired in a slightly annoyed voice. Me and Visha were about to move on to something more fun later.

            “The Moskva faction has launched a full-scale invasion of the Russy Tsardom! Legadonia has called for an emergency OZEV meeting!”

            I sighed. 

            Damn you Being X!

Chapter Text

AYKRR Chapter 15

Morale Booster

2nd September 1942,

The Rathaus, Wien

           It had only taken every single leader of the eight OZEV member nations nine hours to all arrive at Wien. I also noticed that every OZEV member had brought their Minister of Defence or equivalent with them. I had brought my usual coterie with me, with the addition of Lehrgen.

           To say that this was the tensest OZEV meeting I’ve ever been in was an understatement. Every OZEV head of government either had tense faces or clenched jaws. Both Adamovich and Mikael Karlsson, the Legadonian Councilmember of Foreign Relations, were grim. One would think that it had been their countries that were being invaded. Although that might not be very far off. Legadonia or Kieva would be next if the Russy Tsardom fell.

           “The Moskva faction’s bellicosity cannot go unpunished! OZEV must unite as one and put the threat of the Russy Federation to the ground! We should oust the communists out of Europa altogether! Make them retreat behind the Urals!” Karlsson was perhaps the most passionate advocate for OZEV to participate in the defence of the Russy Tsardom. It made complete sense, the Russy Tsardom was a valuable trade partner and a defensive bulwark for Legadonia.

           “I agree. The Russy Federation has proven that it has recovered enough to be a threat to OZEV’s security.” Adamovich nodded.

           “To join in another war so soon is unconscionable. OZEV has already lost so many young men and women after the Second Great War. War weariness amongst the public is still high. We wouldn’t be able to sustain another war for very long.” Boris Marinko, the Prime Minister of Carinthia spoke. There was truth to that. We likely would not receive much public support to declare a war on the Moskva faction, even if they were the aggressor.

           “And if we stay out of this war, we risk losing more in the future. The Moskva faction is a mere shadow of the Russy Federation. It will be crushed under the combined might of OZEV.” Karlo Nazor of Croatia said with a certain sense of finality.

           “Can we even economically sustain another war? And after we just finished demobilising our military?” Thorvald Buhl, the Prime Minister of Daneland asked. That was also true. OZEV just drastically reduced the number of active soldiers in its military. OZEV’s economy has also almost finished transitioning to a peace-time economy.

           “It is possible. The Moskva faction only has a mere fraction of the Russy Federation’s might. We won’t need to mobilise our reserves at all. Just active-duty soldiers should be enough.” I stated.

           “We might be exposing our Western flank to TATO if we focus our attention on the Moskva faction.” Luigi Falasca brought up an issue that did not even exist a mere week ago.

           “TATO has shown no sign of mobilisation for an attack on either Germania or Ildoa, we don’t have to be wary of a two front war yet.” Lehrgen from behind me assuaged his worries, and the Ministers of Defence of other nations murmured agreements.

           “The Russy Tsardom is not part of OZEV, but its existence is paramount to OZEV’s security. It needs to be maintained as a buffer state.” Constantin Groza of Dacia argued.

           There was a bit more back and forth arguing, but it was decided in the end that the Moskva faction has to be stomped out at all costs, lest they grow more powerful in the future. The vote to hold an intervention in what is dubbed the Russy Civil War passed unanimously.

           The first step in the intervention was the declaration and addition of another clause in the alliance’s treaty. The Lend-Lease Act. OZEV countries may lend or lease war materials, food and supplies freely to another nation, if that nation’s security is essential for the defence and security of OZEV. As we still have a small surplus of weapons and vehicles, many OZEV countries were glad to offload them to the Russy Tsardom.

           The second step was devising a strategy for OZEV’s strategic intervention in the Russy Civil War. Another OZEV meeting would take place in three days to establish our objective and strategy.

           After the emergency meeting was concluded, I immediately had my entire party flown back to Berun to discuss what we could lend to the Russy Tsardom. In the end, we discovered that what we could spare was a lot. The factories that were manufacturing weapons and munitions for the Second Great War had only been recently shut down. It was a simple matter to hire workers and start them back up. We had a great deal of tanks and trucks that would soon be replaced by newer models, so we also decided to give them to the Russy Tsardom.  I also chose to send nearly all of our propeller fighter planes to the Russy Tsardoms, since they would soon be rendered obsolete by jet fighters.

           I ordered for more military rations to be produced, and for more medical supplies to be manufactured. However, I added a special note for K-brot to NOT be sent to the Russy Tsardom. Wouldn’t want them to think we were trying to poison them after all.

           Our biggest roadblock had turned out to be how to transport such enormous amounts of supplies to the Russy Tsardom. Since only Legadonia shared a border with the Russy Tsardom, it meant that all the supplies that OZEV decided to send had to go on ships to be sent to St. Petersburg. The problem was that there were not enough cargo ships, and it was impossible to transport it all with planes. In the end, we just decided to also load the supplies onto our idle warships and send them to St. Petersburg. For the large vehicles like tanks, trucks and planes, I decided to send them on our aircraft carriers.

4th September 1942,

Wien,

           That night, me and my cabinet were busy discussing what else we could do to help the Russy Tsardom. Any ideas that we brainstorm today would be presented at the OZEV war meeting tomorrow.

           Given that OZEV’s level of war weariness was high, our intervention had to be swift and decisive, preferably defeating the Moskva faction within just a few months before the public sentiment could turn for the worse. That was likely why the Moskva faction had chosen this time to attack.

           My generals said that the Moskva faction’s objective was likely to conquer as much of the Russy Tsardom as possible before the infamous Russy winter arrives in December. The bitter cold of the Russy winter would halt nearly all military operations, as men would easily freeze to death and even oil would become solid chunks, rendering all vehicles and machinery non-operational.

           While winter would stop the Moskva faction from conquering more of the Russy Tsardom, it would also stop OZEV from a counter-invasion. When the Russy winter sets in, the Moskva faction would be allowed a three-month long reprieve while OZEV would have to deal with anti-war public sentiments back home. We also could not discount the possibility of them sending spies into OZEV territory to foment anti-war protests and demonstrations. The Moskva faction was likely banking on us not being willing to fight a war until next year. As such, as long as they could conquer the majority of the Russy Tsardom before winter, they would achieve their objective.

           This also gave OZEV a deadline. We had less than three months to defeat the communists and push them out of Moskva, if not to the other side of the Urals altogether. Maybe four months if we prepare adequate winter gear and food to keep fighting in December.

           If we failed to do it before winter set in, it would allow the Moskva faction to gain more territory and consolidate its position as the successor faction of the Russy Federation. Its triumph against the might of OZEV would inspire other Russy factions to unite behind the Moskva faction, likely hastening the reunification of the Russy Federation. That was an unacceptable outcome.

           We also had to be wary of TATO to the west. There was no doubt that they were watching OZEV’s response to the situation closely. The communists just bought them at least three precious months to economically catch up to OZEV. I wouldn’t even put it past them to indirectly support the communists to distract OZEV for longer. An enemy of my enemy is my friend, after all. My collaboration with a socialist leader to make a TATO member lose their most precious colony likely didn’t help convince them against working with communists either.

           Whether I liked it or not, OZEV and TATO had likely already entered a Cold War with each other. And if I let the communists in Europe recover and reunite with the communists in Asia, it might just become a three-way Cold War between OZEV, TATO and the Communists. I couldn’t retire in an unstable world like that.

I had immediately shot down the first proposal to drop a nuclear bomb on the outskirts of Moskva, brought up by Ludwig of all people. Such willingness from my chosen successor to use a weapon of mass destruction ran incongruent to my initial impression of him as a man of peace who was forced to fight in a war simply because of his sense of duty. If anyone else had said such a thing, I’d immediately assume they were a warmonger.

           Then I realised why he had proposed such a drastic solution in the first place. It was to prevent the loss of more lives and ensure a swift victory. After all, both Russy factions were going to throw armies of men into the meat grinder, leading to hundreds of thousands of deaths, not including those that will be sustained by OZEV. By dropping a nuclear bomb right on the outskirts of Moskva and not the city centre, Ludwig would ensure the capitulation of the Moskva faction while still leaving a government that could offer us a surrender. It was actually not a bad idea, if it wasn't for the fact that it would reveal that Germania possessed a nuclear arsenal. After the meeting, I intended to pull Ludwig aside to explain that I agreed with his logic but couldn’t approve of it due to it revealing the existence of nuclear weapons.

           “I will only approve of the use of the atomic bomb if the Russy Tsardom is close to defeat, or if an OZEV member is directly attacked.” I declared. Strangely, Lehrgen had agreed with me. He must have thought that the Moskva faction wasn’t large enough to be worthy of having the first nuclear bomb dropped on them.

           Another idea was proposed by Elya to just have whoever was the current head of the NKVD assassinated. Once again, I shot down that idea. We couldn’t afford to have the assassinations of leaders become commonplace. Furthermore, we weren’t even sure who the head of the NKVD was, or if he even held the highest position of power in the Moskva faction.

           Economic sanctions wouldn’t work. The communist factions only ever traded in large amounts with other communists.

           Diplomacy was no longer an option. The Moskavites had started this in the first place.

           It was hard for us to estimate the chances of both sides in this war since we were unclear on the military capabilities of both the Moskva faction and the Russy Tsardom. The little information we had didn’t paint an optimistic picture for the Russy Tsardom.

           The Moskva faction had the only trained combat mages in the Russy Federation, as all the combat mages we encountered during the Second Great War had been NKVD agents. They were also equipped with dual-core computation orbs, with almost identical performance to the Type 97. The first time OZEV forces had encountered NKVD agents, many of them had been somewhat clumsy with their new orbs. After months of fighting, only the best ones were left.

The mages that the Russy Tsardom would be facing would all be elite veterans. We had no idea how many mages the NKVD could possibly field, but even our lowest estimate was at least eight full battalions, judging by the number of unique magical signatures that were detected. At least the latest reports said they were still using bolt-action rifles.

           On the other hand, the Russy Tsardom only had the single squadron of volunteer Legadonian mages that they had been sent last month. However, the quality of mages that they sent was quite high. There were multiple aces and even an ace of aces present. I had been quite shocked when I saw that the White Death himself was a mage in this world, and it seemed that he was still employing sniper tactics to vast success.

          However, no matter how skilled the Legadonian mages were, they’d be hard pressed to defend against the NKVD mages. This meant that getting the Russy Tsardom more mages to balance out the field was imperative.

           Our lack of information about the Moskva factions’ non-mage forces was exceedingly frustrating. We had no idea how many troops they fielded, their number of armoured vehicles, fuel reserves, industrial capacity, etc. We could only speculate that they likely had more than what the Russy Tsar had. Hopefully, Legadonia would be able to give us more information tomorrow, given that they were the closest country to the war and had likely already sent reconnaissance mages to obtain military intel.

           Fortunately, the Russy Tsardom had given us information about their own defensive capabilities quite freely. They had a whopping 1,600,000 infantry soldiers, around 400 tanks and thirty-nine planes, including four jet fighters that they bought from Legadonia. Such an imbalance of forces was hard to not notice. The Russy Tsardom’s military was practically all infantry, with little armoured vehicles and planes. It would likely be a slaughter for them if we did not send more vehicles and mages for them soon.

           We also needed to get more footage of both side’s tactics and how they fare against each other in battle. We have seen footage of smaller past raids by the Moskva faction, but by the time that the mage recording the footage arrived at the scene of the battle, the NKVD mages were already retreating. This did, however, suggest that the Russy Tsardom’s responses to surprise raids were quite slow.

           There had been only one large scale battle in the Russy Civil War so far, on the day of the escalation of hostilities. The reports that came back showed us that the Russy Tsardom suffered a devastating defeat, losing 70,000 men and failing to prevent the Moskva faction from conquering Novgorod. The Moskavites were now one step closer to St. Petersburg. Any footage recorded by the mages who participated in the battle was too chaotic to make any sense of. The only thing we could determine was that the Moskavites were not using human wave tactics. 

           The following days after the Battle of Novgorod, the Moskva faction sent squadrons of mages to conduct dozens of raids and skirmishes, gradually whittling down the Russy Tsardom’s forces and morale. Sometimes, their volunteer Legadonian mage squadron managed to intercept the enemy and beat them back, but that was less than one in ten of all attacks.

           I couldn’t imagine morale being stellar for the Russy Tsardom. They had been under attack from numerous raids over the past few weeks, suffering casualties numerous times while their enemies almost always left unscathed. The humiliating defeat they suffered at the start of the war didn’t help either.

           The Russy Tsardom’s morale would be raised if they started winning in these skirmishes. However, that would require them to have more mages on hand to guard their borders. Merely twelve mages to guard the Russy Tsardom’s borders was like using a band aid to patch up a grievous wound.

           It was imperative that OZEV start sending mages before all other troops and supplies.

           The next day before the OZEV war meeting, Ludwig and his friend Walther von Schiel approached me to propose a solution that would not only boost both the morale of the OZEV mages we were sending to the Russy Tsardom and the Russy Tsardom’s soldiers themselves. Depending on my response, von Schiel could even whip up a few propaganda posters to inspire a more pro-war attitude amongst the public.

           After hearing them out, I admitted that I was not averse to the proposal. It would indeed boost the morale of the troops while not requiring me to do much. However, there was no way I could accept it without consulting Visha first. She would chew me out if I said yes to the proposal without her permission.

6th September 1942,

St. Petersburg,

           Milicent Caldwell snapped another picture of the Russy Tsardom’s White Army’s 17th Infantry Division marching to reinforce the southeastern border of the Pskov Oblast. The dawn illuminated the men’s back as they marched, giving the picture a cinematic feel to it. It had been merely four days since she had arrived in St. Petersburg, yet this was the eighth division that the Tsar had sent to reinforce the Tsardom’s borders.

           Beside Milly, her aged guide assigned by the Tsar, Nikolai, sighed. “It is a sad sight for an old man to see young men being sent to die.” The balding man in his sixties had a face scored by wrinkles formed from decades of hardship. According to him, he had been a soldier before taking a bullet to the knee and retiring from active service to become an interpreter. He had fled to the Russy Tsardom because of nostalgia for the past, but also because the communists had thought he was a bourgeoisie in disguise merely because he knew four languages.

           “Are you truly so pessimistic about the Tsardom’s chances, Nikolai?” Milly asked.

           He shook his head. “Our army is strong. But our enemy’s army is even stronger.”

           “You won’t be fighting alone. OZEV is sending soldiers to help.” Milly had not been surprised when she had read yesterday’s newspaper proclaiming OZEV’s pledge to intervene in the war on the side of the Russy Tsardom. The news had certainly improved the morale of the people of St. Petersburg.

           Nikolai nodded, but his pessimistic tone remained. “That is good, yes. But how long until their troops arrive? Two weeks? A month? The NKVD would slaughter half of the White Army by that time. Yesterday’s battle proved that.”

           Millicent winced at that bluntness. Yesterday afternoon’s return of the 15th Infantry Division had drowsed the initial optimistic mood of the city in ice cold water. She didn’t have a clear idea of what had occurred in the battle to the south, but the state of the 15th Infantry Division had told the people everything. Of the 10,000 proud young men sent to reinforce the southern border of the Russy Tsardom, less than a third had returned. Many of them were missing limbs or fingers. Many more were missing their sanity.

           “Let’s go back to the Winter Palace, Nikolai.” Milicent nudged the old man, and the two of them trudged back to the Tsar’s residence, where Tsar Aleksei had been generous enough to let her stay as a foreign war correspondent.

           When they got back, Nikolai entered the Palace with her. He was one of the Tsar’s trusted interpreters, who would keep the contents of sensitive conversations between important people secret. Naturally, he was also allowed to live in the Palace.

           No matter how many times she walked the halls of the Winter Palace, Milly felt dwarfed by the sheer grandness of it. The rooms often felt like it was made more to be admired than to be lived in. Each hallway and room told of the history of the Tsar’s ancestors. Many of the priceless artifacts that had been looted from the Palace during the October Revolution had been recovered, returning the Palace some of its lost splendour. Milly couldn’t imagine how the place would have looked at the height of its glamour.

           She and Nikolai walked together to grab some food at the breakfast hall. To her surprise, the Tsar was there himself sitting down to have breakfast with some of his ministers and his security details. When he spotted her from the corner of his vision, he waved at the two of them, inviting them to come to his table.

          When she first met him, the Tsar was not how Milly had expected Russy royalty to be. Instead of looking dignified and giving an unapproachable aura, Tsar Aleksei the First was the opposite. Instead of a serious-looking man in his forties like she expected, Milly was greeted by a charismatic young man that looked to be around her own age.

The Tsar looked more like the type of person to be put up on advertising posters for men’s fashion stores. His neatly combed strawberry blonde hair and sharp jawline certainly helped. The man was also friendly, charismatic, quick to laugh, and could even be relatable. She often saw him treat the common men as equals despite his own high birth. He empathised with his citizens, often wishing that the Moskva faction would leave the Tsardom alone to develop itself and prosper. The only negative trait of him that she could think of was that he could be a bit too loud.

           “Ms. Caldwell! How surprising to see you at such early hours. I had the impression that you had not awoken.” The Tsar thundered with his booming voice that could shatter eardrums had she been closer; a wide grin spread on his face. For as long as Milly had known the man, he had always been cheerful like the sun.

           Although Milly had already planned to travel to St. Petersburg when the Russy Civil War began in earnest, she had been surprised when Nikolai had arrived at her apartment in Parisee to offer her a trip to St. Petersburg, fully paid for by the Tsar. Apparently, the Tsar wanted the entire world to know about the war and come to the aid of the Russy Tsardom. The man had chosen Milly to be the journalist for that task, out of the thousands of known war correspondents in the world.

           As for why she had been chosen, apparently the Tsar was impressed with her past journalistic work, especially those involving Chancellor Degurechaff. His favourite article had been the one detailing the Surrender of Parisee last year. He had even confessed that he was quite a big fan of the Chancellor, stating that he had never been so quite inspired by a young woman’s political record.

           “I just couldn’t miss taking in the sight of your army, Your Majesty.” She replied politely.

           The Tsar’s jubilant mood turned slightly dour. “Yes, it is good that you saw them depart. Many of them will not make it back to the embrace of their loved ones.” It seemed pessimism had infected even the Tsar.

           “Pskov is well defended, Your Majesty.” The Minister of Defence assured. We stationed the White Death himself there. The cowardly communists will be too scared to enter his range.”

           “Then they’ll just attack another section where he is not present. The south, for example.” The Tsar said. “But please, don’t discuss the inner workings of war when we’re in the presence of civilians.” He gestured purposefully at Milly.

           “Ah, yes, of course. I apologise, your Majesty and Ms. Caldwell.” The general looked embarrassed.

           “It’s okay, general Abramov. Besides,” The Tsar’s cheerful mood picked up again when his adjutant brought over a newspaper. “We have good news today. The newspaper is for you, Ms. Caldwell, OZEV already informed me of it two hours ago.”

           She accepted the folded newspaper from the adjutant and opened to the first page. Instantly, she saw the picture of Chancellor Degurechaff in her military uniform, the iconic Silver Wings Assault Medal on her chest, rifle slung over her shoulder, boarding a troop transport plane with a battalion of mages. She was giving a casual salute to a crowd that had gathered to see her depart. In the background were similar planes being boarded by mages.

           She then noticed that the newspaper was printed in Germanian, not Russy. The Berun Times. The bold title announced in all capitals: “CHANCELLOR DEGURECHAFF LEADS MAGE VANGUARD!”

           Milly’s eyebrows shot up her forehead. The Chancellor was once again taking to the field! She knew that the woman certainly had a love for action and the dramatics, but she didn’t expect her to personally come to the Russy Tsardom.

           She read further.

           Just yesterday, OZEV announced that the alliance will be sending a coalition force of six mage battalions as a vanguard to reinforce the Russy Tsardom, righteous in their mission of preventing the insidious spread of communism. At their head is Chancellor Degurechaff, the Argent Silver herself, who vowed to the OZEV Executive Council to personally oversee the war from the frontlines. Confidently, she declared that the war will be over before Christmas!

           “The communists had faltered before us once before, when they were a behemoth casting a long shadow over Europa. Now, they are a shadow of themselves. They shall falter once again, this time mere light resistance.” The Chancellor stated in front of the crowd gathering before her cargo plane, soon to deploy for the Russy Tsardom.

           This courageous act to put herself on the front lines from our Chancellor, a veteran of the First Great War, has inspired many retired veterans to declare themselves available for combat. War bond purchases for yesterday had reached a historic high.

           This announcement followed the news of OZEV declaring an intervention in the Russy Civil War and vowing to support the Russy Tsardom to the best of its abilities. Already, shipments of food and materiel are en route to St. Petersburg, guarded by the formidable navy. As many as half a million active-duty soldiers, along with hundreds of the most advanced tanks and planes will be transported to the Russy Tsardom over the following weeks.

           Milly put down the paper in amazement. No wonder why the Tsar had been ecstatic this morning. He had always complained about their lack of mages putting the Russy Tsardom at a severe disadvantage. And now, six whole mage battalions, including possibly the best mage in history, was coming to his aid. This was likely the best reinforcement that he could possibly ask for.

           “A great morale booster for the White Army, da? Wouldn’t you agree, Ms. Caldwell?” The Tsar’s eyes twinkled with joy as he watched her reaction to the news.

Chapter Text

AYKRR Chapter 16

The Devil in St. Petersburg

6th September 1942, 10:41am

Moskva,

           “Cyka блядь!” Sergei Kruglov threw the newspaper out of the window. This could not get any worse. The response from OZEV had been unlike anything they had expected. His spies in OZEV had reported back that most citizens in Central Europa merely wanted peace to be maintained. Furthermore, OZEV had finished demobilising, and their economies had shifted away from wartime manufacturing. It should have taken OZEV at least a month to marshal this level of response. He had intended to take most of the territory of the Russy Tsardom in a lightning quick fashion, including St. Petersburg, before reinforcing his newly claimed territory once OZEV reinforcement arrived. By then, his forces would be too well defended for OZEV to flush them out, resulting in a victory for Kruglov.

           But he had underestimated the Devil’s bloodthirstiness and popularity in OZEV. To think that she would drop everything at home to rush to a battlefield at the earliest convenience. The announcement of her participation in the defence of that damnable Russy Tsardom alone had caused a frenzy in OZEV. According to his agents, the Devil’s popularity in OZEV was strong, but in Germania it has reached the level of a personality cult. Whenever something went wrong, they would blame anyone but Degurechaff herself. Whenever something went right, they would always find a way to credit Degurechaff. Ardent supporters of hers had bought war bonds in droves while the voices of peace advocates had been drowned out. Even the peace protests that his NKVD agents had organised had barely garnered more than a couple dozen participants each.

           There was absolutely no way he could take St. Petersburg or even the oblasts of Pskov and Leningrad now. The mages that came to reinforce the Russy Tsardom would surely be most heavily concentrated there to defend against his raids.

           He cursed. He could no longer use skirmishes to weaken the Russy Tsardom anymore either. With so many mages at hand, the Russy Tsardom could now quickly respond to his lightning assaults. Furthermore, he was aware that OZEV mages were all equipped with dual-core orbs, with some Germanian battalions even equipped with improved versions of the Type 97. That parity of magical technology, along with their superior guns, would easily cut down his mages.

           Of course, he still had numerical superiority when it came to mages. He could call up to eight mage battalions while the coalition forces only had six battalions plus one squadron. However, he was not naïve. Only a quarter of his mages were veterans, while the rest were green rookies with less than three months of training. Moreover, all of his new mages were chosen based on their loyalty rather than competence. He understood the difference of quality between his mages and OZEV mages, particularly Germanian ones. His spies in the Russy Tsardom couldn’t identify which mages had arrived in the Russy Tsardom, but Kruglov bet his favourite vodka that there were many Named mages that arrived in St. Petersburg. The rookie mages would be mere speedbumps for them.

           And of course, there was THE ace of aces herself. While ace of aces were units that impacted a war on the tactical level, only the Devil of the Rhine could claim to be someone that influenced warfare on the strategic level. There were numerous battles and operations during the First Great War that had been won for the Empire simply because of her sheer presence alone.

           There was also the issue of morale amongst his own mages. Everyone knew of how fearsome the Devil of the Rhine was during the First Great War. And that was when she was a teenager. He was under no illusion that she had let her skills rusted. If anything, the Devil would only hone and refine her craft even while serving as Chancellor. She was surely in her prime. Any section of the border that she decided to station herself at – the Russy Tsardom will not have the gall to order her to do anything – would be practically impenetrable. His own mages would be scared shitless if he ordered them to attack her section; he might even face desertion. This wasn’t even considering the numerous mages that would be hovering around her to act as bodyguards.

           Kruglov didn’t delude himself into thinking that his forces could capture or kill her. She was clearly setting herself up as bait. If he fell for it, his mages would be decimated and he would lose the war. Kruglov was not going to repeat the Francois Republic’s mistake.

           He sighed. With his loss of air superiority, it would be much harder to take territory from the Russy Tsardom now. He needed to change his strategy. 

           First, he needed to amend the quality difference between his mages and OZEV mages. He couldn’t retrain them, but he could provide them with better equipment.

           He called his Chief Foreign Relations Officer, Adrian over. The thin moustached man saluted when he entered.

           “How is TATO’s progress with their computation orb advancement?” He asked.

           “Their single-core computation orb is the best of its kind in the world. But they still don’t have a dual-core computation orb yet.” Adrian reported.

           Kruglov scoffed. Having the best single-core orb in a world with dual-core orbs was like being the fastest walker while everyone around you ran.

           “How is their process with cracking dual-core orb technology?” He asked.

           “Our spies have reported that they still haven’t solved the synchronisation process. They should still be at least two years from making a viable prototype.”

           Kruglov thought for a second. If he waited any longer, the dual-core computation orb technology that he held would lose its value to TATO. If he wanted to get the best deal out of them, he needed to do so now.

           “Contact TATO. Offer them our dual-core computation orb technology in exchange for selling us three million RK-42 rifles at half price. Tell them that we’re also willing to buy other supplies at full price.” He ordered. While TATO was a capitalist alliance like OZEV, they were not an immediate threat like OZEV and did not share a border with the Russy Federation. As they say: an enemy of my enemy is my friend.

           Adrian confirmed his order and went to contact TATO, saluting again before leaving the office.

           Kruglov examined a map of the Russy Federation hanging on his wall to decide how to change his vector of attack. The OZEV mages will likely be spread around the borders of Pskov and Leningrad oblasts, as that was where his mages had been assaulting the most often. Those oblasts were now no longer viable targets.

           Kruglov started eyeing Vologda. Last month, general Mikhailov, who was in charge of the sole faction reigning over Kostroma, had already sworn loyalty to him. Kruglov could now consider an attack targeting Vologda’s southeastern borders. Also working to his advantage was that no one knew Kostroma belonged to him now; general Mikhailov was still pretending he was independent from the Moskva faction. Kruglov could have a squadron of rookie mages perform a perfunctory bombardment of Pskov’s borders to draw the Devil towards the Russy Tsardom’s west, buying time for the real assault coming from the east.

           He then made an order to have an order to assemble his two most seasoned battalions of mages along with 600,000 soldiers, supported by 2000 tanks, to attack Vologda’s southeastern border tomorrow morning. The soldiers and tanks were either under vegetation or pretending to be part of Mikhailov’s forces and would assemble into position during the night, the Russy Tsardom would not suspect a thing. Southeastern Vologda should fall quickly. According to his spies in the Russy Tsardom, the border there was lightly defended and the soldiers stationed there were inexperienced. Once southeastern Vologda was taken, he could have his men dig in and hold the territory. That would be the last bit of territory that they would take before trying to hold until winter. 

           If he could just stall OZEV until then, they would be unable to sustain combat operations during the freezing cold. Successfully taking any territory from an OZEV ally like that was as good as a victory. The news of the Moskva faction’s strength should inspire the rest of the factions in the Europa Rus to rally under his banner. It was human nature to rally around the strongest.

           Kruglov also ordered all of his anti-air weapons to be stationed in the north. If the attack on Vologda somehow failed, Kruglov intended to switch to a defensive strategy to defend his territorial gains in Novgorod. He couldn’t rely on reinforcement from Qin or North Bharat right now, they were dealing with civil wars of their own.

6th September 1942, 5:24pm

St. Petersburg,

           My first impression of St. Petersburg when we landed at the airfield could be summed up in one word. Cold. Despite it still being September, a simple breeze made me shiver despite the military uniform over the flight suit I wore. It sure didn’t help that I was small either; my body simply didn’t make enough body heat. Thankfully, I was a mage, and a simple spell dispelled the chilling cold of the Russy city.

           I glanced back at the six transport and troop carrier planes that had arrived with me. Already, my Germanian mages were marching down the ramp of their transport planes. A whole three battalions of them, two of which were equipped with the Type 99. The other three OZEV mage battalions were equipped with the Type 97.

           Ludwig and Walther’s idea was brilliant. By announcing that I would be going to the Russy Tsardom myself and heading to the front lines, support for the war has increased dramatically.

           There was another reason behind why I had come to this frozen city. Popularity. While at this point, I was sure that Ludwig wasn’t going to backstab me and try to crown himself or his mother, that didn’t mean that others thought the same. Many pro-monarchists and aristocrats in Germania must be furious at the fact that a former royal like Ludwig was working for me, an orphan who only had a non-heritable noble title.

           In hindsight, my going to the frontlines against the Francois during the Second Great War might have been a miscalculation on my part. Now, if I avoided going to the frontlines during this war, people would start asking questions. I might even be accused of becoming a coward by the people who wanted to re-elevate the old imperial family to the throne back home. They would then try to increase Ludwig’s popularity to surpass mine, depose me, then bring the old imperial family back to the throne even if Ludwig was unwilling.

           As such, by declaring that I was going to war with orb and rifle in hand, I would further increase my popularity and re-assert my reputation as a vaunted war hero.

           However, before going to the Russy Tsardom, I had to abide by Visha’s conditions in exchange for her doing my work for me while I was gone. Firstly, I could not engage the enemy unless I had my private security detail of a squadron of mages with me. Secondly, I would not engage in a battle if I was outnumbered by a factor higher than three. Thirdly, I had to return to Berun within a month or Visha would personally come to drag me back by the ear. Finally, I had to help her with a personal favour when I got there.

           I had assured her that my presence was just a token gesture to increase morale and public support. There was a high chance I wouldn’t have to engage with any hostiles at all during my stay. At most, I was going to survey a relatively peaceful part of the Russy Tsardom’s borders, then go back to St. Petersburg to warm my hand by the hearth. This schedule would then be repeated for a week. Only after that would I go spectate OZEV operations against the Moskva faction from a safe observation point. There was no need for me to actively participate on the battlefield. A washed-up mage like me would just be a distraction at best and a liability at worst for my allies. The six mage battalions that I brought would be the ones doing the fighting.

           Furthermore, I also wanted to talk to Tsar Aleksei Romanov, who I was sure to be a fraud. The entire family of Nicholas II had been summarily executed; it was impossible for the dead Tsar to have a living grandson. In my world, many imposters of the Romanov family had appeared after the family’s execution, claiming that they survived the murder of the Russian royal family. This world was surely no different in that regard. Many people were willing to lie for recognition and money. Although in this case for the fake Tsar, it was lying for power and prestige. If this whole country was riding on a conman’s shoulders, I need to determine whether he would just abandon it to save his own hide.

           On the airfield, concentrated around my cargo plane was a gaggle of Russy citizens, whose mouths gaped at my appearance. Amongst them were journalists, who were snapping opportune photos of me, likely to print them on tomorrow’s first page.

           Suddenly, I heard an announcer shout. “His Imperial Majesty, Tsar Aleksei I of the Russy Tsardom!” The crowd to parted like the Red Sea in front of Moses, revealing an approaching group of people who obviously were important.

           Front and centre of them was a tall man with strawberry-blonde hair in a decorated dress uniform. He was approaching on foot with a group of generals, many of whom had dozens of medals on their breasts. I also immediately noticed the presence of Millicent Caldwell, the American journalist sticking out like a sore thumb from the group of Russy men. How does she always manage to be at important places?

           I didn’t come alone either of course. My own group that had just deboarded from the plane after me included my squadron of security mages headed by Neumann. Several OZEV generals including Lehrgen and Weiss had also come to assess the Russy Tsardom’s defensive capabilities and form a strategy to defeat the Moskva faction. The only unexpected addition was Ludwig, who had insisted on coming with me for just a week.

           The request had confused me at first. After all, Ludwig was going to be busy handling our international relationship with Lothiern. Why would he suddenly want to leave for the Russy Tsardom?

           Then I understood when I did a bit of digging into the relationship between the Hohenzollern family and the Romanov family. The former Kaiser Wilhelm II and Nicholas II were third cousins and were known to be close. Apparently, they even referred to each other in private correspondence as Willy and Nicky. It made sense that Ludwig would be concerned for a relative of his that he thought was long dead. His grandfather was likely even more concerned and may have even asked Ludwig to go to the Russy Tsardom for him to verify the truth. However, I had a sinking feeling that he should be prepared to be disappointed.

           The Tsar came within reach of me, a friendly smile plastered on his face. He was young, perhaps in his late twenties, with a strong jawline covered with light stubble and high cheekbones. His brown eyes sparkled with joy as they fell upon me. I failed to see much familial resemblance between him and Ludwig. But then again, they would only be fifth cousins if the Tsar was really who he claimed he was.

           I held my right hand out for a shake. But instead of shaking my hand, the Tsar took the hand and kissed it gingerly on the finger. I raised an eyebrow at the gesture. This action invited the surrounding journalists, including Milly Caldwell, to snap a picture. He was really playing up this whole aristocrat thing for the crowd and media.

           “Greetings, fair Chancellor Degurechaff!” Aleksei Romanov bellowed in Russy, which I had studied to a conversational level, courtesy of Visha tutoring me. The sheer volume of his voice made me wince. “I knew that OZEV would back up their own words. Your presence here is a godsend for my nation, Chancellor!”

           “Of course I would be here, promises from OZEV are as good as gold.” I replied.

           “Unlike promises from the Albish, which is worth even less than toilet paper, da?” The Tsar joked. I laughed at his joke, along with several of my party and most of the crowd. That was good, it seemed that the Tsar and his people already looked down on the Albish’s perfidy. At least I could be assured that he would not suddenly ally with TATO.

           The Tsar looked past me at the battalions of OZEV mages that I had brought, optimism blooming on his face.

           “These are the mages that we brought.” I said. “The main body of infantry soldiers will be arriving later by ship, along with supplies and vehicles.” The Tsar’s smile had widened even further at that. I was afraid that his face might even split open like a Kuchisake-onna.

           The Tsar’s attention was then directed at Ludwig when my President cleared his throat. “Ah, this must be Ludwig! It is great to welcome you here to my country, cousin!” The Tsar clasped Ludwig’s arm in a familial manner. What a conman, he was likely banking on his confidence to convince Ludwig of his fake identity.

           “Of course. My grandfather was worried that your grandfather’s family had all been exterminated by the communists.” Ludwig smiled politely yet stiffly. “It is good that the communists has failed in doing that.”

           “Right, before my mother saved me and sent me away, she gave this to me as proof of my identity.” The fraudulent Tsar pulled out something that looked like an old letter, shaking it so that the entire crowd could see it and gave it to Ludwig, who raised an eyebrow at the gesture. “Let all who doubted my identity witness this confirmation right here.” He bellowed.

           What was the Tsar doing? Didn’t he know that if Ludwig declared him a fake, he would be ousted from power and be strung up by the angry citizenry? One must not forget that St. Petersburg was where the communist revolution started, back when it was still called Petrograd.

           Ludwig took the letter from the Tsar and started reading it right there in front of the expectant crowd.

           As he read, Ludwig’s face became more complicated, his eyebrows scrunching up. After a moment, Ludwig looked up at the Tsar with an amazed expression on his face. “The letter is authentic; the contents couldn’t possibly be faked. It has secrets that only members of the Hohenzollern and the Romanov families know. You’re… but that’s impossible. Do you have the birthmark? Show me.” Ludwig looked incredulous, before his voice became firm when he demanded from the Tsar.

           The Tsar nonchalantly unbuttoned the sleeve of the right arm of his dress shirt and rolled it back. On his wrist was a birthmark that looked roughly like a spearhead.

           Ludwig was speechless for a moment, blinking rapidly. “It’s you. You’re… the grandson of Nicholas II. The real Aleksei Romanov.”

           “Of course I am, was there ever any doubt?” The Tsar spoke, before giving Ludwig a friendly hug, which was reciprocated in turn.

           “My grandfather will be glad to hear of this.” Ludwig said with a smile, no longer stiff. “Let all here know that the Hohenzollern recognises Aleksei Romanov as the rightful living heir of the Russy throne!” He announced to the crowd, who cheered and hollered. A round of camera snaps followed.

           I looked at Ludwig in confusion. I had thought that Aleksei Romanov was a fake. An ordinary person with a knack for leadership who bore a passing familiarity to the Romanov family and had taken advantage of it to form a stable Russy faction. In my world, there was no one named Aleksei Romanov who was a grandson of Nicholas II. There was the Tsar’s son, Alexei Romanov, but he would be thirty-eight years old now if he had survived, not as young as Aleksei Romanov. As far as I’m aware, none of the Tsar’s daughters ever given birth. But then I started reading through the lines and saw the truth.

           The letter likely wasn’t written by a daughter of Tsar Nicholas II at all. It was artificially aged and written by Aleksei Romanov – if that was truly his name – begging Ludwig to play along with the farce. Ludwig knew that it was in OZEV’s interest to have Aleksei Romanov in a firm place of power and had decided to lie and pretend that the Tsar was legitimate. If a former royal like Ludwig declared Alexei Romanov’s legitimacy in front of the public, it would dispel any doubt of Aleksei Romanov’s heritage amongst sceptics. The theatric with the birthmark was spectacularly executed. After all, most people had birthmarks. What brilliant acting and improvisation from Ludwig to play along with this conman for the sake of OZEV. My successor was truly maturing well.

           Honestly, Ludwig’s performance alone deserved an Oscar award. The genuine-looking expressions on his face, the change in the inflection of his voice as his fake incredulity grew.  If I didn’t know the truth, I would have been fooled like anyone else.

           Just as I thought, most of the generals that the Tsar had brought with him nodded nonchalantly at the announcement, while some breathed a sigh of relief. Others looked flabbergasted. It seemed that the Tsar had a small faction among his military that doubted his claim as the Tsar but had followed along anyways. With Ludwig’s confirmation, there was no more doubt.

           “Ah, where are my manners?” The Tsar slapped his forehead in embarrassment. “You must all be freezing standing here. The Russy weather is unforgiving. Let’s all hold our talk once we’re inside and comfortable.”

           After that initial reception, several cars arrived that would take the Tsar, me and our coteries to the Winter Palace. The Russy Imperial residence was truly massive, spanning an area larger than even city blocks and having an untold number of rooms. No wonder the Bolsheviks had been so spiteful of the Tsar’s family. It was impossible to not spawn feelings of jealousy when you have to see a building as grand as this everyday when you yourself lived in squalor.

           As we headed through the gate, guarded by four soldiers, and into the Winter Palace, I could not help but notice the signs of damage caused by the storming and subsequent pillaging of the Winter Palace during the October Revolution. Most of the signs had been hidden quite well of course, as the Palace had undergone repairs. But many of the rooms we walked past were empty and unoccupied. The walls of the hallways were bare when it normally would have priceless paintings hung on it. The Winter Palace likely looked even less flattering in Ludwig’s eyes.

           Eventually, Aleksei Romanov’s generals separated from us to go with the OZEV generals to a stateroom. There, they would be briefed on the overall situation of the war, and devise a strategy against the Moskva faction.

           Me, Ludwig and the Tsar went to our own room to have our own private discussion. I signalled for my security detail to stand guard outside.

           The room that the Tsar led us to be a homely living room with an already blazing hearth. Set before the hearth were three cushy armchairs and a coffee table where three steaming cups of tea sat. The Tsar told us to make ourselves at home before plopping himself into one and making himself comfortable. Ludwig and I did likewise. I’d noticed that for a Tsar, his sense of decoration and luxury was quite austere. He would need to fix that if he wanted people to believe he’s a real Tsar.

           “I apologise for not being able to serve coffee or even hot chocolate.” The Tsar apologised. “It’s hard to get a hold of tropical beans here in the Tsardom. To be honest with you, our food situation has not been the best. We already had to instate rationing. People aren’t happy with it.” The man visibly deflated when he mentioned his nation’s woes.

           My initial impression of the Tsar had been a boisterous, optimistic and confident man. I could see now that part of that had been a façade. He was likely weighted down both by the combined weight of his young country and the great lie that he was living under. That was good, even if he’s a fraud, he’s a fraud with a sense of responsibility. I could trust that he wouldn’t sell away the Tsardom for his own safety. Even though it was just me, Ludwig and Alexei Romanov in the room now, I decided to not call him out on his fraudulence. There was no need to agitate an ally. Like Ludwig, I intended to corroborate his claim as the rightful Tsar.

           “Is the food situation in the Russy Tsardom really that desperate?” Ludwig asked.

           “Yes. We have to import nearly all our food as it is too cold here. The Moskva faction has been using their mages to attack our shipments to starve us. We have been forced to permanently station four of the Legadonian mages to protect our cargo ships.” Romanov said.

           “I will make a request to OZEV to send you more food supplies instead of just military rations. The shipments will be sent on warships for security purposes.” I promised. The Tsar looked so grateful that I thought that he might cry. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. I wasn’t doing it out of my bleeding heart. Food scarcity leads to internal instability and dissatisfaction with the ruling regime. I needed the Russy Tsardom to have stability.

           “Thank you, Chancellor. You have no idea the number of children you have just saved from starvation. The people of the Russy Tsardom owe you the greatest debt. Not only have you volunteered to go to the frontlines despite being the leader of a mighty nation, but you have also shown that your bravery is only eclipsed by your generosity.”

           I had no idea if the Tsar had a thing for compliments or if he was backhandedly calling me brash and gullible fir coming here and then donating him so much food. I had no desire to find out. But I did need to correct a misunderstanding of his.

           “I’d like to correct a misconception of yours, Tsar Aleksei. I’m only going to survey your border defences, not actively participate in defending against the Moskavite skirmishes. The OZEV mage battalions will be responsible for that.” That seemed to knock away some wind off his sail.

           He frowned. “That was… disappointing. I thought that I would get to witness the legendary Argent Silver in action.” Never mind, he definitely just liked to compliment people.

           The Tsar then turned to Ludwig. “Cousin, will you also be surveying our border defences? I can arrange a guide and private transport for you.” Wow, he was acting chummy with Ludwig already. I guessed the Tsar knew he needed to be in Ludwig’s good graces, else he would lose his position.

           Ludwig nodded. “I do intend to survey your border, but I don’t want to survey the same section as the Chancellor. No need to risk putting both of us at the same place and risk a leadership crisis in Germania if something unfortunate happens.”

           The Tsar muttered an agreement and said that when we were ready, he could have a couple of his colonels show us the most peaceful sections of the border and its defences tomorrow. Afterwards, he could show us the frontlines from an observation post, far from the actual fighting.

           We asked the Tsar how he managed to unite the Russy factions into the Russy Tsardom. Instead of being honest with us and starting his story from a few months ago, he then made up a tale of how he went into exile as a child in Legadonia after barely escaping the Bolshevik revolution. When I asked who he was the son of, he told us that he was the son of Grand Duchess Olga Nikolaevna, the eldest daughter of Tsar Nicholas II. Apparently, she had gotten pregnant as a teenager with a secret boyfriend and gave birth to Aleksei in 1913. Due to him being born out of wedlock, Nicholas II had hidden his birth away from the public eye. His existence was only ever known to the following Houses: the Romanovs, the Hohenzollerns and the Windsors.

           He said the secrecy of his birth had saved him, as the communists had neglected to round him up for execution. Before being taken away by the communists, his mother had given him the letter that Ludwig read earlier, as well as other trinkets that would help him prove his identity. He had had to sell most of them to escape the country.

After twenty-three years of living in Legadonia and building his own influence there amongst politicians and the military, he returned to St. Petersburg in 1941 to start an anti-communist revolution. He had started an underground movement that slowly gained traction through the war as the communists lost their control and influence.

           Tsar Aleksei then described how after the Russy Federation fell, St. Petersburg was left a lawless place full of infighting. With his charisma and his underground revolution, he’d managed to unite the city under his banner. It was then that he was contacted by an underground society of nobles who had survived the communists’ purge. One of their members had met him as a child and had recognised him through his unique birthmark.

          After some convincing by the noble who had recognised him, he’d decided to reveal his former royalty status to obtain the underground society’s support. This revelation actually had a rallying effect amongst the people of St. Petersburg. Not because the monarchy was ever popular, but because they viewed the communist regime as being so horrendous that going back to the monarchy could not possibly be worse. Nostalgia tends to make people view the past with rosy lenses.

           After obtaining the full support of St. Petersburg, he’d branch out to neighbouring oblasts. Unlike with St. Petersburg, he had employed a diplomatic strategy, offering stability compared to the rest of the Russy Federation’s chaos. This tactic had actually worked wonders, uniting many oblasts under the Russy Tsardom. The generals that had followed Aleksei earlier were either leaders of those oblasts that had allied with the Russy Tsardom, or old loyalist generals from the era of Nicholas II. Every single one of them tacitly accepted his claim as the Tsar, if only because it would stabilise the Russy Tsardom.

           Aleksei Romanov was never officially crowned of course, but it was common knowledge that he was the de-facto monarch of the Russy Tsardom. While an illegitimate child was not supposed to be able to inherit the throne, given that Tsar Nicholas II’s entire family and his siblings had all been executed by the communists, Aleksei Romanov was the only living person with any sort of claim to the Russy throne.

           While he told his story. I had been trying not to laugh at how ridiculous he sounded the whole time. It sounded like the plot of a mediocre fanfiction written by an author with sleep deprivation. I could poke holes in it all day. Seriously, a secret illegitimate baby, and an underground organisation of nobles? Recognising him through his birthmark? Who was he trying to fool?

           I did believe the part where he claimed he used to live in Legadonia and had some important connections there. Likely, he was a Russy-born Legadonian who saw an opportunity to gain influence over St. Petersburg and took it. It also made sense why Legadonia had so readily sent him a squadron of mages. It would benefit Legadonia to have someone who had an emotional attachment to the country be the head of the Russy Tsardom.

           Ludwig had a complete poker face and looked like he was listening to the fraud’s tale with rapt attention, but I would bet good money that he was cackling like a hyena internally.

           But not wanting to be seen as rude, we thanked Aleksei Romanov for telling us so much about himself. I exchanged a knowing glance with Ludwig, confirming that this would be the story that we would echo whenever someone asks us of the Tsar’s backstory in the future, as ridiculous as it was.

           Just before we left for dinner, I asked the Tsar for a favour. “Your Majesty, if it wouldn’t trouble you too much, would it be possible for you to help locate these people in this picture? The ones with circled faces. They’re Vice Chancellor Serebryakov’s family. She asked me to find out what happened to them.” I handed him a family picture of twenty or so people. Circled were the faces of Visha’s family members that had not managed to escape the revolution but were also never confirmed to be killed.

           Visha had lost much of her childhood memories when she escaped the Russy Federation with her parents. However, according to her, many of her cousins and a couple of her siblings were unable to escape. As her lover/girlfriend/soon-to-be wife, I felt it was my responsibility to help find her missing family. And the best contact I had to do that was standing right in front of me.

           “Of course, Chancellor. It would be the least the Russy Tsardom could do to repay our debt.” He took the picture carefully and scanned the faces. “The Serebryakov family, right? I think I’ve heard of them. A mid-ranking noble family from St. Petersburg. If any of them are still alive and didn’t escape the country, they should still be living either here or in the neighbouring oblasts. I’ll ask some of my soldiers and the nobles I’m acquainted with to search for them.”

           “Thank you, Your Majesty, my gir-Vice Chancellor will be glad to hear of it.”

           Before dinner, the OZEV generals had finally discussed their strategy to bring down the Moskva faction with the Russy Tsardom’s generals. They had also finalised the allocation of OZEV mages across the frontlines. The plan was delivered to me and would also be given to other OZEV leaders to be approved. I read through the plan, raising my eyebrow at the audacity of it, before giving it my seal of approval.

           There was no large dinner with the Tsar and his generals. Apparently, the Tsar didn’t see fit to have ostentatious meals when his people were starving. At least Aleksei Romanov wasn’t the type of person to bury his head in the sand. He understood the importance of solidarity and would not make the same mistakes as his predecessor.

           My dinner had simply been delivered to my suite by a maid. It was… disappointing. I was aware the food situation in the Russy Tsardom was bad, but I didn’t know it was this dire. Obviously, I didn’t expect some type of feast but had still expected to eat better than a soldier on the field. A bowl of vegetarian borscht and a loaf of bread with a small cube of cheese along with water was all that was served to me in my private suite. The maid who delivered me the meal had told me that the Tsar gave an order to serve him and everyone in the palace the same meal as was available to the common people. I sighed in relief; I had thought that the common citizen was starving if the food for the top brass was this frugal.

           The situation in the Russy Tsardom was more precarious than I had thought. The Tsar’s influence and popularity had hinged on his legitimacy, which had only been proven by Ludwig. If not for the food that OZEV would soon be delivering, the Russy Tsardom would have starved. If not for OZEV troops coming here, led by me, morale would have collapsed. Never mind, let alone until winter, I doubted the Russy Tsardom would have lasted until the next month without OZEV intervention.

           I finished up my meal quickly without complaint. After the maid came back to clean up for me, I went and opened up my steel-reinforced suitcase.

           Inside, hidden beneath the stack of paperwork that I had brought along, was the Elenium Type 95 computation orb. The likelihood of me needing to use it was low, but I didn’t want to take any chances. After all, my battle senses have dulled from so many years of desk work. A single slip up was all that was needed to end up as another name on the casualty list. The Type 95 would be my safety net.

           I took a small stack of paperwork from the suitcase and started working my way through them before retiring for the night.

           Tomorrow, Ludwig and I would go and inspect different sections of the Russy Tsardom’s border defences. Both were sections that almost never see any action. Ludwig would oversee eastern Arkhangelsk, facing a faction with a favourable impression of the Russy Tsardom. I would go to the southeastern border of Vologda, which was facing the neutral Kostroma oblast.

           Knowing that it would likely be an uneventful day for me tomorrow, I peacefully drifted to sleep.

Chapter Text

AYKRR Chapter 17

All Quiet on The Eastern Front

Warning: Canon typical violence. Perhaps a bit more than canon typical.

7th September 1942,

St. Petersburg,

               That morning, Tsar Aleksei arranged for two colonels to drive me and Ludwig to two different sections of the borders. Neither of those sections had ever been attacked by a Moskva faction skirmish. Before I departed, I had ordered half of my security detail to leave with Ludwig, despite his protest that he could take care of himself. Better to be safe than sorry.

               “Wait!” I heard a cry before I could board a military truck with the guide that the Tsar had arranged for me. I could fly directly to the border, but then one of my men would have to piggyback our ride along the way.

               I turned around to see Millicent Caldwell running towards me, camera in hand. “Chancellor! Can I come with you to the border?” She asked.

               I looked at her in puzzlement. Why would she follow me to such a boring section of the border?

               “I want to conduct an interview of the soldiers guarding the border. The southern and southwestern borders are too dangerous to conduct an interview, so I thought I’d hitch a ride to the east with you.” She answered my unuttered question, smiling.

               I’ve always felt uneasy around Millicent Caldwell. The two times in the past that I had let myself slip in front of her was proof of the effectiveness of her easy-going façade. She would lure her interviewee into a false sense of security, make them think that they were talking to a close friend, and let them accidentally blurt out critical information. Logically, I should refuse her request. But I wouldn’t be able to explain the reason to my driver and my guide.

               Begrudgingly, I let her come with me. Learning from my past mistakes, I avoided running my mouth. Luckily, the colonel that was ordered to take me to the far eastern border of the Russy Tsardom, Ivan, was a talkative man. He had basically talked the whole way, expounding on his experience during this war and his hopes on the Tsar to lead the land of Rus towards a new prosperous chapter. I asked him if the Tsar was often involved in the war’s strategic planning, and he gave me a negative answer. Apparently the Tsar was more well-versed in governance than warfare.

               When we arrived at the borders, we were greeted by major general Dimitri Smirnov, who was responsible for the two divisions stationed in this fifty-kilometre stretch of border. Me and Millicent were welcomed into his command tent, where we were served some biscuits and tea. It seemed that despite the Tsar’s austerity, many generals still had a taste for the small luxuries in life. The general didn’t seem nervous to see me at all, if anything, he looked at me as though an angel had descended.

               “General, I trust that there has been no border infractions from Kostroma?” I asked in Russy.

               “Of course not, Madam Chancellor. Mikhailov might be greedy, but he knows that if he attacks the Tsardom, he leaves himself vulnerable to the Moskavites. This part of the border has never been attacked for as long as I have been in charge.”

               I nodded. That was fantastic. I could conduct my inspection of the border fortification in peace. I then asked if I could have a quick look at the border fortifications, which made the major general look uneasy.

               “Well, Madam Chancellor, we dug some trenches for our fortifications, and I just don’t want you to subject yourself to such a filthy environment.”

               I scoffed. “I’ve lived, eaten and slept in trenches for eight years. A few minutes more is nothing.”

               Acquiescing to my request, he allowed my guide to lead me to the trenches reinforcing the border. The trench was dug through an expanse of flat plains and small hills. Just five kilometres to the south was a great forest. As I approached on foot, I recognised the fortification for what it was.

               Absolute dogshit.

               The line reinforcing the border was just a long zigzagging worm, perhaps two men wide and chest deep at most. I almost felt the itch to pick up a shovel and dig a real trench for them. The most challenging fortification built there were the pillboxes, which was a death sentence if you get caught sitting in one. Artillery or mages would tear those pillboxes down like papier mâché. The men were at least thankfully armed with Stg-40s and machine guns. They also had a few First Great War era 3-inch anti-air guns to deal with mages. A few artillery pieces. No tanks. I sure hoped that the southern and southwestern borders of the Russy Tsardom were more well-defended than this.

               Even worse, the men here were complete greenhorns. According to colonel Ivan, most of them had just finished basic training and were sent here as their first assignment.

               If this area was ever attacked, it would be obliterated within minutes. Luckily, all of the Moskva faction’s mages and men were focused on the oblasts of Pskov and Leningrad, not Vologda.  

               My and Ms. Caldwell’s presence stuck out like fireflies in the dark. I wasn’t sure if it was because it had been ages since they’ve seen women, or if my reputation in the Russy Tsardom preceded me, but I was stared at everywhere I went. When they started saluting, it confirmed that it was the latter.

               I hopped down into a section of the fence, and the soldiers there immediately made way for me to walk through. At least the trench here was clean and free of rats.

               I called out for one of the men to come to me, who looked as though he was a deer caught in front of a car’s headlights. But the colonel pulled him over for me to ask a question.

               “What’s your name, sergeant?” I glanced at his uniform to determine his rank.

               “Boris Volkov, ma’am.” Whether the man was shaking because of me or the cold, I had no idea. Surely my lack of stature would dispel any intimidation that my reputation casted over these men. I was a good five foot nothing in height. Boris here was at least a foot taller than me. Millicent stood behind me, ready to record his response.

               “Do you find manning the border interesting, sergeant? Answer truthfully.”

               The man paused for a second to think, before answering. “I think it’s terribly dull, ma’am. But at least we’re not getting bombarded like the boys to the west.”

               I nodded in appreciation at his honesty. No soldier preferred getting shot at.

               “So, what do you soldiers like to do to pass the time?” I asked.

               “Oh, nothing much, Chancellor. We play cards or dice. Maxim over there even invented this game where you would bet on the number of birds in a flock when they fly by. For example, that flock of birds there is a dense one. Probably sixty or seventy… wait.” I followed Boris’s gaze and noticed the flock of flying birds he was pointing at.

               Only they were not birds. They were too fast, and too bright. Spells. Travelling at us at rapid speed. Just before they hit, I activated my shield, protecting both the sergeant, the colonel and Milly. The spells slammed against the border fortifications like a hammer on anvil. The air was immediately filled with the screams of dying men, thickened with dust and soot.

               Multiple realisations came to me at once. We were under attack by mages. Kostroma was no longer neutral. They were under control of the NKVD.

               Immediately, I launched into the sky, activating my Type 99. I shouted for Milly to find safety and for someone to call for reinforcement using a communication spell. My six security mages ascended with me.

               “Orders?” Neumann asked.

               I activated a sensory spell. Seventy-two magic signals. Those mages were around forty kilometres away. Speed of around five hundred kilometres per hour. If we fought, we would be outnumbered by a factor of ten. This wasn’t just a skirmish. This was a full-blown attack, aimed to secure territory. That meant the mages should be accompanied by regular troops.

               Just as I thought, my optical enhancement spells let me see that emerging from the tree line was a massive wave of infantry soldiers, supported by hundreds of tanks advancing towards our position.

               The border guards here numbered only 20,000. My lowest estimate for the number of troops heading for us was at least 400,000, and they haven’t even finished emerging from the tree line. At least a thousand tanks too. I cursed. This wasn’t a simple skirmish but a full invasion of Vologda. I hoped that Ludwig wasn’t facing the same thing as me in Arkhangelsk.

               The most logical thing to do right now was to retreat. I didn’t sign up to fight against overwhelming odds. This wasn’t the First Great War anymore where I had to listen to orders or be court-martialed. I was the one giving orders now.

               However, if I did retreat, my reputation and credibility would be in tatters. My popularity would drop like a brick for my hypocrisy of sending hundreds of thousands into war, only to show my cowardice at the earliest opportunity. If I retreated and let the Moskavites cross the border, they might push to take all of Vologda. This devastating news would undo all of the morale raising I did. The war effort back home might even suffer, leading to OZEV failing our objective of defeating the Moskva faction before winter.

               I’ve backed myself into a wall. I needed to do something to shift responsibility away from myself. Fortunately, I could see major general Dimitri Smirnov run towards the trench. He was surely going to order a full retreat when he saw the difference between the two forces.

               “HOLD THE LINE AT ALL COST! FOR THE MOTHERLAND! NO NEED TO FEAR THEIR MAGES! WE HAVE THE ARGENT WITH US!” He shouted, dashing my hopes like dust in the wind. What was with old generals and honourable last stands. It would expose my agenda if I came down to argue with him for a full retreat, so I had to make do with what I had.

               Damn you, Being X. I was sure this was his fault somehow.

               I sighed in resignation. At least this time I’ll get to directly shoot at commies.

               I turned to my bodyguards. “We’ll snipe their mages from afar first to whittle them down. Once they’re close enough to engage, perform evasive dogfighting. Once the line is overrun, I’ll grab Ms. Caldwell, and we’ll perform a fighting retreat. When reinforcements arrive, we’ll come with them to take back this point.” That should convince people that I courageously fought until it was deemed impossible to continue. My coming back to take back the border should also prevent my reputation from being damaged.

               My men muttered confirmations.

               We all aimed our rifles at the approaching mages. They were within fifteen kilometres now. The effective sniping range for a mage increased with the quality of the computation orb and rifle, which can increase sniping range by up to a few kilometres. But the main deciding factor for a mage’s sniping skill was skill.

               The average mage could hit a target within three kilometres. The worst soldier in my 203rd could hit a target from ten kilometres away. My max range was thirty kilometres.

               We waited until they were eleven kilometres away from us before we started charging our spells. All of my bodyguards were channeling an artillery spell. I alone was using a thermobaric bombardment spell. As my spell would be the most destructive, I would fire first, while my bodyguards would fire after a delay to pick off survivors. After that, free firing.

               I fingered the Type 95 hanging from my neck. Should I use it? As much as I hated Being X’s device and its mental corruption, I had a decently high chance of perishing or being seriously injured if I solely relied on the Type 99 in this battle out of sheer stubbornness. I’ve been out of practice for eleven years, and the enemy were mages with dual-core computation orbs that performed nearly on par with the Type 97. This wasn’t the First Great War anymore when the massive difference in computation orb technology and training had allowed me and my men to roll through mages with ease.

               We were also severely outnumbered. Considering this offensive was a massive one, it would also make sense for the enemy to field their best mages. And who knew whether they had further reinforcement or hidden anti-air support.

               Additionally, if I died here, OZEV’s intervention would fall apart. My death would surely demoralise OZEV and the Russy Tsardom, leading to the opposite effect that I wanted when I came to the Russy Tsardom. Without me to lead Germania, would Visha and Ludwig be able to hold OZEV together against the threats of the communists and TATO?

               I couldn’t bear to imagine what Visha’s reaction would be. How heartbroken would she be? How long would she grieve? How furious would she be that I broke our promise and gallivanted off to a battlefield just to perish? I couldn't hurt her like that simply because of my vendetta against Being X.

               At the end of the day, I loved her more than I hated Being X and his damned contraption. I had too much to live for to even risk dying for a personal grudge. With my resolve hardened, I started channeling my mana into the Type 95.

               “Neumann,” I called out for my trusty security chief. “If I start acting weird, I need you and the men to ignore it.”

               “The Lord will cause your enemies who rise against you to be defeated before you. They shall come out against you one way and flee before you seven ways.” I muttered loudly. “Do not fear them, for the Lord your God is the one fighting for you.”

               As the spell started growing unstable with how much mana I was pumping into it, I let the spell go. It flew from my rifle like a shooting star across the sky, leaving a sonic boom in its track.

               “Your enemies are tinder, and you are the flame.”

3 minutes ago,

Kostroma Oblast,

               Lev waited in the shrubbery with the rest of his mage battalion. Next to him, his friend Karl fiddled with his borrowed SV-1 computation orb. Director Kruglov had wanted to portray an image of strength, so he had ordered the NKVD to rotate around the eighty or so SV-1 orbs that they had to whomever went on active missions that day. In this way, they could fool OZEV and the other factions in the Russy Federation into thinking that all eight battalions in the NKVD were equipped with dual-core orbs.

               “Don’t tinker with your orb, Karl. It’s one of the substandard ones. You might break it by accident.” Lev warned his comrade.

               After the main factory for producing their SV-1 orbs was destroyed, they had to switch production to their auxiliary factory. However, the factory’s productivity was so poor that Director Kruglov had approved reusing the same computation case of the old single-core orb for the SV-1 orbs produced there. In that way, they could produce SV-1 orbs at a quicker pace, albeit with slightly worse performance. They could also break if you fiddle with them and make something come loose.

               Quantity over quality. The good old doctrine of the Russy Federation.

               As an A-class mage, Lev was using a normal SV-1 orb, while Karl was a weaker mage and thus used a substandard one.

               Lev checked his watch. 9:58am. In two minutes, his battalion commander Major Sokolov will signal the beginning of Operation Conqueror. As a squadron commander, Lev was expected to closely follow his lead.

               “Hey, do you think they’ll have mages there?” Karl asked.

               “Probably not. OZEV just came yesterday. If they did station mages, it’ll just be a flight or two.” Lev answered. “Still, expect strong resistance. It’ll be a bitch putting OZEV mages down. The Germanian ones especially are in a class of their own.”

               “At least we’re not the ones in charge of distracting the Devil, eh?” Karl joked.

               “I sure don’t envy them at all.” Lev muttered. The Devil of the Rhine was sure to be present where the din of battles was the loudest. That meant the southern border of the Russy Tsardom in the battle to take back Novgorod. And that meant the boogie woman of mages was as far away from them as possible. 

               There was a commotion at the head of the battalion as Major Sokolov gave them the signal that Operation Conqueror was a go.

               Like they had been ordered, Lev’s battalion aimed their rifles up, channeling an artillery spell. One kilometre away to their left was another battalion who were doing the same. As they were over fifty kilometres away from the enemy to avoid detection, they would be firing their volley in a parabola.

               “3,2,1. Fire!” Major Sokolov ordered.

               Seventy-two artillery spells travelled to the firmament before falling down like meteors. Immediately, his battalion ascended and advanced towards the enemy line. When the artillery spells detonated, that would be the signal for the main army forty-five kilometres ahead of them to advance into Vologda.

               Flying three kilometres up in the air, Lev could see the artillery volley decimating the enemy trench. A fantastic surprise attack. With luck, they would have taken out the enemy general as well.

               Lev detected magic signals flying through the smoke and dust kicked up by the volley. Seven mages total. He almost felt bad for how badly they were outnumbered. If they were smart, they’d escape before it was too late. That was until one of the men in his battalion yelled.

               “Major! Several Named detected!” Shit. They could expect moderate casualties then. A Named was at least an ace.

               “How many?” Major Sokolov yelled back.

               “Six, sir! All except the one in the middle. That one’s magic signature isn’t in our database.” A corporal reported. Lev used an optical spell to spy at the opposing mages. Like the corporal said, there was one much smaller mage amongst the six larger Named mages. Must be a teenage girl who recently joined the army or something.

               At the corporal’s report, everyone in the battalion started pulling up the Named registry with the computation orb’s mental interface to determine their identity. What they saw nearly made them sweat bullets.

               Dirk Meyer. The Cutthroat. 11 kills.

               Emilie Hoffman. The Spider. 12 kills.

               Adolf Weber. Headbasher. 18 kills.

               Finn Bartel. The Maw. 19 kills. 203rd mage battalion veteran.

               Akim Fischer. The Disposer. 22 kills. 203rd mage battalion veteran.

               Rhiner Neumann. The Rhino. 53 kills. 203rd mage battalion veteran.

               Every single one of them had fought in the Second Great War. Each and every single one of them was considered an elite mage. Not to mention that three of the Devil’s Own were present. This revelation almost made Lev’s battalion halt in their tracks, but an order to keep advancing from Major Sokolov made them press on.

               “I don’t care if they have an ace of aces! We outnumber them! If I see a single one of you turn back, I’ll have you shot!”

               Reluctantly, they pressed forth. Lev could see doubt and hesitation in his men’s eyes now. Karl was sweating like a block of ice left under the sun.

               The enemy mages had assembled in a formation and started charging their spells. Lev frowned in confusion. They were still at least ten kilometres away. That was too soon to be charging their spells. Then he noticed the peculiarity of the small mage in the middle of the formation. The one that they had dismissed as a non-threat. The spell they were charging up had too much mana for an ordinary mage to possibly cast.

               Frantically, Lev pulled up the Russy Federation Named mage registry again and compared the small mage’s magic signature to all the ones the Russy Federation encountered during the Second Great War. Nothing.

               Then he compared it to the database of the magic signatures Yugoslavia encountered. Nothing.

               Ildoa. Nothing.

               Then he pulled up the Francois database. What he saw almost gave made him shit his pants.

               Tanya von Degurechaff. The Devil of the Rhine. 588 kills.

               The Devil has come out to play.

               “EVERYONE! EVASION MANEUVERS! IMMEDIATELY! IT’S THE DEVIL OF THE RHINE!” Lev ordered the battalion despite not having the authority to. The men looked at him in momentary bewilderment. Some of their pupils contracted in panic and fear. But by then, the spell was already loosed.

               It zipped across the sky, faster than even a bullet. To Lev’s relief, the spell wasn’t aimed at Lev’s battalion. However, it was aimed at the battalion next to them.

               The spell almost seemed to rip apart the sky asunder when it detonated. A light so bright it drowned out even the sun and made Lev cover his eyes lest he went blind. The proceeding heat nearly singed off Lev’s eyebrows despite being over a kilometre away. He hastily erected a barrier. The pressurised shockwave that followed ripped it apart like Waldstatten cheese and ruptured his ear drums. His world was thrown into chaos and all he knew was pain. Lev was thrown into a spinning whirlwind by the shockwave, unable to find his balance to keep himself afloat. He felt himself smack into a tree and the wind knocked out of him.

               Ignoring his damaged ear drums, Lev squinted his blurry eyes to look at the sky. Their ally mage battalion was no more, eviscerated in the explosion. Their flesh, bones and organs vapourised. All that was left was the twisted remains of their guns, which fell down in a dreary iron rain. Half of the best mages in the Russy Federation had been killed with a single spell of untold destruction. Above where the spell had detonated, a column of smoke and debris the shape of a mushroom rose above even the tallest of mountains. The eerie black and orange mushroom cloud felt like a manifested amalgamation of the souls that were consumed by the Devil’s terrifying power.

               Standing up hesitantly, Lev searched his surroundings. They had been swept by the shockwave into a nearby forest. There were other mages around him who had been knocked unconscious by the shockwave. All of their ears were bleeding. Only a couple of them could still stand up like him. He looked around for Major Sokolov. He had to convince the man to order them to retreat.

               After a minute of searching, he found his commanding officer, leaning against the stump of a tree. His neck was snapped in half, twisted in a ninety-degree angle. The man’s eyes were open in uncomprehending terror, as if he had seen the deepest depths of hell. Lev thought that they all did.

               Cursing to himself, Lev hastily shouted for a retreat. But then he realised that none of them could hear. He went and gathered the survivors, using rudimentary sign language and mouthing his words to communicate. They casted rudimentary healing spells on each other to stop the bleeding of their ears. Many of his battalion had died from either the shockwave or the subsequent fall, including Karl, whose forehead was pierced through by a piece of stray shrapnel. Eventually, all fourteen of the surviving members of his battalion ascended out of the forest, five minutes after that spell had knocked them out of the sky.

               When they ascended high enough to see the battle, it was a slaughter. The soldiers in the enemy trenches had started firing back with artillery. With the mages on their side temporarily decommissioned, the Devil of the Rhine and her ilk had free reign to devastate the main army. Spell-loaded bullets fell from the sky like a hailstorm, ripping the men below to shreds. Regular enchanted bullets failed to penetrate the armour of their tanks, but some of the mages casted flame spells to roast the men inside alive. Bullets bounced uselessly off their mage shields. On a battlefield with no anti-air weapons, mages were gods.

               Underneath where his fellow mage battalion had been wiped out, were thousands, no, tens of thousands of corpses arranged in a wide ring. Lev realised that the spell had killed them all when it detonated right above the army. The blast had vaporised all the soldiers in the centre while the ones unfortunate enough to be close by had been killed by the shockwave. Tanks and bodies had been thrown hundreds of metres away.

               The army was in disarray. That spell of mass destruction had broken the men’s spirits. Thankfully they were moving back into the forest; it seemed that the commanding general had ordered a full retreat. Six hundred thousand men and two thousand tanks were fleeing from a mere seven. No, it was more accurate to say that it was fleeing from the incredible feats of one person alone.

               Then he saw her, floating above Lev and his survivors like the overlord of the skies. The Devil of the Rhine. They were only a kilometre apart and she wasn’t looking at them. Despite her diminutive frame, Lev felt like he was facing a behemoth that dwarfed the world. He felt so incredibly small. Her blonde hair flapped wildly in the wind, framing around her head like a halo. The sides of the ascending mushroom cloud silhouetted her frame like wings on the angel of death. 

               Acting like Lev and his mages were invisible, she nonchalantly aimed her sights down at the men below, five kilometres away, channeling artillery spells. Lev and his battalion could do nothing but watch in horror as a sixteen-round burst was unleashed - each bullet packed with an artillery spell - and fell down onto the army like judgement day, eviscerating an entire battalion. Lev was glad he was deaf at the moment, otherwise the screams below would haunt him for the rest of his life. Dread built in Lev’s stomach.

               A man shot a spell at her, which exploded uselessly off her barrier. Amidst their shock and awe at the man’s stupidity, the Devil turned around to meet their gazes. Her unnatural yellow eyes that glowed like molten metal almost seemed to petrify them. Lev had to galvanise his muscles to move. His survival instincts told him to flee immediately, and he let it direct his actions.

               Lev launched into his max speed, pushing his orb to the limit and escaping to the west, not caring if the survivors of his battalion would follow him. In fact, it was better if they stayed behind and provided a distraction for the Devil.

               He needed to get back to the NKVD headquarters immediately to relay critical information. Vologda was a trap. Their plans had been leaked. The Devil of the Rhine was in the southeast of Vologda, not Pskov or Leningrad. She invented a spell that could wipe out entire battalions of mages, even divisions of infantry. They needed to shift all of their anti-air weapons to the east before she could reach Moskva.

               To his better judgement, Lev looked behind him and what he saw was a massacre. The Devil descended onto the survivors of Lev’s battalions like a shark upon minnows. It was pandemonium. Bullets fired. Spells casted. Mage shields shattered. Limbs and heads flew. Lives ended. And at the centre of it all was a goddess of war.

               Her spell vapourised the arm of a man. Her mage blade severed the head of another. The next mage was bayoneted through the throat. Four mages tried to fire upon her in a concentrated volley, but she weaved around them like a demented fairy and fell upon the four men like some divine punisher. A torso turned into a donut. A head split in twain. A man bisected at the waist.

               The last man was either crazy enough or stupid enough to engage with her in hand-to-hand combat. The bones of his fist crumpled like sand when she let him punch her reinforced cheek. The man didn’t have time to scream before the Devil’s backhanded blow snapped his neck and almost decapitated him. Her glowing golden eyes shone even under the sun.

               Another three men tried to flank her at close range, only for two of them to end up falling from the sky like puppets with strings cut as the Devil bayoneted one through the chest and smacked the butt of her rifle into the side of another, caving in his rib cage and shattering his spine.

               The third man realised the folly of trying to overpower her in close combat and tried to gain distance, but she whirled around after finishing the second man and pounced on him like a night predator. He didn’t get the chance to scream before he fell from the sky in five separate pieces.

               The rumours were true. The Devil had been anything but complacent during her tenure as the leader of Germania. If anything, she’s deadlier than ever before, having improved in every aspect. Her skills, her magical capacity, the capriciousness of her fighting style. She drank in violence like the ocean drank in rivers. They never stood a chance. They could hurt her no more than an ant could hurt the sun.

               She was the lion, and they were the sheep. And when a flock of sheep challenges a lion, the lion does not see a threat. It sees a buffet.

               The others soon recognised the futility of fighting and started fleeing like Lev. The horror of the realisation that none of them would live if they fought had fully sunken in. The Devil simply fired a series of three-round bursts, executing the fleeing mages one by one. All that was left was a hail of charred corpses. Forty seconds after the Devil gazed upon the remnants of his battalion, Lev was the only one left.

               Knowing that her full attention was on him now, Lev realised that he had no chance of fleeing. But to stay and fight was suicide. He had to think outside the paradigm.

               Lev pushed most of his mana towards a healing spell, aimed at accelerating the repair of his ears. In a few seconds, he managed to repair his hearing, albeit for the cost of over half his mana reserves. 

               Leveling his rifle as he flew backwards, he unleashed spell after spell at his relentless pursuer until he ran out of ammo. None of them found its mark. She was catching up quickly. Whether it was her orb, her mana capacity or her skills that allowed her to travel at nearly twice his speed, he had no idea.

               Lev turned around to fly forward and slightly decreased his speed, lowering his altitude to be just three hundred metres above the canopy of the forest, allowing himself to become an easier target. He eyed the forest below for foliage while listening to the Devil’s approach. Just as he predicted, the Devil levelled her rifle and fired a three-round burst. Pretending that he couldn’t hear the sound of the spell coming and only turned around to see it at the last moment, Lev erected a weak barrier, allowing the first two rounds to slam into his barrier cracking it. The last round destroyed the barrier completely, smacking into his torso like a cannonball. Lev felt two ribs broke at the impact.

               He shut off all his spells and allowed himself to plummet from the sky, falling through the canopy of the forest and into a thick cushion of moss and grass. Lev forced his body to go limp to pretend that he was unconscious. At the same time, he strengthened his body with an orbless reinforcement spell. The impact of the fall knocked the wind out of him and likely broke several bones, but he was still alive.

               This was his gambit. He had allowed himself to be hit and pretended to be knocked unconscious by shutting off all mana flow to his computation orb. He had calculated his fall so that he would land onto a natural cushion formed by vegetation. But even then, he had to cast the strongest orbless reinforcement spell he could for a chance of survival. The Devil should fall for it. No one could survive from a fall from that height.

               Now, all he needed to do was play dead and wait until the Devil flew back to deal with the rest of the army. After that, he would escape to Moskva. He would be reprimanded for fleeing the battle, but the Director wouldn’t punish him once he heard of the intel he brought back. 

               Lev kept his eyes shut and his breathing to a minimum to prevent his chest from rising and falling. He used another orbless spell to calm down his frantic heart. His body was still limp as a corpse. Without using his orb, he could now no longer sense where the Devil was. Hopefully she would fall for his trick and go away. As someone who lived in a communist nation, Lev was never a religious man. But at that moment, he started praying in his head reverently. 

               A noise from above froze his blood in place. The sound of branches brushing by a body. A crunch of dead leaves underneath boots as a mage landed close by. The footsteps on the forest floor. Leading closer and closer to him. Lev held his breath as he heard the Devil stopped near his head and crouched down. She searched his body and took his orb from him. That was fine. As long as she left, he could walk back even with his injuries.

               But instead of standing up and walking away, she pried his right eyelid open so that Lev could see her smiling face, eyes now sky blue and staring into the depths of his soul. But he knew that underneath that beautiful face was a complete monster. Her voice came out clear and lilting, more suited for a singer than the embodiment of death itself.

               “Nice trick, but I tried a similar thing back in Norden myself.”

               Only then did he allow himself to scream.

Chapter Text

AYKRR Chapter 18

The Aftermath (Part 1)

               After sweeping away light resistance from the Russy mages, I decided to bring the sole surviving mage back to the borders after confiscating his orb from him. It would be prudent to extract critical information from him. He didn’t come peacefully of course. I had to drag him back kicking and screaming and eventually had to knock him out to carry him on my shoulder.

               As I flew back, I reviewed the battle in my head. For some reason, this was the first time in my life that my head had been clear when I used the Type 95. No desire to spew gospels or hymns. No inclination to start a holy crusade. I even retained all of my memories. There was no mental corruption whatsoever. All of my actions had been under conscious control. I still needed to pray to activate the damn thing, but aside from that there were no penalties. Or at least no penalties that I was aware of.

               Yet that made me more worried than anything else. There was no such thing as a free lunch in this world.

               The thermobaric spell I fired was more powerful than it should possibly be. The explosion had been an airburst, so it had not left a crater. However, the ring of corpses and fallen trees that surrounded it told me exactly where it detonated. Tens of thousands of deaths from just one spell. The resulting explosion had been further from a thermobaric missile’s yield and closer to that of an atomic bomb. But that was not the most unnerving thing. The most disturbing thing to me was that I still had plenty of mana left, even after fighting over a dozen mages in close combat.

               Most people would experience a power-trip from the knowledge that they could fire the equivalent of nuclear bombs at will, but not me. I was a responsible person who has been the leader of a country for years; I knew how to handle power. Furthermore, my nation could achieve a similar feat with a nuclear bomb, so there was no use getting a big head. Instead of being ecstatic, I was anxious.

               Spells that I casted before with the Type 95 had been massively overpowered, but nothing to this extent. There could only be two explanations.

               One, my magic capacity has increased by a massive amount. But that was impossible. A mage’s magic capacity grows as they age, but not at a ludicrous speed.

               The second explanation, and the far more likely one was that the Type 95 has undergone a change. And that meant Being X did something to it. I was then reminded that Being X mentioned that I would be delivered a gift in a few months the last time I talked with him. It’s been nearly four months since then. Could the gift be an improved Type 95 with no mental corruption?

               I shouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth, but one could never be too sure with Being X. For all I know, he made it so that once I have used the Type 95 a certain number of times, the mental corruption would hit me all at once rather than gradually build up through each usage. Yes, I should still avoid relying on the Type 95. The situation earlier was critical, so my hand had been forced. From now on, I’ll actively avoid putting myself in situations where I would even consider using the Type 95.

               This also opened up another problem. How was I going to explain away the spell? My bodyguards had seen it, although they would never say anything. Soldiers and officers had seen it from the trench. The enemy soldiers who survived the battle had seen it too. That was hundreds of thousands of people who had seen me fired a second sun from my gun.

               If the other nations outside of OZEV figured out that I could raze their cities willy-nilly, I could say goodbye to ever retiring quietly. They would surely kickstart nuclear weapon research in an attempt to counter the simple threat of my existence. They might not even believe me if I said that it was the Type 95 doing all the work. Even after I retired from politics, every single one of my actions would be tracked and scrutinised by the entire international community. My right to travel might even be restricted. Nobody wants a walking nuke to be in their country, after all.

               I was fully aware that many leaders outside of OZEV feared and distrusted me for various reasons. Chief of which is my reputation as the Devil of the Rhine. If the destructiveness of my spell ever got out, I couldn’t possibly imagine how irrational their fear of me would lead them to act.

               I had to make sure that the truth of this battle never gets out.

               That was why I killed all of the enemy’s mages (it turned out I wasn’t that rusty after all).  Now, I just have to get rid of the evidence that my thermobaric spell left. Namely that massive ring of dead bodies.

               I came up with a ramshackle idea, although it might still leave some traces of my explosion left. However, it was the best I could do before reinforcements arrived. I flew in a circle above the ring of corpses and casted artillery spells repeatedly, rendering the ring of corpses into mush and scattering them. I made sure that as many corpses would fly into the centre of the ring as possible. In this way, it would seem like they had been killed in a spread-out barrage of artillery spells, rather than a single spell. It was a rudimentary cover-up, but it should easily fool the people who were more interested in the result of the battle rather than how it went. Even better if they took the victory for granted. 

               I made it back to the trench and dropped off the unconscious mage. I ordered the men there to tie him for interrogation later.

               Neumann had also made it back with his own prisoner. The enemy general.

               Apparently, Neumann had ‘convinced’ the enemy general to order a mass surrender of his troops, lest Neumann and his mages continue to slaughter them en masse. Right now, three of my mages were busy guarding half a million enemy soldiers. Talk about being overworked.

               Something about this scenario reminded me of Dacia, back when we had been fighting them in the First Great War. Surprise attack from a supposedly neutral force. A massive invading army. Us finding the enemy commander. The only difference was that the Moskva faction had mages. But that insane initial spell I shot had wiped out most of them and disabled to the rest, giving Neumann and the rest of my bodyguards a shooting environment rich in moving targets.

               With an NKVD mage and the enemy general in hand, we just needed to interrogate them later to extract crucial intel. But before that, I met with major general Dimitri Smirnov, who looked at me like I was a gift from the heavens.

               “Chancellor! What amazing prowess! With you here, the Russy Tsardom’s security is assured!” The general looked so happy I thought he would break into a dance. Aside from the early fatalities from the initial enemy bombardment, there were no further deaths. The men had managed to hide inside their trenches when I fired my spell, so fortunately only a couple of men had received minor injuries from the pressurised wave and shrapnel.

               “General, I need a favour from you.” I addressed him in a serious tone. That had made the man calm his excitement down, ready to listen to my request.

               “I want you to order your men to not say a word about the spell that I casted. It is a matter of utmost national secrecy. If anyone asks, they have to say that me and my men defeated the enemy in a prolonged dogfight, supported by anti-air fire, then moved to decimate the enemy with a flurry of artillery spells. Furthermore, you will say that the enemy mages only numbered twenty. Your after-action report will corroborate this story. Also order your soldiers to dismiss the enemy’s testimonies as hallucinations caused by frayed minds. Tell the soldiers that if they even let out a peep about my spell, they will be court-martialed. Any information concerning this battle is considered classified. Understood?” My tone had a certain fatality to it.

               “What spell? Me and my men didn’t see anything, ma’am.” The major general deadpanned with comprehension in his eyes.

               I nodded. Good man. It wasn’t fool proof, but it would make people think that anyone who blabbed about my thermobaric spell was simply mythologising my performance out of proportions. Plenty of people had done that during the First Great War.

               It was mainly the 500,000 prisoners of war that we would be taking under us that would be the problem. Technically, the best way to make sure they never speak was to kill all of them. However, killing half a million of POWs was sure to raise questions among the international community, inviting scrutiny and becoming the prime example of the Streisand effect. Not to mention that it would be such a gigantic waste of human resources. For now, we’d take them under our custody, then restrict their interaction and communication with non-military personnel to prevent them from leaking information.

               I was under no illusion that the fact that a massive explosion detonating during the battle would not eventually leak out to TATO or the rest of the communists. But my precautions should delay it from getting verified for some months or even a few years, enough time for Germania to build up its nuclear arsenal in the meantime.

               If TATO started getting suspicious and found out about an explosion that wiped out the Russy mages, I’ll just fire a normal thermobaric spell without the Type 95 and claim that was the same spell I had used on the densely packed communists in an ambush, allowing me to catch them off-guard and killed all the mages in in one full sweep. 

               The leadership of TATO were not idiots. They would still be suspicious that I was hiding something else in my arsenal, but at least they would have no solid proof to alert the rest of the international community. And by the time the information about the true size of the explosion did get verified, I could lie that I ordered a nuclear bomb to be dropped on the invading army, thus revealing Germania’s nuclear arsenal. If anyone ever had the idea that the explosion was made by a single person, we would simply lie and deny. Anything to deflect the attention away from me.

               After talking to major general Smirnov, we moved to interrogating the enemy general.

               The general had cracked easily, which disappointed me. I thought Russy generals were known for being badasses who never cracked under duress. Apparently, my dismantling of his army with a single spell had chipped his resolve. He claimed to be General Mikhailov, the former leader of the faction reigning over Kostroma. Some time ago, he had sworn fealty to Sergei Kruglov, the Director of the NKVD. That was especially surprising, the Russy Tsardom was operating under the impression that he was independent. Mikhailov then told me of Kruglov’s strategy as soon as I asked.

               Apparently, Kruglov had thought I was some warmongering monster that would fly to the bloodiest battles like moths to a flame. Seriously, how could anyone have such a misconception of my peaceful character? Thankfully none of my allies or officials had such a misconstrued idea of my personality.

               Kruglov had been intimidated by a dilettante like me simply because of my wartime reputation. So, to lure me to Pskov or Leningrad, he had ordered a flight of mages to bombard the southern borders of the Russy Tsardom. Meanwhile, he had his army of 600,000 pretend to be under the charge of Mikhailov in Kostroma and ordered them to mobilise in the middle of the night to avoid detection.

               If the army had mobilised during the day or a few days after today, heads would fly for their incompetence in failing to detect over half a million men and two thousand tanks mobilising over a hundred kilometres. However, the army moved during the night under the cover of forests and our OZEV mages had only just arrived yesterday afternoon, with no time to be assigned to scouting duties. There were excuses for now.

               The general had even volunteered information that I didn’t even ask for. Such as the fact that NKVD had less than ten dual-core computation orbs left after I had obliterated the two battalions earlier.

               The information that General Mikhailov volunteered was absolutely crucial. We now knew that the Moskva faction was a lot weaker than we thought we were and that they had mispositioned all of their anti-air weapons in the north in preparation for me fighting there.

               Suddenly, I had an idea. Right now, the city of Kostroma was practically defenceless, having lost its army and mages. Once reinforcement arrived, I didn’t want them to question why I had let such an opportune moment to take over an oblast go to waste. After all, if I could capture safely with minimum manpower, why would I wait until Kostroma city has mounted adequate defences, forcing us to fight in urban combat and lose more men than needed?

               “Neumann!” I called. “We’ll leave Meyer, Hoffmann and Weber to guard the prisoners of war. Let’s have a field trip to Kostroma city together! It’s only two hundred kilometres away. You, me, Bartel and Fischer. Just us former 203rds. It’ll be like Dacia all over again. Oh, and don’t forget to bring Mikhailov as well. We can use him.”

               Neumann just shrugged acceptingly. At this point, he knew not to question my whims. Just as I was about to leave, I heard the snap of a camera as Milicent Caldwell took a picture of the damage to the trenches.

               I deflated. Crap. I had forgotten about her. She surely had taken a picture of the explosion. I couldn’t just threaten someone like her. A journalist of her reputation could easily slander me into the ground. I needed some way of bribing her to keep the information about the battle a secret.

               “Ms. Caldwell,” I called out to her. “You want to take pictures of me capturing another city?”

12 hours later,

St. Petersburg,

               Lehrgen felt the resurgence of his stomach ulcer again as he reread the after-action report for the ninth time in five hours, just to make sure his eyes weren’t failing him. The REAL after-action report, written by one of the Chancellor’s bodyguards, given only to the Germanian generals like him and General Weiss. The other generals from OZEV and the Russy Tsardom had been given doctored documents to hide the truth of the battle. Many might view it as an act of betrayal against allies, but the information that they had to hide was of utmost security. One day, they would disseminate it, but not now, when the situation with TATO could turn volatile.  The Chancellor only intended to reveal the truth to OZEV and the Russy Tsardom after the Russy Civil War had ended. The real report hadn’t been sent back to Germania due to fears of it being intercepted; even the Vice Chancellor had been given the doctored version as well.

               The contents of the true report had been unbelievable. Tanya von Degurechaff, that monster in a young woman’s skin, had wiped out nearly sixty mages and several divisions of infantry with a single monstrous spell. The recording sent to him of the explosion by one of Tanya von Degurechaff’s bodyguards, with the Chancellor’s express permission, had shaken him to the core. That many lives snuffed out in a mere instant from the action of one woman.

               The explosion had immediately vapourised the Argent’s main target – a battalion of mages. One and a half kilometre away, the next mage battalion over had been knocked out of the sky from a 10-psi pressurised shockwave. Lehrgen realised that had those men not been mages, who were much more durable than ordinary people, the shockwave would have likely ruptured their organs, killing them. The infantry directly below the explosion were not so lucky. Thousands of them had been vapourised by the spell, while the tens of thousands of men that were close enough likely had their organs rupture from the blast wave. The blast had thrown the bodies of those men away like they weighed nothing, while flipping tanks and toppling trees.

               Terrifyingly, the aftermath of the explosion had looked just like the mushroom cloud of a nuclear explosion, despite the report claiming that the explosion was thermobaric in essence, with no trace of radioactivity.

               Military explosive analysts with the highest security clearance had been given permission to review the several footages recorded by computation orbs worn by the Chancellor’s bodyguard to estimate the explosive yield of the thermobaric spell. The result that came back after several hours of analysis to get an exact reading suggested that based on the size of the explosion, pressure of the shockwave and height of the mushroom cloud, the explosive yield of the spell was approximately 66.6 kilotons of TNT. A thermobaric spell should never be able to produce a yield even close to that; the spell was comparable to a nuclear bomb. Lehrgen wondered if such a specific yield relating to a satanic number was intentional by her. Like a trademark left by a serial killer at the scene of the crime.

               Mein Gott. He thought with a sudden realisation. For how long has she been able to do this? It must be a recent development, otherwise she would have used it during the Second Great War. This new thermobaric spell of hers was comparable to the atomic bombs they had in their arsenal. She must have been inspired after seeing the test results of their nuclear bombs. Lehrgen had also noticed that instead of running out of mana after firing the spell, the Chancellor had still been able to keep fighting rigorously. To his horror, he understood now that she still had plenty of mana left. She could cast an even more destructive spell, or even multiple spells of the same magnitude in a row.

               Given that a spell of the same magnitude has never been recorded before in history, this was likely the first time she used it. Has this been her main intention for going to the Russy Tsardom all along? To find a target-rich environment to test out her brand-new spell? And on that matter, had she known there was a surprise attack coming all along and had omitted that information so that the generals of OZEV would not prevent her from going to Vologda? After all, the timing was very coincidental. The assault had begun only fifteen minutes after the Chancellor arrived at the Vologda-Kostroma border.

               Having seen how she used the spell in open battle, Lehrgen could already envision how she would apply the spell in other ways. A mage of her skills could easily fly over a city like Parisee or Londinium with her stealth orb and fire a series of thermobaric spells onto the cityscape. The fatalities would be in the hundreds of thousands, if not over a million. It would make Arene look like a minor incident.

               Thankfully, according to the report, she had only been able to cast the spell with the use of the Type 95, and that the same spell cast with the Type 99 would be much weaker. Lehrgen had breathed a sigh of relief at that. Degurechaff had made her dislike of the device clear to him numerous times, citing its supposed lack of safety features. At least she would not abuse the spell too much. He couldn’t even imagine how many she would kill if she could just fire that thermobaric spell with any combat orb. Just that one spell she used in what’s now called the Battle of Vologda had killed over 80,000 soldiers.

               The Chancellor had ordered a complete information lockdown concerning this battle. It was clear that she didn’t want the world to know she had the capability to destroy armies. However, Lehrgen knew that a total information lockdown was impossible. There were too many witnesses, both allies and enemies alike. Magic detectors had gone off all the way in St. Petersburg and likely Moskva. The mushroom cloud had been visible for over two hundred kilometres, while the explosion had been heard even further away. Likely tens of thousands or even hundreds of thousands of Russy people living in villages, towns and cities had either seen or heard the explosion.

               The optimal option for the military now was to flood the information network with false rumours. By flooding the information network with unverified rumours, it would make it exceedingly challenging for spies to eventually find out which one had any merits to them. Already, the intelligence department had spread numerous rumours amongst the Russy Tsardom about the battle.

               Within hours, many Russy and OZEV soldiers were whispering to each other different versions of the battle. One version went that the Chancellor had actually brought an ambush of at least a battalion with her, having foreseen the attack coming. Another version detailed that OZEV had developed a magically fuelled artillery gun that could wipe out armies, having just been field-tested in the Battle of Vologda. One version even dictated that it was God who possessed the Chancellor and personally smote down the godless communists.

             The most popular rumour around was that the Russy mages, upon seeing no other way to defeat the Argent, had collectively self-destructed in a suicide attack with the intention of taking down their enemy. Despite failing, the combined self-destruction had resulted in a massive explosion that wiped out a large portion of their own army. It was a good bit of propaganda, highlighting the invincibility of the Argent while making their enemies look incompetent.

               Still, it would be a miracle if they managed to prevent the truth from leaking out for more than two years. The fog of war was helping them conceal the truth now, but it would be much harder to keep censoring it once the Russy Civil War was over.

               Of course, the report of the Battle of Vologda was not the only one that made it to Lehrgen’s desk.

               As if she had felt her appetite for war unsated, the Chancellor had then flown to Kostroma city with the former leader of the region and a famous journalist in tow. When Lehrgen read that bit of the report, he panicked, thinking that she had decided to pull another Arene and firebomb the city to flush out loyalists. It was only after he remembered that the loophole that had allowed Arene to occur in the first place had been patched after the First Great War that he had calmed down.

               According to the report, she forced General Mikhailov to announce to his loyal garrison that the Kostroma oblast’s allegiance now lied with the Russy Tsardom. The report had told him that the Chancellor’s ‘aggressive persuasion’ had General Mikhailov begging to defect. Within five hours, an oblast belonging to the Moskva faction had fallen just like that. Acting quickly, Lehrgen had commanded an extra four divisions and a squadron of mages to reinforce the garrison at Kostroma and occupy the city.

               In the report that was sent back after Kostroma was taken, written by the Chancellor herself, had included a picture of the Chancellor posing with Mikhailov, a bright smile on her face and her right hand in the gesture of V for victory. Her left arm was swung around Mikhailov’s shoulder like they were old friends. The aforementioned man looked like he was about to cry. There were a few more photos attached too, such as the one where the mushroom cloud of her spell silhouetted her figure. That particular picture was redacted from the doctored reports.

               The trove of information that Mikhailov had volunteered was also absolutely crucial. The NKVD had only a few dual-core computation orbs left. The rest of the mages the NKVD had at their disposal were woefully undertrained. The Moskva faction’s eastern flank was especially vulnerable, with the anti-air weapons being slow to move. They even learned of the Director of the NKVD’s identity – Sergio Kruglov.

               Despite the unprecedented victory, the Chancellor’s deeds had also been a double-edged blade. Not only has the information lockdown taxed their intelligence department, but the influx of half a million POW’s had shocked their logistics. They had accounted for the possibility of taking prisoners of war, of course, but not this many. Nor did they expect to receive them all at once, the day after they arrived at the Russy Tsardom.

               According to the laws of war, they were obliged to build POW camps and keep them fed and alive. They could not kill them; such a barbaric act of killing surrendered men was considered a war crime. This meant that OZEV had to build a camp to house these men, food and water to keep them alive, and assign enough guards to watch over half a million prisoners of war. 

               They also needed to establish full control over Kostroma and secure its borders against the Russy Tsardom. That meant stretching their logistics even further. This problem was further exacerbated by the fact that their shipments of food and supplies from OZEV had not yet arrived.

               Despite logistics being one of his strongest areas, Lehrgen could not help but get a headache to go along with his stomach ulcer.

               They could send down multiple battalions of mages to Moskva to kill or capture Sergio Kruglov. Mages didn’t need many supplies, and they could easily manoeuvre around to flank Moskva from the east, where there was a dearth of anti-air defence. However, this plan had several flaws.

               Firstly, they did not know where Sergio Kruglov was hiding in Moskva. Even if they did, they would have to contend against the city’s fixed air-defence, while combating against six mage battalions. While those mages were undertrained and most of them were only equipped with single-core orbs, they would only need to buy time for Kruglov to escape. As such, a decapitation mission would likely end up in failure.

               Even if they did succeed, there was still the Moskva faction’s army. According to OZEV recon mages, even accounting for their recent losses, the Moskva faction still had over three million soldiers and seven thousand tanks. It would be impossible to occupy the city without dealing with this army first.

               Despite the logistical nightmare it introduced, the Chancellor’s victory had still been overwhelmingly a boon for the Russy Tsardom. With the devastating losses suffered by the Moskva faction, eventual victory was now assured.

               Therefore, the best course of action now was to consolidate their gains in Kostroma and solve their logistic issue. That would take a few weeks, considering that they would have to wait for several shipments from OZEV to arrive to feed both the POWs and Russy Tsardom citizens. After that, they would need to reformulate another strategy to defeat the Moskva faction. Their previous plan was now obsolete.

               The news of the Battle of Vologda had still made it to the ears of the common people, of course, albeit the altered version that only had the Chancellor faced twenty mages. The effect of such a major victory against all odds on the morale of the people could not be understated. Whereas before when the people of the Tsardom were listless and waiting for inevitable defeat, the people of the Russy Tsardom now had hope. Hope that they will win and prosper. And all that hope was brought to them by a single person. People in the streets of St. Petersburg were already singing and praising the Chancellor’s name. A Russy general that Lehrgen spoke with even said that he and his wife were naming their two-day old daughter Tanya after having been deliberating on choosing a name for a while. The Tsar had even gone as far as to declare today – the seventh of September – a national holiday and calling it Degurechaff Day.

               Lehrgen had no idea how the Chancellor would react to such news. Hopefully she would take it as a sign that she had done enough for the army and stay back in the rear for the rest of the war. Lehrgen had no desire to see Moskva become a smoking crater.

              Sighing, Lehrgen realised that he would have to go inform the Chancellor of this change in plans. She just came back from Kostroma a couple hours ago. She would not appreciate having to delay her conquest over communists over logistical issues. He needed some way to distract her from the thoughts of war.

              Perhaps he could get Vice Chancellor Serebryakov to come to the Russy Tsardom for a short time. While it would be terrible if it became a habit for Germania’s leaders to abandon their posts, Lehrgen needed someone to keep the Devil of the Rhine from getting stir crazy, lest she goes to field test another spell. And who better to do that than the Vice Chancellor? Lehrgen could ask her to take the Chancellor on a date or something, anything to keep Degurechaff occupied. And while the Vice Chancellor was in the Russy Tsardom, Lehrgen could even take the opportunity to give her the unaltered after-action report. She would surely be impressed by the Chancellor’s heroics and prowess.

Chapter Text

AYKRR Chapter 19

The Aftermath (Part 2)

11th September 1942,

Londinium,

               “Do we believe in what Kruglov is saying?” Winston Churbull asked the meeting room, where the four leaders of TATO member nations sat at four different tables with their ministers and advisors.

               “Mister Churbull, in my experts’ opinion, Kruglov is clearly lying to make us panic and send him further support against OZEV.” William Lyon Mackenzie King, the Prime Minister of Kanadia commented.

               “I agree with Prime Minister King. Kruglov’s claim that a magical explosion wiped out a large chunk of his army fighting in southeastern Vologda and was detectable all the way in Moskva. That’s a distance of over six hundred and fifty kilometres. An explosion of that size would be unprecedented.” Francisco Franco said. Churbull noted that the man did not quote any scientists or experts, nor did he bring any with him.

               Churbull had heard that the man was purging too many of his scientists for contradicting his regime’s views. Franco was apparently also smothering the freedom of his researchers. If no one corrected his authoritarian way of handling scientific progress, Ispagnia would fall behind in science and force the rest of TATO to pull up their bootstraps for them. It was looking more and more clear that Ispagnia was the weakest link in TATO. Churbull would have to do something about them sooner or later.

               “My scientists concur. They told me that this theoretical explosion would be over twenty times larger than the explosion at Halifax! Could you imagine that? It would level an entire city!” De Lugo exclaimed incredulously.

               “I’m of the same opinion.” Churbull stated. “If Kruglov did detect a magic signal near his capital, it was likely from an OZEV scout that got careless. He’s trying to goad us into thinking that OZEV has a superweapon so that we would attack OZEV and bail out Kruglov from his folly.”

               “But could OZEV have a superweapon?” Prime Minister King postulated. “Physicists have known for some time about the potential of using nuclear fission to generate heat and power, like a bomb.”

               The Minister of Defence for the Allied Kingdom, John Payne spoke. “I’ve consulted the best physicists in the Albish Empire about this subject. They said it was theoretically possible, but none of them would know how to engineer such a bomb. They said such a project would be ludicrously expensive and would require dozens, if not hundreds of the best minds in the world to work on it. We estimate that currently, only the Unified States and Germania have the resources to commit to such a weapon development program. And even with such funding and personnel, such a project would take years. Even then, a fission bomb that is practical enough to be used as a weapon might still be implausible.”

               “Still, you just admitted that Germania has the money and resources to pour into researching the fission bomb.” Generalissimo Franco pointed out.

               “But not time.” Payne said. “My experts pointed out that a fission bomb would require the use of an element called Plutonium. This element has only been discovered less than two years ago. So even if Germania had started working on the fission bomb the moment plutonium was discovered, they would still require several more years to get enough plutonium and design a bomb. As such, we’ve ruled out the possibility of any nation on Earth having developed a fission bomb or a similar device that relies on nuclear fission.” Having delivered his explanation, Payne sat down.

              “Could TATO endeavour to develop our own fission-based weapons?” Francisco Franco inquired.

              “Not with our current resources, Generalissimo. Once the economies of TATO has fully recovered, perhaps we can consider jointly launching such an adventurous project.” The Kanatian Minister of Finance replied.

               “Gentlemen, I believe we’re getting sidetracked. Kruglov said that the explosion was magically induced, not a purely scientific process.” Churbull rapped his table to attract everyone’s attention. “He thinks it was caused by a spell.”

               “A spell?” Generalissimo Franco exhaled in incredulity. “No mage could cause such destruction.”

               “Not quite.” A voice interjected. The origin of the voice was a seemingly young man with upturned bangs wearing the uniform of a Royal Mage. Churbull instantly recognised him as Air Marshall Drake, the best mage in the Albish Empire and an ace of aces. As one of the few people who have engaged with the Devil of the Rhine in combat during the First Great War and lived to tell the tale, his opinion regarding mages was widely respected.

               “What do you mean, Air Marshall?” Churbull asked him to elucidate.

               “Generalissimo, your country did not participate in the First Great War, so you did not have access to the post-war report. I have witnessed two people capable of performing such a feat before. I’ve seen them change the landscape of Ildoa itself. I saw Mary Sue and Tanya von Degurechaff both blast holes into a mountain. And it was confirmed in Russy newspapers that Degurechaff was the one responsible for defeating the mages in the Battle of Vologda.”

               At the mention of the second name, the mood in the room instantly changed. It was as if the temperature had physically dropped. Everyone knew of the last battle between the Bloody Valkyrie and the Devil of the Rhine, where the landscape that they fought in had been turned unrecognisable and had required cartographers to remap the area.

               And everyone knew that at the last moment of the battle, Tanya von Degurechaff’s magic power had risen to match that of Mary Sue, if for a moment.

               “But she has never displayed such power ever again!” A general from the Francois table rebutted, a slight tinge of fear on his face. He was likely imagining the Devil of the Rhine bombarding Parisee with such spells.

               “Exactly. How do we know she’s not holding back? After the First Great War, she’s never been in any real danger. And we both know that the Battle of Vologda was a surprise attack, with two battalions of mages equipped with dual-core orbs. This information came from Kruglov himself. We know from Russy newspaper that she only brought six bodyguards with her to Vologda. She was outnumbered ten to one against an enemy with near parity magical technology, eleven years after her last real battle. It would have been the first genuine dangerous situation she has been in since the battle against Mary Sue.” Drake expounded.

               Many people in the room stayed quiet during the exchange, thinking about the possibility that Air Marshall Drake proposed.

               “Air Marshall Drake, assuming that she did indeed retain her magic capacity from her battle with Mary Sue, could she output such power with the newest Germanian computation orbs?” The Kanatian Minister of Defence asked.

               “I’m not sure. The most destructive spell that the best mages can cast is the thermobaric spell. But such a spell cast by Degurechaff, assuming the same magic capacity of Mary Sue, would only match or slightly surpass the Halifax explosion at most. Unless she invented a new spell or used a computation orb multiple generations ahead of the newest Germanian orb, it would be impossible to reach over 60 kilotons of explosive yield.”

               “Thank you for your input, Air Marshall. We’ll consider the idea later.” Churbull nodded respectfully at the Albish veteran. The man’s theory had holes in it, such as it still being impossible for Degurechaff to reach such destructiveness with the most destructive spell known and the most recent Germanian orb. However, it still had merit to it. Perhaps the Royal Institute of Magic could perform further research into spells superior to the thermobaric spell in destructive potential.

               “Everyone, I believe that we are ignoring the simple solutions that we already arrived at in lieu of improbable ones.” De Lugo commented. Everyone stared at him. “We already agreed that Kruglov lied. That’s all there is to it. Us debating on which superweapon OZEV has or what city-destroying sorcery Degurechaff could be capable of is an expression of our fears. And that’s exactly what Kruglov wants. He wants our fears of OZEV and Degurechaff to win us over and force us into irrational actions. Approaching a force mightier than us irrationally will lead us to our ruins. I maintain that we pledge no further support for Kruglov after delivering him our weapons and selling him supplies. We take that dual-core technology and leave him to his plight.”

               Churbull nodded approvingly at De Lugo. The man might be stubborn as a mule sometimes, and Churbull and him often clashed heads, but the Francois could be counted on as a pillar of rationalism. A shame that he would most likely lose the election at the end of this month.

               “I think it’s safer to assume that Kruglov’s two battalions of mages were taken out through more mundane methods. We know that the NKVD selects their mages for loyalty and not skill. On the other hand, the Devil of the Rhine is the most accomplished aerial mage in history. It’s not a stretch to assume that she and her bodyguards simply dominated the engagement through clever use of dogfighting and illusions.” Churbull said. “Let’s move onto other topics.”

               Just before the meeting adjourned, the members of TATO decided to establish a joint scientific research organisation called the Trans-Atlantic Research Institution (TARI) focused on sharing and developing technology, which would then be disseminated across TATO. As they would soon have access to dual-core technology, it was better for TATO to work on developing a better dual-core orb together rather than developing their own orbs individually. TARI was also not just focused on computation orb, but also vehicles and weapons.

               That was the perfect opportunity for Churbull to unveil the prototype Gloster Comet jet fighter. The other TATO leaders had been ecstatic at finally having an aircraft that could operate on par with OZEV’s shiny jet fighters. Churbull had agreed to share its blueprint once the plane had been declared fit for operational flight, so that TATO could work jointly towards designing a new generation of the jet fighter.

               Churbull smiled. The Albish might rule the seas, but who said that couldn’t aim for the skies as well?

               Out of the corner of his eyes, Churbull noticed that Air Marshall Drake was frowning, eyebrows creased in concentration as he rapidly wrote down different combustion magic equations on a notepad. 

14th September 1942,

St. Petersburg,

               For the past week, I’ve mainly kept to my room, doing paperwork. Fighting in Vologda and capturing Kostroma city had been more than enough excitement for me. I haven’t made any public appearances for the past week.

               Right now, I was peering through the one-way mirror into the questioning room as Lehrgen and the young mage I had captured talked. He had been very willing to give us information in exchange for being given better treatment than the other POWs.

               Already, Lev had told us of the identities of several Moskavite spies in the Russy Tsardom. We would not capture or eliminate them but rather we intend to use them to subvert Sergio Kruglov’s spy network. By feeding them false information, we could lead Kruglov into making a mistake.

               According to him, he was Lev Petrov, a senior NKVD mage. Although, he was only considered senior because most of the mages more experienced than him had died. Lev himself only had one and a half years of experience as a mage yet had been promoted to squadron commander. It spoke of the poor quality of the NKVD vetting process, picking mages for their loyalty rather than skills.

               “You’re not aware of where Kruglov resides within Moskva?” Lehrgen asked with a raised eyebrow.

               “No. Almost nobody does. He switches between safehouses daily in an irregular pattern. As for the HQ, the public HQ is easily visible as it’s near the Communist Party headquarters. But Kruglov would have moved to the secret headquarters once he learned of Vologda. The secret HQ is located in a massive bunker below the city centre.” Lev answered.

               “And where are your secret HQ’s entrances?”

               “The main entrance is a restaurant called Mama Bear’s Dishes on Bronya Street. The restaurant is a front for the NKVD. At the back of the kitchen, there is a staircase leading down. There are multiple other entrances and exits to the HQ, but each NKVD agent is only ever aware of one, to prevent betrayals from crippling the security of the HQ.” Lev explained.

               That meant we couldn’t possibly trap Kruglov if we besieged his headquarters. The man would likely escape through the other exits. Still, we should assemble a team to raid the secret NKVD headquarters. There were bound to be valuable state secrets stashed inside.

               “Lieutenant Lev, what do you make of Sergio Kruglov’s personality, from the few times you’ve met him and the impressions that others have of him?”

               “He’s a calculating man, although sometimes prone to outbursts when things don’t go his way. A risk taker. Very patriotic. He’s one of the few that wholeheartedly believes in communism. He would readily throw away lives to achieve an objective for the Motherland.”

               Kruglov likes to take risks. Patriotic and can be enraged. That was good to know. We might be able to do something to provoke him out of hiding.

               “And what about his capabilities? How is he with war strategies?”

               “He’s very effective at flushing out disloyal agents. It was his job before becoming the head of the NKVD. In terms of strategy, he’s competent, but I wouldn’t say he’s a brilliant general. More textbook-informed than anything.”

             “Does he extensively study the strategies of the Great Wars?” Lehrgen asked.

               “He obsessively analyses the Second Great War, since he wants to amend the Russy Federation’s defeat, but he doesn’t focus much on the First Great War. He thinks the tactics and strategies involved there have been mostly rendered obsolete due to advances in technology.”

               “I see. Thank you, Lev. Your cooperation has been very helpful. You will be escorted to a cell reserved for persons of high significance tomorrow.” Lehrgen shook the NKVD mage’s hand and exited the room.

               “What do you think?” I asked Lehrgen as he entered the room.

               “Kruglov’s disregard for the First Great War will be his downfall.” Lehrgen stated. It seems the war machine of Germania was starting its engine soon.

               “Have you devised a new plan yet?” I inquired.

               “Yes. It’s one that doesn’t require you to be on the frontlines though. You can rest in the rear. But if you want, Chancellor, you can watch the battle from afar.” Lehrgen said. Wow, he must be angry at himself that he couldn’t wipe out the invading army in Vologda. He probably wanted me in the rear so that he could wipe out the Moskva faction by himself. Him extending an invitation for me to watch was likely just so he could show off his strategies. Nevertheless, I was happy to be at the rear.

               “How long until our logistics recover, and the plan can be implemented? We still have to process the prisoners of war. Many of them needed medical attention for burns caused by my spell so we’ll be short on medical supplies like bandages and disinfectant.” I commented.

               “Of course, it would have been preferable if we didn’t have to take care of half a million POWs.” Lehrgen said. Was he suggesting that we execute all of them? That would be an inexcusable war crime! Wow, he must be even more frustrated than I thought. Best not to get in his way when he’s like this.

               “Do you think we should just kill all the POWs?” I asked rhetorically.

               Lehrgen froze. He must not have realised that he had let his bloodlust come through. He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly to school his expression, staring at me with an impassive look. He was likely chiding himself internally for making such a mistake.

               “Of course not. That would be a serious breach of the conduct of war. I think there’s a way that we can use the presence of the POWs to our advantage. No need to execute any of them.” Lehrgen answered.

               Lehrgen then started drawing on a map of Eastern Europe, updated to show the current borders between the Russy Tsardom and the Moskva faction. I didn’t understand his strategy at first, but then the movement of troops started looking familiar to me. The whole strategy made sense to me then. I grinned and laughed. What a throwback to the First Great War. Zettour would be proud.

               For some reason, when I started laughing, Lehrgen looked uneasy. It must be his stomach ulcer acting up again. He’s been complaining about it lately. Perhaps I should send him some pain relief medicine.

               “By the way, Chancellor.” Lehrgen interrupted my laughing. “The Vice Chancellor just arrived in St. Petersburg an hour ago.” All of my amusement immediately vanished.

               “What? But we can’t have all three leaders of Germania overseas.” I pointed out in a daze. Crap. If Visha was here, there’s a chance that someone could deliver her to the real report of the Battle of Vologda. I would be finished if she found out the truth. Let alone sleeping on the couch, I’d be sleeping on the floor!

               “President Ernst just left for Germania two hours ago. He said he would be temporarily picking up the workload for you two.” Lehrgen informed me. Right, Ludwig did say that he would return after a week.

               “I think I should go greet Visha.” I nervously excused myself. “She must be worried sick about me after hearing that I got surprised in Vologda. Can’t have people exaggerate the events and make her even more anxious about my safety, can we?”

               “No need to worry, Chancellor. I already ordered an adjutant to hand-deliver the Vice-Chancellor the undoctored documents for both the Battle of Vologda and the Surrender of Kostroma at the airfield. She’ll be very impressed by you.” Lehrgen smiled.

               I stared at Lehrgen like I had been stabbed in the back. In his misunderstanding, Lehrgen had just doomed me. I am definitely NOT sending him that pain relief medicine anymore.

               “And Lehrgen, pray tell, where is Visha right now?” I gulped.

               “Oh, she’s likely coming here right now.” He said.

               I immediately dashed out of the room. I needed to make my escape. If I could just hide for some time from Visha’s anger at my breaking our promise, she would simmer down. I might be able to make her listen to what I have to say then.

               Just as I opened the door leading to the outside and dashed forward, my face bumped into something soft. Falling on my butt from the collision, I looked upward to see Visha, staring down at me with an icy smile on her face.

               “Tanya~” She crooned.

               “Visha I can explain.” I frantically begged.

               “You can explain in bed tonight.” I perked up at that. Perhaps she wasn’t that furious with me after all. The next sentence she said shattered my minute hope.

               “I brought the paddle~”

               I’m finished.

20th September 1942,

Moskva,

               “Is this information trustworthy?” Kruglov asked.

               “Yes, Director.” One of his mages reported. “Our best spy heard it from the lips of Erich von Lehrgen himself. The Devil of the Rhine suffered a serious injury to the rear during the Battle of Vologda from one of our mages. The reason she has not made any public appearances since the Battle of Vologda and the capture of Kostroma was due to her recuperating from her injury.”

               Kruglov smiled. Finally, some good news. At least his mages had not been lost for nothing. To take that army-destroying monster out of commission was the best he could hope for. Without her spells of mass destruction, he could now fight OZEV more conventionally.

               Kruglov glanced at his war planning map. Due to the massive number of POWs that the Russy Tsardom and OZEV had been forced to take in, their logistics had been paralysed. They also had to dedicate resources to garrisoning Kostroma. There was also news from one of their spies of the Russy Tsardom’s grain supplies going bad due to a rat infestation.

               Due to their massively strained logistics, the Russy Tsardom had to pull back their front line by fifty kilometres. That was a fatal mistake. There was now only another fifty kilometres separating the frontline from St. Petersburg. 

The weapons and supplies delivery from TATO had already arrived. Kruglov was confident that if he smashed all his newly armed forces into the north, he could breach it and reach St. Petersburg. Only 200,000 OZEV troops had arrived out of the over half a million that they had pledged. The Devil of the Rhine was injured. The army and citizenry of the Russy Tsardom was starving from the lack of food. This was the perfect time for an all-out assault to knock out the enemy’s capital.

               Kruglov needed to make a decisive choice now. If he waited, the Russy Tsardom’s logistical issues would solve itself. The rest of OZEV’s troops and equipment would arrive Worse, the Devil of the Rhine might fully recover. By then, he would have no chance of victory. The only hope Kruglov had for victory was to gamble now for the fate of the Russy Federation.

               And he was going all in. All or nothing.

Chapter Text

AYKRR Chapter 20

Operation Blood and Iron

18th September 1942,

St. Petersburg,

               I sat down to watch as Lehrgen prepared to deliver the presentation of the battleplan. I tried not to wince as my sore buttocks scraped against the seat. Deciding that it wasn’t possible to hide my pain during the whole presentation, I decided to cast a flying spell to subtly float above my chair. Visha, who was sitting next to me, smiled politely like she wasn’t the cause for my current woe. She didn’t even look apologetic, if anything she looked like she wanted to have another go.

               The Tsar and all the other OZEV generals had already seated themselves at the auditorium, waiting for the Lehrgen to deliver the plan to defeat the Moskva faction once and for all. The plan had been so secretive that each general working on the plan had only been privy to one of the four phases of the plan. Today would be the first time they see the plan in full.

               At the front row were me, Visha, the Tsar and his ministers. I haven't even seen the fully finished plan, although I had an idea of what it would look like. After all, I had taken part in the preparation by ordering our jet fighters to be converted to temporary two-seaters while calling our allies in Ildoa, Legadonia and Kieva. Not to mention giving suggestions for the final part of the plan.

               Lehrgen cleared his throat. “Ladies and gentlemen, I am pleased to present to you the grand plan that shall spear through the heart of the Moskva’s faction. Each general here had been privy to only one phase of the plan. Now, I shall show you how they all fit together. I present to you Operation Blood and Iron!”

               Lehrgen made a gesture for a mage nearby, and she activated her orb to project a slide onto the blank wall at the front of the auditorium. The slide showed the following words:

               OPERATION BLOOD AND IRON:

               Phase I: Operation Smoke and Mirror

               Phase II: Operation From Pan into Fire

               Phase III: Operation Monkey’s Paw

               Phase IV: Operation Hangman’s Noose

7th October 1942,

Moskva,

               Kruglov smiled as his chosen field marshal – General Markov – sent back a message that his Red Army had managed to advance forty kilometres into the enemy territory. They were now only ten kilometres from the outskirts of St. Petersburg.

               OZEV’s logistical issues had hit them much harder than he had originally thought. After fifteen days of intense fighting, General Markov had advanced by forty kilometres while forcing OZEV to conduct a fighting retreat with his faction’s numerically superior force while suffering only moderate casualties. Transferring their anti-air weapons to the north had not been a folly after all; their walls of flak and bullets had managed to keep OZEV’s mages at bay, though barely.

               The Devil of the Rhine had not shown up at all during the fighting. It seemed the rumour was true that she had been seriously injured. Though apparently the exact wording from the War Machine of Germania – Erich von Lehrgen – had been: “The Chancellor had been rendered incapacitated and in great pain by a female Russy mage who attacked her from the rear with a blunt weapon.” If that Russy mage was still alive, Kruglov would make sure to award that patriot with a medal of distinction. She alone had more balls than the entire Red Army put together.

               Kruglov would have to end the fighting soon though. Three days ago, dozens of large cargo ships had docked at St. Petersburg’s port. If he let this drag on any longer, St. Petersburg would be fully resupplied, and it would become arduous to take the city against a well-supplied enemy.

               Deciding that haste was quintessential, Kruglov sent an order for General Markov to advance at a faster pace, even if it resulted in higher casualties.

Still, the situation could have been worse. So far, his forces had not spotted any warships approaching the port of St. Petersburg. He would have had to adjust his plans if they started arriving.           

19 days earlier,

St. Petersburg,

               I listened quietly as Lehrgen expounded upon Operation Smoke and Mirror.

               “The groundwork for Operation Smoke and Mirror has already been laid. We sent false information through Kruglov’s compromised spy network that the massive influx of POWs had frozen our logistics and made us unable to continue border enforcement operations. We also fed his spies rumours of the city starving due to a rat infestation. This will lead Sergio Kruglov into thinking that our chain of logistics is close to failure, thus making us vulnerable.”

               Lehrgen continued. “First, we will withdraw our forces fifty kilometres back from the Leningrad-Novgorod border and set up a new line there. Seeing that St. Petersburg is so close to the new line, the enemy will be baited into launching a massive assault with the intention of taking St. Petersburg.”

               “We will conduct a fighting retreat back towards St. Petersburg but will not allow them to get closer than five kilometres. we will ensure they will not be able to harm the city outside of this five-kilometre range. During this retreat, all of our mages will be dedicated to the defensive purposes of preventing and intercepting enemy artillery bombardments.”

               “From Lev Petrov’s information, we know that the NKVD’s remaining mages are undertrained, with a low range of accurate sniping. Even better, none of them had been trained in indirect fire, thus limiting their range even further. Nevertheless, any enemy mage that tries to bombard the city will be quickly shot out of the sky by our own sniper mages. Any artillery pieces that the Red Army brings will be taken out by our own squadrons of mages in night skirmishes before they could get into range or be deployed. These skirmishes will be conducted in low altitudes of less than thirty metres to avoid anti-air fire.”

               “When Kruglov receives reports of multiple cargo ships docking at St. Petersburg, he will quickly realise that he is running out of time. But false confirmation of Chancellor Degurechaff’s serious injury will likely embolden him into being more aggressive rather than passive. I expect him to order a more intense push towards St. Petersburg, despite the fact that such a reckless assault would leave him with higher casualties.”

               “When we’ve confirmed that he made this fatal order via watching the enemy army’s behaviour, we will begin Operation From Pan into Fire.”

7th October 1942,

Moskva,

               Six hours after giving the order, it was already the afternoon, and General Markov had only managed to advance by another three kilometres. OZEV resistance had suddenly strengthened; they were no longer giving ground. Kruglov cursed as he wrote an order for General Markov to slow down the advance and wait for more reinforcement from the south. Suddenly, Kruglov was startled when his aid, Igor, barged into his office without permission.

               His aid, Igor reported frantically. “Sir, our radar has detected twenty-four aircrafts from the north. They’re heading towards us at eight hundred kilometres per hour.”

               Kruglov grimaced. Jet fighters. They were faster than he had thought they were. The reports during the Second Great War had underestimated their speed. The range of their radar in Moskva was only over fifty kilometres. Given the time that Igor had taken to report to him, the jet fighters would arrive in approximately three minutes.

               What would be their targets? Likely their supply depots. They could also fire at their munitions stores to cause untold damage. Perhaps their goal was even to deal as many civilian casualties as possible. He could not allow any of that to happen.

               He had already sent nearly all of his planes to the north to deal with St. Petersburg. The ones that were still in Moskva would take too long to be deployed to deal with such an immediate threat.,

               “I want our anti-air batteries to take those planes down!” He ordered. “And I want two squadrons of our mages to engage those planes!” He had already sent five of his six mage battalions to the northern front. This last battalion of mages was his best weapon to deal with those jet fighters before they could do major damage. The anti-air crews would not be able to hit objects flying that fast.

               If they could shoot down one of those jet fighters in a relatively intact condition, they could reverse engineer it and greatly boost the Motherland’s aviation capabilities. Furthermore, his spies in St. Petersburg had reported that even with the extra jet fighters transported from OZEV, the Russy Tsardom only had exactly twenty-four of them. This meant the Russy Tsardom had sent all of their jet fighters to Moskva. His army in Leningrad would go unhampered by enemy air support.

               After ten minutes of anxious waiting, Igor ran into his office again. This time his adjutant looked panicked. “Director! We have to evacuate now! There’s two squadrons of mages raiding the HQ!”

               Kruglov looked up from his paperwork in shock. Impossible. How could mages infiltrate Moskva? They would have been detected with magic scanners. But then Kruglov realised. There were twenty-four jet fighters and two squadrons of mages attacking Moskva. Two squadrons of mages has twenty-four members. The mages must have parachuted down from the fighters. OZEV must have modified their jet fighters to be two-seaters somehow.

               He’d been tricked. In his haste to take down the jet fighters, he had sent out two-thirds of the mages guarding the headquarters. Now he was left with twelve greenhorns with single-core orbs versus twice as many mages equipped with their most advanced orbs. There was no fighting them. He would need to make his escape to Volgograd, where another secret bunker had been built. Technically, Kazan was the better option, as it also had another secret bunker, was close to the Urals and had a larger population and better anti-air defence, but his enemies likely anticipated him going there and had already set up a trap.

               Quickly, Kruglov pressed the emergency button in his office. It would alert all NKVD agents in the headquarters to start burning all important documents and to dispose of all prisoners they have in the underground cells.

               Kruglov put on his jacket and quickly made his way outside his office, where his last squadron of his mages would be escorting him out of the headquarters.  He nodded, and they started making their way towards an emergency exit. According to his bodyguards, the enemy was invading from Bronya Street, so they would have to avoid the main entrance.

               He fiddled with the dual-core computation orb inside his pocket. When the NKVD had tested agents for mage potential, he had been high ranking enough to avoid taking the test completely. As such, he had not been drafted into their mage corps. But he had been curious and had one done in secret, only to be surprised by his B-class magic potential.

               Now, as Director of the NKVD, he could reserve the best orb they had for self-defence while not having to directly fight on the front line. Following his bodyguards, they made their way through to the headquarters’ eastern side, where a secret stairway led into the cleaning closet of a hotel built on the surface.

               Five minutes later, he emerged from the cleaning closet, his men having cleared the way ahead of him. Making their way stealthily out of the hotel, Kruglov scanned the sky. The loud hums of jet engines filled the air. Those twelve jet fighters were still flying in the sky, although one of them was smoking from a glancing hit. His anti-air batteries had been ineffective at tagging those planes. Kruglov also noticed that there were only twelve of his mages left in the sky. A missile fired from one of the jet fighters exploded as it neared – not contact – a mage, turning the man into chunks of meat. Had his mages been their target all along and not infrastructure?

               Having no more time to ponder, Kruglov and his bodyguards immediately activated their orbs and launched into the sky, heading south towards Volgograd, where he could recuperate and establish a second command centre there, since the one in the NKVD headquarters had been compromised.

               As they flew, Kruglov noticed that the jet fighters had been circling around near Moskva’s eastern side. He had been right; they had anticipated him fleeing east to Kazan and ordered their jet fighters to loiter there. His mages were making sure that the jet fighters couldn’t bypass them by positioning themselves to the planes’ southwest. Kruglov nodded satisfyingly at their action. They were undertrained, but not stupid.

               After fifteen minutes of flying, Kruglov and his bodyguards noticed twenty-four unknown magic signatures pursuing them from the north. It must be the OZEV strike team. They must have cleared out the NKVD headquarters and were now moving to either capture or kill him. The OZEV mages were only fifteen kilometres behind him and quickly catching up.

               Kruglov quickly ordered his bodyguards to engage the enemy, which simply meant buying him time to escape.

               Kruglov pushed his orb to its limit, flying at its max speed of five hundred fifty kilometres per hour. With luck, his bodyguards would delay the OZEV strike force for long enough for him to make it to Volgograd. He chanced a look behind him. His bodyguards were holding them off for now, but one of them had already fallen, killed by a long-faced male OZEV mage with a ponytail, using a mage blade infused sword of all things.

               Silently thanking his pawns for their sacrifice, Kruglov focused on getting to Volgograd as soon as possible. After five minutes of straight flying and not detecting any magic signature near him, he noticed a peculiarity. There was a humming in the air. The humming of jet fighters. Quickly turning to his right, he saw a dozen jet fighters burning their fuel to get to him.

               How did they catch up with him so quickly? They would have had to take a ridiculously wide arc to get around his mages, and it surely would have taken them longer than just twenty minutes to catch up with him.

               Then Sergio Kruglov realised what was wrong. There were only twelve of them, not twenty-four. These fighters approached him from the right, whereas they should have come from his left if they came from Moskva. But these jet planes were not coming from the north, from Moskva. They were coming from the west, from Kieva. He’d developed tunnel vision, believing that the northern front where the Russy Tsardom was had been his only threat since OZEV had sent all of their troops there, having forgotten to account for an avenue of attack from Kieva.

               And why would he? Kieva had barely been in OZEV for a few months. Any substantial land army sent by them would be stopped by the armies in the west that he controlled. But this was not a land army. This was a squadron of the most advanced planes in the world – the fastest vehicles in the world.

               Kruglov barely had time to lament his shortsightedness before the plane squadron launched all their missiles at him.

19 days earlier,

St. Petersburg,

               I listened intently as Lehrgen explained the second phase of the plan.

               “The second phase – Operation From Pan into Fire – involves delivering mages to Moskva by flying them over in modified two-seater jet fighters. Once over Moskva, the mages will eject from the plane while the pilots remain to distract anti-air fire and any mages that are deployed to defend the city. The parachuting mages would then breach into the underground NKVD headquarters via the entrance provided by our captured NKVD agent. Once inside, the elite mage task force assigned to the mission will attempt to prevent the NKVD from destroying the bunker to preserve any sensitive information stored there. Their presence will naturally incite Kruglov to evacuate from the bunker.” Lehrgen explained the second phase of Operation Blood and Iron.

               “Once evacuated, Kruglov has two directions to escape to. Either east or south. If he chooses east, our jet fighters will be waiting there to take him out with prejudice.”

               “If he flees south, our mage task force will pursue him closely, while a squadron of planes are launched from the northeastern border of Kieva at the beginning of Operation From Pan into Fire, with the objective of intercepting Kruglov. Should our mage task force be close to Kruglov when the jet fighter squadron intercept him, then they should block his path of escape to allow for his capture. If the mage task force is not nearby, then the squadron has authorisation to kill Sergio Kruglov to prevent his escape. Once Kruglov is either captured or killed, the signal will be sent via radio to our command centre to begin phase three – Operation Monkey’s Paw. Our strike team will then be given orders to return to St. Petersburg to participate in the next two operations.” Lehrgen explained.

               I stared impressed at the second phase of the plan. It differed from Operation Lockpick in its brazenness. Since technology has advanced, the enemy commander could now relay his orders while safe in Moskva. Operation From Pan into Fire would destroy the enemy command and flush him out of safety to lure him into an ambush. Quite literally out of the pan and into the fire.

               But instead of staging a stealth attack at night and going over the enemy’s detection range, Operation From Pan into Fire would intentionally allow the enemy to detect them with their radars during the middle of the day. However, as all other jet fighters that the Russy Federation had encountered during the war had been single seaters, they would not expect our recently modified jets to carry an additional person and be led into thinking that they were purely dealing with aircrafts, not aircrafts and mages. It forwent stealth completely for speed and decisive force, all with the intention of commencing a decapitation strike on the enemy leader.

               Lehrgen then began to clarify the specifics behind Operation Monkey’s Paw.

10th October 1942,

Leningrad Oblast,

               General Markov cursed. He’s been unable to reach command for orders. He suspected that the enemy might have jammed their signals somehow. Just a bit closer, one final great effort, and he’ll be sipping vodka in St. Petersburg by next week.

               They were taking more and more casualties the closer they got to St. Petersburg. They were only seven kilometres away from the outskirts of St. Petersburg now, but every metre gained was paid in blood. Already, he’s lost around two hundred thousand men and hundreds of tanks. They could replenish with more troops from the south, but they would take days to arrive.

               The Russy Tsardom had been stalwart in defending this last stretch to St. Petersburg.  Progress of the advance was getting slower and slower. Many of the fortifications and infrastructure that they abandoned had even been boobytrapped, ensuring that his forces wouldn’t be able to utilise them. Moreover, even though the terrain was relatively flat, the enemy had found a way to create chokepoints via burning select stretches of forests and grasslands, forcing his army to manoeuvre through bottlenecks of unburned land that the enemy intentionally created. There, the enemy could concentrate their firepower onto the chokepoints.

               Even more insultingly, the enemy has taken minimal casualties during this fighting, preferring hit and run tactics or sniping their enemies from afar with mages. 

               Once more, Markov wished that the NKVD’s mages were even half as skilled as OZEV’s mages. The mages that he had assigned to guard their artillery crews had allowed all of their artillery pieces to be either destroyed or rendered needing extensive repairs, all whilst getting themselves killed by the skirmishing OZEV mages, who had flown at extremely low altitudes to avoid anti-air fire. As such, his army had lost a whole battalion of mages to these skirmishes. But most importantly, they lost the ability to shell the enemy from a long range.

               Their veteran NKVD mages had been able to indirectly bombard an area from over fifty kilometres away. However, they were the best mages in the Russy Federation, equipped with dual core orbs, and were given the exact coordinates and calculations to fire their group bombardment prior to the mission. These rookie mages with single-core orbs that Markov had on hand could perhaps directly fire artillery spells accurately from maybe two or three kilometres away. They hadn’t even been trained in indirect fire, dashing his hope of them trying to hit the enemy port.

               From even further away, such as five or ten kilometres, they would still be able to hit St. Petersburg; it was hard to miss a target the size of a city. However, accuracy was not guaranteed. Markov wanted them to be able to hit military infrastructure, not civilian buildings. This war was being fought to reunite the Russy Federation, and it would go against their objective if the news spread around that they had liberally shelled the citizens of their second largest city, even if it was occupied by an enemy faction. Additionally, antagonising the civilian population of a city was how you get rebels.

               Although his mage’s sniping skills were irrelevant in this situation. None of them were brave enough to even fly above a few hundred metres anymore, not after nearly every single of them had been sniped out of the sky for even attempting to do so.

               Their planes had been moderately effective against OZEV ground forces, but that was only if the enemy air force was absent or undermanned since the Red Army had more planes than what the Russy Tsardom and OZEV currently had at hand. They could deal with the enemy’s propeller planes, but jet planes were a whole different beast. Their own planes were given orders to cancel their sorties and turn back if an equal number of enemy jet fighters were present, lest they be shot down by the enemy’s superior planes.

               Searching for a different way to change the paradigm of the battle, Markov had sent a squadron of mages yesterday to flank St. Petersburg and see if they could sink the cargo ships docked there. That would buy the Moskva faction some time by delaying the Russy Tsardom’s logistical recovery. But to his disappointment, his mages had returned before they could attack the cargo ship, citing that each cargo ship had a mage floating above it to guard the cargo.

               Markov had raised his eyebrows at that. There were three dozen ships in St. Petersburg’s docks. Why would they tie down a whole battalion of mages in the rear to protect the ships when a flight of mages would have done the job? It was complete mismanagement of mages.

               A few hours ago, he also noticed that the enemy was shifting most of their forces to their eastern flank. Thinking that they might be trying to break through the Red Army’s eastern flank, he had diverted more men to the east. The right (eastern) flank of the Red Army now likely had over forty percent of his forces all concentrated there.

               Earlier, he had tried to communicate with command back in Moskva to ask for permission to slow down the advance so that he would preserve his troops, but no response had been returned.

               Just then, a mage flew into his command tent, hyperventilating. His uniform pants were covered in grass and leaves, as if he had walked through a forest. He must have been attacked and fell to the ground at some point. No wonder the lad was missing his flight partner. “General! We have to retreat! It’s a trap! I saw it from the sky!” Kruglov’s attention instantly refocused back onto the mage’s words.

               Of course, Markov had suspected that this battle could be a trap. Unlike Kruglov, he’d actually studied the First Great War. The set up and pattern of this battle was eerily similar to the one during Operation Revolving Door. He had brought it up to Kruglov, but the man had waved his concern aside. Kruglov had said it was implausible for a numerically inferior force to encircle a larger one, unless they had exploited a weakness in the numerically superior enemy, such as communication, logistics or troop deployment. Only in this way could the larger force be put into a vulnerable position for encirclement. None of those weaknesses was a flaw that the Moskva faction’s military currently had.

               “Calm down, soldier. Report to me calmly. What did you see?” Markov held onto the mage’s shoulder in a calming gesture.

               “It’s the cargo ships, sir! They’re not cargo ships at all! The mages guarding them were casting illusion spells on them! They’re warships!”

               Cyka blyat. They’ve been bamboozled. Depending on what type of ships they were, the army was in range for a naval bombardment. He had unwittingly led the Red Army right into the enemy’s line of fire.

               “What type of ships are they? Answer me!” His grip on the mage’s shoulder tightened.

               “Three battleships, twelve cruisers and two aircraft carriers sir! The rest are destroyers! Ildoan, Legadonian and Germanian make, sir.” The man reported back.

               Markov’s blood froze. They were well in range of those ships. To fully get out of bombardment range, they would have to rapidly retreat by at least twenty to thirty kilometres. With how densely packed his army was, a naval bombardment would shred them to pieces. Even worse, the enemy had brought in aircraft carriers that surely carried more planes. One of the reasons that his army had managed to advance so quickly was due to them having more planes than the enemy and achieving something resembling aerial parity when contending against the enemy’s mages. Now, they would have to perform a retreat while being constantly bombarded by the enemy navy and harassed by their planes. Even if they succeeded in retreating, the total casualties would be catastrophic.

               Operation Red Sickle was a failure. He needed to order a retreat now. The enemy were surely preparing for an encirclement. But before Markov could do anything, he heard a shrieking sound in the distance.

               As he was about to tell his four radio operators in the command tent to order a mass retreat, an artillery spell hit the command tent, killing the radio operators instantly. Markov had only survived because the mage next to him had casted a barrier spell to protect the both of them. Debris crashed into the barrier while the tent was bombarded again by yet another artillery spell. Despite the barrier sporting multiple cracks, they were miraculously unharmed as the attack stopped.

               Impossible. How could a mage hit them from this distance? The command tent was forty kilometres away from St. Petersburg, hidden by foliage. It should have been secured.

               Amidst his bewilderment, both Markov and the mage crawled out of the obliterated ruins of the command tent. At that moment, Markov heard several booms in the distance, reminiscent of a giant’s footsteps. 

               BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

               BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

               BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

               The rumblings of naval guns. The naval bombardment has begun.

               Markov focused his attention on the sky above. Just as he feared, he could spot massive shells arcing in the sky, falling with impunity to reap lives like farmers reap crops. The hums of jet engines and propellers filled the air, as dozens of planes took to the sky, having taken off from the aircraft carriers or airfields, carrying missiles and bombs.

               Markov could no longer reach central command. Markov’s own command tent has been destroyed. He could no longer order his troops to retreat. Many of them were still under orders to advance at all costs and would not dare defy orders, as cowardice was punishable with death in the Red Army. The units that were smart or brave enough to defy orders and retreat might only barely make it out in time before the encirclement came.

               Markov fell to his knees. The Red Army was doomed.

               Paralysed from despair, Markov almost didn’t even notice as the mage that saved his life lifted Markov onto his back and flew away. As they gained altitude, Markov looked down at the battlefield. From his vantage point, what Markov saw confirmed his worst fear.

               The enemy bombardment had focused on the right flank of the Red Army. Even worse, because Markov had ordered more forces to be concentrated to the right flank in a response to the enemy’s build-up of forces, the naval bombardment had been exceedingly deadly. He vaguely realised that it was most likely how the enemy general had expected him to respond to their troop movement the whole time.

               Now, the naval bombardment has switched targets to the centre of the Red Army while infantry and tanks from the White Army and OZEV attacked the Red Army’s devastated right flank in a vicious single prong attack to push through the weakened eastern flank in an encirclement by trapping them against the Baltic Sea while naval fire support devastate the Red Army. Air support from jet fighters carrying missiles prevented the centre from reinforcing the right flank. Some jet fighters ignored the panicking Red Army, zooming past them to target their supply lines in the rear. The Red Army’s own planes were quickly shot down by the more technologically advanced and now more numerous enemy air force.

               They were about to be cut off from their supply lines and trapped in an encirclement. Even worse, none of them but Markov knew about it. With communications down, they would not be able to coordinate with each other to break out of the encirclement. The field officers below were likely desperately trying to receive a response from him. With a sinking feeling in his stomach, he had a premonition that the names of two generals were about to go down in history today.

               “Soldier! Get me down to the army now! I’ll command from the battlefield! I don’t care if I have to be in danger. I’ll get the army out of this encirclement!” Markov shouted. He needed to salvage the situation, even if he had to die for it. The Red Army has lost the battle, now it was his responsibility to make sure they don’t lose the war too.

               “I’m afraid that’s not possible sir.” The mage piggybacking him replied, even though the man still adjusted his course to the north, towards the army.

               “That’s an order, soldier!” Markov shouted.

               “Why vould I follow your orders, sir?” When Markov was about to admonish the man for his impertinence, it all clicked at once.

               The mage arrived alone despite all mages being assigned with a flight partner. He had grass and leaves stuck to his pants because he walked to the rear, not fly to the rear. The artillery spell only hit the command tent after the mage arrived, despite his location never having been hit before. And the most damning evidence of all, the Germanian accent that the mage intentionally allowed to bleed into his voice just now.

               “After all, sir, I’m not part of your army.”

               In dejection, Markov looked down as they flew straight past his struggling army, towards St. Petersburg.

19 days earlier,

St. Petersburg,

               Lehrgen signalled for the mage assistant to switch to the next slide. The new slide depicted a map of the Leningrad Oblast, with St. Petersburg and its docks. Defending the city were the one million eight hundred thousand troops from OZEV and the Russy Tsardom guarding the city, coloured in blue. From the north was the Red Army controlled by the Moskva faction, which according to latest reports, numbered over two and a half million. They were coloured in red. The map also showed a whole fleet of warships in the docks, despite OZEV having no large naval ship in the Russy Tsardom at the moment.

               “Three days ago, I sent an order to the Germanian Navy to send four cruisers, five destroyers and both of our aircraft carriers over, carrying as many jet planes as possible. At the same time, Chancellor Degurechaff requested the Legadonian and Ildoan Navy to send as many battleships, cruisers and destroyers as they can spare. Legadonia is sending four destroyers. The Ildoans responded by sending all three of their Littorio-class battleships, eight cruisers and eleven destroyers, commanded by Admiral Mario Bernardi. Their fleet will arrive here at St. Petersburg shortly before the commencement of Operation Monkey’s Paw. Before entering the port, these thirty-six ships will be concealed via illusions by mages floating above them, pretending to be guards for civilian cargo ships.”

               Back then, I had raised my eyebrow at such an overly enthusiastic response from Ildoa when they had sent back their message. They must be eager to not be outshined by Germania’s contributions in the Russy Civil War, while proving to the rest of OZEV that they would not be the ‘soft underbelly of Europa’ during a TATO invasion. Ildoa had retained most of its navy from the Second Great War, as Muzzioli had been too scared of confronting the Albish in a naval battle. As such, Ildoa now possessed the largest navy in OZEV. Therefore, Luigi Falasca could afford to send such a large fleet to the other side of Europa. He was also likely banking on such a display to win some political popularity. It was hard to forget that many Ildoans once voted for Muzzioli, after all.

               “Won’t they have to pass through the Strait of Gibraltar? TATO could report the Ildoan Navy’s movement to the Moskva faction. We know for a fact that TATO has been sending their RK-42’s to Eran, which conveniently went missing and conveniently appeared in the hands of Russy border guards.” A Russy general raised a point of interest.

               I answered the question for Lehrgen. “TATO is not stupid. It is in their interest that the Russy Federation never reunite and more importantly that the NKVD never regains power. One must not forget that it was the NKVD’s works that Albion has lost Bharat. Furthermore, even though they’re supplying the Moskva faction, TATO still has plausible deniability. After all, we have no evidence of them directly delivering those weapons to the Moskva faction, but rather to Eran. If the Moskva faction were to act with intelligence that only TATO could possibly gather, they would no longer have this plausible deniability. It would be irrefutable evidence that they are a belligerent party in the Russy Civil War and valid casus belli for OZEV. It would go against their current goal of avoiding war for economic recovery.”

               Lehrgen nodded at me in thanks and continued with his explanation of Operation Monkey’s Paw. “Once we receive confirmation of the success of Operation From Pan into Fire, the commencement of Operation Monkey’s Paw shall immediately begin.”

               “The night before Operation Monkey’s Paw commence, an elite mage equipped with a Type 99 orb and SV-1 orb looted from the surviving NKVD mage that we captured, disguised as an NKVD mage with the captured agent’s uniform, will sneak through to the enemy’s rear on foot. Once he makes it to the rear, he is to wait for the next day to commence his next orders. He is to find the enemy command post’s location. He will then fly there with the SV-1 orb. Given his uniform, orb and lack of warning about an intruder, the enemy will almost certainly think him one of them instead of an infiltrator. However, if he is discovered, he is given orders to assassinate the enemy general and destroy the rear’s means of communication, even calling for a battalion of mages for reinforcements if need be. If our mage remains undiscovered, he will arrive at the enemy command post unmolested.”

               Lehrgen took a moment to breathe and accepted a glass of water from his aid. Chucking down the glass, he spoke again. “This is the moment the Monkey’s Paw curls.”

               “Our best sniper, the White Death, will lock onto our mage’s magic signature to destroy the command structure from afar. Our infiltrating mage will protect the enemy commander with his own shield. Then, disguised as a rescue attempt, our infiltrator will kidnap the enemy general and bring him to St. Petersburg, this time using the Type 99 and shedding his cover. The enemy general will likely have access to critical information about the current state of the Moskva faction, so his capture is much preferable to his assassination.”

               “Once the White Death fires his shots, that is the cue for the illusions covering our warships to be dropped, allowing the mages assigned to them to join the battle. At the same time, our warships will commence several rounds of heavy naval bombardment onto the two flanks of the Red Army, having been lured well into their range during Operation Smoke and Mirrors. The jet planes on our aircraft carriers will also commence their combat operation with the goal of providing air support for our infantry. A squadron of planes will be assigned to raze the enemy’s supply lines. Our mages will be responsible for eliminating their mages, before providing support for our encirclement.”

               The slide changed to show the eastern flank of the Red Army as smaller than before, having been bombarded heavily by the OZEV fleet.

               “Before the bombardment, our army will conspicuously focus most of our forces to the east. Due to us having captured hundreds of enemy tanks in the Battle of Vologda, we will be using them to bolster our tank columns in this phase. When the enemy moves some of their forces to the eastern flank to respond to our own movement, it will simply render them a more target-rich environment for our naval bombardment. After the bombardment, our eastern flank will counterattack and advance rapidly, with the aim of breaking through the enemy’s eastern flank and encircling them against the Baltic Sea. Our naval bombardment will then shift west, to cut off the centre column from reinforcing the eastern flank. Caught in the chaos of coming under heavy shelling, suppressed by our aerial supremacy, cut off from their supply lines and reinforcements, with no commander and the chain of communication broken, the Red Army will be unable to reorganise itself to retreat and break through the encirclement.”

               I whistled. Truly Zettour’s protégé. Lehrgen had taken Operation Revolving Door and reworked it to fit the context of the Russy Civil War. Unlike The First Great War, we were not fighting in trenches, and as such the tactic of planting explosives underneath our own abandoned trenches would not work. Without drastically weakening our numerically superior enemy through the use of sapping and bomb planting, Lehrgen had turned to a different force multiplier.

               Combined arms warfare.

               Lehrgen had decided to use naval bombardment to substitute for the planted explosives, supplemented further with air support from jet fighters and our mages, who far surpassed the enemy in equipment and skills. The eastern flank of the Red Army would be battered by several rounds of heavy naval bombardment, suppressed by the best mages in OZEV and jet fighters with missiles, isolated from the rest of their army, while unable to receive orders from higher command. One must also not forget the morale suppressing effects of being shot at but being unable to shoot back, especially by explosive shells. There was a reason PTSD had been dubbed shellshock. 

               A perfect practical application of combining the army, navy and airforce in a military operation. If he was still alive, John Monash would shed a tear. I almost felt bad for the Red Army. 

               Lehrgen wrapped up the presentation for Operation Monkey’s Paw. The next step was Operation Hangman’s Noose.

7th October 1942,

3 kilometres above St. Petersburg,

               Using an optical spell, I watched as our eastern flank breached through the Red Army’s eastern flank and began the encirclement in earnest. The Moskva faction’s mages were trying to cover the retreat, but in doing so they exposed themselves to our own mages, who descended on them like crows onto worms. The jet fighters that were sent to target the enemy’s rear had returned, this meant that the Red Army’s supply lines had been destroyed. The naval bombardment has shifted to the centre column of the Red Army, each shell ripping apart dozens of men in this flat terrain.

               Once the encirclement was completed, Operation Hangman’s Noose would begin.

               Floating next to me was Visha, who was actually taking potshots at the Red Army’s western flank that were practically paralysed due to losing their high command. I guess she was just letting off some steam. After all, it was the Red Army that had driven her and her family out of their native country. And even I must not forget that as part of my 203rd mage battalion, she had an inner thirst for war just like the rest, my girlfriend or not.

               I wasn’t the only one floating above St. Petersburg and watching the encirclement below. Floating close to me were several mages who were specialised in long-distance sniping. All of them were taking shots at the panicking Red Army below. When the enemy was this concentrated together, one didn’t need to be very accurate. Spells that were shot were bound to hit something.

               My eye drew itself to a soldier in all white. The White Death himself. His sniping was likely the most impressive I’ve ever seen. He had hit a target from forty kilometres away not once but twice. That was above even my max range.

               His taking out of the enemy command tent earlier had drawn several raised eyebrows and praises, but the man had remained humble and kept on sniping without a care. I then noticed that the man wasn’t even using a scope and was just purely relying on his optical spell. Even I needed to use a scope for any shots over twenty kilometres in range.

               He aimed again and shot another artillery spell, obliterating a tank thirty kilometres away that almost made it out of the encirclement.

               Seeing that I was the only one here who wasn’t firing at the Red Army, I suddenly felt a bit self-conscious. Right, I still have a reputation to keep up. Not wanting to be seen as the odd one out, I levelled my rifle and channelled a thermobaric spell through my Type 99. I’ve adjusted the spell to be low powered, so it shouldn’t spook anyone on my side.

               I aimed at a company of infantry at the western flank that had actually realised the situation and was trying to rapidly. My spell travelled across twenty-four kilometres and obliterated half of an entire company. It wasn’t even a thousandth of the size of the spell that I had fired with the Type 95, so while it drew some impressed glances and praises, it didn’t shock anybody.

Same time,

24 kilometres from St. Petersburg,

               Major Nikolai Alexeyev watched in shock and horror as half of his company was wiped out in a single explosion.

               What in the devil was that? Was that a spell? A shell from a battleship? The thirty-five-year-old Nikolai stood in silence for a moment, as the screams of his men drowned out his thoughts.

               “Major Alexeyev!” One of his uninjured men asked. “What do we do?”

               Snapping out of his shock, Nikolai ordered. “We have to leave the wounded. If we don’t escape, we’ll all die here.”

               He was one of the officers that had realised what had happened when the eastern flank started being bombarded, and the enemy western flank was slowly being drained of personnel. It was because they were focusing all of their efforts on the east. And the only reason they would be doing that was if they were trying to breach the eastern flank.

               They were going for an encirclement. A timeless tactic as old as the art of warfare itself. Something that had been taught by every war college.

               Nikolai had immediately ordered his company to retreat when he realised it and even encouraged the commanding officers of other units to do the same. Unfortunately, most of them had obstinately refused, whether out of respect for the chain of command or fear of being executed for dereliction of duties.

               Now, having barely retreated for two kilometres, his company had been reaped through by an explosion that almost seemed like divine punishment for communism’s renouncement of religion.

               Looking back at some of dying men for the last time, Nikolai burned their betrayed expressions into his brain before commanding the remains of his company to keep retreating.

               After another three hours of non-stop marching, Nikolai felt like his lungs were burning through his chest. On the horizon, he spotted something approaching his unit. A column of tanks. Damn it. Those fools must be reinforcement from the rear who were advancing even though an encirclement was coming.

               “Hey!” He shouted at them and waved his arms to draw their attention. “Turn back! It’s an encirclement!”

               But then more shapes started appearing from the horizon. A whole army. Hundreds of thousands of men and thousands of tanks advancing towards him. Dozens of mages and planes. There was no way that the Red Army still had that many reserves. They had put nearly all of their forces into this offensive. The presence of another army on the horizon only meant one thing.

               That wasn’t their army.

               A tank turned its gun towards him and fired.

3 kilometres above St. Petersburg,

               I smiled in satisfaction as the encirclement was completed. Our eastern army had quickly breached through the enemy’s eastern flank, then looped around to the west to enclose the Red Army against the Baltic Sea in a semi-circle stretching to where the town of Sosnovy Bor would have been built in the future in my world.

               With the Red Army’s back turned right against the sea, all thirty-six ships in our fleet could fire relentlessly at them, causing endless casualties.

               The Red Army was now demoralised, exhausted and its numbers greatly culled by the unceasing naval bombardment. Meanwhile, our own army had all types of advantages. Naval dominance, aerial supremacy and magical supremacy. All of these advantages worked together to form a force multiplier that allowed our smaller force to encircle a numerically superior army.

               If the Red Army still had a central commanding officer to organise an assault, they would have a slight chance of escaping, albeit with disastrous casualties. However, the Red Army’s field marshal was now sitting in a secured holding cell deep within St. Petersburg, guarded by four mages to prevent any rescue attempts by the NKVD.

               The Battle of St. Petersburg was now as good as won.

               With the encirclement completed, Operation Hangman’s Noose was a go.

               I watched as our encirclement tightened, pushing the enemy closer and closer to the Baltic Sea, where the meat grinder that was the OZEV fleet decimated them with their naval guns.

               BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

               BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

               BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

               Ildoa’s battleships fired another volley of shells, ripping a whole tank battalion apart. Even though big battleships were going to make way for aircraft carriers soon, I could not help but appreciate the satisfying feeling of having the biggest guns on your side. Our cruisers and destroyers sprayed their machine guns and fired their own smaller calibre shells, desolating battalions of soldiers.

               The Hangman’s Noose was tightening.

               The Red Army was numerically superior to us, yes, but that had been their downfall. Being so densely packed together, it made them into the navy’s dream shooting range. And now, when they were being pushed back and the area they could hold became smaller and smaller, they became even more densely packed.

               Operation Hangman’s Noose involved the dismantling and destruction of the entrapped pocket of the Red Army via constantly pushing them against the Baltic Sea, whereby our navy was waiting to devour their forces like a hungry leviathan. Trapped in a flat area with little coverings, the Red Army was easy pickings for the navy and our mages.

               We would also be attempting to divide the large pocket into smaller, more isolated pockets, which would enable us to annihilate them more efficiently. The process would take days of shelling and bombing, even requiring our ships to undergo refuelling and resupplying to continue their operations day and night. Our planes would be conducting hundreds of sorties over the next few days. Our mages will be worked to the bones with the intention of causing as many casualties as possible. We didn’t intend to let the enemy rest or sleep, as they would be going through suppression fire 24/7. Either their bodies would break first or their minds would.

               Assuming that they didn’t surrender first, which I doubted as they were too disorganised and terrified to decide on any decisive action, we intended to eventually offer them a deal to keep them as prisoners of war in exchange for their unconditional surrender.

               The reason that we didn’t intend to offer a surrender early was simple. We couldn’t afford to hold any more prisoners of war in addition to the ones we already had. This operation has stretched our logistical ability to the extreme. If we take in anymore now, we would have to wait at least a month and a half until we could advance to Moskva. At that point, winter would have already set in. We simply had to whittle down the enemy army to an acceptable number first before we could take them as prisoners. 

               It was actually me who had suggested this course of action to Lehrgen, whose original plan involved getting the captured general to order his troops to surrender after only a week of entrapment. I had to find a way to appease his bloodlust somehow before we reached Moskva. Otherwise, who knew what he would do to the city. Besides, I was sure that he would have ordered a mass execution of the surrendered soldiers anyways if they had been too numerous in numbers, which would have forced him to delay the march to Moskva if he had to take them all in as prisoners.

               I hated having to waste so much human resources, but if it became apparent to Lehrgen that we would fail to defeat the Moskva faction before the height of winter set in, he might just discretely bypass me and order the launching of nuclear bombs onto the multiple major cities that the Moskva faction controlled, including Moskva. I absolutely could not let that happen under any circumstance. Not only would that absolutely destroy our positive relation with the Russy Tsardom for bombing what they view as their own people but would also cause an international panic over the use of a weapon of mass destruction on urban centres and set a horrifying precedent for the use of the nuclear bomb.

               The next twelve days for the Red Army was an unending nightmare. Our fleet shelled them without giving them a single minute of respite. We flew in over a dozen bombers from OZEV to fly hundreds of bombing sorties over the Red Army’s head. Every night, battalions of our mages would raid their ramshackle foxholes, causing thousands of casualties each night and ensuring they don’t get a wink of sleep. A few companies led by responsible officers decided to either surrender early or outright defect, but the vast majority remained fighting, either out of sheer grit, loyalty to communism or in hopes of making it out somehow.

               There was a single rescue attempt on the tenth day, when a force of 400,000 strong led by some general emerged over the horizon. But after seeing a seemingly uninjured me in the sky, they retreated post haste. The pitiful sight of the ravaged Red Army likely did nothing to help rouse their mettle.

               On the twelfth day, we finally offered the remnants of the Red Army a surrender and gave them a six-hour ceasefire to decide upon a course of action. At that point, they had been cut off from their supply lines for nearly two weeks, with only rainwater to drink and what little rations they had on their persons for substance. Needless to say, they didn’t even take two hours before letting us take them as prisoners of war.

               I didn’t know the exact numbers but given the size of the enemy army before the battle, this had definitely been the largest encirclement in the history of warfare, even surpassing Operation Revolving Door.

               Lehrgen ought to be proud. His name was about to be enshrined in history for this world record.

22nd October 1942,

St. Petersburg,

               Erich von Lehrgen closed the full report of Operation Blood and Iron with a sigh, looking out of the window of his temporary office to watch the snow fall with mixed feelings.

               Just the Moskva faction alone had been able to muster two and a half million soldiers for one battle. This sheer number possessed by a single faction alone had been mind-staggering and hinted at the endless well of manpower that the former Russy Federation had. Lehrgen estimated that if the Second Great War had been drawn out for longer, the Russy Federation would have been able to call up tens of millions of conscripts, drowning out OZEV in a sea of blood.

               But fortunately, the Russy Federation was no more, thanks to the BND’s work.

               Lehrgen leaned back on his cushioned chair to contemplate the sheer monumentality of his force’s victory at the Battle of St. Petersburg.

               Despite winning, his army didn’t come out unscathed. Their coalition army had suffered a combined total of 400,000 casualties.  On paper, this would look like a disastrous loss for any army. However, of those 400,000 casualties, only 70,000 had been deaths. And of those deaths, nearly all had taken place before the encirclement was completed. 

             The vast majority of their casualties were injuries. Even then, OZEV had the best medical mages in the world, whose healing spells were specialised in closing wounds and accelerating healing. They wouldn’t be able to regenerate permanent injuries like brain damage or lost limbs, but most of the injured men would fully recover, even the ones near the brink of death.

               In comparison to the army, the air force had barely had a dozen casualties – all injuries – while the navy suffered a single casualty due to a seaman tripping over a bucket and breaking his arm.

               It had been the Red Army’s losses that were staggering. Out of the 2,500,000 troops dedicated to the battle, only 210,000 had managed to escape the encirclement.

               The rest had either been killed, wounded, went missing in action, or captured. Nearly two million Red Army soldiers had perished in the twenty-seven-day-long Battle of St. Petersburg, making the battle the deadliest in human history. For the ones that did survive, they had all been captured by his forces.

               The Red Army suffered 1,100,000 deaths and nearly 1,200,000 were made POWs while his own army only suffered a fraction of the casualties, despite being numerically inferior at the start of the conflict. 

               With this, the Moskva faction was devastated. The enemy had lost their leader and the bulk of their army. By next month, OZEV and the Russy Tsardom would be able to march straight into Moskva. The remaining surviving forces would likely retreat to Kazan or defect to other factions in the Russy Federation. Perhaps some of them might stay and try to defend Moskva, but the resistance would be light at best.

               Lehrgen ought to be celebrating. As the chief military commander of this operation, his name would surely go down in the history books of warfare. His old mentor, Minister of Foreign Affairs Zettour, had already sent him a letter of congratulations on winning what he dubbed "the greatest battle ever directed by a Germanian general”. His colleagues and the Russy Tsardom’s generals had lavished him with gifts and even gave him a moniker of respect – the Fist of the Empire. Lehrgen didn’t know whether he ought to laugh or cry at such a nickname.

               The only reason that he was not celebrating his achievements and going out for drinks with his colleague right now lied in a single person. The one that had ordered him to continue shelling the enemy for days despite him wanting an encirclement in the first place so that he could capture most of the enemy instead of killing them. Instead, the Devil had suggested (commanded) him to cull their numbers to a manageable size so that they wouldn’t have to take most of them in as prisoners. In the end, he relented. Who knew what she would have done if he had refused. She could have him replaced with a more bloodthirsty general or in the worst-case scenario, direct the battle herself. In the latter case, Lehrgen doubted a single soldier from the enveloped Red Army would have survived.

               However, in hindsight, he did agree with her that there was no possible way that they could have taken in nearly all of the Red Army as POWs. There were simply too many of them. The logistics of expanding their current POW camp, feeding them and staffing the enlarged camp would have shocked their logistics once again, ensuring that they would be unable to capture Moskva before winter arrived. It was like Arene again, when she covered an atrocity under the guise of necessity and strategic priority.

               Yesterday, the Chancellor had bumped into him in the hallway and praised him in a teasing tone. “Fantastic job. Keep up the good work, Fist of the Empire.”

               To anyone, this might just be some like a casual compliment while making fun of his new nickname, but Lehrgen knew enough of the Chancellor’s personality to read her true thoughts.

               By telling him to keep up the good work, she hinted that she was expecting more slaughters on this scale in the future. When she emphasised his new moniker, she was implying that he will be her instrument in restoring the military prestige of the Empire. In a way, it was also a warning that she had seen through his attempt at showing mercy to the enemy.

               Sighing in exhaustion, Lehrgen pulled out from his desk drawer a glass and an untouched bottle of brandy. A twenty-year-old bottle, gifted by the Chancellor herself. Deciding that he could use a stiff drink right now, he poured himself a drink and downed it like it was water.

Chapter Text

AYKRR Chapter 21

The Reward for Good Work is More Work 

23rd October 1942,

St. Petersburg,

               I clicked my tongue as I read the report of the Battle of St. Petersburg. It was undeniable that the Battle of St. Petersburg was a smashing victory. The Moskva faction was now a headless chicken with both its legs chopped off. I expected them to offer us an unconditional surrender by the end of this month.

               Lehrgen must be beside himself with joy now. Future commanders would be studying his strategies for generations to come, while his enemies would be speaking of his name with hushed tones, like he was the boogieman.

               Already, the international newspapers were calling him all sorts of epithets and monikers. The Fist of the Empire by OZEV and its allies. A bit too imperialist sounding, but Lehrgen had been an officer during the days of the Empire, so I guessed it fits. Most of the press gave the Battle of St. Petersburg grandiose titles like ‘The Greatest Battle Ever Fought in Europa’ and called our victory the crowning military achievement of the alliance, further highlighting OZEV has elevated Central Europa to unprecedented power.

               The American newspapers called Lehrgen the Hand of the Argent, which I supposed was pretty decent, even if it unnecessarily referenced me. An article from the New Amsterdam Times of the Unified States, written by one Millicent Caldwell, had offered a neutral view of the war. It very factually stated both side’s motivations for participating in the war and simply reported on the events of the Russy Civil War as is, with the exception of the Battle of Vologda.

               I didn’t even need to read the newspaper from TATO to know it would be nothing but slander. Francois, Albish and Kanatian newspapers decried the battle as a senseless slaughter of young Russy men by OZEV, who joined a war that they were not obligated to participate in. Instead of calling what happened at St. Petersburg a battle, they instead labelled it the Massacre at St. Petersburg. They condemned Lehrgen as the Devil’s Butcher Knife, with an obvious allusion as to who was holding the knife. I unconsciously scoffed at such pettiness.

               The Francois newspaper even had a cartoon of me with devil horns and fangs, holding a butcher knife and carving up a dead bear labelled the Russy Federation like a piece of steak. Surrounding the bear carcass were hunters with guns, each hunter labelled with the name of an OZEV member nation.

               Interestingly, the Ispagnian response had not been so vehement. Although that was because there was literally no newspaper about the events in the Russy Federation at all. Such a lack of response in the press was peculiar.  I always knew that Ispagnia was the odd one out in TATO, given that it was the only member state with a totalitarian leader, even if there has apparently been some moves from Franco to slowly transition to an authoritarian state with limited pluralism. No doubt due to some pressure from other TATO members.

               It took me a moment to finally remember a memo sent to me from Germania this month about a nationwide media crackdown being implemented in Ispagnia. Apparently they were closing down media companies and arresting journalists who were vocal about Francisco Franco’s tyranny. It got so bad that even Churbull had to step in. No wonder why there had been no news coming out from there.

               I continued reading through the report and furrowed my eyebrows in frustration when I saw a section titled ‘War crimes committed by allied troops’. I wasn’t naïve enough to think that we would have a completely clean war, but the list of names and corresponding offenses was longer than I could tolerate.

               Most of the names were Russy, which was to be expected, given that they made up the bulk of the army that had defeated the Moskva faction. However, the proportion of Russy troops that committed an offense was much higher than that of OZEV troops. Only one in two hundred OZEV soldiers committed a war crime, while it was one in fifteen for Russy soldiers.

               Even more notable was that the common criminal offense that Russy soldiers were being accused of was the killing of enemy soldiers who were attempting to surrender. If the variety of war crimes committed by Russy troops had been diverse, I could chalk it up to lack of discipline or training. However, there had to be a reason behind why so many Russy soldiers had shot their own countrymen who were trying to surrender. There were even anecdotes of Tsarist Russy soldiers literally scalping Red Army soldiers with knives.

               No wonder why there had been much fewer mass surrenders than I expected. After seeing surrendering soldiers be executed or tortured, none of the Red Army would attempt to lay down their arms anymore. Most of them had likely decided that fighting to the death was a better option. It was most definitely a relief for them that we offered them a surrender.

               Wanting to get to the bottom of this issue before it ballooned into something more serious, I called over one of the generals of the Russy Tsardom, General Pepelyayev. The middle-aged general seemed to have already known why I had asked for him.

               “I assure you, Chancellor, that these soldiers will be court-martialed and their punishment appropriately met out. The Tsar promises it.” He spoke before I even said anything. Seemed like I wasn’t the first person to bring this up to him.

               “I trust that you will be abiding with international law to the best of the Russy Tsardom’s ability, general. However, I’m most curious as to why so many of your soldiers shot enemies who were attempting to surrender.”

               The general chewed on his lips for a second, before answering. “You are aware of the White Army’s age demographic, yes?”

               I nodded. At least a third of their soldiers were well into the middle-ages, quite uncommon for an army of this time period.

               “Over half of the White Army are not conscripts, but rather volunteers. The younger ones joined because they no longer want to live under the chains of communism. But many of the older ones are actually veterans from the First Russy Civil War between the old White Army and the Bolsheviks. Their vendetta against the Red Army cannot be understated. In the context of a battle, it was highly possible that vengeance overrode their senses, leading them to execute surrendering Red Army soldiers, since many of their comrades in the White Army met the same fate at the hand of Bolshevik forces.” General Pepelyayev explained in detail.

               “I see. I hope that you’re already working to address this issue?” I inquired.

               “We intend to slowly phase out our White Army veterans from the main fighting force of the army to make way for younger men. Many of our veterans will be posted as drill instructors. There are also plans to create a training programme that instills more discipline in the future. And obviously, we’ll announce that any war crime, no matter whether our soldiers think it is justified or not, will be subjected to martial law.”

               I thanked him for at least having a plan to deal with the complication. Before he could make his exit, I asked him about the progress of the search for Visha’s missing family, since the Tsar had told me that General Pepelyayev was the one in charge of the men searching for them. He told me that they still haven’t been found, though there were clues that they had fled south during the revolution.

               The next week, we received an offer of unconditional surrender from the Moskva faction. According to the messenger from Moskva, during the short time that we were building new facilities to accommodate our larger population of POWs, the Moskva faction had undergone two mutinies.

               When the second-in-command of the NKVD had tried to take up the leadership of the Moskva faction, he had been summarily assassinated the next day. The one who had taken the reins then was Ivan Popov, the governor-general of Volgograd. He had advocated for “resistance against capitalist pigs until Russy blood runs dry” and organised a Russy counterattack. In fact, he was the one who had tried to lead a rescue force for the Red Army.

               Needless to say, his suicidal plan against us was extremely unpopular, and he had been deposed within four days by Danyl Kozlov, the governor-general in charge of the city of Kazan. It was him who had taken over the remaining forces of the Russy Tsardom and sent a messenger to offer us an unconditional surrender. He would meet with us in five days at St. Petersburg to discuss the surrender.

               According to the missive given to the Russy Tsardom by the messenger, Kozlov recognised that the Moskva faction had lost its ability to wage a winning war against the Russy Tsardom and OZEV, having lost the vast majority of its army and the entirety of its mage force. Acknowledging the impossibility of resistance, Kozlov had chosen to capitulate before we could march to Moskva. The decision was supported by the rest of the generals in the Moskva faction.

               Thankfully, they hadn’t tried some hare-brained strategy and tried to fight us until the end. At this point, we were holding 1.6 million POWs. Our logistics were stretched thinner than hair since we were quite literally obliged to feed a city’s worth of prisoners. This was why I hated fighting massive armies. Even in defeat, they managed to find a way to tie us down.

               We could have reduced the rations allotted to the POWs, but an undersupplied POW camp was not much different from a concentration camp, regardless of our intentions. If we reduced their rations, it might lead to mass starvation. I didn’t want to be the one responsible for that fiasco.

               I released a sigh of relief when Kozlov arrived at St. Petersburg five days later, as promised. It was over. The war was truly won. Well before Christmas too.

5th November 1942,

Londinium,

               The atmosphere inside the TATO meeting could make a graveyard seem cheerful. The leaders of TATO all had a terrible premonition when Ildoa’s fleet sailed past the Strait of Gibraltar. They all saw what was coming for the Moskva faction but could do nothing to stop it. It was like watching a train crash but being unable to avert your gaze. There had been vocal voices to alert the Moskva faction of the trap they were walking into, but in the end, it was agreed that TATO could not yet afford to provoke OZEV in such a blatant manner.

               And now, they had received full reports of the result of Operation Blood and Iron, snuck to them by a spy in the Russy Tsardom’s army. 

               Every single officer in TATO's military had been astonished when they read the report for Operation Blood and Iron, with some sceptics even deeming it OZEV propaganda. A clean decapitation strike onto the enemy leader. Capturing an important general. A naval ambush using illusions. An encirclement against the sea, using all three branches of the military. Suffering not even a tenth of the defeated army’s fatalities while capturing over a million prisoners. It was a military commander’s wet dream.

               The operation had launched Erich von Lehrgen’s name into military fame. He had obviously been known before as the Military Commander of the OZEV Coalition Force, but mainly for his logistical organisation skills. Now, he had shown his strategic acumen as a protégé of Hans von Zettour, architect of the great Revolving Door. Their intelligence departments had started digging everything they could into the man. His birth, childhood, education, military career and especially his personal relationship with Tanya von Degurechaff. They already assigned their best psychoanalysts to build a psychological profile on him.

               There was no amazement that such a staggering victory would lead to the quick capitulation of the Moskva faction. Nor was it a surprise that it had been an unconditional surrender.

               The Moskva faction had to cede all their territory and strategic resources to the Russy Tsardom. The various high officials in the Moskva faction would be assisting in establishing the Russy Tsardom’s administration over their newly gained territory. The faction’s military would also be dissolved, its personnel either being honourably dismissed, decommissioned or absorbed into the Russy Tsardom’s military.

               Just yesterday, the Russy Tsardom’s military marched into the Moskva to take control of the city. There was even a photo of Degurechaff standing on a Russy-made tank as it rolled down the main street of Moskva. At least she hadn’t taken a nap on it this time.

               With the unconditional surrender of the Moskva faction, the Russy Tsardom now controlled the majority of the Russy territory west of the Urals.

               As gratitude for OZEV’s assistance, the Russy Tsardom had joined the MEF and granted companies from OZEV liberal rights to explore and mine for hydrocarbons in the Russy Tsardom. All of this was mentioned in the Russy Tsardom’s official newspaper.

               Suddenly, OZEV now had a strong ally and trade partner in the Russy Tsardom as well as a reliable source of oil and natural gas. The only balm for TATO had been that the Russy Tsardom had not joined OZEV, as there were still a few other factions bordering the Tsardom that needed to be taken care of. The Russy Tsardom would have to secure its borders first before entertaining the thought of joining the alliance. However, most of TATO’s experts predicted that the factions west of the Urals would quickly bend the knee and join the Russy Tsardom, seeing as they were now the most dominant faction within the former Russy Federation.

               “We all knew that a mouse trap was about to close on the Moskva faction. But none of us could expect that their army would be wiped out like this.” Churbull bemoaned.

               “In the end, the mighty Red Army bought us less than two months.” Prime Minister King mumbled.

               “At least we got the dual-core orb technology out of the NKVD.” Felix Gouin, the newly elected President of the Francois Republic commented. Churbull was somewhat apprehensive of the man, as he was a self-proclaimed socialist. However, so far, he hasn’t done anything that would go against the interest of TATO.

               “Gentlemen,” Churbull said. “I think we can all see the significance of the Moskva’s faction’s defeat. This is a declaration of OZEV’s strength. A grand army of over three million strong fell in under two months. Our combined army is under two million in combined personnel. Even an idiot can tell that this is also a thinly veiled threat to us.”

               “The Moskva faction only lost so soundly because of their recklessness.” Francesco Franco said.

               “But they would have lost eventually.” Prime Minister King added. “Especially after the Battle of Vologda.”

               “On the bright side, with the combined strength of our navies, such a tactic could not be replicated on us.” President Gouin said.

               “It’s not their navy that we have to be worried about. It’s their airforce. They could not have taken out the enemy command so effectively without the use of their jet fighters and mages. This battle simply highlights the significance of aerial supremacy in the future. We need to funnel our military budget into our air forces. TARI researchers have already succeeded in replicating the SV-1 orb and working on making an original dual-core computation orb design for TATO. I’ve ordered the Admiralty to start the construction of two new aircraft carriers for our new jet fighters. If you can fit it into your military budget, I suggest you build one too.” Churbull spoke.

               All other leaders around the table acquiesced.

               Moving onto a different topic, President Gouin said. “How are our foreign efforts?”

               “Australia and Aotearoa have proven receptive to joining the alliance. With tensions mounting in Asia and the expansionist attitude of Akitsushima’s military leaders, they have acknowledged that a military alliance will grant them extra security and economic benefits that will potentially be needed if tension in the Pacific escalates.” Churbull answered.

               “Ispagnia’s diplomatic efforts have also gone smoothly. We can expect our new allies to join the alliance within this month.” Generalissimo Franco replied.

               “I suppose we’ll have to come up with a new name then. Can’t be calling ourselves Trans-Atlantic when our reach extends to the Pacific.” Prime Minister King added. “Right, Prime Minister Churbull, how’s your agents’ progress in OZEV?”

               “Oh, it’s been going splendidly. I dare say that OZEV can expect a few nasty surprises soon.” Churbull chuckled menacingly.

11th November 1942,

Berun,

               When I returned to Berun, I was received with a hero’s welcome. The airport that I arrived at was inundated with my supporters. The national spirit was sky-high due to our consecutive victories in wars against the Russy Federation. Say anything you want about war; it was undeniable that it was satisfying to win one with minimal casualties.

               After OZEV played an instrumental part in winning the Russy Civil War, we had obtained many benefits and concessions from Aleksei Romanov. There were even considerations for the Russy Tsardom to eventually join OZEV in the future, once it finished convincing the non-aligned factions west of the Urals to be annexed.

               There were issues of us having to deal with the 1.6 million POWs that we had captured. While many of them were conscripts and had been forced into serving, there were genuinely brainwashed soldiers who would literally throw themselves onto a grenade for the sake of communism. Even worse, there was no fool-proof method of parsing the indoctrinated ones from the mass, as it was all too easy to blend in.

               Obviously we weren’t going to mass-execute the POWs. While this clashed with people’s impression of me as a communist hater, it was not an incongruity in my beliefs. It was more accurate to describe me as a person who hates communism but not the communists themselves. To me, communists were just fools who fell for the wrong belief. Once they have opened their eyes to the deep flaws of communism and enjoyed the mundane comforts and luxuries available in a capitalist society, they would soon realise their folly.

               In the end, we simply gave the POWs two choices: either stay in the capitalist Russy Tsardom as law-abiding citizens or go join the communists on the eastern side of the Urals. The vast majority of them chose the former. There were surely some hardcore communists that decided to stay with us, but I was confident that the Russy Tsardom with a rapidly recovering economy could sway their firmness of belief. A full stomach was a much more tangible thing than a distant communist utopia.

               The only preparation that I needed to help the Russy Tsardom with in accommodating their new citizens was the establishment of their own secret intelligence agency. Unlike the BND, which was focused in gathering both domestic and international intelligence, the Russy Tsardom’s Agency for State Security (Agentstvo Gosudarstvennoy Bezopasnosti) or AGB, was specialised in counterespionage. With so many hidden communists in the Russy Tsardom, it was imperative that they were rooted out.

               Regarding the Tsar, I was initially concerned that after the civil war ended, he might become a dictator. To my relief, Aleksei Romanov had floated the idea of converting his government to a parliamentary monarchy in the near future, expressing that he was extremely overworked. That was terrific news, even if Aleksei Romanov could remain a fair ruler, there was no guarantee that his offsprings would be the same. As such, it was a relief that the Tsar had trust in the democratic process, although I suppose it must be his years living in the democratic Legadonia that influenced his thinking.

               I also asked the Tsar what direction he intended to move the country in. Aleksei Romanov had expressed a desire to align the Russy Tsardom closely with OZEV and completely denounce communism within the country. When I left, he was already working hard to undo all the damage of communism and avoiding the mistakes that his predecessor made. His current priority was the rapid industrialisation of the Russy Tsardom and transforming his country into a manufacturing powerhouse.

               Being well-assured that a tyrant was not going to emerge from the east, I could smile and wave with a carefree attitude at the Germanians who came to welcome me. Their exuberance was almost infectious.

               However, that celebratory mood didn’t seem to infect my office very well, as upon my arrival at my office, a stack of paperwork half as tall as me was dumped on my desk by a very sleep-deprived-looking Ludwig.

               “This is the paperwork and reports that you need to read over. Everything’s already been signed and approved by me.” Ludwig said. He looked like he hadn’t gotten a good night’s rest in over a week.

               “Are you alright, Ludwig? You look exhausted. I didn’t realise that I dumped that much work on you.” My tone was apologetic. After all, I was supposed to return after a month but had stuck around for two months because Visha had accompanied me in the Russy Tsardom. Ludwig had to do the paperwork for three people for two whole months.

               “Oh, I’m fine.” Ludwig waved my concern away. “It’s not the work that made me sleep deprived; it’s your spymaster.” As he said it, he rubbed his hips as if sore. That’s weird, if I remember correctly, he was injured in the leg during the Second Great War, not the hips.

               “Don’t tell me Elya is bothering you?” I asked. I mentally chided myself. Of course she would be bringing all her reports to him. With me and Visha away, Ludwig was the only person she could seek for the approval of the BND’s operations.

               “Oh, it’s fine, I don’t really mind her coming to me.” He smiled cryptically.

               With that, Ludwig exited the office and left me wondering what he was smiling about. Taking in a deep breath and staring at the mountain of papers on my desk, I started perusing the paperwork.

               During my absence, the Reichstag had actually done something without me needing to be there and hold their hand. They finally decided on a new name for Germania. This was something that the Reichstag seat holders had been extremely passionate and vocal about, with everyone having their own suggestion for the new name of our country. In the end, the Reichstag voted on the name Federation of Imperial States (FIS), or just Imperial States (IS) for short.

               With my prior approval, Ugar had started the construction of several new nuclear power plants. The construction was expected to be finished in five to ten years. As this was our public unveiling of the new technology, the public would only be told that the nuclear reactors’ main purpose was to generate massive amounts of electricity while releasing very little pollution. Since this world thankfully never experienced the Chernobyl disaster nor seen the devastating effects of a nuclear bomb, the public attitude towards nuclear power was curiosity and marvel instead of fear.

               However, it was left unsaid that the reactors would also be producing weapons-grade plutonium, which would be required to expand our nuclear arsenal. Since the start of the Russy Civil War, our nuclear arsenal has expanded to nine bombs, with the highest yield being around one hundred kilotons. Once the new nuclear reactors were constructed and in operation, we would be able to build new bombs at a much faster rate.

               One of the more important events that had occurred during my excursion in the Russy Tsardom was the Alsace-Lorrain referendum. After the referendum had to be repeated four times due to the Waldstatten firm in charge of observing the process finding traces of foreign manipulation, a legitimate referendum was finally conducted with no misconduct found.

               While I had wanted them to become an independent country to separate us from the volatile Francois, I had respected Alsace-Lorrain’s right to self-determination and had refrained from intervening in the referendum.

               The tallied votes resulted in a seventy-seven percent in favour of joining the Imperial States. They had decided that joining the already powerful Imperial States was much more preferable to being either stuck between two Great Powers, or joining a Francois Republic whose economy would still take at least a year to fully recover. Thus, the name of Alsace-Lorrain was officially renamed Elsass-Lothringen.

               It almost seemed like the Imperial States were getting larger every time I turned around to check. Elsass-Lothringen would become part of Germania Proper, which meant that it was being added to my own workload, not my Governor’s.

               Speaking of my Governors, it had been a good idea to delegate my tasks to them. On my desk, ninety-five percent of the paperwork concerned Germania, while only five percent pertained to the other four Imperial States. It would have been a nightmare for me if I had to deal with the workload concerning all five Imperial States.

               At that moment, Visha came in carrying a steaming cup of coffee. I kissed her as she put the cup on my desk.

               “I hope that all the work isn’t overwhelming you.” Visha said.

               “This? Oh please, I’ve had piles twice as big in the past. Most of this is just normal administrative work. A construction project here, progress report there, nothing that would give me a headache.” I boasted.

               Taking yet another piece of paper off the top of the pile, I scanned the title while sipping coffee. I immediately regretted my decision five seconds later. Because after reading the words “Agreement from the Republic of Lothiern to join the Federation of Imperial States”, I nearly choked to death on my coffee. 

Chapter Text

AYKRR Chapter 22

 The One Behind the Scenes

11th November 1942,

Berun,

               Ludwig had calmly explained to me what happened that led to Lothiern wanting to join the Imperial States after I barged into his office while nearly blowing off the hinges, brandishing the offending document that had caused me to spill coffee all over my clothes. Visha followed at my heels.

               During the two months of my absence, his grandfather had been holding talks with the Prime Minister of Lothiern, Dirk Van de Geer about the possibility of reunification with Germania, now the Imperial States. De Geer had proven receptive to the idea.

               However, the impetus for his pro-reunification view was not based on imperial patriotism, but rather pragmatism. He simply realised that it was a new age of geopolitics, where there existed geopolitical hotbeds, chief of which was Europa. He acknowledged that as a relatively small nation with a middling military, his country was at risk if a conflict ever broke out between OZEV and TATO.

               “Then why not just apply to join OZEV?” Visha asked. “Why give up his country’s sovereignty?”

               “That would be his second reason; economics.” Ludwig explained. “You see, due to Lothiern’s economic policy, the initial stage of the Great Depression had only hit the country gradually. By limiting work hours and decreasing wages, Lothiern managed to avoid mass unemployment in most of its sectors.”

               I nodded in comprehension.

               Ludwig continued. “That is, until just before the Second Great War. You see, around 30% of Lothiern’s gross national income comes from exports. With the creation of OZEV and eventually TATO, countries in these two alliances now prefer to trade with their allies, where the exchange of goods is not subjected to tariffs. This has damaged Lothiern’s exports tremendously, and the Great Depression finally hit the country in full as a result. Unemployment is rampant now. The Lothiern government simply does not have the experience nor the infrastructure to handle mass unemployment.”

               “So, De Geer wants to ride the Germanian Economic Miracle.” I deadpanned.

               “Yes. Currently, Lothiern’s unemployed population are being kept afloat with income support from labour unions and small government subsidies. However, that money will soon run out. Even if Lothiern joins OZEV now, it will take too long for the economy to recover. De Geer’s people are in desperate need of jobs. It just so happens that the Imperial States have a labour shortage. There’s less Francois immigrants now, ever since the establishment of TATO. TATO simply wasn’t an attractive choice for Lothiern to join, given that the neighbouring Francois Republic had high unemployment themselves. Not to mention, the people of Lothiern would find jobs much more easily in the Imperial States, given cultural ties, and the fact that over ninety-five percent of Lothiern speaks Germanian.” Ludwig said.

               On paper, Lothiern joining the Imperial States was beneficial for both countries. Lothiern citizens would be able to find jobs while the Imperial States would be able to fill them. With the Imperial States’ rapid economic growth, new businesses and thousands of jobs are being created each week. There was virtually no threat of increased unemployment due to a flood of oncoming labour. But Lothiern could only take advantage of these benefits if it chose to be annexed into the Imperial States, as OZEV countries did not grant the right to work to non-permanent residents and non-citizens, nor travel rights without a passport or visa.

               “What about Lothiern’s colonies? Don’t they still own Congo, Ruanda, Urundi, Suriname, and the East Indies?” I inquired. Only having Malagasy was easy, but five more colonies? With two of them being in Asia and South America? I was not willing to expend any budget in keeping those in the long term.

               “Lothiern can’t extend any control over its colonies anymore, not with its mass unemployment and downturned economy. It’s basically already accepted its colonies as lost. Suriname is too far away for them to administer control over. The Southern Continent holdings are in a similar state, although there were plans to urbanise them before the Great Depression hit. The Lothiern East Indies are especially troubling, given that it has a strong independence movement.”

               “So, the Prime Minister wants to get rid of them?” I asked.

               “He said that whatever you want to do with them is none of his business. He did advise us to treat the East Indies with a careful hand though. It’s volatile and close to the Albish’s colonies and allies.”

               I contemplated for a moment. So far, there really were not many downsides to accepting Lothiern as a new state in the Imperial States. We would fill up our job openings, increase the country’s tax revenue, and I could grant Lothiern’s colonial holdings independence once we develop them like Malagasy, then granting them independence to start a chain reaction across TATO’s colonial empires. Keeping Lothiern out of TATO was also a slap to the face for the Albish and TATO as a whole, who likely wanted the Lothiern coastline to help them establish dominance over the North Sea. My work burden wouldn’t even increase by much either, since I implemented the Governor system.

               In the past, I would have suspected this level of political manoeuvring from Ludwig to be indicative of his views as the Chairman of the Imperial Party. However, it’s been months since he has been appointed President, and he had not even made a peep about the restoration of the monarchy. Democracy was likely safe in his hands once I retired.

               “Wait, what about the plebiscite? The Prime Minister can’t just agree to annexation without the votes of his citizens.” I brought up the one issue with reunification.

               “What do you mean?” Ludwig said in confusion. “The plebiscite already concluded two days ago. It succeeded with eighty-eight percent of all votes. I even sent you the report.”

               “Tanya,” Visha tapped my shoulder and whispered into my ears. “It’s the urgent report that was brought to your room yesterday before we boarded our flight home. When we were… caught up in a compromising position. You yelled at the door that if it’s not an invasion, then it could wait for tomorrow.”

               I instinctively wanted to facepalm at that moment. This is what I get for being caught up in lust and procrastination.

               “What about the announcement that the plebiscite was going to take place? Why did I not hear about that one?”

               Visha reminded me again. “Operation Blood and Iron was ongoing at that time. A messenger came to bring the report to you during the battle, but you waved him away because you wanted to keep shooting at communists. You said that it could wait until after the operation.”

               This time I did facepalm. I never did manage to tackle all of the paperwork I had brought with me, having been so preoccupied with helping Aleksei Romanov establish the Russy Tsardom as a functioning country.

               Now that I think about it, the plebiscite must be why none of the secretaries working in the Chancellery were celebrating our victory over the Moskva faction, with some even looking exhausted. They had likely pulled overtime the past few weeks to prepare for the plebiscite.

               It seemed I had been mad at Ludwig for no good reason. Well, no good reason aside from making me choke on my coffee. Still, I should congratulate him for a job well done. I went to my President and clapped him on my shoulder, which was quite an effort for someone as short as me.

               “Thank you, Ludwig. You saw an opportunity and took it. You went above and beyond for the instructions that I gave you. Keep up the good work.” As a former HR manager, I knew that encouragement for high performing employees like Ludwig was essential for fostering a healthy work environment, which can aid in increasing productivity and overall employee satisfaction.

               “Thank you, Chancellor. Ah right, I almost forgot, you’ll have to assign the Governor of Lothiern.” Ludwig mentioned.

             “Can’t Tanya just appoint Dirk Van de Geer as the Governor?” Visha asked.

               “He’s retiring. He’s turning seventy-two soon.” Ludwig answered.

               “What about Hendrikus Kolijn? He was the previous Prime Minister.” I inquired. As a young country, the Republic of Lothiern had only ever had two Prime Ministers.

             “Seventy-three years old, and fully retired.” Ludwig reported.

               Damn. What’s with all these old fossils running Europan countries? Churbull was nearing seventy. Most of the leaders in OZEV were in their fifties or sixties. Germania stood out, in that all of the top three officials running the country were younger than thirty-five. At the age of twenty-eight, I was viewed as an infant by most seasoned politicians.

               “Ludwig, given that you managed to bring Lothiern into the fold, do you have any suggestions for a Governor? Someone with administrative experience? It also has to be someone whose loyalty to the Imperial States is unquestionable. Preferably living in Lothiern right now.” I asked.

               “Well, I do have a list.”

               I stared at the list Ludwig provided with a complicated expression. Nearly every single name on this list was related to Ludwig by blood; they were mainly members of the former Imperial family.

               “Aren’t you afraid that people will accuse you of nepotism?” I asked Ludwig.

               “It’s you who will be appointing them, not me. People can’t accuse me of nepotism when the power to appoint a Governor isn’t in my hands.” Ludwig shrugged nonchalantly.

               I turned back to the list. I couldn’t deny that many of the old Imperial family’s members had the qualifications for a governor. As former royals, many of them participated in running the country in some way, especially during the administrative chaos of the First Great War, and the loyalty of most of their members was indeed firm.

               However, some of the non-royals on the list were either too old, unqualified, or have had incidents in the past that put either their competence or loyalty into question.

               The first name on the list was the former Kaiser Wilhelm II. I instantly eliminated him. He was too old to be serving as a Governor. In fact, in my old world, the Kaiser kicked the bucket in 1941. How he was still kicking around in my world, I had no idea. If I appointed him Governor, he could pass away in office the next day.

               The second name on the list was the Kaiser’s eldest son, the former Crown Prince, also named Wilhelm. He was also ineligible. Back in the early days of the Republic of Germania, he returned to Germania to campaign for the restoration of the monarchy, albeit without much success. There was even a rumour that he tried to become president but was blocked by his father. Either way, I couldn’t have someone like that governing one of the Imperial States. He might just try to form his own little kingdom if I leave him unattended, which I certainly would, given my hands-off approach to managing. Ludwig was young enough to be impressionable and had a malleable political view, but the former Crown Prince was already in his sixties. He would be too intransigent.

               The third name, and the most promising so far, was Ludwig’s own mother, former Imperial Princess Deborah. During the First Great War, she went undercover as an ace-of-aces in the Empire’s military, going under her father’s nose to do so. No one would do that if they did not have great love and loyalty for their country.

               She accompanied General Romel to the Southern Continent as part of the Empire’s Southern Continent Expeditionary Group to pursue the Francois Republic’s army-in-exile. Fun times, that. I still remembered Operation Desert Pasta fondly.

               When casualties amongst the aces of the Empire started piling up, she was recalled to the rear, officially retired as an aerial mage, and returned to her duties as a Princess. She even helped manage the Empire’s failing bureaucracy and administration during the latter stages of the war, which could not be simple.

               She was also relatively young, only in her forties. It wouldn’t bode well for Germania’s future political landscape if we only have seniors running the country. It could ossify social and cultural progressiveness. Although looking at the picture provided of her, you wouldn’t think she was that old.

               “Ludwig, how old is this picture? Your mother looks young enough to be your older sister here.” I understood that many women liked to look young, but using a backdated picture like this could give a false impression of her appearance.

               “All of the pictures provided here were taken last week. Mages in my family just tend to age slower than most people.” He replied. I raised my eyebrow in incredulity. Deborah looked like she was in her late twenties at most. Those are some great aging genes right there. Mages age more slowly in his family, was that it? Hopefully I could age half as gracefully in the future.

               I finally made my decision. I’ll appoint Deborah Ernst as the Governor of Lothiern. She had proven her loyalty to the Empire a long time ago and had experience running the Empire during its latter days. Governing a peaceful small region like Lothiern would be much less demanding than running the Empire while it was fighting a losing war.

               There was a niggling thought in the back of my head. Back when Ludwig was running his campaign for the Imperial Party, I had thought that he might be advocating for the restoration of the monarchy so that he could elevate his mother to the throne, and by extension himself. However, I didn't think I had anything to fear now. Ludwig had proven pliable when it came to his politics and has so far respected the democratic process. I no longer had to be cautious of him trying to reintroduce the monarchy to the Imperial States.

28th November 1942,

Venlo, Imperial state of Lothiern,

               Carla was happily buying groceries at the farmer’s market. She filled her bags with fresh farm produce, a bag of flour, half a kilogram of steak, and a small bag of sugar candies as treats for her two young children at home. After purchasing a bag of bread at the bakery, she headed home to prepare lunch for her family.

               To think that just a month ago, she would not have been able to afford to buy more than a fifth of what she had bought.

               At the start of the year, when her husband Daan had lost his job as a manager at his warehouse, Carla had thought that their family’s finances were going to be tight for a couple weeks but would quickly rebound once Daan found a new job.

               But then more and more people in her neighbourhood started losing their jobs. Able-bodied, experienced, quick-witted men who were experts of their trade were suddenly unemployed because no one was buying goods from their country anymore. Businesses started hiring less and less. Some stores even closed down. The government announced that they were entering a deep recession. Carla understood then that Daan wasn’t going to be able to find a job for a long time.

               As the manager of the family’s finances, Carla knew she had to be frugal. Because Daan was a member of a labour union, their family received a small unemployment payment each fortnight. But she knew the payments would get smaller and smaller as the months went on.

               No more luxuries. No more eating out. No more treats after dinner. They started recycling everything they could. They planted vegetables in their garden. Instead of eggs and meat in their sandwiches, they had plain lard or if it was a Sunday, butter.

               When the labour unions announced that it could no longer afford to pay unemployment benefits to families who have been unemployed for a period of longer than ten months, Carla had been in despair. How would they survive now? They had no savings left. There were no job openings around. She almost contemplated selling her body on the streets to make ends meet.

               The plebiscite that arrived soon after almost seemed like a god send. Many of the unemployed men wanted to find work in the Imperial States, where there was an abundance of work that needed doing, but they couldn’t obtain working rights there without becoming a permanent resident or a citizen.

               When the plebiscite arrived, nearly every regular household voted yes, including Carla and her husband. People were desperate and times were tough. Without work and money, many families would starve once winter came.

               As citizens of the Imperial States now, they could travel anywhere within the country and find work there. It also allowed Imperial States companies to expand into Lothiern easily, which created local jobs and demand.

               Numerous men in their city found themselves employed again by travelling to Germania, a mere few kilometres from Venlo. Those that preferred to stay in Venlo still found employment easily enough from Germanian companies expanding to Lothiern.

               Daan quickly found work as a manager at the newly opened Volksauto factory that recently opened in Venlo, the automobile company having bought out and reopened an abandoned factory. The job paid well, more than Daan’s old job did. Overtime work was well compensated. Daan could take five days off each year if he was sick and still get paid. They even had twenty days’ worth of paid annual leave. 

               She heard from Daan that the company didn’t used to pay so well, but Chancellor Degurechaff had basically bullied the company chairman into providing adequate compensation and benefits to the workers.

               Speaking of the woman, Carla was immensely grateful to her. Although the plebiscite was officially stated to be enacted by the former Prime Minister and the current President of the Imperial States, everyone knew that Chancellor Degurechaff was the one behind the scenes.

               Because of her, Carla could now afford to feed and clothe her family, all while keeping a roof over their head.

               A few of Lothiern’s politicians had vehemently opposed the plebiscite, spouting diatribes about nationalism and sovereignty, but the common people could hardly care about that. If nationalism and sovereignty meant that they would go hungry and homeless, then they could do without nationalism and sovereignty.

               There were other politicians that warned people of Chancellor Degurechaff, lambasting her as a dictator and an aspiring Kaiserin. Carla certainly didn’t mind if the Chancellor decided to become the Kaiserin. If the woman could bring a struggling nation on its knees to its former glory in less than a decade, imagine what she could do in thirty or even forty more years.

14th December 1942,

Londinium,

               Churbull glared at the contents of the newspaper in disdain. Lothiern was actually building a monument in Degurechaff’s name.

               He knew that they said you couldn’t walk three feet down a street in the Imperial States without seeing something named after Degurechaff, but this was just getting ridiculous. Couldn’t they see her ambitions to become the monarch of the Imperial States? The mask was as thin as paper at this point.

               Initially, the annexation of Osterry had not alarmed him greatly. At that point, reunification with Germania was the only way for Osterry to escape its debt. Furthermore, absorbing Osterry would not dramatically raise Germania’s global standings. The annexation of Osterry was a simple move from the young Degurechaff to secure another election, nothing more. After a few years of no such move to reunite the Empire, Churbull had thought he was right in his judgement. Oh, how wrong he was.

               The moment the Second Great War ended, with the Allied Kingdom occupied, Degurechaff had revealed her true ambition. Immediately, she swept up three of the Empire’s former states and incorporated them into Germania. At this point, Germania had regained most of its lost territory. The change of name to the Federation of Imperial States had spelled out to even the most politically illiterate that the Empire had been reborn.

               Unsatisfied with just possessing eighty percent of the Empire’s land area, Degurechaff had the former imperial family strong-arm Lothiern into rejoining with Germania while she was away, sating her bloodlust in the Russy Tsardom.

               Losing Lothiern to the Imperial States had thrown him into a rage, yes. He’d even dismissed his Minister of Foreign Affairs for failing to prevent it. However, his rage was somewhat mollified by the confirmation of a theory that had been floating around in the Albish political circle for some time now.

               The one behind the scenes. The hidden, mysterious supporter behind Tanya von Degurechaff.

               It was a logical assumption that her political career had been assisted by some unknown faction or person. How could a seventeen-year-old whose only job experience was murder, find work in a political party? How could a former soldier be so deft in the field of politics? It made sense that there was someone supporting her all along, providing her with opportunities and training in exchange for benefits once she gained power.

               At first, Churbull had assumed it to be Degurechaff’s former military superiors: Zettour, Rudersdorf, and Lehrgen. But Rudersdorf already had power as President of Germania, he could have easily had his friend Zettour run for Chancellor instead of some doe-eyed girl.

               But Degurechaff’s recent actions had proven that it was not her former superiors that were her supporters. No, it had to be the former imperial family.

               It made perfect sense. The imperial family would have been hungry for influence and power, especially after it lost it all after the First Great War. So, what did they do? They sponsored a proven genius war hero, using their connections to land her a job in a minor political party while they tutor her in politics.

               With her military and political genius, Degurechaff became the Chancellor of Germania and started working on reviving the Empire, as seen by her reabsorbing its former territories into the Imperial States.

               In exchange for boosting her political career, Degurechaff used her influence to help the imperial family regain its lost power and prestige. First by making Ludwig Ernst into President, then appointing his mother as the Governor of Lothiern. A quid pro quo.

               It all fitted together!

               Moreover, Churbull was sure that the resurrection of the Empire’s power and influence was not the former imperial family and Degurechaff’s end goal. No, it was the restoration of its former government as well.

               The reintroduction of the monarchy.

               The existence and popularity of the Imperial Party within the Imperial States validated Churbull’s suspicion. The former imperial family and Degurechaff were working hand-in-hand to manipulate public opinion and political thought. They were testing the palatability of monarchism in Germania, with the hopes of restoring it. Alarmingly, most of the Imperial States’ citizens had proven themselves receptive to the idea, if the thirty percent vote that the Imperial Party had received was any indication. He was sure that after the victory against the Moskva faction and the annexation of Lothiern, the Imperial Party would get even more votes.

               Once the former imperial family and Degurechaff were sure that there would be no resistance against them restoring the monarchy, they would definitely pass the reform through the Reichstag or through a referendum. The only question was who would sit on the throne?

               Churbull was confident that it would be Degurechaff. While the former imperial family had the pedigree, they did not enjoy the same level of power nor popularity as Degurechaff. Furthermore, he was sure that Degurechaff would never settle for being second-best.

               That also meant that the Imperial States’ next government would be an absolute monarchy, not a constitutional one. Degurechaff’s gluttony for power would not allow her to diminish her capacity to that of a mere figurehead monarch. No, she would surely want to be in control, to have ultimate authority over her empire.

               A headache came to him as he thought about how to counter her political moves once she was unbound by the chains of democracy. As Churbull smoked from his cigar and downed some alcohol to relax himself from the stress of thinking about that woman, a thought came to his head.

               Did the former imperial family use Degurechaff to gain power, or did Degurechaff use them to become the Kaiserin?

Chapter Text

AYKRR Chapter 23

The Calm Before the Storm

7th December 1942,

Berun,

            I looked over Elya’s report on our fomenting of independence movements and rebellions in TATO’s colonial holdings. She went above and beyond my expectations.

            Across the Southern Continent, her agents have managed to train seventeen native BND agents, all female mages. As instructed by us, these agents helped supply independence groups with guns and munitions. Some of them even instigated persons of interest to kickstart revolutionary movements.

            However, they intentionally avoided supplying any group with communist sympathies and often gave the colonial occupiers the locations of these groups’ hideouts to do the dirty work for us. I smiled approvingly. While I wanted more independent countries in the Southern Continent, I would much prefer if they were not communists.

            Elya had also been careful and avoided inciting riots or independence movements near Ildoa’s colonies to avoid a spillover effect.       

            As a result of the BND’s efforts, in the past three months, twenty-nine rebellions had occurred in TATO’s Southern Continent holdings, all requiring the attention of the occupying military. In one instance, a rebel group even managed to burn down a Francois military base before absconding away safely. The Francois had responded by rebuilding the base, then doubling its garrison.

            However, Elya’s most impressive achievement had to be in Eireland. Somehow, her agents managed to contact and gather groups of young and angry patriotic Eirish men and cajole them into forming a secret revolutionary paramilitary organisation aimed at restoring the independence of Eireland.

            The BND had shipped weapons and even sent military instructors over to forge the organisation into a proper paramilitary force. By day, the men would go about their work. But by night, they would gather in isolated forests to be given military training.

            The organisation was called the Eirish Revolutionary Army (ERA), and Elya intended for their existence to remain secret until they had recruited enough members to spark a civil war of independence in Eireland. So far, they had only recruited about eight hundred or so men in three months, so they still had a long way to go. Only the commander of the ERA and his upper echelons actually knew that they were being aided by the Imperial States, but they had all sworn secrecy. The rest of the army thought that our agents in the BND were Eirish.

            Elya had also said that the BND discovered a few of the men had high magic potential and were asking for permission to give them a couple of our First Great War era single-core military grade orbs. I had a better idea. I contacted the Tsar to transfer us some of the captured SV-1 orbs that the Russy Tsardom had. Dual-core orbs would make them a serious threat for any military. And if the Albish were misled into thinking that the communists were aiding the Eirish, then all the better for us.

            By Elya’s estimates and the reports of her spies in TATO, all of TATO minus Kanata had increased their overseas expenditure by twenty percent compared to last quarter. Most of the increased budget had been spent on overseas peacekeeping operations. And this was just the first three months of the BND wreaking havoc. I could just imagine what it would be like if they were given years.

            The fight for independence in TATO’s colonies would be a slow one. Unlike in my world, the industrial capabilities of TATO’s countries were never devastated by the war. They possessed more power, influence, industry, and military strength than the post-WW2 European countries of my world. However, forcing TATO to decolonise was a necessary step in dismantling the organisation and maybe eventually integrating them into OZEV. Moreover, large, poor, and unsatisfied populations, exploited and oppressed by colonial masters were the ideal breeding ground for communist ideology. The last thing I wanted was a large communist Southern Continent bloc that might cooperate with the one in Asia to create a third superpower bloc like TATO and OZEV.

            On the topic of TATO's military, it seemed like the Albish had wrapped up their war in Bharat. The Albish had nearly defeated the North Bharatians in October, only to then be inexplicably pushed back in November. There were rumours that the chief reason for North Bharat’s resurgence was due to their access to SV-1 orbs. However, intelligence couldn’t get any concrete confirmation due to fog of war and the BND’s personnel being mainly invested in the Southern Continent and Eireland.

            If North Bharat did have the SV-1 in their possession and even managed to mass produce it, they must have obtained outside help. There were no factories in North Bharat’s territories that could manufacture dual-core orbs, as they had lost Karachi. My prime suspect was the Qinese Communists. They had both the motive and capabilities to help North Bharat. In the worst-case scenario, the Qinese Communists likely had access to dual-core computation orbs as well.

            North Bharat’s counter push extended to cover half of the Punjab region before they started getting pushed back again by the Albish, who had publicly disclosed the existence of their own dual-core computation orb, the T1942. With it, they managed to halt the North Bharatians’ advance, before the two sides eventually settled on a peace deal. North Bharat’s territory now looked very similar to Pakistan in my world, albeit without the Sindh region.

            I had suspected that the Moskva faction had given TATO the blueprints for its SV-1 computation orb before, but this confirmed it. Elya had to exert her influence over the secret cult that she cultivated in the Allied Kingdom to try to get us the blueprint for the orb. Unfortunately, her cult member hadn’t been able to get the blueprint for the T1942, but he did manage to get us its operational data.

            It was slightly superior to both the SV-1 and the Type 97, but not the Type 99. That was a relief. I would have to triple Schugel’s budget if the T1942 was better than the Type 99. The T1942 offered a max speed of 360 miles per hour, a maximum operational height of 11000 feet, and had slightly more efficient mana consumption compared to the Type 97. However, the Type 99 was still far superior. The Imperial States could still rest assured in our superiority in magical technology for now.

            The emergence of TATO as a force with dual-core orbs was a concerning development for OZEV. The gap between a dual-core orb and a single-core orb was simply massive, a whole leap in technological generation. With the introduction and likely mass production and integration of dual-core computation orb in TATO’s military, any confrontation between our mages would be much closer in parity than before.

            With so many countries getting their hands on dual-core computation orbs, albeit something that the empire has had access to for nearly twenty years, it was imperative that the Imperial States retained our technological and scientific lead.

            It was this reason that I had increased the budget for the Research and Development Department by forty percent. OZEV’s biggest advantage in its wars was our technological superiority. If we lost that, our military would be much less capable of defending itself.

          While the Albish’s war in Bharat had revealed a new strength, the Francois’s war in Annam had exposed a weakness. Namely its unfamiliarity to non-conventional warfare. The Francois had not only failed to push back the Annamese People’s Revolutionary Army but had actually lost ground. In just the one hundred days since I talked to Ho Chi Minh, the Francois had been pushed back from Dong Hoi all the way down to Da Nang, a distance of around two hundred kilometres.

          While the Francois had an advantage in basically every field, from mages to the navy, the Annamese simply refused to fight on the Francois’ battlefields. Instead, they dug extensive networks of underground bases with camouflaged entrances and refused to come out when the Francois brought their mages. During the night, they would come out to ambush sleeping Francois soldiers and kill them in their slumber. Even mages needed to sleep, after all.

            They also employed boobytraps made from local material and captured Francois munitions. From the photos that the Annamese sent back to me of their traps, most of them were some form of spike traps, with dozens of variations. Many of them also covered their spikes with rust or faeces, with the goal of maiming and infecting soldiers to incapacitate them, not kill. Dead soldiers would be left behind, while injured soldiers had to be taken back by two other soldiers, thus rendering three soldiers unable to fight.

            The Annamese didn’t forget the psychological side of warfare either. At night, a couple of their soldiers would come out from their tunnels, sneak to Francois camps and make shrieking noises to prevent the Francois soldiers from sleeping. This strategy was often utilised when a particular Annamese cell was low on ammunition. Repeated hauntings at night would reduce the Francois’s sleep quality while affecting them psychologically, all without firing a single bullet.

            That isn’t to say that the Annamese had not been engaging in large scale battles either. The Hue Ambush that occurred just last month involved the Annamese disguising the tanks that Eleventh Goddess sold to them under camouflage, then engaging a tank battalion and its complement of a division of infantrymen from the rear while Annamese riflemen and mages ambushed them from the flank. The battle was one of the few that resulted in higher casualties on the Francois side. It was also the largest contributing factor to the Annamese taking Hue at lightning speed.

            As thanks for selling them supplies and vehicles for cheap, the Annamese had volunteered much of the information they had obtained on the effectiveness of Annamese tactics on the Francois, and how Francois tactics could be countered.

            Some of the potential tactics that the Annamese could employ but haven’t been implemented was downright frightening.

            According to tactic 17A, they could employ young patriotic women who would carry baskets of food and pretend to be friendly towards Francois soldiers by offering the baskets to them, only for the food to be laced with poison.

            Tactic 21B, where they would train children to kick around soccer balls and play on streets where Francois military vehicles often cross. When a Francois military vehicle interrupts the children’s play time, they would pretend to throw the soccer ball to the soldiers on the vehicle, but it would instead be a live grenade.

            Tactics that involved the participation of willing civilians like these were nerve-wracking, simply because it would make you paranoid of any local, even if they were uninvolved. Soldiers who attacked innocent civilians because of their paranoia would surely be dismissed or court-martialled, thus taking out another soldier from combat.

            The Annamese approach to warfare made me recognise the value of psychological and unconventional warfare. Sometimes not killing an enemy was better than killing them. Simply making a vast number of soldiers liabilities for their military was more than enough to cripple logistics. My military could learn to appreciate this significance.

            I called over one of my secretaries to make copies of the translated tactics booklet that the Annamese had sent me. The booklet would then be sent to various generals in OZEV’s military, along with special operations units like Koenig’s battalion.

9th December 1942,

Berun,

            The news of TATO adding new members to its rank was not a surprising one. OZEV had suspected that they would try to expand like we were. Confirmation of diplomatic efforts by the Allied Kingdom towards Australia and Aotearoa supported our hypothesis. The alliance changing their name to the Pacific-Atlantic Treaty Organisation (PATO) just yesterday proved us right. I actually predicted they would change it to the Pacific Ocean Trans-Atlantic Treaty Organisation (POTATO). I guessed no one there had a sense of humour.

            Both countries had deep ties with the Allied Kingdom, being former colonies and part of the Anglosphere. With their addition to PATO, their alliance will now have a significant presence in the Pacific, not just the Atlantic. Australia also had a respectable navy, which it could utilise to enforce and block maritime trade routes in Southeast Asia. PATO was becoming global.

            While Australia and Aotearoa joining was worrying, it didn’t cause us to panic. We had a strong ally in the Pacific in the form of Akitsushima, whose navy was amongst the top three most powerful in the world. Their influence would help us counterbalance that of PATO’s in the Pacific.

            However, we didn’t expect Mexica to publicly declare interest in joining PATO. The only reason I didn’t panic was that they only declared interest, not membership.

            Their addition would be much more alarming than that of Australia and Aotearoa combined; Mexica would give PATO much more leverage to negotiate with the Unified States.

            Mexica was a rapidly growing key oil exporting country that bordered just south of the Unified States. Even with the Unified States’ slower economic recovery due to never having joined the Second Great War, oil consumption in the Unified States was steadily rising. My ministers already predicted that the Unified States would become a net importer sometime around 1950.

            If the Unified States joined PATO, it would enjoy the benefits of tariff-free trade with two bordering countries, both of which were oil exporters. The Unified States joining PATO would be disastrous for us. It would enable PATO to control all of mainland North America and more than double PATO’s economy.

            Mexica most definitely realised their strategic importance to both PATO and OZEV. They likely declared interest in joining PATO to spook OZEV, so that we would offer them something to change their mind. How clever.

            I immediately consulted with Zettour when the news broke out. We needed to do something to woo Mexica towards our sphere of influence.

            “It was likely Ispagnia that opened diplomatic talks with Mexica.” Zettour said.

            “Is Ispagnia’s relationship with Mexica that close? I’m not familiar with their history.” Not wanting to be caught unaware of this world’s alternate history again, I waited for an explanation.

            “Mexica was a protectorate of Ispagnia up until the year 1871, when it gained independence through a revolutionary war. This caused Ispagnia to lose much of its economic self-sufficiency, as much of the products it manufactured were sourced from Mexica. Over the years, Ispagnia had tried to mend relationships between the two countries through favourable trade deals and even lending foreign aid occasionally. If I have to describe their relationship, it would be similar to the relationship between the Allied Kingdom and the Unified States. Well, that is, until Francisco Franco took over.” Zettour explained.

            Mexica in this world gained independence half a century later than Mexico. But just like my world, Mexica recognized the Ispagnian Republican government-in-exile in Mexica City as legitimate and refused to recognise the authority of the Franco regime.

            “If Mexica doesn’t see the Franco regime’s government as legitimate, why declare interest in joining PATO at the behest of Ispagnia?” I asked.

            “Likely because the Ispagnian Republican government-in-exile asked the Mexican government to. The rest of PATO is pressuring Franco to have some degree of plurality in his government. The government-in-exile could use that opportunity to establish a foothold in Ispagnia again. It also helped that Mexica stands to benefit by playing both PATO and OZEV.” Zettour stated.

            “What do you think should be our approach with Mexica?” I inquired.

            “Mexica’s economic growth is highly reliant on exports. With the Americans exporting oil to us, we can’t make oil trade deals with Mexica unless we upset the Americans by diminishing our oil purchases from them. This is the one advantage that PATO has over us. Mexica does have plenty of minerals and ores, which will be needed in our rapidly expanding manufacturing industry. It also has plenty of agricultural products, which we can import to either help feed our growing population should the Unified States and Kieva not have enough surplus. We already have an embassy in Mexica, so I’ll forward a message to our ambassador to start making favourable trade deals with Mexica to pull them away from PATO. If we’re fortunate, we might even convince them to join OZEV.”

            I nodded. “Thank you, Zettour. If we have difficulties in convincing Mexica, then we could try pivoting towards South American nations as a counterbalance in the New World. The Unified States currently follows the Good Neighbour Policy of non-intervention and non-interference in the domestic affairs of Latin America to establish friendlier relations with them. If we can woo a country like Brasilia or Argentine to become OZEV-aligned, it could position America to see it as more beneficial to join OZEV instead if it would help them reassert their influence over South America. Just don’t make it look like we’re trying to erode America’s influence in the New World.”

            Before Zettour left to do his duties, I asked him. “By the way, you mentioned our population growth earlier, I thought we could already sufficiently feed ourselves with food imports from the Unified States and Kieva?”

            “That was before we annexed four nations, Chancellor. Have you not seen the population census?” Zettour shook his head at me like a grandpa who discovered that his granddaughter forgot to do her homework.

            “Uh…” To be honest, I’ve been swamped with other work, and had no idea what the Imperial State’s population was like.

            “With the annexations of the former imperial states, our population is now 135 million. Even the Russy Tsardom only has 100 million people. We’re the most populous country in Europa now and still growing.”

            I stood there in shock for a moment to process the mind-boggling figure for a second. When I started as Chancellor, the population of Germania was only around 65 million. After six years of population growth and annexing five other nations, the number of people that I was in charge of had more than doubled. We now had nearly the identical population as the Unified States, perhaps even a bit more populous.

            “And what of the population forecast?” I asked in anxious dread.

            “The Statistical Office told me we can expect 150 million by 1950. We’re expecting a large post-war population boom.” Zettour answered nonchalantly.

            Resisting the urge to slump down and throw a tantrum, I politely dismissed my Minister of Foreign Affairs from my office before slumping in my chair and groaning. I let out a drawn-out sigh that lasted for over ten seconds, before smacking my head against my desk with a hard thump.

            I only sat back up after a good five minutes of remaining in that position while mentally cursing Being X for my plight.

            Knowing that I should stop procrastinating, I immediately started drafting a new bill to help me take care of this unexpected problem.

            According to my knowledge of post-WW2 American history, many Americans from World War II in my world had returned home and started families, which greatly contributed to the baby boom. A similar effect was likely going to take place in OZEV. In which case, I needed to make an amendment to my Veterans’ Affairs Bill, to be handled by the Department of Veterans’ Affairs.

            To that end, I added extra benefits to my bill. Since these veterans are going to start families soon, they need to be able to afford housing for their families and support them monetarily. It would be horrible for me if the Imperial States’ get a surge of poverty because former soldiers had too many children for them to feasibly support.

            I decided to include low-cost mortgages in their benefits to buy homes or apartments, along with low-interest loans for them to start businesses or farms. This should help them house their new families whilst encouraging economic growth. I even added an immediate cash stimulus and half a year of unemployment payment to the bill.

            And while my previous bill helped introduce my veterans to vocational training and education, it expected the veterans to pay for it themselves. That was an inherent flaw, since recently unemployed veterans would not have the money to afford education. To amend this shortcoming, I edited it so that any veteran who was on active duty during any war in any capacity would have their tuition and living expenses to attend schooling (higher education included) or vocational training mostly compensated for.

            This should help contribute to our stock of human capital. With an emerging Cold War against PATO, OZEV will soon need more professional expertise to elevate and develop all sectors. A wave of qualified tradesmen and university-educated professionals would go a long way in developing our economy and technology.

            Of course, I also knew that non-veterans would be having babies too, so I also drafted another bill called the First Home Buyers Act to provide lower interest rates for buyers looking to take out a mortgage for their first home, as well as decreasing their property tax. To avoid a housing crisis, I increased the property tax on empty homes to discourage property hoarding and encourage them to be either rented out or sold.

            While America in my world was obsessed with residential zones with single family detached homes to encourage the use of automobiles as the main method of getting around, I was not interested in having ugly, space inefficient urban sprawls. I instead decided to reserve land for mixed use zoning, with the aim of promoting more affordable medium-density housing and multi-family housing compounds that would be built alongside commercial buildings and amenities. Mixed use zoning also stimulated pedestrian traffic, which tended to have a positive effect on the revenue of local street-side businesses. Luckily, I didn’t need to do much work regarding this, since most cities in Europa already followed such urban planning. 

            While I tackled housing, I decided to might as well address the issue of homelessness. I wanted to get rid of homelessness to encourage tourism, as the presence of the homeless around popular destinations tended to bring down tourism. The Imperial States had a rich history of culture and the arts, not just warfare. By showing people around the world our sights and hospitality, we could gain more soft power and influence the worldview of the Imperial States.

            With more tax revenue than last year, I could afford to establish some public housing for those unable to secure medium-long term, safe or suitable housing in the private market. These public properties would also be aimed at victims of domestic violence, those with disabilities and the poverty-stricken, but the primary target would still be people undergoing homelessness. The style of these public homes would likely be large apartment complexes, capable of housing hundreds.

            The purpose of public housing wasn’t to turn a profit. The rent would be only around 25-30% of their income to make sure that the rent stays manageable even if their income level changes. However, I didn’t want to interfere with the private sector and artificially lower housing prices, so only a few of these would be built to eliminate homelessness.

            I also decided to establish a job recruitment agency called the Public Housing Recruitment Agency that would connect employers from various sectors with those in public housing for potential employment. An employer could post an ad for a job, which the PHRA would then collect and give to those living in public housing to garner interest in employment. However, I didn’t have high hopes for this agency succeeding in its goals since I doubted many employers would contact the agency, even with our labour shortage. The existence of the PHRA was merely lip service to those living in public housing to make them feel less guilty about being housed for practically free.

           I knew that some of them might never choose to find a job, even after being given housing. After all, homelessness was a multi-faceted issue. Many people became homelessness because of drug-abuse or mental illness, which couldn’t be fixed by just throwing housing and jobs at their face. But getting something was still better than getting nothing.

            Having secured my election, I could spend government money on these boondoggle projects again to lower my future popularity so that the people would no longer have an impression of me as some panacea to all political problems after I retire. Even if the Imperial States became a superpower in the future, it could still experience political crises. I wanted to avoid them dragging me out from retirement by ruining my political legacies through wasteful and unrewarding projects like these.

            It might not have worked the first time, but I’m confident that I’ve learnt from my past mistakes. Unlike my public construction projects which provided jobs to the unemployed and created infrastructure, the effects of the public housing project were not obvious right away.

            Furthermore, the homeless were a marginalised group in any society, with numerous social stigmas, negative connotations, and stereotypes surrounding them such as their propensity for sloth and drug abuse. This would likely create resentment for the project.

            Moreover, most homeless people could not find jobs due to many employers requiring an address from their employees, which meant that most of them would be unable to pay any rent at first, making the public housing program run on an even bigger deficit. In the future, most people would likely view my public housing policy as uneconomically providing benefits to societal parasites who would likely never contribute back to society. Thus, they would see that even I can make horrible mistakes.

            I also had to feed the Imperial States’ rapidly growing population. This was simple enough. Like Zettour had said, I just needed to keep importing food from Kieva and the Unified States and make up for the rest by importing from Mexica should Kieva and the Unified States not have sufficient food surplus. With Kieva now having another massive customer base in the Russy Tsardom to sell its agricultural products to, I had a feeling that Kieva will be exporting less food to us soon.

            Having dealt with the issue of the Imperial States’ growing population before it could sneak up on me, I could finally relax for the holiday season. Hopefully nothing bad will creep up on me around Christmas time. Even Being X couldn’t be that much of a jerk, right?

Chapter Text

AYKRR Chapter 24

Merry Christmas and an Eventful New Year

24th December 1942,

Degurechaff Orphanage, Berun,

               “It's Christkind!” An orphan pointed at me as I entered my childhood orphanage, dressed in thick, warm clothes and carrying a bag laden with gifts.

               “Christkind! Christkind!” Soon, a gaggle of children surrounded me, faces plastered with smiles. Unlike me and the orphans that I grew up with, these children were well-fed and dressed in clean clothes. They were also given basic education in the form of free tuition at a five-year elementary school, a policy that one of the Chancellors before me had implemented.

               While I regularly donated a portion of my salary to the orphanage, that wasn’t the reason why it was thriving. When people found out about my origin, the orphanage had received numerous visitors who had donated money and supplies. As a result, the orphanage had even renamed itself after me as gratitude.

               “Merry Christmas, children!” I waved at them. Visha entered after me, dressed similarly and carrying another bag of gifts. “Who wants presents?!”

               Back in my days, Christmas simply meant an extra church service and a slightly better supper. Sometimes, we sang carols, or the nuns would tell Christmas stories. When we went to sleep, we would push our beds together and huddled under our thin blankets to share the warmth.

               Gifts were basically non-existent. Occasionally, we would get a pair of mittens or shoes, handmade by the nuns, to be shared between four or five orphans of the same age. Not that I ever blamed the nuns for our destitution. They were already doing their best to stretch their meagre salary to support dozens of hungry orphans.

               None of the gifts that I brought were personalised; I simply didn’t have the time to get to know the orphan’s preferences. However, I made sure that all of them get some type of warm apparels for themselves. Mittens, shoes, winter earmuffs, scarfs, thick jackets, and beanies. A toy was also handed out to each orphan. Often a model train, doll or plushie. Every single child thanked me gratefully as they received their gift.

               Visha also handed out small bags of treats to each child. Many of them complimented her on her beautiful looks. None of them called me beautiful, only cute. In fact, when she introduced herself, all the kids called her Ms. Visha, while I was always called Big Sis Tanya.

               “Tanya, I’m so glad that you could make it.” Sister Margaret came to me. Her hair was nearly all grey now, but her wrinkles hadn’t deepened from additional stress.

               “I can always make time for special occasions like this, sister.” I replied.

               “We’re so fortunate to have someone like you come from our orphanage. You’ve given everyone in this nation a better future. And to think that I tried to convince you to become a nun before you became a politician.” Sister Margaret laughed.

               I was pretty sure that me wearing a nun’s habit would cause some type of universal paradox, so I was glad that I had shut that conversation down when she first brought it up back then. Either that or every person who ever called me the Devil of the Rhine would die of a brain aneurysm upon seeing me in a holy woman’s dress.

               “Right, I can’t possibly imagine myself wearing something like that.” I said.

             “By the way, I see that you brought your Vice Chancellor over. It’s so wonderful that you have such a good friend to accompany you through the stress of leadership.” Sister Margaret smiled.

               I nodded awkwardly. For all of my childhood, sister Margaret had been very observant and uncannily shrewd at reading people. I was pretty positive that she already saw through my relationship with Visha but remained quiet about it despite our relationship going against her holy book.

               I watched Visha give the kids at the orphanage flying piggybacks, before I asked whether I could join in. One of the kids had the audacity to ask whether I wanted to give the piggybacks to the children or be the one piggybacked by Visha.

               A few hours later, after having said goodbye to the orphanage, me and Visha flew back to our apartment.

               “Those children were adorable!” Visha exclaimed. “Not adorable as you were, of course.” She added.

               “Except for that one kid who teased me for my height.” I huffed. That had been a twelve-year-old girl who had undergone early puberty and was slightly taller than me.

               “Oh, come on. I think that your pettiness makes you cute.” Visha flew closer to me to give me a hug.

               “Tanya, have you ever thought about adopting some kids?” Visha asked. This was the second time she summoned this topic this year. Was she being affected by baby fever?

               “We’re too busy to take care of a child. Depending on how young the child we decide to adopt is, one of us would have to take maternity leave.” I stated.

               While I did have fledgling thoughts of becoming a parent in the past, I never managed to meet the right woman. I was glad that I did in this world.

               “Perhaps after your term ends?” Visha proposed an alternative.

               “Yeah,” I smiled. “That would be nice.”

25th December 1942,

Chancellor’s Office,

               Even though it was Christmas morning, I didn’t get a day off. The country needed to be run, whether I wanted to rest or not.

               Having been handed over Lothiern’s colonies, I had sent expeditionary fleets to assess them a month and a half ago. For Suriname, Congo, Ruanda, and Urundi, I could employ the same strategy that I used in Madagascar.

               Ensure that the population remains happy and grant them equal rights and pass anti-discrimination reforms. Develop their light industry and manufacturing sectors to ensure that they get an income. Pull up their living standards so that they become a wealthy nation on the doorsteps of TATO’s abused colonies, which would instill further resentment against TATO by their colonial subjects. Foster a strong sense of goodwill towards the Imperial States so that we could get favourable trade deals once we grant them independence. Simple.

               However, we ran into a problem in the East Indies. Unlike in my world, the independence movements in the Lothiern East Indies were quite weak and fractured, being groups that lacked a united front because they were never invaded by Akitsushima.

               What we discovered in the East Indies were ragtag independence movements of all sorts of ideology. There were nationalists, communists, socialists, religious fundamentalists, etc. They were even separated by islands. Java, Sumatra and Borneo all had their own communist independence groups that never even interacted with each other. In short, they lacked a common Nusantaran identity.

               If I ever decided to grant the East Indies independence, they were likely to form several smaller countries, rather than a single united Nusantara. Having to establish diplomatic relations with them would be a nightmare, especially if they became each other’s rivals. I would much prefer if the archipelago remained a single country.

               To that end, I needed to make sure that instead of having several weak independence movements, the East Indies would have a single powerful independence movement that is preferably non-violent, non-communist and not too religious.

               As such, I had asked the admiral that commanded the East Indies expeditionary fleet to start gathering intel on the politics and characteristics for each independence movement in the East Indies. Once they have all been compiled into a list, I could select which movement to allow to prosper or perhaps even throw my support behind while suppressing the groups whose existence I found intolerable. If possible, I could negotiate with the independence group whose leader was most suitable for leading an independent Nusantara.

               In this way, I could covertly collude with an independence movement to establish greater control over the archipelago. I could develop industry and technology in Nusantara without being overrun by strife like PATO’s colonies. I could also peacefully build the colony’s infrastructure and link the archipelago together through road networks and bridges, allowing the influence of my independent group collaborator to spread across Nusantara.

               Once the time was right to grant Nusantara independence, I would help my collaborator set up a pro-Imperial States government. As such, I would be able to foster an Asian ally that controls the essential Strait of Malacca, allowing me to counter the influence of PATO members like the Allied Kingdom, who controlled Malaya, and Australia, who was right on Nusantara’s doorsteps.

               Recently, there’s also been news of an invention that had caught both the attention of PATO and OZEV. The invention of the helicopter in the Unified States.

               As of last week, the Unified States Air Force unveiled the Vought-Sikorsky VS-300 helicopter, capable of flying at the speed of around 70 km/h. It could remain airborne at the height of 30 metres for at least 25 minutes and even make a figure eight. I doubted that those were its upper specs. For all I know, the Vought-Sikorsky VS-300 could fly at 100km/h while loaded with guns and cargo for over several hours.

               I knew that PATO’s military leaders must also be seeing the same thing as I did on the potential of the helicopter. While mages were superior to early helicopters in both speed and max flight height, they were limited in numbers. Meanwhile, you could train any number of helicopter pilots. As helicopter designs advanced, they would be able to fly faster and higher, and you could even load them with cargo or weapons that a mage could not possibly carry.

               Therefore, you could use helicopters to fulfill tasks that you traditionally needed mages to do, such as air reconnaissance or low altitude air support. You could even fit bombs onto them for anti-submarine warfare. The helicopter would find extensive usage in the Air Force, Navy and Coast Guard.

               There were also uses in the civilian sector as well. Transportation, policing, search and rescue, and news reporting. All of which extensively employed helicopters in my world.

               The Unified States actually offered to sell Vought-Sikorsky VS-300 helicopters to PATO but hadn’t made any offer to OZEV. No doubt due to some under-the-table negotiations between the two sides. This meant that OZEV had to invent its own helicopter from scratch, while PATO would have functioning helicopters that would surely greatly aid it in suppressing dissent in its empires.

               I had no doubt that the VS-300 was not the most advanced helicopter the Americans had in store. They likely hid away an even more advanced helicopter for the American’s own usage. Furthermore, the Americans were likely already working on the next generation of the helicopter already, one that would likely blow the one that they showed the world out of the water. That must be why they sold PATO their outdated helicopters, to fund the research and testing of their next design. I couldn’t afford to let OZEV fall behind in this field

               Instead of having my already overworked Research and Development Department create the Imperial States’ own helicopters, I had Weiss send out a hefty government commission to any private aviation company that could offer a design that matched or surpassed my specifications for a helicopter.

               My specifications were very stringent. I did not intend to replicate the shoddy helicopter that the Unified States showed us, that one was likely a year or two behind what they likely already had. I needed to match the next generation helicopter that they were designing now.

               In my specifications, the helicopter must have a max speed of 170 km/h. It must be able to reach an operational height of 4000m and have an operation range of 1500 km. The helicopter must also be safe to operate and easy to pilot. Their design must also be capable of bearing heavy loads and weapons. Hopefully with these extensive capabilities, the Imperial States’ unique helicopter would be able to match what the Americans were designing now.

               We would assess each company’s design by building prototypes and testing them in front of the air force, which would be evaluating each design.

               The aviation company that offered the best design would win the military contract. This was my way to both encourage the ingenuity of the market and drive competition with demand, while fostering what would be a large and powerful military industrial complex.

               Once the design was secured, we could mass produce the helicopter and bring the technological edge back to the Imperial States.

               In the afternoon, both Elya and Ludwig entered my office together. I raised my eyebrow. What could possibly compel them to come to me at the same time?

               Ludwig cleared his voice nervously, as if he was about to make a presentation. “Chancellor, what are your thoughts on adoption?”

               What? Where did that come from? Why did they ask me something so out of left field?

               “I’m sorry, come again?” I asked, perplexed.

            “What do you think about adoption, say, from an orphanage? From the perspective of a couple who are unable to have children.” This time Elya asked.

               I seriously thought for a moment.

               “I think it’s a fantastic thing for that couple to do. Even in a decent orphanage, many children are not afforded the same attention and opportunities that children with parents have. I sure would have appreciated it if a fine family adopted me when I was a child.” I answered honestly.

               Elya smiled, as if she knew that was the answer I would give. Ludwig simply breathed in relief.

               Ludwig procured a folder and handed it to me. I looked at him in bewilderment, silently demanding an explanation.

               “Elya and I have been visiting orphanages for the past couple months. We’ve compiled a list and want your opinion on it.”

               Huh?

               I numbly opened the folder slowly and started filing through them. It was indeed a list of very young orphans, no older than six months in age. The vast majority had blonde hair and blue eyes. Some of them were even tested for magical aptitude.

               It took me a moment, but it finally dawned on me. The hints were there all along. Why Elya and Ludwig often worked together. The reason why they always sit together during the OZEV meetings they accompany me to. Hell, even why Ludwig had a sore hip and was sleep-deprived the day I returned from the Russy Tsardom.

               “Are you two in a relationship?” I blurted out bluntly.

               The question seemed to catch the two of them off guard, before both of them nodded.

               “We’ve been dating for a couple months now.” Elya actually had a blush on her face. They were an unconventional couple, both because of their different class status and wide age gap. However, they were both consenting adults, so I had no reason to oppose it. And I definitely was the last person to advocate for keeping relationships strictly professional between colleagues inside the workplace, given who my girlfriend was.

               Now, all the puzzle pieces fit together.

               As a woman in her thirties, Elya must have been worried about her ability to have healthy children and was looking into adoption as an alternative. She and Ludwig must have searched orphanages to look for a child that had an appearance close to that of Ludwig, judging by his blonde hair and blue eyes. Now, they’ve come to consult me for my opinion. It was proof of their great trust in my character, as many people in this time period had a level of stigma against infertile women.

               It must have been hard for Elya, coping with the fact that she might never be able to have a biological child. Suddenly, I felt like a horrible boss for making her work so much. Excessive stress tended to contribute to a lower fecundity.

               “I think I’ll leave the choice in your capable hands. Although I suggest only making the choice after marriage.” I answered respectfully and handed the folder back to them.

               Ludwig took back the folder and smiled at Elya in relief, likely due to my non-judgement of their inability to have children. Just before they left the office, I called out to Elya.

               “Elya, take a few days off. Rest your body, you deserve it.”

               She looked back at me in confusion. “Tanya, I’m fine. There’s no problem with me.”

               Then I had another realisation and mentally slapped myself. I had let my bias get the better of me. I had let myself assume Elya as the infertile one in the relationship, simply because she was a woman in her thirties. I completely threw away the possibility that it could be Ludwig who had fertility issues due to his young age. It was uncommon, but it was possible in young men, even fit ones.

               “Ah, sorry about my misunderstanding.” I apologised. “Actually, why don’t both of you take a week off at the start of next year. It’ll be good for your health. Consider it as appreciation for all the work you two have done for me.”

               Both of them accepted the extra days off happily and exited the room.

               I breathed a sigh of relief. Elya hadn’t taken any offense at my misassumption. Although I wondered if Visha knew about this.

               That afternoon, just as I was about to clock out for the day, Neumann came into my office with an urgent look on his face.

               “What’s wrong?” I asked.

               “The Akitsushiman ambassador wishes to see you, Chancellor.” He reported.

               That was weird. Normally, if he wished to discuss anything with me, a simple message would be enough. If it needed to be a face-to-face greeting, he could have booked an appointment. After a moment of thinking, I agreed to let him in.

               “Madam Chancellor.” The ambassador greeted me as he entered, a perfect poker face assembled. “Is this room secured?”

               I immediately casted a privacy spell. “It is secured.”

               The man immediately dropped the façade of calm, his eyes turned pleading as he reported to me.

               “Just five hours ago, our naval base in Taiwan was attacked by a battalion of Qinese mages. Two of our warships were sunk and six needed extensive repairs. Over four hundred naval personnel and ninety civilians were killed. Over a thousand were injured.”

               “Do you know which faction did it?” I asked. Shit. This was terrible for the political stability of Asia. There was no way that Akitsushima would take a cowardly unprovoked attack like this and not retaliate.

               “There is strong evidence to suggest that it was the Qinese Nationalist Party. The attacking mages spoke in Shanghainese and declared Taiwan as rightful territory of Qin.”

               Things just got even worse. Even though the Akitsushiman army was battered by the Red Army, enough time has passed for them to make a partial recovery. And the Akitsushiman Imperial Navy was still at full strength. Given that the Nationalists controlled coastal provinces, they would be dominated by Akitsushima’s far superior military should an invasion come. And if the Nationalists were eliminated, that would leave the Qinese Communist Party as the sole bastion of Qinese resistance against foreigners. They would quickly balloon in strength, as the Qinese populace joined them to beat back Akitsushiman invaders.

               “What is Akitsushima’s response?”

               “They are already debating drafting a declaration of war against the Qinese Nationalist Party and beginning mobilisation. The Emperor is trying to placate them, but they have not heeded his advice, even when His Majesty ordered them to find a way to make peace. That’s why I’ve come to you to beg for help. War is on the horizon. Perhaps not even a week off.”

               “I thought the military’s leadership was dismissed by the Emperor before?” I asked.

               “You would be correct. The military is currently mainly run by new hot-blooded generals and admirals who replaced the ones that were dismissed by the Emperor. Some of them used their influence to bring back their predecessors as advisors. They all wish to reclaim their honour by winning a war of conquest.” The ambassador explained.

               This was the worst-case scenario. If Akitsushima’s military leaders were ignoring even the Emperor, then a coup was a possibility, where they keep the Emperor as hostage and figurehead of Akitsushima, while they held all the power.

               Akitsushima’s military leaders were leading their nation to their doom. While they could easily beat the Qinese Nationalist Party and maybe even the Qinese Communist Party too, they have not considered the international reaction.

               All nations with stakes in Asia would be watching Akitsushima with wariness. If they succeeded in conquering Qin, the largest, most populous and most powerful nation in Asia, why would they stop there? Why not conquer the rest of Asia too? What stops them from conquering Annam? Burma? Malaya? Even I couldn’t be sure those warhawks would not invade Nusantara.

               PATO would not tolerate the emergence of an Asian hegemon in its sphere of influence, especially one that could threaten to invade its colonial holdings. The Albish, Australians and Aotearoans would likely send out warships to guard the South Qin Sea in case of Akitsushiman aggression.

               There was also the Filippines, held by the Unified States. Even though the Unified States had already promised their colony eventual independence, it was still their colony for now. The Americans would not appreciate an expansionist Akitsushima either. Oh crap, I hope that Akitsushima’s military leaders would not do some idiotic move like bombing Pearl Harbour. Even OZEV couldn’t save them if they managed to wake the sleeping giant. America was held back by the America First Committee to remain in its isolationism for now. But it would never take a punch and not punch back.

               A likely international response towards Akitsushima invading Qin would likely be an embargo of strategic resources like oil and steel, perhaps even food. However, this might push Akitsushima to become even more expansionist, thus invading even more territory to get access to the resources that Akitsushima lacked, as an attempt to achieve autarky.

               I was unsure how much OZEV would be able to help Akitsushima should an embargo occur. While we could sell them oil and steel, it would be hard to get past the PATO fleet guarding Southeast Asia. Transporting them by land was impossible, as the communists still held Siberian Rus. Not to mention that in continuing trade with Akitsushima, it might damage our relationship with the US.

               Moreover, only the Imperial States actually had a close relationship with Akitsushima, the rest of OZEV’s member nations were ambivalent at best. If Akitsushima started committing war crimes in Qin like in my world, that attitude could easily turn into revulsion and belligerence. The people of Europa would never support an invading power that committed atrocities onto the invaded. If that were to happen, I would be unable to enact any aid to Akitsushima, and my hands would be tied. 

               I had to prevent a war between Akitsushima and the Qinese. I sighed in despair. It was Christmas too. Curse you, Being X!

               I needed to make a state visit to Akitsushima. I had to convince the military to step down. Perhaps even prevent a coup to save the Emperor. By persuasion, preferably. By force, if necessary.

Chapter Text

AYKRR Chapter 25

Warmongers

29th December 1942,

Tokyo,

               I gazed down on Tokyo as my plane descended for landing. It looked like a completely different city from what I remembered of my first life. Then again, that was to be granted. In my world, Tokyo experienced extensive firebombing during WW2, followed by reconstruction, expansion, and modernisation of unprecedented scale. Once my work in Akitsushima was done, I could perhaps invite Visha with me to have a vacation here. We both deserved it.

               I took a final moment to contemplate my plan before the plane landed. The Qinese Nationalist Party and the Akitsushiman government had agreed to meet in neutral Hong Kong for a conference in six days. I had no confidence that it would involve any type of negotiation for peace on the part of Akitsushima. Rather, it was likely theatrics for the Akitsushimans to hand in their declaration of war.

               Luckily, through the Emperor’s orders, he had invited other nations with stakes in Asia to mediate the negotiation. Chief of which were the Allied Kingdom, the Francois Republic, the Unified States, and the Federation of Imperial States. While the AK, the Republic and the US had an interest in keeping the Dominion at bay, I would rather nip the problem in the bud before I had to rely on other foreign powers to achieve my goal.

               This meant I had six days to make my move. Six days to prevent war in Asia.

               The best-case scenario was to make the military leadership stand down. But considering the attitudes of WW2 Japanese generals and assuming that it was the same here, that would be quite the implausible endeavour. Nationalism, the code of Bushido, reverence of the god Emperor, belief in their cultural and racial superiority, and an almost dogmatic willingness to sacrifice oneself for the Emperor and the nation. All of these factors would be prevalent in Akitsushiman society. There could even be cultural differences that I, a former Japanese man, might be ignorant of.

              Although neither Qinese factions occupy them, two of the most contentious regions for Akitsushima to establish a claim over were Joseon and Manchuria. Joseon had devolved into a hodgepodge of communist and capitalist republics after being liberated by the Russy Federation. As for Manchuria, both the traditionally Russy and Qinese portions of Manchuria were held under the Russy Federation after they defeated the Akitsushiman Imperial Army. But after the fragmentation of the Federation, it was under control of various factions.

              Before leaving for Akitsushima, I had asked Tsar Aleksei about his intention involving Manchuria, with the expectation that he would assert a claim over it, as the Russy Tsardom claimed to be the successor state of the Russy Federation. This claim was made as soon as the Russy Tsardom had vanquished the Moskva faction and had intentional recognition from OZEV and several neutral nations like the Unified States, Magna Rumeli, the Baltic-Belarussian Grand Commonwealth, and Waldstatten. Only PATO obstinately refused to grant official recognition.

               Instead, I was surprised by his response. While the Tsar wanted to eventually claim all of traditionally Russy-held Siberia, including Russy Manchuria, he didn’t want to incorporate all of Manchuria in the Russy Tsardom.

               The reason was quite simple: cost to benefits. Most of the territory held by the Russy Federation were already Russified in either ethnicity or culture. Qinese Manchuria, otherwise known as Inner Manchuria, however, was still very Qinese in both ethnicity and culture. Incorporating them fully in the Russy Tsardom would take extensive time and effort. In that time, he would have to deal with the dissenting Qinese, which had a large population.

               Furthermore, he explained that the Qinese portion of Manchuria was simply stuck in a contentious position, coveted by Akitsushima and both the Qinese factions. If the Tsar tried to claim the Qinese portion of Manchuria as well, that territory would become untenable with so many other forces trying to claim it for themselves.

              To that end, the Tsar found it a better option to focus his efforts on industrialising his nation and raising the living standards for his citizens, rather than trying to claim more land for the Russy Tsardom, which it would have an abundance of once it finished incorporating the rest of Siberia through political and economic reconquest. Already, the unaligned factions in Europan Rus had caved in and allowed themselves to be absorbed into the Russy Tsardom; the Tsardom now controlled all Russy territory in Europa. Some of the Siberian oblasts and republics were already expressing their ‘long-held’ love for monarchism under the pressure of the goliath that was the Russy Tsardom.

               The Tsar didn’t care much for building a Pacific navy with Port Arthur either, since he wasn’t interested in external power projection, especially when his nation was still in its infancy. He was much more focused on national consolidation, industrial development and ensuring long-term stability.

               As a result, the Tsar gave me an offer. He was willing to part with Qinese Manchuria and grant it to Akitsushima in exchange for OZEV and Akitsushima putting political pressure on the factions of Siberian Rus to position them into being absorbed into the Russy Tsardom. By doing this, he would be avoiding a conflict with either Qinese factions or with Akitsushima.

               However, I personally disagreed with the Tsar’s approach and explicitly told him why. OZEV was going to put political pressure on Siberian Rus regardless, and I had plans to convince Akitsushima to help at some point. A strong Russy Tsardom meant a stronger ally for OZEV. Moreover, the Qinese factions were too busy fighting each other to risk attacking Manchuria and inviting a third party.

               Additionally, to an outsider perspective, it would look as though I was throwing an ally under the bus and forcing them to make sacrifices for me. The Russy Tsardom had as much land as all of OZEV combined and would have the second largest economy and population once it joined OZEV, even after being devastated by war. It was anything but a subordinate to the Imperial States. Even if the Tsar were to declare that it was his idea, I was aware that much of the international community viewed other OZEV leaders as my lackies, or even vassals. A move like ceding Qinese Manchuria would discourage any nation from joining OZEV in the future or even push them to join TATO.

               Finally, this solution was simply appeasement. And if this strategy didn’t work in my world, I doubted it would fare any better in this one. In fact, knowing how WW2 Japanese generals were, it might even embolden the Akitsushiman military leaders if they were given so much territory for so little trade-off. Their greed might drive them to continue with an invasion of the Qinese Nationalist Party anyways. With a proper foothold in Asia, they could use it to stage a full invasion of Qin.

               Before I left for Akitsushima, I suggested that if the Tsar really saw Qinese Manchuria as a security weakness, then he could consider establishing it as an independent republic and defensive bulwark once he reunited all of the territory the Russy Federation held.

               However, without a bargaining chip like Manchuria, this meant that I had to somehow persuade the Akitsushiman military leadership into thinking that an invasion of the Qinese Nationalist Party would go against their national interest, or at least not worth it in the long run. It would be extremely difficult, if not outright impossible. Their patriotism might blind them to the point of delusion, where they refuse to listen to my logical arguments.

               And at the end of the day, Akitsushima had a valid casus belli. Over 1,500 casualties and multiple ships sunk and damaged was no joke. What the Akitsushimans just suffered was a smaller version of the Pearl Harbour attack, which itself resulted in 3,500 casualties and seven ships sunk. But unlike the Americans, Akitsushima had a smaller population and did not have the capabilities to quickly replace their lost ships.

               According to the telegram my ambassador sent from Akitsushima, the national temper was high. People on the streets were already advocating for military action to avenge Port Saei, the site of the attack. The opinion of the military leadership wasn’t the only thing I needed to worry about. I would also have to find a way to placate the people.

               As my plane landed and I deboarded, I was greeted with a large reception headed by the Akitsushiman Prime Minister, Goto Daisuke. Since Tojo wasn’t the Prime Minister, I assumed that he had committed seppuku in front of the Emperor as well.

               A chill blew across the airport, and I shivered even in my thick clothing. Damn this small body of mine.

               We shook hands and I was escorted to a car that would bring us to the Imperial Palace to meet the Emperor. An interpreter entered with us.

               As soon as we started driving to the palace, the Prime Minister spoke to me. The interpreter translated for me, and I allowed him. I wanted people to think I didn’t know how to speak Akitsushiman for now. Many lips could become loose once they thought you couldn’t understand them.

               “Thank you for heeding our call for help, Chancellor Degurechaff. You’re the best person we could approach to halt the military’s plans.” The Prime Minister said. While the interpreter translated, I thought of my response.

               “It’s the least I could do for a close ally. Although I’m interested as to why you think that I can stop the military. As a foreigner, I doubt that I have as much influence over them compared to you, the Prime Minister.” I replied in Germanian.

               “The situation in Akitsushima is more tense than you think. After Hideko Tojo committed seppuku, it cleared the way for me, a person from a civilian background, to obtain the post of Prime Minister. The military did not appreciate this. Some of the younger officers in the new military leadership are too… radical. They think only a Prime Minister from a military background is fit to lead the country.”

               “Do you not have the support of the Emperor?” I asked. “Officially, his word is law.”

               After the interpreter translated my words, the Prime Minister nodded. “I do. But the military is starting to even disregard His Majesty’s words altogether. We both fear a coup.”

               “And why would I, a foreigner, have any major influence on the military leadership?” I inquired.

               “When you sent food aid to Akitsushima, you saved millions from starvation, all without asking for benefits. The entire nation is indebted, including the military. They would be fools to treat you like any uninvolved foreigner.”

               The Prime Minister continued. “Secondly, the military leadership, for lack of better words, idolises you.”

               It took all of my power to keep my face unchanged until the interpreter delivered his translation.

               “Can you elucidate?” I asked slowly.

               “The military values strength and steadfastness of character, of which you have displayed time and time again, both as a soldier and a politician. Your reputation as the most powerful aerial mage in the world is also revered. As a fierce soldier who loyally fought numerous battles for your Empire until its final days, the military sees you as the embodiment of what a loyal Akitsushiman Imperial soldier should strive to be. Many even noted that many of your characteristics and conduct mirror that of the bushido code.”

               I sat in shock for a second. “What do you mean by that?”

               “Ah, you must not know what the bushido code is.” The Prime Minister mistakenly assumed. “To simplify it, it’s the Akitsushiman way of the warrior, something that the military brass strive to emulate in their actions. It emphasises honour, courage, loyalty, frugality, honesty, self-control and skills in the martial arts.”

               The Prime Minister continued. “You might be unaware, but many of our generals actually studied your war time footage and tactics to improve our mage force. There are also others who have taken time to listen to your speeches and study your political career.”

               I took a moment to digest the information. “And you think that the military will listen to me because of that?”

               The Prime Minister nodded optimistically. “Yes. In fact, many of the military leadership wishes to see you, especially the younger ones. They may worship the Emperor for who he is, but they revere you for what you do. Combined with a decree from the Emperor and opposition from you, the esteemed leader of an ally country, I believe it is possible to persuade the military to stay their hand.”

               “About that, how much of the military leadership are those that survived the culling by the Emperor?” I asked.

               “Perhaps only a fifth or so. Those were the ones that didn’t have an overinflated ego to compel them to offer to commit seppuku in front of the Emperor.” Prime Minister Goto answered.

               That would make it easier for me to convince the military. If the most obstinate members made up only a minority, I only needed to persuade the younger, hot-blooded ones amongst the military leadership. However, even with their supposed admiration, which the Prime Minister surely overestimated, I expected this to be an uphill battle.

               “Do we have any allies in the military?” I asked. It would be impossible for us to budge the military if they were a monolith.

               “The topic of an invasion is contentious amongst the Navy. Most of the younger officers are adamant on an invasion. However, the commander-in-chief of the Combined Fleet, Admiral Yamamoto Isoroku, is opposed to it. He will be meeting with us at the Imperial Place.”

               I breathed a sigh of relief. So, this would not be an impossible task after all. If the commanding officer of the entire Imperial Akitsushiman Navy was on our side, then the situation wasn’t as desperate as I had feared. We had some hope to stop the militarists in their tracks, after all.

Tokyo Imperial Palace,

               Back in my old life, I’d gone on a guided tour of the Japanese Imperial Palace. As such, I wasn’t very interested at looking around the Emperor’s residence; it looked similar enough to the one I saw seventy years into the future.

               Meeting the Emperor was a novel experience though. It was still Emperor Hirohito who was reigning. I had half-expected the Prime Minister to advise me on how to bow deeply in front of the Emperor, but instead he told me that I could just nod and shake the Emperor’s hand, which I did when I met him.

               When we sat down at a low table for our discussion, Admiral Yamamoto joined us.

               The Emperor began the discussion. I was afraid that he would speak in Classical Akitsushiman and forced me to rely on the interpreter, but fortunately he spoke regularly.

               “Chancellor Degurechaff, Prime Minister Goto, Admiral Yamamoto, I have arranged for us to convene at this secured location to discuss a matter of paramount significance. I wholeheartedly believe that an invasion of the Qin Nationalist Party will be inimical to the national interests of Akitsushima. We must not allow the military to kickstart a war that will not develop necessarily to Akitsushima’s advantage.”

               “Of course, Your Majesty.” Prime Minister Goto agreed.

               “Before we discuss how to stop the militarists, I would like to be informed on the most influential military leaders in Akitsushima.” I inquired.

               Admiral Yamamoto gave me a brief exposition.

               “Some of the older officers in the navy are opposed to starting a war now, when our army is not fully replenished, and our ships not replaced nor repaired. However, their voices are drowned out by the vast majority of the military, who crave for revenge. They think that the cowardly attack from the Qinese has tainted the nation’s honour and image of strength and yearn to deliver justice to the offenders. Nearly all of the generals in the Imperial Army and most naval officers are supportive of an invasion plan of Qin. Amongst them is Prince Yasuhito, the Emperor’s younger brother, who has often violently disagreed with the Emperor on their opposing views. In his view, the constitution should be suspended, and the Emperor should impose direct rule.”

               “And why do you not support an invasion, Admiral?” I asked.

               “Perhaps if this was ten or fifteen years ago, when our army had not been decimated by the Russy Federation and when the political situation was different, then perhaps I would have also been supportive of an invasion. But I know that the Western powers will not appreciate the emergence of Akitsushima as the hegemon of Asia. They shall surely support the Qinese Nationalist Party, making an invasion difficult. And unlike ten years ago, we no longer have a foothold in Manchuria to stage our invasion. I have told the rest of the military as much. But instead of seeing wisdom, they saw cowardice.” The admiral replied.

               Yamamoto continued. “Furthermore, I fear sanctions should our expansion be too successful. As of now, Akitsushima needs high amounts of steel, rubber and oil to support our expanding industry. In terms of oil, we are particularly reliant on the Unified States. If our oil supply is shut off, I fear it will damage our ability to wage any war in the future. Or worse, it would drive the military to invade territories with oil to achieve autarky.”

              I contemplated Admiral Yamamoto’s words. If possible, I could alleviate Akitsushima’s hunger for rubber and oil by selling those resources from Nusantara, once proper industry and export was established there. I could let the Nusantarans keep the vast majority of the profit, instead of exploiting them. It would help improve my relations with both the native Nusantarans and Akitsushimans.

               “There’s also the issue of who really attacked Port Saei.” Prime Minister Goto interjected.

               “What do you mean?” I asked. While it was disadvantageous for the Nationalists to provoke Akitsushima to war like this, I had assumed it was a rogue Nationalist element that executed an unauthorised assault, judging by their nationalist rhetoric and extremism bordering on terrorism.

               “From the footage captured from the battalion of mages who assaulted Port Saei, we can conclusively determine that they were likely operating with dual-core orbs.” The Emperor revealed.

               “Can I see it?” I said. If the Qinese Communist Party also had access to dual-core orbs, likely from the North Bharatians, then this was multiple bad news rolled into one. Firstly, North Bharat and the QCP were working in tandem. Secondly, the Qinese communists possessed enough industrial capacity to produce at least thirty-six dual-core orbs for themselves and some spares for the North Bharatians in the span of an unknown number of months. Thirdly, Akitsushima attacking the Qinese Nationalist Party was likely the outcome that the communists desired.

               If Akitsushima attacked the Nationalist Party while lacking a land foothold in Asia, while the Nationalist Party was being fed supplies by either the Allied Kingdom or the Unified States, then it would end in disaster. While I was confident that Akitsushima would eventually win, given their much more disciplined and technologically advanced military, they would take too many casualties. This would allow the QCP, armed with dual-core orbs, to swoop in and expel Akitsushima from Qin, allowing the QCP to become victor of the Qinese Civil War and liberators of the land of Qin. Allowing the communists to control a country with over 450 million people and strong industrial potential like Qin was unacceptable.

               The Admiral placed down a computation orb on the table, which I played by injecting magic into it. Just as I had feared, those were definitely dual-core orbs. The attackers hadn’t taken even a single casualty, slipping away after they'd done the damage.

               “The military knows about this, yet they still plan to attack the Nationalists?” I asked in alarm.

               “This evidence has already been shown to the rest of the military. They simply shrugged and said it was inconclusive evidence, saying that perhaps the Nationalists developed their own dual-core orbs. It’s clear that they’re pretending to be ignorant. They simply want to attack the Nationalists first because they are weaker and have large swathes of coastline for the Navy to target. They also underestimate the application of mages on the battlefield. Most of them think that mere numbers and willpower will be enough to make up for the technological gap.” Admiral Yamamoto grumbled.

               Damn those arrogant warmongers. They were too confident in the Akitsushiman military’s might. Without strong anti-air defence, mages were damn near impossible to kill without using your own mages.

               “Admiral Yamamoto, can’t you just order them to stand down? You’re the navy’s commander-in-chief and you have the support of the Prime Minister and the blessing of the Emperor.” I pleaded.

               Yamamoto shook his head. “I cannot. Perhaps as many as four out of five of my naval personnel support the invasion, from the lowest seamen to the highest-ranking admirals. Some of their comrades died in that attack on Port Saei, they might prove insubordinate should I try calling off the invasion. It’s even worse in the army. We also fear a coup. With Prince Yasuhito on the militarist’s side, there is a possibility that they will attempt to capture the Emperor and coerce him into publicly supporting the invasion. If not, I’m afraid the worst might happen to the Emperor and his heir, leading to Prince Yasuhito assuming the Chrysanthemum Throne.”

               Shit. Even with the Prime Minister, the Emperor and Admiral Yamamoto on my side, the militarists had too much momentum to start a war, what with a casus belli and another royal’s support. I also needed to prevent them from throwing a coup at all costs. I could not allow the current Emperor to be deposed and the rise of a warmongering Emperor. If a coup were to occur, the Emperor would not be safe anywhere in Akitsushima. I needed a way to evacuate him. If what Admiral Yamamoto said was true, I couldn’t rely on Akitsushiman ships or airplanes to evacuate him, the possibility of the ship or airplane betraying the Emperor was too high.

               “Your Majesty.” I addressed the Emperor. “Before we discuss further how to dissuade the militarists from an invasion, I think it is best to consider the worst-case scenario – a coup. I have an expeditionary fleet stationed in the East Indies right now, including an aircraft carrier. With your permission, I’ll order them to head near Tokyo Bay immediately to act as an evacuation platform if a coup were to be carried out. Two-seater jet fighters could come and pick you and your family up before returning to the aircraft carrier.”

               When I had ordered the recently commissioned SMS Rudersdorf and its escort group to travel to Nusantara, I had expected to use it to deter the Albish from seeing the newly exchanged Nusantara as a vulnerable colony. I never predicted that I might have to use it to evacuate the Emperor in the case of a coup and deter the Akitsushiman Navy instead. Submarines of this age were too slow to use for an evacuation, so I couldn’t employ them for a mission that needed speed.

               The Emperor contemplated for a second before nodding. “I would greatly appreciate it. Admiral Yamamoto, please tell any concerned party that the Imperial States fleet heading towards Tokyo is there for an upcoming training exercise with our navy.”

               Admiral Yamamoto nodded.

               “Thank you. Now, I have a few ideas as for the arguments that we can use to persuade the militarists. There are also deals and concessions that I can potentially offer.” I started, as we began to brainstorm.

31st December 1942,

Londinium,

              Ian Flemons of the Office of Naval Intelligence nursed his headache as he read the latest report of the Albish Pacific Fleet regarding naval movements of non-PATO countries. The expeditionary fleet that the Imperial States had sent out to the East Indies, including an aircraft carrier, had left its port. The movement was recorded two days ago, when the fleet suddenly made a bee line for Akitsushima. A fleet moving off its intended course was never a positive development.

               Even after the Second Great War had ended, Degurechaff still managed to haunt his work.

               “Something trouble you, number seven?” Rear Admiral John Godby, his boss, asked as he stopped by Flemons’ desk.

               “The Imperials are moving their fleet from the East Indies to Akitsushima. Given the recent developments in East Asia, that can’t be anything good.” He reported.

               Godby snatched the report out his hands and quickly read it. “This is serious, seven. There’s only one reason for the Imperials to move an aircraft carrier to Akitsushima. They’re planning to assist the Akis in their invasion. Jet fighters and elite mages with dual-core orbs would devastate the Qinese. Seems like Degurechaff wasn’t satisfied with just the Moskva faction.”

               Flemons looked up in alarm.

               Godby continued. “The Imperial States will greatly benefit if Akitsushima can grow powerful enough to challenge PATO’s influence in Asia. If the Imperial States will participate in an invasion of Qin, I can only suspect that the Akis will let them occupy some Qinese territory. We cannot let this invasion happen at any cost. I’m going to bring this report to the Prime Minister. We need to cooperate with the Francois Republic and the US to oppose an invasion during the upcoming conference. We cannot let that warmonger get the conflict she wants.”

Chapter Text

AYKRR Chapter 26

Target Redirection

31st December 1942,

Berun,

            In a high-end apartment in downtown Berun, the clinks of cutlery on plates echoed in the dining room. Three people sat at a table as they enjoyed a large homemade lunch of seared steak, mashed potatoes, salad and garlic bread.

            Although Elya looked at her friend as Visha munched on a loaf of K-brot with garlic butter pasted on, she wondered if that could be considered garlic bread at all. Against all logic, Visha had somehow developed an appetite for the kommissbrot, otherwise known as K-brot, a food that every Imperial soldier feared or reviled.

            “So, Visha,” Elya asked as her friend finished up her K-brot. “When’s the marriage?”

            The reaction her question elicited was a series of coughs from her best friend.

            “W-What do you mean?” Visha stuttered, her face redder than a tomato.

            “What Elya meant,” Her boyfriend, Ludwig, added as he elbowed Elya gently in the ribs. “Is whether you and the Chancellor plan to get married any time soon, so that I can prepare for a vote in the Reichstag.”

            “A-A vote?”

            “Well, if you two ever plan to get married soon, I’ll have to legalise same-sex marriage.” Ludwig replied.

            “But wouldn’t that be difficult? I mean, even Tanya thought that she would only be able to pass it at the end of her term.” Visha said.

            “Oh, it won’t be difficult at all.” Elya chirped. “Not after all the efforts that me and Ludwig have put through.”

            After all the strong-arming and culling of dissidents her and Ludwig have done, a good eighty percent of the Reichstag were under their thumbs, including the parties from Lothiern.

            “We’ll have to legalise homosexuality first though,” Ludwig interjected. “Homosexuality in women is not illegal in the Imperial States, but it’s better to legalise all forms of homosexuality as a whole to give your union a less divisive impression. But still, if I try to pass both acts right now, they’ll go through easily enough. Give me the word, and by the end of January, marriage between you and Tanya will be completely legal.”

            “I-I don’t know.” Visha rubbed her arm awkwardly. “I’ve been dropping hints in front of her for months now. I brought it up directly once a few months ago then indicated that I’d like to adopt children a few times. I’ve been waiting for her to take the hint and propose to me and so we could get eloped once her term ends.”

            “Hold on,” Elya interrupted. “You’re waiting for her to take the hint and propose first?”

            “What’s wrong with that?” Visha asked, looking like a confused deer.

            “Think about what you just said for a second, Visha. Tanya of all people. Taking hints. Being romantically proactive.” Elya drew out her words.

            An expression of realisation dawned on Visha’s face. “Oh.” She gasped.

            “Is the Chancellor truly that dense?” Ludwig asked, not knowing the history behind Visha and Tanya’s love life.

            “She was oblivious to Visha’s affection despite being flirted with for five years straight. Visha had to corner her and kiss her full on the lips for Tanya to get it.” Elya deadpanned.

            “Jesus Christ.” Ludwig reflexively muttered.

            “Flabbergasting, I know.” Elya mumbled.

            Turning back to a recently enlightened Visha, Elya continued. “Visha, you have to make the first move. If you dawdle, Tanya will somehow overthink and either delay a confession for decades or inexplicably conclude that you two are unsuitable for marriage or something idiotic like that.”

            Visha looked conflicted for a moment before nodding resolutely. She stood up suddenly, a passionate inferno blazing behind her eyes. She turned to Ludwig.

            “Ludwig, get started drafting those two bills.” Visha said, as she rushed to the coat hanger in the living room to put on her jacket and purse.

            “Where are you going?” Elya asked.

            “Searching for an engagement ring to purchase, what else?” Visha answered, as she left the room.

1st January 1943,

Tokyo,

            If I had been in the Imperial States, I would have spent today lounging in bed with Visha after a fun night, likely taking a rare day off. However, given that I was in Akitsushima, I had to attend a meeting with the country’s top military brass.

            During my meeting with the Emperor, we had discussed different arguments to convince the militarists that an invasion of the Qinese Nationalist Party was detrimental for the Dominion.

            Before I entered the ornate meeting hall, I had expected to be greeted with hostile glares and stony expressions from the military brass, aimed at an interloper like me.

            Instead, the moment I walked through the double heavy doors with Admiral Yamamoto and my interpreter into the meeting hall, I was crowded around by several senior officers.

            “Chancellor Degurechaff, it is an honour to meet you!” A middle-aged general bowed eighty degrees before me, grinning like a schoolboy talking to his crush. “I have read your paper on logistics. Absolutely revolutionary. I’ve always advocated for the Dominion to build a more extensive train network through the country for improved transport of men and goods.”

            The interpreter frantically translated before the next officer barged in.

            “Chancellor, would you be willing to demonstrate your flying techniques to my mages? They’ve all been clamouring to meet you since they heard news of you coming to the Dominion.” A clean-shaven general requested as he bowed even deeper than the general before.

            “Chancellor Degurechaff, I would like to invite you to my family’s estate,” An admiral bowed nearly ninety degrees. “Me and my son would like to discuss the usage of aviation in naval combat with you.”

            A series of polite coughs from Admiral Yamamoto shook the men from their adoration, and they made room for my group to seat ourselves at the meeting table. The admiral and generals that spoke to me earlier apologised for their impertinence and returned to their own seats.

            I gazed around the table and saw that nearly every single person was at least the equivalent of a two-star general or admiral. The only two exceptions were me and Prince Yasuhito, a colonel.

            While there were thirty officers present at this meeting, there were only two aside from Admiral Yamamoto who were against an invasion of Qin. They were Admiral and former Prime Minister Yonai Mitsumasa and Vice Admiral Inoue Shigeyoshi, commander of the Imperial Akitsushiman Naval Academy. Both were part of the small anti-invasion faction and had arrived at the meeting before me and Admiral Yamamoto.

            Alongside Admiral Yamamoto, they were very powerful men with vast influences, but they were still outnumbered nine to one by the militarists.

            The discussion began right at ten o’clock.

            “I think we all know what the correct course of action to deal with this cowardly attack on Taiwan is – full invasion of the Qinese mainland.” Minister of the Navy, Admiral Shimada Shigetaro declared. While the island used to be called Formosa in the past, efforts have been made by the Akitsushiman government to refer to it by Taiwan, simply because it was easier for them to pronounce.

            “An invasion that would surely be our folly.” Admiral Yamamoto countered.

          “To a coward, any act that requires courage would be a folly.” General Yamada Hiroshi, the recently appointed Chief of the Imperial Akitsushiman Army General Staff, sneered. If I remembered correctly from what Admiral Yamamoto told me, General Yamada only got his position after his predecessor, Sugiyama Hajime committed seppuku. Such an open insult to Admiral Yamamoto’s face was a brazen act and a sign of how confident they militarists were in their influence.

            “There is a fine line between stupidity and cowardice.” Admiral Yamamoto said.

            I thought that we were here to discuss whether an invasion of Qin was feasible, yet they were busy throwing barbs at each other. I needed to do something before this devolved into a shouting match.

            “Are you truly confident in your logistics?” I inquired.

            The Minister of the Army, General Watanabe Kiyoshi confidently replied. “The Imperial Army has recovered to sixty percent of the numbers it had before the Russy counterattack. We have also been stockpiling war materiel. Even now, our factories are churning out weapons and ammunition at unprecedented rates. Our industrial and logistical power far exceeds that of both Qinese factions combined. Victory is assured.”

            “What about their mages? The mages that attacked Port Saei had dual-core orbs.” I asked. I needed to point out the holes in their invasion plan.

            “A minor technological disadvantage can be made up with our mages’ superior training and weapons.” General Watanabe waved my concern aside.

            “Minor technological disadvantage?!” I exclaimed, standing up. “Answer me this, general. Do you know how many mages my 203rd battalion managed to kill or injure during the First Great War as the only mages equipped with the Type 97? And how many casualties did we suffer in return?”

            “I do not.” General Watanabe admitted. “But I assume that the casualty ratio was around three to one, given how famous you and your battalion were.”

            “Wrong. We dealt at least two thousand casualties while only suffering forty casualties and even fewer deaths throughout the war.” I said. A ratio of fifty to one. Near impossible. Granted, this was not simply because of the technological advantage we possessed alone. My battalion had superior training, only engaged when we had the advantage or in an ambush and also had me as their commanding officer.

            This revelation caused a ripple of astonished murmurs throughout the room. Many of the militarists in the room looked at me with even more adoration. It was making me slightly uncomfortable at this point. I almost felt like an idol at a fan handshake event.

            However, the response from General Watanabe frustrated me to no end. “I see. Nevertheless, our mages have their own advantages. Furthermore, our mages are not afraid of dying for the Emperor and the Dominion’s glory.”

            Dammit, I forgot about the Imperial Army’s dogmatic belief in sacrifice for the good of the nation. If anything, they might not even want the invasion to be too easy.

            “And your strategy for defeating the Qinese Nationalist Party?” Admiral Yonai asked.

            “It’s simple. Leveraging the might of our navy, we will conduct coastal bombardments of their cities, mainly targeting their industrial and residential areas. In this way, we will be destroying both their logistics and manpower. After sufficient shelling, we can conduct amphibious assaults on their coastal cities. From then on, expand out and occupy as much land from the Qinese nationalists as possible.”

            That’s it? No information warfare to decrease morale and cause riots. No diplomatic pressure for the nationalists to cede land in exchange for temporary ceasefires. No use of espionage. Even worse, they didn’t even set out concrete priorities and objectives like take Nanjing or prop up a puppet government, but instead followed vague expansionist ambitions and wishes. They didn’t even consider fostering a better relationship with the subjugated Qinese people to ensure peacetime cooperation and prosperity. There was utterly no concept of grand strategy here.

            The three admirals on my side clearly looked down on such mundane strategy that simply relied on firepower, as we exchanged knowing glances.

            As for me, I was also worried about the militarists’ blasé attitude towards the loss of Qinese lives. I had studied Japan’s involvement in WW2 considerably out of curiosity, given that such topics were downplayed or glanced over in the Japanese curriculum. I knew of all the atrocities that my country committed in the Second World War.

            If an invasion of Qin were to happen, no doubt that countless atrocities and war crimes would come to pass. Once news got out of what Akitsushima was doing in Qin, the Dominion would lose all international goodwill and respect. They would become international pariahs as nations cut off supplies of strategic resources to them. Under political and public pressure, even the Imperial States would have to follow suit.

            Beside me, the anti-invasion Vice Admiral Inoue spoke up. “Let’s assume that our nation launches a full invasion of Qin and takes their coastal provinces. What then? What are your intentions with the territory? What are your plans after that?”

            This time it was Prince Yasuhito who responded. “The territory will naturally become part of our Empire, and its people will become my brother's subjects. After subjugating the territory and its people, our plans are to use Eastern Qin as a foothold to attack the communists in the west. After that, there are concrete plans for an invasion of Manchuria, Annam and the Filippines.”

            I nearly choked on my saliva at such ludicrous ambitions. The militarists wanted to expand to Southeast Asia as well? Were they delusional? Manchuria was straightforward, given that the Russy Federation was no more. Taking Annam was debatable, as they would have to fight both the Annamese and the Francois but was still in the realm of possibility for Akitsushima. Colonising the Filippines was a pipe dream. America would never allow it.

            Before I could yell at them for their delusions, Admiral Yamamoto beat me to the punch.

            “Are you insane!?” He shouted. “Attacking one of the Unified States’ colonies? That will mean war against them!”

            “For an invasion of the Filippines, we plan to launch a surprise attack onto Hawaii’s Pearl Harbour to ravage the American Pacific Fleet stationed there. Once the Americans have realised that they no longer have the naval capabilities to contend with us in the Pacific, they will have to refrain from declaring war. They are rich, yes. But they are a nation of factory workers and farmers. They will not have the gall to send their men to a war they can avoid by giving away concessions. Especially when we have strengthened and enriched our country with oil, rubber and steel from the lands we conquered.” Minister of the Navy Shimada Shigetaro arrogantly stated.

            “Admiral Shimada, I can guarantee that you are incorrect in your assumptions.” Admiral Yamamoto argued. “I have studied in Harvard and worked as a naval attaché in Washington D.C. I have extensively studied their industry, customs, culture and their ways of life when I toured the country. Let me confidently say this. The Americans WILL declare war on us if we attack them first.”

            “The America First Committee will not allow a war to go through. They are stuck to their isolationism. They have been wanting to decolonise the Filippines and stay away from the events of Europa and Asia for many years now.” Chief of Army General Staff Yamada interjected.

            “Not when you attack their nation unprovoked!” Admiral Yonai supported his ally, Admiral Yamamoto.

            “How will they contend with us when they’ve lost their Pacific Fleet? Any naval strength they have left, our navy can easily mop up.” Chief of the Imperial Akitsushiman Navy General Staff, Nagano Osami asked.

            “They will simply build a new navy.” Admiral Yamamoto stated. “One that dwarfs ours. I have seen their industrial capabilities. It eclipses that of the Dominion several times over. By the time that we have equipped one soldier, they will have equipped six. By the time that we have produced an artillery shell, they will have manufactured seven. By the time we have built a ship, they will have built eight! During the first year of the war, we will run rampant in the Pacific, winning victorious battle after battle, that I am confident of. But the year after that, the Unified States will crush us under mountains of steel and lead. They will drown us out in a tide of men. Our cities will suffer unimaginable bombings, destroying our people, industry and rich culture. A war with the Unified States is one that we cannot win under any circumstances. Bullets and artillery do not care for the spirit of bushido. Akitsushima will be razed to the ground by the end of the war.”

            Admiral Yamamoto’s impassioned and disillusioning speech appeared to have dampened some of the militarists’ zeal. There were whispers in Akitsushiman about whether it was a good idea to expand to Southeast Asia.

            Frustratingly, half of them still held onto their self-confidence. It was then that I realised that they didn’t care for logical arguments. For years now, Akitsushima had to watch a weakened and vulnerable Asia right at their doorstep yet did not have the permission to claim it for themselves. It was like a starving man being denied food. The temptation for them must have been immense.

            The attack on Port Saei had stoked their fever of nationalism and gave them a credible casus belli for starting a war. Their code of bushido and various other dogmas had only exacerbated the issue. I should have been appealing to their emotions and nationalism at the start, not logic.

            “Gentlemen,” I said. “You are all aware that the Qinese Communists are the most likely culprit of the Port Saei attack, yes?”

            A series of nods were returned. The militarists had intentionally excluded any minute takers from this meeting.

            Knowing that you could only reach a man’s heart if you spoke in their native tongue, I decided to shed my guise of being an ignorant foreigner. I needed to target their pride. I suppose it’s time to brush up my demagoguery skills again.

            “Then why are you falling for their schemes?! Are you the proud Akitsushiman military or are you the communists’ mercenaries?!” I shouted.

            My fluent Akitsushiman shocked everyone in the room. Some of the generals didn’t even seem to comprehend that I was speaking in their language for a second.

            “Will Akitsushima allow their sons, spouses and fathers to be sent to die for sake of the duplicitous Qinese communists? No! They will not! And why should they? If the communists wanted your help, they should have come to you on their hands and knees to beg! But instead, they strike at you from the shadows, manipulate your pride to their own benefits to make you fight their war! This is why your Emperor has urged you to stay your hands! He does not want you, loyal soldiers of the Land of the Rising Sun to become pawns of the communists, who have spurned morals and honour.” I spoke.

            I looked around. Most of the meeting had looks of reconsideration on their faces. Some of them even nodded at my words. Good. The more doubt, the better. The admirals on my side shared their approval of my rhetoric with encouraging nods.

            After arguing with the militarists, I now know for a fact that they were too bloodthirsty to refrain from an invasion. Even if I succeeded in subduing their bellicosity now, I would only be delaying the issue, not solving it. So instead of urging them to remain passive, I needed another approach, one that I had discussed with the Emperor before. I needed to change their target. It was an imperfect solution, but it was the best I could hope for now.

            I put my hand on my heart and continued. “I will make this clear: the communists must pay for their perfidy! That is undeniable. You must reveal proof that the communists were responsible for the attack on Port Saei to the whole world. Only then will your citizens know who the true culprit of this stain on Akitsushima’s honour is. Only then will you receive the support of the international community as they too shall condemn the communists and rally behind your righteous retaliation. I myself will pledge aid to your war effort by supplying war materiel and dual-core orbs. I implore you to consider this option for the good of the Akitsushima Dominion. Etch your names into the history books as the men who brought the Dominion to glory and prestige, instead of ruin and shame.”

            When I finished my speech, some of the generals and admirals started clapping politely. It took a minute for the applause to subside.

            “We will consider your proposal, Chancellor.” Chief of the Imperial Akitsushiman Navy General Staff, Admiral Osami responded. “But we cannot guarantee that we will accept it nor make alterations.”

            A minute later, I left the meeting hall with the three admirals by my side after thanking the military brass for their time.

            “I was unaware that you could speak Akitsushiman so well, Chancellor. That was an impressive speech.” Vice Admiral Inoue praised.

            “Thank you,” I replied. “I have a deep interest in Akitsushiman culture. I have been studying the language for many years.” It was technically the truth. I did study Japanese for many years, as a young student back in my first life.

            “I can see why you hid such an advantageous knowledge. It is better that I know you can understand me though, I had to hold back my sense of humour when talking to you the whole time because I thought it wouldn’t translate to Germanian well.” Admiral Yamamoto laughed.

            “Sense of humour? Oh my, so you didn’t drop it into the ocean after all.” Admiral Yonai chimed in, causing Admiral Yamamoto to laugh as well.

            Given how they were jovial enough to joke around, I assumed that we had done well in convincing the militarists.

            “Will the military refocus their efforts on the communists instead then?” I asked.

            “Perhaps they will.” Admiral Yamamoto sighed.

            “Only perhaps?” I said. That wasn’t what I expected.

            “The militarists are infamous for their obduracy, Chancellor. I consider it a miracle that you managed to get them to reconsider their plans at all. They likely only listened to you because of your reputation. Even I couldn’t get them to be that deferential of me.” Admiral Yamamoto answered.

            “Even if they accept your proposal, they will surely make some changes to it. Likely to ensure that the Dominion can hold onto resource-rich land.” Admiral Yonai said.

            “Oh well, I suppose that we will find out their decision on the day of the conference in Hong Kong.” Vice Admiral Inoue said.

2nd January 1943,

Albish Malaya,

            Vice Admiral Joseph Aubrey watched from his aircraft carrier’s island as the South Qin Sea Fleet headed towards Hong Kong. His ship, the HMS Victorious, was accompanied by two submarines, ten destroyers, four cruisers and two battleships, the HMS Duke of York and the HMS George V.

            This was a fleet that could defeat small countries, a complete overkill for their ‘escort mission’. However, Vice Admiral Aubrey knew it was anything but a simple escort mission.

            Their fleet was protecting several cargo ships that carried weapons, artillery pieces, vehicles, supplies, ammunition and even a crate of T1942 dual-core computation orbs, enough to equip a battalion of mages. These were all gifted to the Qinese Nationalist Party by PATO free of charge after news of the Port Saei attack. Four of the older destroyers in the fleet were even going to be donated to the KMT once they arrived in Hong Kong. It was clear that preparations for an invasion from the Akitsushima Dominion was imperative, and PATO would make sure that the KMT would be well-armed and prepared for war.

            A successful expansion of the Akitsushima Dominion was unacceptable by the Allied Kingdom. Albion held dominance over the Pacific. They did not wish to share that position of power with another nation. Furthermore, Akitsushima’s expansionism frightened many of the politicians back home. They feared that if Akitsushima managed to conquer vast territories in Qin without facing substantial resistance, then the Dominion may grow bold enough to attack PATO holdings like Hong Kong and Malaya. Even Australia feared an invasion from the north.

            As such, PATO has decided to support the KMT to the best of their capabilities. The more damage the KMT could inflict onto Akitsushima and whittled down Akitsushima’s forces, the better. Aubrey was to make sure that these shipments would arrive in Hong Kong, which would then be transported by planes and airdropped to the KMT. The four donated destroyers would head to Shanghai. After completing the escort mission, his fleet was to dock in Hong Kong to deter Akitsushiman forces from any surprise invasion of Qin and serve as a peacekeeping force.

            There was also an implication that should Akitsushima, or the communists reveal any aggressive ambitions towards Albish territories in Asia, Aubrey was allowed to use the might of his fleet as self-defence.

            Vice Admiral Aubrey tore his gaze away from his fleet as retired to his quarters for the day. Their fleet would arrive in Hong Kong by tomorrow morning, the day before the two-day Hong Kong conference.

            Entering his spacious quarters, he went to the safe located next to his bed and opened the safe to check that its most important content was still there. Like always, the secured suitcase that he was given by the Secret Intelligence Service was still present in the safe. The documents inside the suitcase were of paramount significance; the evidence contained inside those documents might be the lifeline for the KMT’s existence.

Chapter Text

AYKRR Chapter 27

The Conference

4th January 1943,

Hong Kong,

               On the speech chamber’s lower floor, seated in their own section, the Qinese Nationalist Party’s representatives were speaking rapidly across the chamber to the Akitsushiman assemblage, composed of members of the highest-ranking echelon of their military.

               Arranged around the upper floor of the speech chamber were balconies where representatives from other countries with presence in Asia watched the Nationalist Party make their case to the Akitsushimans.

               Both groups were numbered around twenty-five each. Generalissimo Chiang Kai-shek represented the KMT as its leader, while Admiral Shimada Shigetaro represented the military leadership of Akitsushima.

               Anthony Eden, Allied Kingdom Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs, watched from his balcony as the Qinese nationalists rambled off something to the Akitsushimans. He couldn’t understand what they were saying, but he could read the KMT’s representative’s defensive body language to guess that he was denying an accusation from the Akitsushimans. As part of the Albish group of mediators, he was here on behest of His Majesty’s government to ensure a peaceful solution to this conference.

               Next to him, his trilingual interpreter Meng Wei translated. “The KMT denied any military or civilian expedition that occurred in the Taiwan Strait on the 25th of December 1942. They claimed that it was the communists who launched a false-flag attack onto Taiwan to stir the Akitsushimans into attacking the KMT. They are urging the Dominion to not fall for such simple deception.”

               Eden turned to the man next to him, Vice Admiral Joseph Aubrey. “Have you handed over the evidence to the KMT?” He asked.

               “I have.” The Vice Admiral replied. “We double-checked the contents of the suitcase at the exchange site.”

               As if on cue, the KMT took out and opened the aforementioned suitcase to procure a folder that was labelled classified. From the folder, the KMT speaker took out several aerial surveillance photos that clearly showed a fishing boat loaded with what seemed to be Qinese aerial mages departing from a port.

               The KMT speaker said something in Qinese, then fished out more photos from the folder and brandished them to the Akitsushiman delegation and surrounding audience. These photos showed the fishing boat sailing through a strait, the open ocean, then finally sailing just off the coast of Taiwan.

               An Akitsushiman came to the KMT section and took the photos gingerly from the hands of the KMT’s speaker, before returning back to the Akitsushiman section to inspect the evidence. After a while, there were nods of assent, and the photos were returned.

               Eden didn’t need to have the words translated to know the general gist of it, since it was the Albish government that had taken those photos when four of their aerial surveillance planes caught the same fishing boat sailing for hundreds of miles while loaded with armed men.

               “The KMT has revealed that an anonymous source has provided them with proof that the Qinese Communist Party sailed a large fishing boat loaded with a battalion of mages from Beihai, across Qiongzhou Strait and to Taiwan.” Meng Wei said,

               The revelation induced a shockwave of astonished exclamations across the speech chamber. The Americans had genuine bafflement on their faces. The Annamese doubly so. PATO representatives already knew of this fact, but they pretended to be incredulous regardless. Interestingly, Eden noticed that the Imperial States’ delegation on the opposite balcony from the Albish party had impassive expressions on their faces. Just as he suspected, they knew the truth behind the Port Saei incident too. But they likely did not expect the KMT to have proof of their innocence. Now a wrench has been thrown into their invasion plan.

               When Prime Minister Churbull had told him of what the Imperial State’s intentions were regarding Qin, Eden had immediately realised what a disaster it would be if the Akitsushima Dominion and the Imperial States’ schemes were to succeed. Neither Qin factions would be able to weather the Akitsushiman military, assisted by Imperial mages and jet fighters. It would be a slaughter, allowing those two nations to nab up land like stealing sweets from an infant’s hand.

               If Qin was to be conquered by Akitsushima, it would ensure Akitsushiman hegemony over Asia, thus contending with Albish dominance over the continent. If the Akitsushimans saw the Allied Kingdom as weak in the Pacific, their expansionist mindset might embolden them to seek out a war with the Allied Kingdom to conquer their colonies in Asia. The Allied Kingdom was in no position for another war right now, so soon after closing out the conflict in Bharat.

               Even worse, no one knew what concessions the Akitsushimans gave to the Imperial States for them to join the war. For all the Allied Kingdom knew, the Imperial States could be given half of Qin.

               As such, it was of paramount importance that a conflict between Akitsushima and Qin was to be avoided at all costs.

               Eden stared at the woman leading the contingent from the Imperial States, Chancellor Tanya von Degurechaff. She was talking animatedly with her ambassador to the Akitsushima Dominion. Although he was fluent in Germanian, their balcony was too far away for him to make out what they were saying.

               However, he guessed that she was majorly displeased with the fact that it was revealed that the communists were the perpetrator. With this move, the Allied Kingdom had discredited the Akitsushima Dominion’s casus belli. If the Dominion was to invade Qin after this conference, it would invite international condemnation and embargo of trade from the Unified States and all of PATO.

               But when Eden gazed at the Akitsushiman delegation’s faces, it was neither anger nor irritation that he saw, but rather complete calm, if not smugness. Impossible. They just had their casus belli rendered moot. How could they act like that?

               Just then, the Akitsushiman delegation took a computation orb from a box and played the recording stored in it, showing the attack on Port Saei. The recording showed the Qinese mages weaving through spells and showing unprecedented speed and precision, something that should be impossible to perform with single-core orbs. The delegation then said a few sentences in their language.

               “The Akitsushimans are claiming that the attacking Qinese mages had dual-core orbs. This circumstantial evidence suggests the identity of the Qinese mages as QCP mages, as they share a land border with North Bharat, who themselves had dual-core computation orbs.” Meng Wei translated.

               What? Why were the Akitsushiman corroborating with the KMT? Nearly everyone here had expected that they would vehemently deny any proof of the KMT’s innocence as fabricated. Why would Akitsushima get rid of their own casus belli? Over on the KMT’s side, they exhaled sighs of relief.

               The Akitsushiman militarists then said a few more things, which caused the mood on the KMT’s side to immediately change. In the span of a mere few seconds, their relief changed to complete outrage, with one of the officers on the KMT’s table having to be restrained by his fellow officers, lest he leapt at the Akitsushimans. The KMT immediately started shouting at the calm Akitsushimans. Eden didn’t need to know the words to guess that much of what they shouted were obscenities.

               Eden looked away from the furious KMT assemblage below to watch the Imperial States delegation, only to see a frustrated expression on Chancellor Degurechaff’s face, eyebrows knitted in exasperation, hand gripping the railings of her balcony tightly.  What did the militarists say to make even the Devil of the Rhine displeased?

               “What did they say?” Eden asked.

               “T-The Akitsushimans asked to collaborate with the KMT to fight and destroy the communist forces in Qin.” Meng Wei said.

               Eden looked at his interpreter in confusion. Shouldn’t the KMT be glad then, why did they look like the Akis just insulted their mothers?

               “Then why the furious reaction?” Vice Admiral Aubrey asked beside him.

               “I-In exchange for the Dominion’s military assistance and recognition of the KMT as the sole legitimate government of Qin, the Akitsushiman delegation asked for the ownership of the Qinese provinces of Hainan, Guangdong and Liaoning as payment.”

               Eden raised his eyebrows in shock. That was a heavy-handed offer. Not only did those territories contain prosperous cities with high population, but also fertile land and natural resources. Additionally, the KMT did not control Hainan and only controlled half of Guangdong. The Akis were basically stating that they would conquer those territories from the communists and keep it for themselves. Furthermore, the positions of those territories provided a great security threat to Qin and Hong Kong should the Akitsushimans ever turn hostile.

               However, it was a better alternative for the KMT than to withstand an invasion from the Akitsushimans, whilst also fighting the QCP to the west. As terrible of a deal as it may be, it was in the KMT’s interest to accept. If the KMT could conquer all of Qin with Akitsushima’s help, three provinces was a bargain.

               No wonder Degurechaff had looked so irate. She had wanted the Akitsushiman military to demand more land concessions from the Qinese, perhaps some ports or military bases for the Imperial States. However, the Akitsushiman military must have known that it would be wise to not overstep their boundaries and make the offer too unattractive.

               While this outcome was somewhat good news for the KMT and fantastic for Akitsushima and the Imperial States, who likely got some concessions from Akitsushima, it was terrible for the Allied Kingdom.

               Even if the KMT agreed to cede just one province to Akitsushima, it would greatly affect the Dominion’s perceived strength as a Great Power in Asia and enlarge their sphere of influence to clash with that of the Allied Kingdom’s. This was the outcome that Eden and Vice Admiral Aubrey had been sent to avoid in the first place.

               At the same time, Eden realised that the Allied Kingdom and PATO had been played for fools. Akitsushima never had any intention of invading the KMT in the first place. Instead, they had used the threat of potential invasion as a Damocles’ Sword to bring the KMT to the negotiating table and grab territory for themselves without facing an embargo or international condemnation.

               The Devil must have taken part in this conspiracy. It explained why she had travelled to Akitsushima so urgently after the news of the Port Saei attack. She must have offered to have her fleet in the East Indies sail north to put pressure onto the Allied Kingdom. This caused the Allied Kingdom to overreact and donate over ten million pounds worth of weapons, supplies, computation orbs, and ships to the KMT. They had even sent proof of the communists’ deception to the KMT, which had only served to help Akitsushima place blame onto the communists.

               Eden hung his head in defeat, comprehending how thoroughly his government has been outsmarted. They’ve been snookered.

               The first day of the conference came to an early end to allow the KMT to carefully consider the offer by Akitsushima. However, the unofficial reason was that people were afraid that the KMT and Akitsushiman delegations were going to fight right then and there. In fact, Chiang Kai-shek had looked as though he was about to draw his sabre and challenge Admiral Shimada to a duel.

               As for me, I was infuriated with the Akitsushiman militarists’ greed. The KMT, or more specifically Chiang Kai-shek would never agree to that offer. It would have been seen by the Qinese people as a sign the KMT only fought for power, not for the Qinese people. Comparatively, the KMT were much less popular than the QCP, due to their rampant corruption, refusal to adopt popular policies like land reform, and preferential treatment of the upper class. Accepting this deal at face value would be death knell for them. Not instantly, but after conquering all of Qin, they would be sure to face political instability and likely dissolution of the party.

               Instead of asking for land outright, it would have been more agreeable to the KMT if Akitsushima had asked for free rights for corporations to extract resources in certain provinces, which would help alleviate the Dominion’s material shortage and prove Akitsushima’s political power while allowing the KMT to retain their pride and the little support they have left from the people.

               However, it was not hopeless. The conference still had a second day. This would give the KMT time to propose a more reasonable counteroffer. Or at least I hoped they would. Given how incensed the KMT looked, I wouldn’t be surprised if they refuse all negotiations tomorrow.

               After all, the KMT’s innocence in the Port Saei attack had been proven. They technically did not have to discuss with Akitsushima anymore. However, I was worried that if the KMT refused the offer bluntly, it would hurt the pride of the militarists, some of whom might breakaway in a rogue mission and strike at Qin anyways.

               With luck, Generalissimo Chiang Kai-shek would see reason and draft a counteroffer that both sides would be agreeable to.

               I myself must also talk to the Akitsushiman militarists. If they were going to attack the communist-held territories with the KMT, I wanted them to avoid committing war crimes at all costs. If the KMT saw the Akitsushiman military being cruel to their own countrymen, cooperation was out of the window. I would immediately cut support to Akitsushima if they committed the same acts of brutality as Japan did in WW2 like mass pillaging, rape, and even murdering babies.

               To prevent such atrocities, I needed the war to have international observers to ensure that all belligerents adhere to the rules of warfare.

               At the top floor suite in an expensive hotel, aggressive shouting could be heard.

               “Those arrogant Akis!” In rage, Chiang Kai-shek rattled his sabre. “Who do they think they are!?”

               His officers stepped back in fear. Many were nervously sweating at seeing him so furious, despite having been angered by the Aki’s preposterous offer themselves. They were terrified that he might swing at them while blinded by fury.

               “Generalissimo, I urge you to be calm. We still have time to negotiate.” Wang Jingwei said.

               Despite having been political rivals before, Chiang could not dismiss Wang’s words. Following the incident at Port Saei, the KMT had appointed Wang Jingwei as the Vice-president of the KMT, answerable to only Chiang himself. This appointment was not made due to Chiang’s will, but rather the KMT. They viewed Wang’s diligent attitude towards seeking out a peaceful solution to this debacle in a positive light. Due to the precarious situation, Wang had managed to secure many supporters within the ranks of the KMT, while Chiang himself had lost supporters due to his own fiercely anti-Akitsushiman stance.

               Personally, Chiang thought that Wang’s pro-Akitsushiman views were almost treasonous in nature. He wondered whether Wang would defect to the Akis should an invasion actually take place.

               “Negotiate!? There is nothing to negotiate! We have been proven innocent. The Akis added the evidence themselves!” Chiang shouted.

               “If we offend the Akitsushimans, they might attack us regardless. We need to find a compromise that would avoid that possibility.” Wang Jingwei poured him a glass of champagne from the numerous bottles of expensive alcohol in the suite, provided courtesy of the hotel, and offered the glass to him.

               Chiang begrudgingly took the proffered drink and drank it in three gulps. The alcohol stung his throat and assuaged his wrath by a tiny bit. Still, he was simmering. Taking a bottle of cognac this time, Chiang poured it into the same cup and gulped down the beverage.

               “What do you propose then?” Chiang sat down, taking deep breaths.

               “In exchange for Akitsushima’s help in fighting the communists, we can grant them special mining, oil drilling, farming, lumbering and fishing rights in the three provinces that they wanted. If that isn’t enough for them, we could consider selling them a considerable amount of land for cheap, which would be privately owned by them but under Qinese law and administration. In the worst-case scenario, we could give one or two provinces to them on a long-term lease. Perhaps for the duration of several decades.”

               “Denied.” Chiang said. “I’d rather fight the communists myself than have the Akis profit off of our country’s natural resources and pervert it with their exploitation. Qin is for the Qinese and the Qinese alone. We will not fall for foreign imperialism. I don’t fear an Aki invasion like you do, Wang. I’ve studied abroad in their military academy and even served two years in the Imperial Akitsushiman Army. Their weakness lies in their lack of tactics and strategies. They think that their gallantry can overcome the might of bullets and artillery. With proper preparation, we can withstand an invasion from the Akis, especially if we can deny them any amphibious landing.”

               “You’re talking about only Akitsushiman military leadership. Do not forget that the Imperial States work in tandem with them. They can send over military advisors to make up for Akitsushima’s weakness in grand strategy. Think about what would happen if they brought the Fist of the Empire over. Our armies would be slaughtered en masse.” Wang postulated.

               He continued. “Being occupied with the Akitsushimans and Imperials in the east would spell disaster for our western front. Furthermore, what if they cooperate with the QCP to crush us together?”

               “Impossible.” Chiang shook his head. “Degurechaff would never tolerate working with communists. She is a powerful and valuable ally of the Akis. They wouldn’t risk displeasing her.”

               “Yet the socialist Annamese fight with weapons from OZEV. Socialism isn’t that far off from communism. Generalissimo, there is no such thing as a permanent enemy in politics. Only people whose interests do not align with yours. Who’s to say that the Imperial States will not be given some Qinese territory as reward for helping the Akitsushimans in an invasion of Qin alongside the communists? Such temptation could easily overpower Degurechaff’s aversion to communism. Would you really be willing to bet the future and independence of Qin on the integrity and honesty of a politician?” Wang Jingwei said.

               “Enough! I don’t want to hear any more pessimistic talks of the KMT’s future. The other Western powers like the Unified States, Francois Republic, and Allied Kingdom will support our defence. It is in their interest to prevent the rise of an Akitsushiman hegemony in Asia and expansion of Imperial States influence. The Allied Kingdom themselves had given us four destroyers and a mountain’s worth of war materiel. We will prevail.” Chiang waved away Wang’s argument.

               “I wonder if those weapons and orbs the Albish gave us will end up in the right hands.” Wang commented, throwing a jab at their military’s high rate of corruption. It was only too common for their weapons to end up on the black market.

               “I said enough.” Chiang said.

               “Furthermore, Generalissimo, we are accepting quite the amount of aid from foreign powers. And if Akitsushima invades, we will be beholden to foreign powers’ mercy to bail us out of trouble. Is that still maintaining the independence of Qin, in your opinion? Is that in accordance with Sun Yat Sen’s vision for the Nationalist Party? Is that truly better than what I proposed?” Wang said, his voice still irritatingly calm.

               “I said enough!” Chiang stood up. He understood what Wang was doing. Wang called him out for his supposed hypocrisy in front of his officers and made him lose his composure, which would only further weaken his influence.

               “All of you, get out!” Chiang pointed at the door, and everyone started filing out of his private suite. Wang was the last to leave, giving him a knowing glance before he exited the suite.

               Chiang sat down in exhaustion, before pouring himself another swill of wine. He chugged the drink down before settling down the glass, almost slamming it in his bitterness. He sat on his luxurious sofa for some silent contemplation until he went to his bedroom to retire for the night.

               After brushing his teeth, Chiang felt a little trepidation in his chest. Today’s events must have unsettled his temper more than he thought. He ruminated on his thoughts as he went through his night routine.

               Resting on his soft bed, Chiang tried shaking off the slight discomfort under his sternum before drifting to sleep.

5th January 1943,

               As the conference would be held at one o’ clock in the afternoon, I slept in. By the time I got out of my bed, it was already nine.

               Suppressing a yawn, I trudged to the bathroom to brush my teeth and freshen up.

               I had spent yesterday until midnight arguing with the militarists to be willing to accept a counteroffer and to add terms that would alleviate the KMT’s paranoia and encourage mutual trust between the two sides. I even had to phone the Emperor directly to get those intransigent militarists to eventually acquiesce.

               The conditions I laid out were simple, if not obvious for any participant of war. But since this was the Imperial Akitsushiman military, which mirrored the Imperial Japanese military, I wasn’t taking any chances.

               Firstly, they must adhere to the laws of war. This included not committing any crime against civilians, surrendered soldiers or prisoners of war. Furthermore, punishment for those who broke the laws must be strictly carried out, with no exceptions. I wasn’t going to have a repeat of Nanjing or even the hundred man killing contest in this world.

               Secondly, when Akitsushima joins the war against the Qinese communists, the Akitsushiman military must allow international observers from neutral countries to supervise the fighting and ensure that all belligerents follow international conventions of war. These observers would report all offenses made by any belligerent and report it to the international war tribunal.

               Thirdly, allow neutral countries to provide post-war humanitarian aid to those affected by the war. Akitsushima themselves could participate if they wanted to improve their international imagery as a civilised nation.

               Lastly, should the KMT cede any land to Akitsushiman control, the citizens living in those lands must not be mistreated or discriminated against and must be given access to the same rights and facilities as an Akitsushiman citizen. This included providing Akitsushiman education for children. Treating non-Akitsushimans as second-class citizens should be sure to breed resentment, which could eventually boil into protests and revolution.

               The militarists had only reluctantly accepted my conditions after I explained that it would mitigate Qinese animosity towards Akitsushima and smoothen cooperation, allowing for more stable administration of any ceded territory.

               After my morning routine, I got dressed and exited my hotel suite, taking the elevator to head down to the dining hall to get some free breakfast. Hopefully there would still be food left. Otherwise, I could head out to the streets to eat at a local stall. Hopefully nobody would recognise me. It would be quite the shock to see the Chancellor of the Imperial States eat at a Hong Kong food stall.

               When I arrived at the hotel dining hall, I saw that it was much more crowded than I thought it would be. Why would so many people be getting breakfast at half past nine? Was there a party that I was unaware of, leading to everyone waking up late?

               Then I noticed that none of them were eating anything. Rather, they were discussing with each other spiritedly. I pinpointed my ambassador to Akitsushima, Christoff Abegg, and approached him.

               “Herr Abegg, why’s everyone here? What are people talking about?” I asked.

               The ambassador turned around in surprise when he heard my voice. “Chancellor! Have you not heard? It’s terrible!” His voice was distraught.

               “What happened? I just woke up recently.” Did the KMT publicly declare their refusal to the offer early and declined to attend the second day of the conference? But then Herr Abegg would not seem so fraught with anxiety.

               “The second day of the conference has been postponed. Generalissimo Chiang Kai-shek is dead.”

Chapter Text

The Unappreciated Christmas Gift

25th December 1942, 7:50am

Tanya and Visha’s apartment,

               Visha and I stood in our holiday pyjamas, flanking the source of Visha’s intemperate mood.

               “Visha, stop glaring at it.” I tried to mollify Visha’s temper, to no avail.

               “Who gifted this to us?” Visha asked, voice colder than the winter air.

               “It doesn’t matter who gifted it to us. It’s just a gesture of friendship on Christmas. Besides, the sender address was anonymous.” I said, voice as placating as possible. It was actually Luigi Falasca, the Prime Minister of Ildoa, who had sent the package to me as a Christmas gift, having noted my preferences. I felt it my duty to protect the man, lest Visha came flying towards him with a sharpened shovel in hand.

               This was a dangerous situation. I’ve never seen Visha this incensed before. This was Christmas, a day of cheer and joy, not a day of me navigating around my girlfriend’s temper and preventing a war between the Imperial States and Ildoa.

               “No, it’s not. It’s a message. A borderline personal declaration of war to me. Whoever sent it is saying that they’re after my job, my position. They’re calling me outdated and obsolete.” Visha growled, pacing around our living room like she was a stalking panther.

             “Visha, I think you’re overreacting. It’s just a machine.” I said.

               “Overreacting?! Me? Just look at it. It’s an abomination! An affront to God! A challenge to my skills! It represents everything I stand against! If it could speak, it would be mocking me, declaring that it was my replacement! That my time is nigh.” Visha yelled, furious. Not at me, but at the offending Christmas gift.

               “Visha, it’s just a coffee machine.” I deadpanned.

               “It’s a contraption from Satan himself! How can a mere appliance dare claim that it can brew coffee better than me!” Visha slapped her hand against her chest with a thwack.

               The aforementioned coffee machine sat harmlessly on our kitchen island, having been placed there by me after I opened the Christmas presents that were mailed to our address. I had been quite intrigued at seeing an early coffee machine for the first time in this world. Having used a coffee machine thousands of times in the past, I brewed a cup of espresso for myself and had a taste. It was surprisingly good. In my foolishness, I had invited Visha to view the machine for herself, thinking that she would appreciate no longer having to wake up early in the morning to brew coffee for me.

               I had forgotten that coffee machines were uncommon during this time, and it only became a commonplace item in households after the post-war economic boom and the rise of convenience culture. This was Visha’s first time ever encountering a coffee machine. Furthermore, I had forgotten that humans didn’t like to have their jobs stolen by machines. What a disastrous mistake.

               “Nobody said that the coffee it makes is better than yours.” I tried to pacify her.

               “The label on it says that it makes the best coffee on Earth!” She thrusted an accusing finger at the side of the machine, where indeed it did say just that. It even declared that you no longer need your wife or secretary to make you coffee anymore. My god, Luigi, why did you pick this machine? Did you perchance have a death wish?

               “It’s just a hyperbole to describe its capabilities. Every coffee machine manufacturer prints that on their machines.” I explained.

             “There are companies that produce these hideous devices?! What has this country become?” Visha exclaimed in horror. She placed her hand on her head and swayed, as if faint. I refrained from telling her that these machines were certain to become ubiquitous in every household and workplace, fearing that she might actually faint from shock at hearing it.

               Visha eventually steadied herself and mumbled. “This degeneration of our society needs to be fixed. I’m going to introduce legislation to ban all coffee machines in the Imperial States. And declare that all coffee machines have to be demolished to protect the job security of all baristas and secretaries in this nation!”

               I straightened myself in alarm. Oh no, Visha was going to be radicalised into becoming a Luddite by a coffee machine of all things.

               “Visha, stop!” I grabbed her by the waist before she could start putting such an absurd law into action.

               I shouted in a pleading voice. “Your coffee is the best brew ever made! Machine-made coffee is toilet water compared to your coffee!” I even had to employ my secret weapon - puppy eyes, lest Visha strangled the coffee machine industry in the cradle. In desperate times like this, a bit of brownnosing and looking cute should do the job. 

               “Really?” Visha turned back to me, a wide smile on her face. 

               “Of course! In fact, since this coffee machine is useless to us, let’s just give it to someone else! You’ll never have to lay eyes on it again.” I said.

Same day, two hours later,

Elya’s apartment,

               “Wow, this coffee is amazing. The Chancellor really picked a good Christmas gift for you.” Ludwig exclaimed as he sipped the espresso made by the coffee machine that his girlfriend opened from the package delivered to their door an hour ago.

               “Yeah, she said it was Ildoan-made. The delivery got delayed in its warehouse, so she apologised for the gift coming a bit late.” Elya said, sipping her cup of cappuccino and grinned in satisfaction at the taste.

            “I wondered why the Chancellor didn’t order one for herself? She’s practically addicted to caffeine.” Ludwig pondered.

               Elya laughed. “Oh, she would love to have something like this for convenience. But no, Tanya wouldn't be allowed to keep a coffee machine this fantastic at brewing coffee in the house. Visha’s the jealous type.” 

Chapter Text

 AYKRR Chapter 28

Whydunnit?

5th January 1943,

Hong Kong,

               It said something about the BND that my first response had been to run back to my room and call Elya, demanding to know if it was our fault for Chiang Kai-shek’s death. Fortunately, it was confirmed by Elya that the BND had no activities in Asia at the moment. Only after knowing that we weren’t responsible for the death of another world leader did I calm down and allow myself to ruminate over this shocking development.

               Even with his flaws, Chiang Kai-shek was the glue that held the KMT together. With his death, there were only two outcomes for the KMT. Either they elect a new leader in record time or dissolve into factions of warlords in the matter of weeks. If the latter happened, this whole conference would have been for naught.

               Even if they managed to elect a new leader in time, he would need strong enough legitimacy and backing to prevent the fracture of the KMT, all whilst navigating his way through the second day of the conference and securing an acceptable deal with the Akitsushimans.

               But before the KMT could get to that, there needed to be an investigation done to determine the cause of Chiang Kai-shek’s death and whether there was any foul play involved, which I heavily suspected. When I saw him yesterday, he seemed completely healthy. The Chiang Kai-shek in my world died at the old age of eighty-seven in 1975. I highly doubted that he would have died of natural causes at the age of fifty-five, unless he was somehow born with a congenital heart disease in this world.

               Furthermore, his death was simply too convenient for too many parties. When investigating a crime, you must always look at the motive – the whydunit.

               For the communists, his death would lead to the instability of the KMT and potential fracturing, allowing the communists to divide and conquer all of Qin. For the Akitsushiman, Chiang’s death would give them the opportunity to influence the election of a new KMT leader, who would hopefully have a friendlier attitude towards them and therefore be more willing to concede territory. For the KMT party, there were many who coveted Chiang Kai-shek’s position and thought that they had the mettle to lead the KMT.

               Of course, his death was technically beneficial for the Imperial States too, as Chiang Kai-shek’s vehement anti-foreigner views made him unlikely to give the Akitsushiman a counteroffer and end the conference peacefully. But because I knew that the Imperial States had nothing to do with Chiang Kai-shek’s death, it had to be one of the three aforementioned factions.

               Chiang’s death would not benefit PATO countries or the Unified States. He was very right-leaning, and it was doubtful whether he’d come to an agreement with Akitsushima. What PATO and the Unified States feared wouldn’t come to pass with Chiang Kai-shek at the helm of the KMT. Therefore, I could rule them out as being responsible for Chiang Kai-shek’s demise unless facts prove otherwise.

               The Albish especially had a special interest in keeping him alive. Not only would Chiang be less likely to come to a compromise with Akitsushima and elevate the Dominion’s sphere of influence in Asia, but Hong Kong was also Albish territory. Allowing a world leader to die of unknown causes in their own territory was an embarrassment of inconceivable magnitude for the Albish. Even if they could swiftly wrap up the investigation and identify the culprit, the damage to their reputation was already done. News of this would spread to every corner of the world, therefore discrediting Albish reliability.

               I headed back down to the dining hall, where the crowd was still discussing amongst themselves.

               “Have we been told any other information?” I asked Herr Abegg.

               “No, Chancellor. We were only told an hour ago that the Generalissimo died without signs of struggle in his suite. His body has been transferred to a morgue for an autopsy.”

               I noticed out of the corner of my eyes soldiers in Albish uniforms moving in to guard the entrances to the hotel. The Albish must be taking precautions, in case Chiang Kai-shek was only the first of many victims. It was a reasonable fear, since all of the delegates who attended the conference boarded in the very same hotel that Chiang Kai-shek died in.

               During the course of the next two hours, not a single person was allowed to leave the hotel. Mages were even guarding the sky to make sure that no one would be flying off. The Albish clearly understood what response an event of this magnitude required. While nobody exited the hotel, many returned to the establishment, escorted in by guards. They looked to be employees of the hotel. They too joined us in the massive dining hall, making the number of people in the room around three hundred.

               Eventually, the Allied Kingdom Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs, Anthony Eden, made his way into the dining hall to give us an announcement.

               “Ladies and gentlemen, I am terribly sorry to have to announce that Generalissimo Chiang Kai-shek of the KMT has been pronounced deceased. His cause of death is as of now unknown, as the coroner is still trying to determine it. However, there is great reason to suspect that he was murdered, due to the suddenness and timing of his demise.”

               The announcement swept through the crowd like a tide, eliciting exclamations of shock and incredulity. There was even a woman who fainted and had to be carried to a chair.

               “We also have reason to believe that the perpetrator was at the hotel yesterday to carry out the murder. As such, we have gathered every person who was at this hotel within the past twenty-four hours. For the security of the investigation and for your own safety, I will have to ask for all of you to return to your rooms for the time being. This hotel is, from now on, effectively under martial law.” Mr. Eden announced.

               “Surveillance and security will be extremely high. Mages will be stationed outside the hotel. Albish soldiers will be standing guard just outside your rooms and suites. Instead of heading to the dining hall for food, simply slip a piece of paper written with what you want to eat, and the meal will be delivered promptly to your room. If you want to leave your room, you will need to be escorted by a soldier. If you want to go to another room to talk with anyone, soldiers will have to be present in the room. That goes for groups of people. Every half an hour, we will ask for some of you to come with us to secured rooms for one of three rounds of questioning. Please do your best to comply.” Mr. Eden stated.

               At least the Albish were owing up to their mistake and taking the responsibility of the investigation. With luck, they’d be able to find the culprit and bring them to justice.

               Anthony Eden scratched his scalp, his emotion a rare concoction of impatience, frustration, anger, and fear. This was a disaster. A major leader had died – most likely murdered – in the heart of Hong Kong, an Albish territory. Even worse, the hotel itself was owned by the state, so it had made them seem doubly incompetent.

             The political implication of this incident too was gargantuan. The KMT would likely break off into warlord states or pick a new leader. The former could threaten the security of Hong Kong, should a bellicose warlord occupy territory near the city. The latter case was a wildcard. Preferably, the Allied Kingdom desired a right-leaning, conservative hard-liner that held a fierce anti-Akitsushima stance. But in the worst-case scenario, the KMT could elect someone that was amicable towards Akitsushima. Whether the dominant force in Asia would be Akitsushima, or the Allied Kingdom lied in a foggy limbo.

               Alas, the damage was done. Chiang Kai-shek was already dead. He was told that the coroner’s report would take upward of a week and required the Generalissimo’s blood to be examined to conclusively determine the cause of death.

               He’d contacted the Prime Minister on what to do in the meantime. The man had reacted much as Eden himself had regarding the implications of this assassination. The best way for the Allied Kingdom to salvage their reputation and save some face was to conduct a thorough investigation and make the perpetrator face justice, no matter who they were.

               Eden had already commandeered the services of several military, police and private detectives for this case. Each and every one of the two hundred people in the hotel’s dining hall was treated as a suspect, no matter their station or affiliation. Most of them were staff, with the rest being the various delegations that arrived in Hong Kong for the conference. A handful were independent travellers.

               As they had no idea how the Generalissimo was killed, the best they could do now was take testimonies. Each person would be subjected to three thirty-minute interviews. One with a military detective, another with a police detective and the last with a civilian detective. Each detective would ask a series of set questions but would also throw in their own questions into the mix. Then, the answers for each suspect would be evaluated to see whether they match and be compared to the testimonies of other suspects to see whether they had a credible alibi.

               Eden had around fifteen detectives with him at the moment, with an equal three way split between military, police and private detectives. If the interviews were done optimally, and each detective interviewed around sixteen suspects a day, then they should be done collecting everyone’s testimonies in under a week.

               Mr. Eden approached me personally to talk. “Madam Chancellor, as you are a head of government and your delegation is present here under diplomatic immunity, I do not have the authority to detain any of you here. As such, I am very politely asking you to cooperate with us and allow us to conduct our investigation. This will involve questioning your delegation’s personnel and potentially searches of their belongings. With your permission, I will carry out these tasks as non-invasively as possible.”

               “Permission granted, Mr. Eden.” I replied. It would paint the Imperial States in a better light if we were to cooperate in the investigation. “I assume that you will be asking permission from the other delegations as well?”

               “Of course, Chancellor. I am sure that their response will be the same, considering that all of us here want to get to the bottom of this. Now then, these two gentlemen will escort you back to your suite once you have notified your party.”

               After I ordered my delegation to comply with the Albish’s investigation, I was escorted back to my suite on the twelfth floor by two very nervous Albish guards. I immediately called Visha to inform her of the situation, and that I was unharmed and under protection. That had mollified her worries.

               I also told her that my return would most likely be postponed by a couple weeks. After that, we mostly chatted about mundane things like how the food in Akitsushima was compared to Visha’s cooking and how she could improve. Her coffee was still vastly superior though. At the end of the call, Visha offhandedly mentioned Elya helping her shop for a few things. 

               The next day, I was asked to come to a room on the ground floor by the guards outside my door. The guards escorted me into the room, where a Hongkonger detective awaited me.

               We both sat down, and the detective levelled me with a stare.

               “Honoured to meet you, Madam Chancellor. I am Lau Haoran. Private detective. I was told that your Albish is fluent, yes?” His Albish held only a trace of accent in it. The detective held out a hand and I shook it.

               “Yes.” I replied.

               “I will let you know that your words are being recorded, and that there are people listening to us in this room. You will not receive any preferential treatment because of your position.” Detective Lau notified. Impressive by the detective, half of the Albish military would be near to soiling their trousers at the sight of me.

               “First question, Chancellor. What were you doing in between the period of seven in the afternoon on the fifth, and seven in the morning on the sixth?”

               “I had dinner in the dining hall then went to have a discussion with the Akitsushiman delegation about the topic of the conference. At midnight, I returned to my suite and went to sleep at one in the morning. I woke up at nine.” I answered succinctly. To his credit, the detective had the decency to not ask the specifics of my conversation with the Akitsushimans.

               “Did you notice anything unusual that happened during that time?” He asked again.

               “I did not notice anything unusual at all.”

               “Aside from the Akitsushiman delegation, did you talk with any other groups or hotel employees during the aforementioned time period?”

               “No, I did not.”

               The detective scribbled down words on his notepad, before asking again. “Did you at any point see Generalissimo Chiang Kai-shek, alive or dead?”

               “The last time I saw him was at the conference.” My tone remained constant throughout the questioning.

               “Chancellor, your suite is on the same floor as the Generalissimo’s suite. Did you see anyone loiter around the floor during the time I specified?” Lau questioned.

               “No, I did not see anyone of the likes.” In this type of situation, it is best to just answer factually, without any embellishment or adding unnecessary details, which would only make you seem more suspicious.

               He asked me a few more questions over the next half hour, such as my impression of the Generalissimo’s health last I saw him, my impression of this situation, who I suspected to be the perpetrator. I simply said that I was a politician, not a detective.

               “That will be all the questions. Thank you for your time, Chancellor. You may leave.” The detective said, gesturing at the exit, where the guards outside opened the door for me before I even stood up.

               The second round of questioning on the second day was basically the same, but the last question was instead “Did you have your computation orb on you during this time?”, which I answered affirmatively.

               During the third round of questioning on the third day, the military detective’s last question rang some alarm bells in my head.

               “Can you describe to me the capabilities of your computation orb, Chancellor?” The military detective, sergeant Ian Thornburn asked.

               “I am not at the liberty to disclose the parameters of the Imperial States’ military grade equipment, sergeant.” My tone turned hard. I should have expected the perfidious Albish to try to fish out some classified information out of me. If the Albish were to find out about the Type 99’s silent and quiet casting, the Imperial States would lose our stealth advantage.

               “It is imperative that we know what that orb can enable a person to do, Chancellor. Out of all non-bodyguards in the hotel, you are the only mage. That also gives you the greatest ability and agency to say, do harm to another.”

               “Are you accusing me of murdering Generalissimo Chiang Kai-shek, sergeant? Quite shameless and hypocritical of the Albish of all people, accusing me of assassinating a head of government. After all, isn’t it public information that Albish intelligence agents assassinated Jugashvili?” My gaze grew cold, as my voice slowly transitioned from a politician’s voice to a drill sergeant’s voice. I hadn’t even mentioned that one assassination attempt on me, as that one was officially conducted by the Francois Republic. 

               I continued. “That’s quite the grave accusation you’re throwing out there, sergeant..”

               The sergeant looked horrified, realising his folly. “Of course I’m not accusing you of anything, Chancellor.”

               “Besides,” I added. “If I used my computation orb at any point, the magic scanners in this city would have detected it. And since I didn’t use it at any stage, you would be able to see on your records that no magical signature from me was detected during the time you specified, from seven at night to seven in the morning.”

               That was not necessarily true. With the Type 99’s silent casting mode, I could cast weak spells that were undetectable by long-range magic scanners. One would have to put a magic scanner right on my skin to notice that I was subtly utilising magic. However, the Albish did not know this, and it worked to my advantage.

               “Of course, Chancellor.” The sergeant said, fully chided. “I apologise for my lack of thought.”

               I doubted that he was apologetic to me at all. He was probably put up to this by his superiors to extract any sensitive information he could from me. If anything, he was only apologetic to his superiors.

               “Apologies accepted.” I crossed my arm and levelled him with a chilling gaze. “Can I leave now?” I said, with a tone that informed him I was not asking for permission.

               “Of course, Chancellor.” He went to open the door for me himself.

               If this wasn’t for the investigation of Chiang Kai-shek, I would have raised a bit of a fuss and demanded that Mr. Eden come and answer me. However, given that this was a sensitive situation and that I was representing my country, it would behove me to act with more decorum.

15th January 1943,

Hong Kong,

               Anthony Eden sat at his desk in the office that he had requisitioned from the hotel manager. The mass questioning hadn’t yielded anything obviously incriminating. Without knowing the cause of Chiang Kai-shek’s death, they didn’t have anything specific to allude to. His military detective hadn’t even been able to pry out some secrets from the Devil’s orb.

               However, with the arrival of the coroner’s report, the situation has changed.

               The cause of Chiang Kai-shek’s death was confirmed to be cardiac arrest during his sleep. The coroner also took blood samples and ran it through manual diagnostics. The results showed high levels of arsenic and alcohol in the Generalissimo’s body. However, acute arsenic poisoning was not known to cause heart attacks. The coroner suggested that the Generalissimo was already at risk of having a myocardial infarction due to his age, stress and unhealthy living habits. The arsenic poisoning had simply pushed his heart over the edge.

               The coroner even commented that dying from the heart attack had been a painless outcome for him, as if he had not died from it, he would have withered away in agony over the next few days from acute arsenic poisoning.

               Thus, it was ruled that Chiang Kai-shek had died of an assassination, as it was unclear whether he would have died from a heart attack without the arsenic poisoning. Furthermore, it was confirmed that someone did indeed try to assassinate him.

               Immediately after receiving the report, Eden ordered his men to immediately confiscate every bottle of alcohol in the Generalissimo’s suite for testing.

               When the results came back, it was revealed that only one bottle of champagne in the whole suite had been laced with arsenic. This meant that the murderer was likely the last person that handled the bottle before Chiang Kai-shek.

               Luckily for him, from the various testimonies they’ve obtained from the members of the KMT, many of them had mentioned Wang Jingwei offering a glass of champagne to Chiang Kai-shek the last time the Generalissimo was seen alive.

               Just because the conference had been postponed by the murder of Chiang Kai-shek, did not mean that no discussion could be held between the two parties regarding the deal Akitsushima proposed. That was why my delegation sat in between the other two groups as they bickered over the terms of the deal in the hotel’s largest common room. Nearly twenty soldiers were posted in the room to provide security. Along with both delegations’ mage bodyguards, that made thirty-four guards in total.

               With the death of Chiang Kai-shek, Vice-President Wang Jingwei was the provisional leader of the KMT, until they could hold a proper election. If I remember correctly, the same man in my world had been infamous in China for being pro-Japan and leading a puppet government for the Japanese while denouncing the Chiang Kai-shek-led KMT. As a long-time member of the KMT, the one who had record Sun Yat-sen’s will and the former favourite to lead the KMT before being usurped by Chiang Kai-shek, Wang Jingwei should have some amount of support within the party, which at least meant that the KMT shouldn’t immediately fracture and should retain most of their power, even if a few warlords might break off from the party.

               His pro-Akitsushiman views also explained why he had offered Akitsushima a counteroffer, even if it was a lowball to reduce their expectations.

               “Your terms are ridiculous, permission for our corporations in Guangdong and Liaoning to extract resources, but they can only hire native Qinese employees? Our corporations are already going to be paying taxes to the Qinese government!” An Akitsushiman representative hollered.

               “Aren’t your Taiwanese companies already hiring mainly Qinese people?” A KMT representative said.

               “They are Akitsushiman by nationality and pay taxes to the Dominion. The Jin dynasty of the past has signed off their claim to Taiwan. On that account, we expect the KMT to renounce all claims to the island as well.” Admiral Shimada said.

               This caused a wave of furious disagreement from the KMT, which was only abated when Wang Jingwei called for order.

               “We will consider that as a concession only if your companies in Guangdong and Liaoning agree to only hire Qinese employees. We’ve already conceded on leasing Hainan as a temporary territory for a forty-year lease with the option of lease extension if the inhabitants of the island hold a referendum. We have to look out for the interest of the Qinese people as well.” Wang Jingwei said.

               To his credit, it didn’t seem like he was Akitsushima’s puppet. Perhaps the Wang Jingwei in my world had only become a puppet due to exigent circumstances.

               After multiple days of back and forth, the KMT has begrudgingly agreed to lease out the critical island of Hainan to Akitsushiman administration for a period of forty years for a hefty sum of cash and gold. The conditions for the lease of Hainan involved giving them equal rights as Akitsushiman citizens and granting them equal opportunities, including Akitsushiman education and non-segregation of Qinese and Akitsushiman ethnic groups. Qinese inhabitants of Hainan would also be given dual-citizenship and be allowed to travel either to the Dominion or the Qinese mainland.

               After the forty-year duration expires, the citizens of Hainan would vote in a preferential voting referendum whether to return to Qinese administration, continue to lease Hainan to Akitsushima or to be annexed outright by Akitsushima.

               This arrangement served both sides at once, although Akitsushima would benefit more from it.

               The KMT wouldn’t outright lose the province of Hainan and actually had a chance of regaining control of it. They also didn’t have to defend the island, as the KMT’s aging naval vessels were all at least outdated by fifty years, while Akitsushima had top of the line ships.

               The Akitsushiman military could claim they had expanded the Dominion’s territory and secured a strategic foothold in the South Qin Sea. And if they treat the island’s inhabitants well, there could be a possibility for Akitsushima to annex the island in the future. This would also increase the perceived strength of the country, and prop Akitsushima up as a serious contender for the hegemony of Asia with the Allied Kingdom. Furthermore, Akitsushima was entitled to extract resources from the island, including its rich mineral deposits and offshore oil. Combined with the rights to farm in Guangdong and Liaoning, it would help eliminate Akitsushima’s issue of a critical shortage in metal, oil and food to grow their industry and economy. All that was left was their rubber shortage, but I could easily sell them rubber from Nusantara.

               Through negotiation, the two parties have agreed on most of the conditions of their deal, with only this last part about the composition of the overseas Akitsushiman companies’ staff left.

               “And we have to look out for the interest of the people of Akitsushima.” Prince Yasuhito stated plainly.

               Due to being ravaged by war, most of Qin was unindustrialised, with the exception of Xinjiang, which had been turned by the communists into their industrial heartland, far away from the fighting with the KMT. This meant that new companies arriving in Guangdong and Liaoning to open up industrialised businesses focusing on farming, mining and fishing would create jobs and boost the economy. However, the Akitsushimans had predictably advocated for an all-Akitsushiman staff working on overseas postings, while the KMT demanded the Akitsushiman companies employ only local hires to boost the Qinese economy and reduce unemployment.

               They have been going at it for hours now regarding the issue of Akitsushiman company regulations. They had taken a full hour to just agree that the Akitsushiman companies in Hainan would follow Akitsushiman laws, while the ones in Guangdong and Liaoning would follow Qinese laws. Other contentious topics like corporate taxes, waste dumping and competition with local businesses had also taken just as long.

               I forced myself not to yawn as the KMT representatives delivered another tirade lambasting Akitsushima’s greed.

               Just then, a loud knocking was heard from the entrance of the common room, and one of the Albish guards opened the door to let in the Albish representative Anthony Eden.

               The man entered the room, and eight mages poured in after him. I raised my eyebrow at such a show of force. Either he was just intimidating us, or he was here to make an arrest.

               “Lady and gentlemen, I’m here to announce that I’ve uncovered the identity of Generalissimo Chiang Kai-shek’s murderer.”

               The entire room stood rapt at once, ears hanging onto the Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs’ words.

               “Finally,” A general of the KMT commented. “We can get justice.” As he said that, he directed a conspicuous glance at the Akitsushiman party. No doubt that he suspected that Akitsushima had assassinated Chiang Kai-shek.

               Mr. Eden started explaining. “From the autopsy and blood inspection of the Generalissimo’s corpse, we’ve discovered high levels of arsenic and alcohol. The coroner suspected that the cause of death was a heart attack induced or exacerbated by acute arsenic poisoning, taking the Generalissimo’s life in his sleep. “

               “Do you know who poisoned him?” Vice President Wang Jingwei asked.

               “We have evidence. The arsenic was found in high concentration in an opened bottle of champagne. We managed to track down all hotel employees that handled alcohol in the hotel. We’ve investigated them and found no trace of arsenic on their persons, or in their residence. Nor have they shown any suspicious activities recently, according to the testimonies of people they’ve interacted with. Furthermore, such a method by an assassin would not be able to ensure that the Generalissimo would drink the poisoned bottle. We have also had secret service agents interrogate the employees that we suspected while they were connected to a lithograph while a mage detected their biological signatures. All of them testified innocent while showing no signs of deceit.”

               He continued. “Therefore, the one most likely to be the culprit is the last person who handled the bottle of champagne, whom we know of, as there were numerous testimonies.”

               Having realised what Mr. Eden was implying, multiple KMT members backed away from Wang Jingwei in alarm.

               The Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs turned towards Wang Jingwei. “Vice President Wang Jingwei, I’m afraid that you are the prime suspect in this murder case. I hope that you will comply with us and come quietly.”

               Even though Wang Jingwei had diplomatic immunity, this was based on the fact that he was part of the KMT delegation. With him becoming the prime suspect, if the KMT denounced him right now and ousted him, he would lose his immunity.

               As the mages that Mr. Eden brought with him moved in towards a stunned Wang Jingwei, my mind kicked into overdrive. It didn’t make any sense for it to be him. Yes, while Wang Jingwei had the motive to kill Chiang Kai-shek in order to gain the position of the leader of the KMT, the method in which he did it was illogical. Why would he put himself at risk by personally poisoning Chiang Kai-shek in front of witnesses instead of having an assassin do it? And why do it in such an amateurish way that would cause him to be caught? Why would he ask Mr. Eden for the identity of the poisoner. Why didn’t he prepare for the possibility of being caught and have an escape plan in the event of him being discovered?

               Unless the bottle of wine was a red herring. After all, there were other ways that high levels of arsenic could be ingested or find their way into the system. In fact, there were other agents that could directly induce a heart attack, not just increase the likelihood of having one.

               Unless it wasn’t Wang Jingwei that murdered Chiang Kai-shek at all. Unless it benefited someone else to have Wang Jingwei arrested for the murder of Chiang Kai-shek, thus removing him from a position to negotiate with the Akitsushimans and throwing the KMT once again into uncertain chaos.

              Even though Wang Jingwei was only the prime suspect now and not confirmed to be the murderer, I couldn’t be sure that the Albish would not manipulate the evidence to paint him as the murderer or even get a false confession out of him. After all, the counteroffer from the KMT had been heralded by Wang Jingwei and the negotiation between Akitsushima and the KMT had only proceeded so far due to his efforts. It was in the Allied Kingdom’s interest to have Wang Jingwei removed from a position of power within the KMT. In fact, it was simply too convenient for the evidence to point at him.

              In hindsight, leaving the investigation in the sole hands of the Albish was a mistake. In their haste to repair their reputation, their investigation could have been rushed, leading to hasty mistakes. There needed to be a second investigation to verify the suspicion casted onto the Vice President.

               “WAIT!” I shouted, barging in between Wang Jingwei and the approaching mages. The eight mages immediately flinched and flew back ten paces, as if a live grenade had been thrown at their feet.

               “Chancellor Degurechaff, I beg you to please step aside. You are obstructing justice.” Mr. Eden said in trepidation, hands spread in a placating manner, as if he was trying to pacify a carnivorous dinosaur.

               “Wait! I have reason to believe that Wang Jingwei is being framed!” I said.

Chapter Text

AYKRR Chapter 29

Whodunnit

               “You better have a good reason, Chancellor.” Mr. Eden attempted to sequester away the impatience in his voice. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Prince Yasuhito of the Akitsushiman delegation having taken a step towards Wang Jingwei, likely also to defend his innocence. Both of us must have concluded that there was a possibility that Wang Jingwei would be falsely found guilty if he came under Albish custody, especially if his diplomatic immunity was revoked.

               “Mr. Eden, I believe that your reasoning must have been flawed.” I said.

               “Flawed, in what way, Chancellor?” Mr. Eden raised an eyebrow, voice dripping in pomposity.

               “Why would the Vice President poison the Generalissimo in front of so many people? Even if he was skilled at sleight of hand and managed to initially conceal the fact that he dosed the alcohol with arsenic, anyone could connect the dots once the champagne bottle was found with arsenic in it.” I said.

               Prince Yasuhito said from where he stood. “I concur with the Chancellor, the circumstances surrounding this murder conveniently places the blame on Vice President Wang Jingwei, who is the interim leader of the KMT. If he isn’t the culprit and is found to be guilty through intentionally placed evidence, then the KMT would lose its leader and interim leader in one swoop.”

               The KMT delegation had recovered from their shock and nodded along to what Prince Yasuhito said, realising what a vulnerable position this would leave the KMT in if both Chiang Kai-shek and Wang Jingwei were removed.

               Facing resistance from two other nation’s parties, Anthony Eden seemed to hesitate. “Be it as it may, he is still the prime suspect. He needs to be taken in for further questioning.”

               “Then I want at least one member each from the Akitsushima, Imperial States and KMT delegations to be present during the questioning.” I said. “In the meantime, I want to conduct a more detailed investigation. There might be some other evidence or missing context that you missed.”

               Mr. Eden sighed. “Fine, so be it. Designate whoever you want to accompany Mr. Wang. I’ll lend you some detectives and policemen to conduct your own investigation.”

               “Chancellor, we’ve finished searching the study. We’ve found no traces of poisons or dangerous chemicals.” A pair of policemen reported to me in Chiang Kai-shek’s master bedroom.

               “Thank you, officers. Can you search the third bedroom in the suite?” I asked.

               The officers nodded and made their way to where I directed them.

               I stared at the slight depression on Chiang Kai-shek’s bed, where he died in his sleep, as the team that Mr. Eden lent to me went about the suite. I turned my attention back to the coroner’s report, which Mr. Eden had given me a copy of. I had insisted on supervising this further investigation myself.

               Vice President Wang Jingwei had voluntarily surrendered himself for questioning, even though the KMT hadn’t yet revoked his diplomatic immunity and gave him the benefit of the doubt. There were other people accompanying him, so I wasn’t afraid of him being coerced into giving a false confession.

               A cardiac arrest was the chief cause of death of Chiang Kai-shek. High concentrations of arsenic along with alcohol were found in his blood. The KMT had told me that Chiang Kai-shek was a prolific drinker, so it wasn’t unusual to find alcohol inside his system. Alcohol increases the absorption rate of arsenic into the body, causing the arsenic to take effect sooner. However, acute arsenic poisoning tends to damage the gastrointestinal system, not the heart. But the coroner’s report hadn’t included anything regarding the gastrointestinal system as the cause of death, meaning that the cardiac arrest must have arrived before the arsenic wreaked havoc onto the gastrointestinal system.

               Moreover, while the explanation that the arsenic wasn’t the direct cause of death but simply pushed the Generalissimo across the edge as he was already at high risk of having a heart attack was plausible, it wasn’t a conclusion that one would arrive at if one had my knowledge of an alternate world.

               The reasoning for Chiang Kai-shek’s heart attack was that his combination of an unhealthy lifestyle, high levels of stress and nearing an advanced age had caused him to undergo a cardiac complication. This explanation would be plausible and logical all by itself. However, the Chiang Kai-shek in my world had lived an unhealthy lifestyle while under even more stress, as he had resoundingly lost the Chinese Civil War, been exiled to Taiwan, then lost international recognition as the legitimate government of China, while having to consolidate power in Taiwan while preparing for a possible invasion from mainland China. Yet he had died thirty-two years later compared to this world’s version, ironically also of a heart attack.

               This made me inclined towards the possibility that the heart attack was induced by some other agent, rather than caused by biological factors and lifestyle, and only exacerbated by the arsenic. The arsenic must be a red herring, intended to lead the investigation astray.

               Additionally, Mr. Eden had only ordered a search after receiving the report from the coroner, not before. The report’s mention of arsenic along with alcohol in the blood extracted from Chiang Kai-shek must have made Mr. Eden arrive at the logical conclusion that the alcohol that the Generalissimo consumed was dosed with arsenic. This led him to develop tunnel-vision towards the bottles of alcohol being the only possible vector of murder. The discovery that arsenic was indeed found in one of the bottles that Chiang Kai-shek consumed, along with the identity of the person who offered the Generalissimo that drink had cemented the idea into his mind, stringing him along the wrong conclusion. Not that I could blame him, he was a politician, not Sherlock Holmes or Detective Conan.

               Therefore, if there was another poison and was not hidden inside alcohol, it had not been detected. This was the reason that I had ordered my investigation team to order a full comprehensive search of the suite and not allow even a speck of dust to go unexamined.

               Even if I was wrong and Wang Jingwei was the culprit, at most I’d slightly embarrassed myself, without any lasting damage. But if I was right, then the true murderer would walk free.

               We only started searching fifteen minutes ago, so we hadn’t uncovered anything of note yet. The Generalissimo’s suite was expansive, easily larger than most apartments in Berun. The bedroom that Chiang Kai-shek slept in was only one of three, so each one of those had to be searched too.

               A tall Hongkonger detective was checking every drawer in the master bedroom where Chiang Kai-shek slept, even checking for false backs and false bottoms. A shorter detective crawled under the bed to search for evidence. Outside, in the living room, another five policemen were probing for clues. Four were in the other two bedrooms. Two policemen were combing through the kitchen. One detective had gone to the rooftop to check the water tower.

               Not wanting to be seen as that one lazy supervisor who did nothing but watched as the workers toiled about, I told the detectives searching in the master bedroom to call me if they found something, as I headed to the bathroom to search for any evidence left behind. Nobody had gone in there yet.

               Aside from the alcohol, everything in the Generalissimo’s suite had been left untouched. How fortunate, if the prior search had left everything in disarray, we would have had a much harder time searching for additional clues.

               I glanced at the collection of toiletries arranged alongside the washing basin. There were even more in the shower. If a poisonous agent found itself in Chiang Kai-shek’s system, things like shower creams, conditioner, shampoos and facial creams were a good place to hide them in. Even though topical absorption of poison was quite slow, it was possible that there is a unique poison that could quickly be absorbed through the skin to induce cardiac arrests.

               I avoided opening up the untouched bottles, and only checked the ones that Chiang Kai-shek had used when he had showered. Even though numerous self-care products were provided, he had only used the shampoo and bodywash.

               I read the ingredients listed on the bottles and casted a spell to detect any substances that were not part of the ingredients listed. I found nothing aside from some human cells, likely left there when Chiang Kai-shek touched the bottles.

               I scrutinised the towels that Chiang Kai-shek used to dry himself, once again using a spell to search for something out of the usual. Still nothing.

               A voice came from behind me. “Found anything, Chancellor?”

               I turned around, and the Hongkonger detective that had checked the drawers came into the bathroom, likely not trusting me to not make a mess of things. I looked at his name tag. Detective Hong Ka-chiu. For some reason, his body language reminded me of security guards who laze around all day.

               “No.” I admitted. “I checked the towel and the toiletries and found nothing of note.”

               The detective glanced around the bathroom for a second, before grabbing Chiang Kai-shek’s tube of travel-sized toothpaste and giving it a quick inspection. He smirked to himself.

               “Something funny, detective Hong?” I asked, tilting my head in curiosity.

               “Oh, it’s nothing. This is the same toothpaste brand that I first bought when I left the countryside to live in Hong Kong. I used to work on a specialty mint farm as a boy and this brand’s smell was nostalgic to me. No wonder it was so expensive. Even hotels this fancy use it.” The detective rambled, caught in nostalgia. He opened the cap of the barely used tube and sniffed it, causing him to smile. “Smells just like home.”

               That was quite unprofessional. What if there was something in there? I almost chided the man, but he continued with his story. “The brand was never popular though, largely because it was too expensive, but the smell was also too eccentric for working class people.”

               “Are you sure you should be sniffing that?” I inquired.

               “Oh, it’s fine. If there was poison in the toothpaste, it’ll likely only take effect once you use it to brush your teeth.”

               The detective took out a paper bag and dropped the toothpaste into the bag, to be tested later for chemical agents.

               I turned my focus back to the investigation. Noticing the bin in the corner of the bathroom, I trudged over to open it up.

               “Wait, Chancellor, are you sure you want to be checking the bin?” I turned back to see detective Hong holding out a hand.

               “Something wrong with what I’m doing?”

               “I mean, it’s… beneath your station. Why don’t you let me do it?”

               “Oh, it’s fine, detective. Back when I was at my orphanage, there were times when we ran out of food, and I had to rummage through the garbage cans of restaurants and homes for any edible morsels.” The information seemed to momentarily stun the detective speechless.

               “Be it as it may, you shouldn’t have to dirty your hands anymore. In fact, you didn’t have to search for clues yourself in the first place. Let me do it.” He shook his head to disagree with me but winced.

               “Something wrong, Detective Hong?” I inquired.

               “Oh, nothing serious, Chancellor. A bit of a headache and some dizziness. Haven’t quite slept right this past week. This whole murder debacle is not good for dozing off, I’m afraid.” Even as he assured me, detective Hong started swaying dangerously.

               “Detective!” I caught him just as started to keel over, before he could smack his head against the ceramic washing basin.

               “Someone!” I shouted. “Detective Hong needs medical attention!”

16th January 1943,

               In front of the gathered delegations of the KMT, Akitsushima and Imperial States, Anthony Eden sat down on his chair, seated conspicuously by himself in the common room. He felt the stare of dozens of generals and politicians on him, almost asphyxiating in nature.

               He tried his hardest to not wiggle under their gazes, especially that of Wang Jingwei’s, who had been returned to his delegation due to this newest development.

               He coughed lightly to clear his voice. “Before I begin, I believe that the Allied Kingdom and I owe Vice President Wang Jingwei the deepest apology, for having placed misguided suspicion upon him.”

               Eden locked eyes with the aforementioned man and Wang Jingwei returned a curt nod. “You have my forgiveness.” The man’s words might say it, but his eyes didn’t.

               “I also owe an apology to every single person that was affected by this incident due to our lack of security. I hope that this incident will not negatively affect your impression of the Allied Kingdom’s hospitality.” Like hell this wouldn’t colour their impression of the Allied Kingdom. He had delayed the schedules of dozens of foreign dignitaries to carry out a protracted investigation that landed on the wrong suspect.

               Eden knew that he, for a lack of better words, fucked up. He had impetuously and mistakenly identified the interim leader of the KMT as the prime suspect of his predecessor’s assassination, a conclusion based on incomplete information and evidence. Furthermore, the information surrounding the case had only been incomplete because Eden had been too hasty in trying to amend the Allied Kingdom’s reputation, thus focusing only on the poisoned alcohol and neglecting to order a full search of the suite.

               As a result, he had wrongly suspected the Vice President of the Kuomintang and its provisional leader as the perpetrator of the murderer. The Allied Kingdom’s sullied reputation had just been thrown into the dirt and trampled on because of this incident. He’d be lucky to only be fired.

               He then read the report that he held in his hand. “Chancellor Degurechaff’s investigation bore fruit. We discovered that the toothpaste tube the Generalissimo used had been tampered with. It had a separate chamber, covered by a thin membrane that, when the toothpaste tube was squeezed, would release the gas stored inside the chamber. Most of this gas was inhaled by the Generalissimo when he squeezed the toothpaste out to brush his teeth. A detective took a sniff of the leftover gas in the toothpaste and felt dizzy, then fainted mere moments later. He is now in hospital care, but his life is not in danger. We've thrown out all of the hotel's toothpaste and replaced them, just in case.”

               He flipped to the next page of the report. “We took the toothpaste for examination and discovered traces of phosphine gas. Normally, commercial grade phosphine gas has a distinct smell, resembling that of garlic or rotting fish due to the impurities in the gas. However, the gas stored inside the toothpaste tube was pure phosphine, which is odourless. This gas is extremely dangerous, and inhalation of it can often be fatal. Inhalation of the gas, depending on the amount, can cause some of the symptoms of dizziness, fatigue, drowsiness, laboured breathing, pulmonary irritation, chest tightness. It also includes heart arrest, which matches with the Generalissimo’s cause of death. As we have no tests to identify phosphine gas in blood or tissue, this allowed the substance to slip away unnoticed during the first autopsy. Further inspection of the Generalissimo’s lungs also showed signs of lung damage consistent with inhalation of phosphine gas.”

               “Do we know who was the one that placed that toothpaste tube in the Generalissimo’s bathroom?” Wang Jingwei asked. “Is it the same one that framed me?”

               “Yes to both questions, Vice President.” Eden said. “We contacted the hotel manager, and he told us that the employee responsible for changing out the toiletries was a woman named Tsoi Chan, a recent employee. As a hotel employee, she was confined to this hotel at the start of the investigation. Naturally, I sent men to collect her for questioning. However,…” He paused.

               “However, what?” Chancellor Degurechaff asked. Her gaze pierced through his lungs and chilled his blood.

               “However, we discovered that she was already dead inside her room.” Eden said gravely. The revelation caused many to flinch back in surprise, as if slapped.

               He continued. “Examination of the body and a later search of her apartment told us the full story. Tsoi Chan died from ingesting a suicide pill. Her abode held containers of arsenic and tubes of toothpaste, all of which had phosphine gas. It also held several instruments and documents that pointed towards Tsoi Chan being a false identity assumed by a trained spy of the QCP. We even discovered ciphers that were eventually decoded, which had details of her missions, mainly intel gathering and one mission ordering her to assassinate a high value target.”

               “So, the perpetrator behind the murder of Chiang Kai-shek was the QCP?” Prince Yasuhito inquired.

               “Yes.” Eden nodded. “Conclusively so. If we reconstruct the order of events, it goes something like this: Tsoi Chan infiltrated the hotel, known for hosting important customers, becoming an inconspicuous employee that was responsible for handling the replacement of items that customers frequently interact with, such as toiletries. Once the news of the conference being held in Hong Kong and the KMT delegation staying here broke out, the QCP gave the order for Tsoi Chan to assassinate Chiang Kai-shek.”

               “On the day of the assassination, Tsoi Chan exchanged the ordinary toothpaste that the hotel provides for the one containing phosphine gas. At the same time, she poisoned the conspicuously placed bottle of champagne that the Generalissimo drank with arsenic, hoping to frame an important member of the KMT; it didn’t necessarily have to be Vice President Wang Jingwei. The plan went as she planned, and Generalissimo Chiang Kai-shek was killed, while Vice President Wang Jingwei was suspected. In any case, the Vice President will not be held responsible in any capacity for unknowingly offering the poisoned wine to the Generalissimo, as he was ignorant of Tsoi Chan’s machinations, and thus could not be held accountable. If it wasn’t for Chancellor Degurechaff pointing out my hastiness and insisting on a more detailed investigation, Tsoi Chan might have successfully framed the Vice President. Luckily, the real instrument of murder was discovered, which led us to Tsoi Chan. Unfortunately, she committed suicide before we could capture and interrogate her.”

               A KMT general slammed his hand against a table in the common room. “Those damn communists! They dare do this to us, right on Albish lands?! Does their audacity know no bounds? Surely the Allied Kingdom will not let this offense go unpunished?”

               It was clear what he was implying. Albion owed the KMT a debt. Both for letting Chiang Kai-shek be assassinated on their home turf and falsely placing the suspicion onto Wang Jingwei and almost causing a succession crisis in the KMT. This meant that the Allied Kingdom had to give the KMT some concessions to appease the KMT.

               In his mind, Anthony Eden sighed. Even though they’d caught the culprit, he had to deal with the aftermath. There were still long days ahead of him. He had to report the resolution of the investigation to the rest of PATO and the Americans as well, then make a deal with the KMT to ensure they wouldn’t take too much offense.

18th January 1943,

               The KMT and Akitsushima had finally agreed on splitting the composition of staff for Akitsushima’s companies in Qin. Of the staff members that the Akitsushiman companies would hire in Guangdong and Liaoning, at least eighty percent had to be Qinese citizens. In exchange, the KMT would renounce their previously held claim to Taiwan. With that, the terms were signed by both parties, marking a conclusion to this whole debacle.

               Akitsushima would join the KMT in the war against the QCP, with the goal of uniting the entirety of Qin. In exchange, the KMT would lease the island of Hainan to Akitsushima, while Akitsushiman companies would be allowed special rights to extract resources in Guangdong and Liaoning and sell it to the Akitsushiman government at a lower than market price. Akitsushiman farmers could also rent land from the KMT, whereby they could farm and sell the produce back to Akitsushima. These companies and farmers would still have to pay the KMT corporate taxes though.

               As a gesture of gratitude for helping defend Wang Jingwei’s innocence, both the KMT and Akitsushima allowed me to propose an alteration to the treaty that they were signing. Taking advantage of such generosity, I proposed a stipulation to waive all tariffs on food, strategic materials, and weapons between the two countries. It benefited both sides, as Akitsushima would pay less for food and strategic materials, while the KMT would pay less when importing weapons from Akitsushima. Furthermore, it helped set a precedent for free trade between Qin and Akitsushima. Having recognised the advantage of what I proposed, both sides had happily agreed to my stipulation.

               The Albish, having had their reputation thoroughly stained and nearly falsely accusing the provisional leader of the KMT of murder, had to compensate for their failings. They had agreed to donate an additional four million pounds worth of supplies and munitions to the KMT, the deal having been signed by Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs Anthony Eden. He even had to send a written apology from Churbull for the Imperial States’ delegation and the American delegation. I almost felt bad for the man, he looked as though he had lost five kilograms from the stress of the past two weeks. I doubted that he’d be able to hold onto his position for much longer. Churbull wasn’t known to tolerate incompetency.

               “Chancellor!” Vice President Wang Jingwei called out to me, as we exited the speech auditorium with our coteries, mere minutes after wrapping up the second day of the conference.

               “What is it, Vice President?” I asked. A cold wind blew through the streets, prompting me to draw in my thick jacket for warmth. Even when wearing three layers, I still got cold easily.

             “I haven’t had the proper opportunity to thank you in person.” He bowed towards me. “You have my sincere gratitude. While perhaps my name would have been cleared eventually, it would have damaged my reputation and shredded my chance of being elected as the leader of the KMT. I owe you a personal debt.”

               “No problem, Vice President Wang. And about the position of KMT leader, when will your election be held?” I inquired.

               “As soon as I return to Nanjing. Don’t worry about the election result. Having taken the quintessential role in preventing a war with Akitsushima and turning them towards the communists, only the most hard-headed warlords in the KMT wouldn’t see the merit in me becoming the leader of the KMT.” Wang Jingwei answered.

               That was terrific. If a pro-Akitsushima leader like him became the leader of the KMT, it would ensure continual peace in East Asia after the communists are wiped out.

               “Well then, Vice President, I hope to see you as President the next time we meet.” I held out a hand, and Wang Jingwei shook it enthusiastically.

               A few hours later, after I packed my bags to prepare to travel back to Akitsushima, I stretched my back in a feline manner, as if wringing out all of the accumulated stress of the past few days.

               How fortunate that I had realised that the arsenic was a red herring, intended to frame someone else. Well, it seemed that Prince Yasuhito had also noticed something was wrong, as I remembered him being the second fastest person to come to Wang Jingwei’s defence. It seemed that the Prince has faster wits than I had assumed, having so quickly figured out the logical fallacy behind Wang Jingwei being the culprit.

               The assassination was carried out quite well, utilising both a red herring and an unconventional method of killing. The only part that I couldn’t figure out was how Tsoi Chan managed to ensure that the bottle with arsenic would be opened and offered to Chiang Kai-shek. Sure, the bottle was conspicuously placed on a table in the living room, but she couldn’t be certain anyone would drink from it. After all, once she left the room, there was no way for her to influence whether the bottle would be opened, and who would drink from it.

               I internally shrugged. Oh well, I wasn’t a professional assassin. It was likely some secret method that assassins exclusively trained amongst themselves.

               Wang Jingwei strode through the busy streets of Hong Kong on foot, flanked by two mage bodyguards. He could never be too careful in this political climate. He was in disguise, having tacked on a fake beard and wearing a top hat.

               He arrived just outside a high-end Akitsushiman restaurant, a rare sight in Albish-controlled Hong Kong. Entering the exquisitely luxurious establishment, he mentioned his fake name to the receptionist, and she immediately led him to the second floor, where the reserved private dining rooms were.

               The receptionist brought him to the soundproof room at the end of the hallway, reserved only by VIPs. Wang Jingwei motioned for his bodyguards to wait for him just outside the room. Thanking the receptionist and handing her a small tip, Wang Jingwei opened the door to the room himself, revealing Prince Yasuhito waiting alone for him at the table.

               “Your Highness.” He bowed politely.

               “Thank you for coming here at such a short notice for a simple congratulatory meal, Vice President.” The Akitsushiman Prince said.

             “I never pass up on an occasion to celebrate, Your Highness.” Wang Jingwei sat down, taking a cursory look at the menu.

               “I recommend the set meals. They are fantastic. Decently well-priced too.” Prince Yasuhito chuckled.

               Wang Jingwei nodded in thanks, selecting set meal number three. Prince Yasuhito chose set meal number four. Instead of calling for a waiter, they wrote down their order onto a piece of paper and dropped it into the opening of a pneumatic tube, where the order would be sent to the kitchen and prepared by the chefs.

               Having placed their orders, Prince Yasuhito smiled. “We’ve done it.”

               Wang Jingwei laughed loudly, none of the sound escaping the soundproof room. “Indeed, we did.”

               It was a stroke of competence that Wang Jingwei’s KMT agents had managed to turn a QCP spy into a double agent for them. Tsoi Chan had instructed Wang Jingwei exactly which bottle to offer Chiang Kai-shek. The champagne was the fallback plan, in case that the phosphine gas failed to kill him.

               The initial plan had been for the investigation to fall for the red herring and arrive at the logical conclusion that Wang Jingwei was the murderer and hastily accuse him. Then, Prince Yasuhito would come out in his defence and order another, more detailed investigation, which would lead to the toothpaste tube being discovered as the murder instrument. Meanwhile, a professional hitman would sneak into the room that Tsoi Chan was being confined in and force her to ingest a suicide pill, while making it look like she had done so voluntarily instead of being betrayed and coerced into suicide.

               The results of this conspiracy would be the humiliation of the Albish, assassination of the anti-Akitsushima Chiang Kai-shek, instalment of Wang Jingwei as the leader of the KMT, placing the blame onto the QCP, establishment of a KMT-Akitsushima coalition against the QCP and tightening of the bonds between Qin and Akitsushima. It would also paint Akitsushima as a virtuous nation that sought justice instead of taking advantage of the KMT while they were in a vulnerable, leaderless state. Some members of the KMT delegation had even been apologetic to him after it was revealed that he was ‘innocent’, promising to vote for him in the upcoming election.

               Additionally, the KMT and Wang Jingwei would officially owe a favour to Prince Yasuhito for revealing the QCP’s ploy.

               There had only been one deviation in the plan that they hadn’t accounted for – Chancellor Degurechaff. The woman had beaten Prince Yasuhito to the punch at coming to Wang Jingwei’s defence and promptly proceeded to take all the credits for heading the supplementary investigation and discovering the phosphine toothpaste tube.

               So now, the gratitude was owed towards Tanya von Degurechaff and the Imperial States, instead of Prince Yasuhito and the Akitsushima Dominion. Degurechaff had used it to establish further free trade between the KMT and the Akitsushima Dominion. The Imperial States would also be seen as a facilitator of trade and an arbiter of justice, taking the initiative to dispel the false accusations of their perfidious rival Albion.

               “The situation didn’t fully turn out how we planned, but the direction was still the same.” Prince Yasuhito commented. “The majority of our goals were accomplished. What Degurechaff did simply increased the value of the Imperial States as a crucial ally for both Qin and Akitsushima.”

               The food eventually arrived, but Wang Jingwei made no move to eat. Something was nagging him since the end of the investigation.

               Staring at the food and fidgeting with his chopsticks, Wang Jingwei asked. “Do you think that she knew? That the whole thing was orchestrated by us?”

               Prince Yasuhito ruminated on that question for a minute, before answering. “Perhaps. The sequence of events resolved in a way that was almost too convenient and beneficial for her and the Imperial States. Having heard rumours about her spy agency’s capabilities, I wouldn’t eliminate the possibility of her having known the general plan but none of the details. How else would you explain her quick reaction? But then again, there’s no concrete proof that she knew.”

               “If it is true that she knew all along, then she could use this secret to blackmail us.” Wang Jingwei pointed out, then shuddered.

               “Hold on,” The Prince said with a hint of realisation in his voice, eyes widening, as if stumbling on a revelation. “No, she definitely knows. She has already implied that she knew along.”

               “How so?”

               “According to the investigation report, she personally searched the master bathroom despite not being obliged to, and the tube of toothpaste was only discovered there when a detective came in and sniffed it. Think about it, if she didn’t know anything, she would have just stood still and waited for crucial clues to eventually be discovered. Why go to the bathroom herself? Unless she was making an implicit statement aimed at us. She knew of our cooperation and our plan the entire time, down to the details of how Chiang Kai-shek was killed.”

               The Prince’s face twisted in uncomfortable horror.

               Wang Jingwei gripped the edge of the table tightly. “But then why hadn’t she contacted us to make us comply with her demands?”

               “Why would she? If she contacted us, then it confirms that she is hiding the identity of the real orchestrators of Chiang Kai-shek’s murder and implicates her as part of the crime. We would be able to blackmail her in turn. By doing this, she avoids any blame and responsibility, while holding an implied threat above our necks – a Sword of Damocles.” Yasuhito said.

               “Our plan has been turned on against us. We’ve underestimated that woman.” Wang Jingwei said grimly. “The best course of action from now on is to appease her, lest she ‘accidentally’ discover information that implicates us as the perpetrators.”

               “I have ideas on how to do that.” Prince Yasuhito commented. “It’s well known that Degurechaff and her political allies have been making moves to prepare the Imperial States for a transition to a monarchy, with Degurechaff as the Kaiserin. We will simply need to support her ascension. My brother will not need any convincing to support her, but I will try to increase her popularity amongst the Akitsushiman public and military as well. On that topic, is the last Jing emperor still alive?”

               “He is alive and well under the custody of the KMT. I can ask him to come to her coronation as a gesture of support from the KMT. Additionally, since Degurechaff is widely known to be pro-trade, why don’t we propose waiving some tariffs on the Imperial States? I have heard good things about their Volksauto cars and other manufactured products. All of this should satisfy her enough to let us off the hook.”

               Having mollified their anxieties through discussion, the two men started dining on their food. Despite being some of the finest food in Hong Kong and having somewhat small portions, neither of them could finish their entire set meal. Their appetites weren't nearly as voracious compared to before they uttered Degurechaff’s name.

Chapter Text

AYKRR Chapter 30

Going Public

23rd January 1943,

Osaka,

               In my disguise of black wig and sunglasses, dressed in a long winter dress and a thick woollen jacket, I mingled amongst the Akitsushiman citizens. I’ve been wearing thick jackets like this one ever since late fall. They were warm and even helped disguise my figure by making me look a bit bigger due to the thick material used. My security team shadowed me from behind, ready to intervene should anything happen. I wished Neumann was here so I could pull off another disguise like last time again. However, Neumann was having a winter vacation with his girlfriend Birgit, skiing in the Alps. He even told me that he was planning to propose.

               Since I was to return to the Imperial States tomorrow, I was taking this opportunity to scout around the cities of Akitsushima for the public reaction to the news of the KMT signing a pact with Akitsushima to destroy communism. Before the treaty was signed, anti-KMT sentiment had been high amongst the public. With the true attacker of Port Saei revealed, I was hoping this aggression would be fully turned towards the QCP. I definitely did not have the additional ulterior motive of shopping around for souvenirs to bring back to the Imperial States.

               I travelled to Osaka to do this simply because my presence in Tokyo was simply too prolific. Too many people were trying to get a glimpse of me. Here in Osaka, no one would expect me to be loitering on the streets.

               After talking to the inhabitants of Osaka, I got the general impression that the QCP was now viewed as duplicitous villains, both for the attack on Port Saei and the assassination during the Conference of Hong Kong. Although the impression on the KMT wasn’t exactly rosy either. Some people thought that the treaty between the KMT and Akitsushima was too generous, and that Akitsushima should have demanded more in exchange for their military help. I was hoping that with the effects of free trade and new resources flowing in to enrich Akitsushima’s industries, that attitude would change.

               I walked past a bookstore with a full wall poster, only to do a double take and backtracked my steps when I saw something familiar on the poster. No, it couldn’t be.

               I rubbed my eyes to make sure I wasn’t hallucinating.

               I wasn’t. Printed smugly on the one-metre-tall poster for thousands to see was none other than Germania-chan. More specifically it was one of the little 4koma manga that I doodled onto the instructional pamphlets sent inside relief packets to Akitsushima. On the poster, it depicted a black-haired boy called Aki-kun being bullied by a huge man labelled Russy-san. Then came Germania-chan to beat Russy-san up and save Aki-kun, even offering him bandages to treat his wounds and a warm meal for him to fill his stomach. If I remember correctly, I drew this one for the medical supplies packages that we sent to Akitsushima. My ears turned red from embarrassment from seeing my amateurish drawing being exposed for so many to see.

               A kind elderly voice said in Akitsushiman behind me. “Young girl, are you interested in Germania-chan as well? Though that’s not surprising. It’s been very popular with high school girls like you recently.”

               Did someone just somehow mistake me for a highschooler? Even though it was a Saturday so the lack of a school uniform wouldn’t be strange, I shouldn’t look that young, right? I turned around to see a wizened woman with a head of stark white hair looking at me from the doorway of the bookstore, holding the door open. She was hunched over with age and was in fact the first adult I’ve met that I was taller than.  Ah, no wonder. Old people always see people younger than them as children. It didn’t make much difference for a seventy-year-old whether the person they were talking to was twenty-eight or sixteen.

               “Oh, you’re a foreigner. No wonder you were so fascinated by her.” The old woman mumbled in Akitsushiman when she saw my face.

               She tried to switch to Albish. “Eto, Germania-chan, very cute, you think?”

               I replied back in Akitsushiman, shocking the old woman. “I can speak Akitsushiman just fine.”

               “Your Akitsushiman is so good. Are you a diplomat’s daughter by any chance?” The woman asked.

               I nodded. No need to reveal who I truly was. “Is Germania-chan really that popular?”

               The woman nodded enthusiastically. “Yes, very popular. When the relief packages came, Germania-chan’s face was the first thing that families saw when they opened them. With the famine over, Germania-chan manga strips have become a valued collector’s item amongst young girls and boys.”

               My ears turned progressively redder, bleeding into my cheeks.

               “And the poster here must have been copied and enlarged, right?” I asked.

               “Yes, this boy named Osamu posted it there as an advertisement for the store’s newest Germania-chan manga volume that he drew.” She said, I did a mental double-take.

               Hold on. I was the original artist for Germania-chan. How could people sell Germania manga without my permission? That would be violating international copyright laws! Don’t tell me just because I remained anonymous as an artist that I was getting my intellectual property stolen from under my nose.

               “You’re selling Germania-chan manga here?” I inquired.

               “Oh, no, we’re not selling them. Osamu-kun’s younger siblings love Germania-chan so much that their older brother decided to draw some manga for them himself by imitating the art style on the pamphlets. Eventually, he drew so many strips that he compiled them into volumes, printed them and gave them away for free to people to enjoy. People are welcome to give donations of course, but he said he doesn’t intend to make a profit off something that’s not his own original work. Do you want to see them?” She offered to let me come inside the store.

               Deciding that satisfying my curiosity couldn’t hurt, I gave a subtle signal behind my back for my security team to only observe without acting, before following the old grandma inside the store.

               Entering the bookstore gave me a wave of nostalgia, bringing me back to the good old days when I would hang around stores similar to this to browse for books, magazines and manga. The smell of freshly printed ink on paper only added to the atmosphere.

               There, sitting proudly on its own mini-shelf on the cash register counter, were copies of the first five volumes of “The Saga of Germania-chan” manga. Even though it was early in the morning, the shelf was already half empty.  Sitting next to the shelf was a wooden box that had a slot for money or coins to be slipped through. A sign on it read “Donations welcome!”.

               I picked out the first volume. The cover depicted Germania-chan in a sailor uniform of all things, doing a V-sign with her right hand, while her left arm wrapped around the shoulder of Aki-kun. Her beaming smile revealed the hint of a canine fang. The eyes of the characters were, of course, large and expressive.

               The artwork was, I admitted, very well done. While it certainly imitated my style well, I couldn’t help but feel like the author had inserted much of his own art style into it. It was a familiar art style too. Something about the way the noses, mouths and eyebrows were drawn.

               And then I saw the name of the artist and tried hard to not let my hands shake and drop the manga. I should have pieced it together when I heard the boy’s name was Osamu. The artist’s name was Tezuka Osamu. The same name as the author of Astro Boy and the Father of Manga, who would play a crucial role in launching manga and anime into mainstream Japanese media.

               “M-Ma’am, how o-old is this boy?” I asked, voice stuttering.

               “Just fourteen. How incredibly talented, right? He said he’s been drawing since he was in elementary school. This is the first time he’s ever published something drawn by his own hands.”

               “I see. That level of talent and dedication should be encouraged. Ma’am, it just so happens that my father is well-connected. He even knows the original artist of Germania-chan. If that boy Osamu ever wants to collaborate with the artist or seek permission to earn money from his manga, you can tell him that he can just call the Imperial States’ embassy and tell them this number. My father will make sure that it gets to the right person.” I said. I took out a piece of paper and wrote down my private phone number, known to only a select few.

               Five minutes later, I departed the bookstore, whistling and carrying a paper bag with all five volumes of “The Saga of Germania-chan”. Having felt generous after securing my reading material for the trip back home, my wallet was considerably lighter than before I entered the store.

25th January 1943,

Berun,

               “Visha!” When I returned home, I lunged at my girlfriend and squeezed Visha in a hug, taking the opportunity to bury my face into her chest.

               “Tanya, something wonderful has happened!” Visha informed me, face beaming with joy.

               “Huh?” I regretfully removed my face.

               “Look at this new legislation!” Visha brought up a document in front of my face.

               Curious, I took the paper out of her hand and started reading. The Human Rights (Sexual Conduct) Act. Wait, this can’t be. Legalisation of all forms of homosexuality? How the hell did this get through?

               While the Imperial States was liberal for its time due to its meritocratic history and having had Preussian Kings acknowledged to be homosexual in the past like Frederick the Great, with Berun being especially progressive and certainly having an open-minded attitude, I wasn’t sure whether it was ready for such a bill. There should have been strong pushback in the Reichstag. Passing this act in 1943 was nothing short of a miracle.

               “Who pushed for this?” I looked up at Visha in wonderment.

             “Ludwig did, with some support from me and the Governors. Herr Heiddler was instrumental in rallying the Reichstag members in Osterry too.” Visha answered, a proud look on her face.

               Wow, Ludwig has matured well from his days in the Imperial Party. While monarchism wasn’t strictly conservative, many of its proponents were. On the other hand, Ludwig was likely one of the most progressive politicians in the Imperial States. His youth might have played a role too, since younger people tend to be more culturally progressive than older people.

               I also couldn’t forget the significance that personal interactions and experience served. Ludwig had known for some time that Visha and I were homosexual, and this might have played a role in him supporting the new Human Rights Act.

               “I see, with that many high-level figures, you must have managed to barely pass it through the Reichstag.” I commented. If the voting margin was too thin, the staunch conservatives could easily push for a repeal of the Act, thus undoing all of my political allies’ efforts. “What was the percentage? Sixty percent? Fifty-five?”

               “Eighty-two percent.” Visha said, smug.

               Fifty-two percent? That was closer than I’d like. I would have to weigh in with my own popularity to prevent the Act from being repealed at a later date. Wait. Hold on. EIGHTY-TWO PERCENT?

               “What!? Since when was the Reichstag that progressive?”

               “Well, apparently Ludwig has a lot more influence in the Reichstag than we thought. He gathered a lot of support from Reichstag members. There was some resistance, but with most of the Reichstag voting in favour, they couldn’t do anything about it.”

               Eighty-two percent in favour all by himself. I had estimated that even if I proposed the bill myself, I would have garnered only sixty-five percent votes at most. I’d underestimated how much work Ludwig was putting in behind the scenes. He must have one hell of a silver tongue to persuade that many conservatives to his side. Oh well, at least he was putting in all that effort to advance social progressiveness, instead of doing something stupid like subverting democracy like he’d advocated for back in the days.

               “And what about the public reaction?” I asked. Getting the votes in government was one thing, but I wondered if the public sentiment mirrored that of the politicians.

               “The reaction was actually quieter than we thought. I actually expected numerous protests for an overturn of the bill, but there were only a few protests made up of mainly hardcore religious conservatives. It seemed like much of the public didn’t really care. Elya sent her polling girls down and it turned out that most people thought that homosexuality was already legal.”

             “What? Why would they ever have that impression?” I asked, perplexed.

               “Um…” Visha scratched her cheek, face tinged with embarrassment. “Well, apparently, we’ve been really bad at hiding our relationship. It’s basically an open secret.”

               The snake of dread curled in my stomach. “In what way?”

               “Well,” Visha fiddled with her hands by pushing the tip of her index fingers against each other, face redder than a tomato. “When we would do things like hug and cuddle in public, many people had already suspected. And remember that time when we kissed in an alley where we thought nobody was looking? Apparently a few people caught glimpses of that too. Our relationship has been dominating the Berun rumour mill for months now.”

               I smacked my face. I’d been too careless.

               “But Tanya, look on the bright side! Now we can openly declare our relationship, and people won’t even be batting an eye!”

               I considered it for a moment. That was actually a decent idea. In fact, this must be what Visha aimed for all along when she supported Ludwig with his bill. We’ve been dating for what, nearly a year and a half now? It has been somewhat frustrating to have to hide our relationship from the public eye. At least by admitting it officially, we could control the narrative by having an interview with a journalist of our own choosing.

               “Visha, that’s a great idea actually. Instead of letting our relationship be turned into a sensational tabloid story, we can keep the situation under control.” I nodded.

               Having won a re-election and having seen that Ludwig was capable of cajoling the Reichstag without my assistance, I no longer had to worry about sustaining my popularity. In fact, reducing my own political popularity would only further help me maintain my peace when I retire from politics. The last thing I needed was a legendary political reputation, which would only lead to people turning to me in times of crises.

28th January 1943,

Berun,

               “Breaking news! Breaking news! Chancellor Degurechaff confirms in an exclusive interview that she is homosexual! Workplace relationship with the Vice Chancellor admitted!” In the early morning, a newsboy shouted on the sidewalk, holding newly printed newspapers of the Berun Times.

               Soon, he was swarmed by a crowd of people commuting to work. In a mere two minutes, he had sold all of the newspapers he had on hand. The people who bought his newspapers all read through the story on their way to work and even brought the newspaper with them to show their colleagues.

               Across the country, similar scenes occurred, and the Berun Time’s morning edition newspaper spread to every corner of the Imperial States. People read it on the streets, at work, in their homes, at the bar, and on the train.

               In an accounting office, a middle-aged woman brandished the newspaper at her male secretary’s face.

               “Look at this, Sebastian! The rumours were true! What has this country come to!? Two women in a relationship!? A romance is between a man and a woman, like God intended! How can Degurechaff be allowed to remain in office!? Homosexuality is a mental illness! She’s not fit to rule anymore! What an outrage!” The woman bellowed.

               Her secretary just shrugged. “I suppose it sure is strange, Mrs. Schmidt. But I don’t see how their relationship is any of my business. It doesn’t change anything that she’s done for the country.”

               Mary Schmidt was appalled by her secretary’s lacklustre reaction. How could he act so blasé towards such degeneracy? Where was the younger generation’s appreciation for good old conservative values? What if children see what the leader of their nation is doing and imitate it?

               “Young man, don’t you see? This is a sign of this country’s moral decline! And yet everyone claims that Degurechaff is a pious Catholic girl? Blasphemous, I say! I’m going to petition the Catholic Church regarding this issue!”

               In the breakroom of an automobile factory, a group of workers crowded around the rack where the morning newspaper would be stocked daily.

               A young man scratched his chin and smiled. “So, it’s confirmed then. I knew it. Adrian owes me a beer.”

               Another man joked with his friend. “Hey, Liam. Who do you think is the top?”

               “Gotta be Degurechaff. I’d bet my car on it.” Liam smirked.

               An older man with a greying beard ruffed. “This doesn't seem right to me. Our country leader being a queer deviant. We ought to vote her out in the next election.”

               “Mark, are you touched in the head? You want to vote in some useless paper pusher instead of Degurechaff? I can afford to buy a house now because of her. My brother only got a university education because of her Veterans Bill. My cousin isn’t out on the streets because of the unemployment benefits she introduced. And you only managed to get a job here because Lothiern merged with the Imperial States! Stop being ungrateful, man.” A muscular man berated him, causing Mark to look down in shame.

               “Right, never mind then. If you put it like that, it makes me sound like an ungrateful sod.” Mark said, rubbing the back of his head.

               At a private house in Hamburg, a teenage boy showed his dad the morning newspaper. “Dad, look! It’s confirmed.”

               His father took one glance at the newspaper and raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t think that she’d go public with it. Thought she’d keep it an open secret at most.”

               “What are you two talking about?” A woman’s voice came from the kitchen, the mother of the family.

               “Mom, the Chancellor is a lesbian! She went public with it! Do you think that people will accept me and Johann together, now that they know the Chancellor is the same?” The teenage boy enthusiastically showed his mother the newspaper.

             “I don’t know, Ansel.” The mom said with a touch of concern. “Not everyone is as accepting as us and Johann’s parents. Other people might not be as welcoming of differences. But I think that public sentiment could change for the better in the future.”

               At a soldier barracks in the Imperial State of Pullska, several soldiers read their own newspaper.

               “Good for them, honestly.” A soldier commented.

               Contrary to most militaries, the personnel of the Imperial States’ military leaned towards progressiveness, due to the country’s history of meritocracy and Field Marshal Erich von Lehrgen’s recent efforts to introduce more acceptance of differences in Imperial States troops, including that of differing sexualities. With the merging of militaries through multiple plebiscites, the Imperial States now included people from all walks of life. Education of different groups of people to promote understanding and cooperation amongst the common soldiers had been deemed imperative by the Department of Defence.

               “Hey, Ambrozy, you come from a conservative background, don’t you? What do you think? Answer truthfully, consider it an order.” A sergeant asked a private.

               The man, caught off guard by the question, straightened up and answered truthfully. “Sir, I think it’s not right for two women to be together romantically, sir! But I’m not going to complain sir!”  

               “Why not, private?”

               “Well, she saved our hide from the Russy Federation, didn’t she? Without her in charge, we’d be speaking Russy while labouring in gulags, sir. In my books, that overshadows the fact that she likes women, sir. If we have to vote again, I’ll still vote for her, sir.”

               “Good stuff, Ambrozy. You’re invited to come with us the next time we head out into town for drinks.” The sergeant said.

14th February 1943,

Berun,

               There had been some amount of backlash, but it hadn’t been as much as I had thought it would be. According to the latest polls, my approval rate went down from an unprecedented 96% to 88%. Which was still too high for my liking. The second highest approval rate ever for a Chancellor had been only 54%.

               There had been other forms of backlash to the news of course. A Catholic bishop had called my office to urge me to “cease my sinning and repent at the nearest church”. I promptly hung up on him. There were a few demands for me to resign, but all of that were from private disgruntled traditionalist citizens, rather than from organisations or politicians.

               A few protests to overturn the bill had taken to the streets, but they had been small, sparse, and mainly sponsored and organised by religious organisations. They had also been civil, mainly trying to appeal to the public rather than cause any property damage. While they opposed me, I maintained that each private citizen had the right to protest as long as it was done in a peaceful manner, and as such had only sent out police officers to maintain civility.

               Surprisingly, what clashed with these conservative protests had been pro-LGBT counter-protests, aimed at promoting homosexuality acceptance. It seemed my public declaration of homosexuality had emboldened this movement, which had previously been underground or lowkey due to male homosexuality having been previously illegal.

               These anti-LGBT and pro-LGBT protests had actually come to blows on a few occasions, requiring ZEZP mage officers to break up the conflicts. There had been some injuries amongst both protesting factions, but none were serious and fortunately no fatalities had been reported.

               Regarding the politicians, the reaction in the Reichstag had actually been quite positive. Many came out to congratulate my relationship with Visha, even if a few had strained smiles, as though they were being forced. Some even teased me by asking whether they’d be invited to the wedding, as if one was about to happen soon.

               When I had arrived at the Reichstag to see their general reaction, it seemed like they were voting for some law to be passed again. I was glad that the Reichstag had finally decided to do their job instead of relying on me to come up with ideas for new legislation. However, I didn’t stay for long to see what they were voting for, as Visha had rushed me back to the Chancellery before I could.

               The international reaction had been most amusing. The Francois newspapers had invented at least seven ways to call me a whore, four words to call me a harlot, and made up five words for being a homosexual. One Francois paper ever dubbed me the Antichrist. The Albish newspapers had used more euphemisms and nuanced expressions, with confusing headlines such as “Women who wear comfortable shoes in the Reichstag”, “Degurechaff temperamental with her subordinate”, or “Allegations of having no sense of humour denied. Degurechaff is a bit funny” that nobody but a native Albishman could even decipher.

               Nevertheless, the band-aid had been ripped off, and even though there were often stares, whispers, and fingers pointing when Visha and I walked down the streets holding hands, there had been no jeers or even people coming to confront us.

               At night, Visha and I had set up quite the romantic dinner for Valentine's Day. We had dined at a five-star restaurant in Osterry, with a full private room and a private chef reserved. We even hired a small band to play romantic music while we dined by the window at our candlelit table. After finishing up the desserts and paying the bill, Visha asked me to fly with her.

               “Visha, where are we going?” I asked, as we landed at a phone booth a few blocks down.

               “Just wait a minute, the confirmation will be here soon.” She said. Visha then entered the booth and dialled up the number to the Chancellery. It was picked up instantly, likely by a secretary working the afternoon shift.

               “Hi, there, it’s the Vice Chancellor. Has it happened?” A pause as the other side answered. “It has? Alright, thank you.” With that, she ended the call and exited the booth.

               “Did something happen back in Berun?” I asked.

               “Yes, something did happen. Let’s go to the rooftop, I’ll tell you there.”

               Why was Visha acting so cryptic? Oh no, was it bad news? Visha must be doing this to prepare me mentally for the worst. Whatever it was that occurred, it must have been horrible. Did a battle between anti-LGBT and pro-LGBT protesters end in deaths? Was it a terrorist attack? Did PATO declare war?

               With trepidation in my heart, I followed Visha and flew with her to St. Stephen’s Cathedral, hovering above its famous spire.

               “Tanya,” Visha said, slightly lowering her altitude so that she was looking up at me. “Tonight, at 6:58pm, the Reichstag passed a resolution.”

               Oh crap. I had been too cocky and overestimated my popularity. The Reichstag must have overturned the new bill. Visha must be devastated.

               “Visha, it’s alright. We could try again in a few years.” I put a placating hand on her shoulder.

               “The Reichstag has passed the Marriage Equality Act, allowing anyone in the nation to get married, regardless of gender or sexuality.” Visha explained, hand moving into her jacket’s pocket.

               Wait what? So that was what the Reichstag had been doing the last time I visited it. But if that was the case, then…

               Visha went on one knee, still flying, and whipped out a small ring box from her pocket. She opened it, revealing a diamond ring that glistened under the moonlight, casting a sheen across her eyes, which to me, shone even brighter than any gem.

               “Tanya von Degurechaff. Will you marry me?”

Chapter Text

 AYKRR Chapter 31

The Gift

20th February 1943,

Vatican City,

               Dressed in his red vestments, Cardinal Lorenzo Giordano approached His Holiness The Pope Pious XII, hand clutching a newspaper. He had to alert the Pope of very concerning developments in the Imperial States.

               His Holiness was strolling leisurely through the Vatican gardens, enjoying the beauty of all that God had shaped. Lorenzo regretted having to disrupt his peace, if not for the gravity of the situation.

               “Holy Father,” Lorenzo said, pulling the Pope’s attention from a pair of nesting birds. “Have you been informed of the recent events in the Imperial States?”

               Lorenzo handed His Holiness today’s newspaper, announcing the engagement of Chancellor Tanya von Degurechaff and Vice Chancellor Viktoriya Ivanova Serebryakov. Something that was only possible because the Reichstag had legalised all forms of marriage on the same day.

               “I have.” The Pope nodded nonchalantly.

               “Please, Holy Father, this is much more serious than you think. We might not have batted an eye when the Imperial States decriminalised sexual deviancy because it was not the first nation to do so. But legalising same-sex marriage? Completely unprecedented. This could spell a new cultural wave that would chip away at the foundation of the Church. I implore you to excommunicate Tanya von Degurechaff.” Lorenzo pleaded.

               The Imperial States was not a forerunner when it came to decriminalising homosexuality, far from it. The first to do so had been ironically the long-time rival of the Empire, the Francois Republic, which had abolished the law condemning homosexuality back in 1791. With the Imperial States being more culturally progressive than most nations, decriminalisation of homosexuality had been seen as an inevitability and in fact overdue, especially when rumours of Degurechaff’s homosexuality started floating around.

               However, legalisation of marriage between people of the same gender was unheard of, at least in the West. Lorenzo was fearful that such a first step could cause a domino effect, leading to the same law being introduced across OZEV, then the rest of Europa.

               It was utterly impermissible by God. Such deviancy should deserve to be punished in hellfire, not celebrated.

               Additionally, such acceptance towards sexual deviancy and marriage would only serve to distance people from the one true faith. This would erode the Church’s power and pervert social morality.

               “I don’t see why we should be hasty, Lorenzo. I think that this is an opportunity. I’ve communicated with our priests and bishops in the Imperial States, reminding them to be less vocal about the Chancellor.” The Pope said, smiling serenely.

               “An opportunity? Holy Father, are you telling me that you want the Church to support sins now? Have you forgotten Leviticus Chapter 18 verse 22, or Chapter 20 verse 13? “Cum masculo non commisceberis coitu femineo quia abominatio est.” and “Qui dormierit cum masculo coitu femineo uterque operati sunt nefas morte moriantur sit sanguis eorum super eos.” It is God’s own words that condemn such abominations.”

               “It demonises a man lying with another man like he does a woman, not a woman lying with another woman.” The Pope muttered.

               “Holy Father, you’re being pedantic. The meaning is conveyed clearly in the Holy Book; homosexuality is strictly forbidden.”

               “A Holy Book that has been translated and retranslated how many times now? You should try reading the text in the original Hebrew, I can assure you that the meaning of the text becomes much more ambiguous. You could even interpret it as an anti-incest or anti-paedophilia verse. Everything in this world changes, Lorenzo, including the Church. Before the third century, angels were seldom seen with wings. Now, winged angels everywhere. We used to recite the Bible in Latin, now it can be recited in any language. We used to allow people to purchase indulgences and buy their way into heaven, now such acts are strictly forbidden. Even the Old Testament has undergone changes after it was written.” His Holiness explained.

               “Holy Father, change is necessary, yes, but I’m afraid this is too large of a step for the Church to take. A misstep, even. It’s going directly against the Bible!” Lorenzo begged the Pope to see sense.

               “Going against the Bible? Christians defy the Holy Book every day. We cherry pick the verses that we want to follow and ignore the ones we don’t. How many Christians out there eat pork? Wear mixed fabrics? Even magic was considered heresy until much recently. We used to hold witch hunts for people who utilised the same magic that the clergy now employ to heal believers. We are hypocrites, Lorenzo, hypocrites.” The Pope shook his head ruefully, seemingly disillusioned.

               “Holy Father, what has happened to you? You haven’t always been like this.” Lorenzo had just talked to the Pope yesterday, yet it seemed like he had conversed with an entirely different person.

               “You could say that I've received a vision in my slumber. God has shown me the path forward. I’m simply stepping onto that path. May He come to enlighten you as well.”

               “…” Lorenzo was stunned speechless. Did His Holiness just claim that the Holy Spirit had revealed Himself to him?

               The Pope fished out a red letter from his papal robes. No, not a letter. A wedding invitation.

               “I-I-Is that?” Lorenzo stuttered.

               “Yes. They need someone to officiate the wedding in six months’ time. I’ve been lucky enough to be issued an invitation. God has told me to accept. You are wrong about one thing, Lorenzo. This will not diminish the Church’s influence, it will elevate it.”

               This couldn’t be happening. The Pope must be becoming senile. Perhaps due to some mental illness. He needed to dissuade this inane decision. It would be the downfall of the Catholic Church’s values.

               “Holy Father, if you do this, I will have no choice but to resign as Cardinal to protest the decision.”

               “Then I hope that God graces you to change your mind.” The Pope said, then simply returned to bird watching.

               Having nothing left to say, Lorenzo Giordano removed himself from the Pope’s presence. He swiftly returned to his abode and started penning his resignation. He knew that he was not the first to talk to the Holy Father concerning this issue. Others have done so too. There would likely be a mass resignation of cardinals tomorrow. It would be a massive sign of the Catholic Church’s decline, but it must be done.

               That night, he drifted into a fitful sleep. The next day, Lorenzo woke up in a sweat, hyperventilating. The things that he had seen in his dreams. The visions that he had been granted. He looked to the side, at the resignation letter that he had left on his bedside table. He picked it up and ripped it into pieces. It was no longer necessary.

               Having mentally recovered from the knowledge he had been graced with last night, he quickly dressed himself and prepared for Sunday Mass. When he had arrived for Mass, Lorenzo noticed that not a single cardinal was absent.

24th February 1943,

Research and Development Department facility, Germania

               I’d been on cloud nine the past ten days. Glancing at the diamond ring on my finger, I had to suppress my urge to start singing and dancing like some schoolboy who had just successfully asked out his crush. I’d obviously said yes to Visha’s proposal. I might not be the most romantically intelligent person, but even I knew the only acceptable answer when the love of your life proposes to you. Even I would have preferred if I had been the one to propose.

               We’ve been planning the wedding, which we’ve decided to hold six months from now. While most couples often take a longer time to get married after entering an engagement, we’ve known each other for so long that we wanted it done as soon as possible. Six months would give us enough time to prepare.

               We had spent two days drafting an invitation list. Half of the list was already filled. Most of them were friends, colleagues, or close acquaintances. We also needed someone to officiate the wedding. Traditionally for a wedding of our significance, it would be a high-ranking religious official, such as a bishop or archbishop. However, I knew that neither the Catholic Church nor the Orthodox Church, which Visha was a follower of, would officiate the wedding due to our sexuality. Regardless, I’d sent a perfunctory invitation to the Pope as a joke, knowing it he would likely rip it apart in a fit of rage. Such clear mockery was not just aimed at the Church, but also at Being X.

               Instead of a religious figure, I was relying on the former Kaiser to officiate my wedding.

               The invitation to the Pope wasn’t the only provocation I’d sent of course. I even sent an invitation to the Albish royal family, just to see if Churbull would blow his top.

               Perhaps as an effect of my announcing that the guest list would be limited to a mere one hundred people, countless politicians, celebrities, and businessmen, even foreign ones, had politely asked for an invitation. I didn’t know that there were so many influential pro-LGBT people in the world. They were almost acting like desperate interns at a major company’s networking event. I might even have to expand our guest list.

               Nothing these days could put a dent in my jubilant mood. Not the cold air that would force me to always wear at least two bulky jackets to keep warm. Not even the daily paperwork.

               Even a visit to Schugel’s facility hadn’t done anything to dampen my exuberance. He had reported that with all the extra funding I had given his department, he’d completed the progress on the P-1 half a year early. The P-1 had also received a new designation as an amplification orb instead of a computation orb due to its spell amplification ability and limited spell range.

               “Chancellor!” Schugel came to greet me. “Congratulations on your engagement.”

               “Schugel, aren’t you a devout man?” I asked.

               “It makes no difference to me whether the one graced by God marries a man or a woman. For God’s divine gift will vindicate your union regardless.” What the actual hell was this lunatic spouting again?

               “Uh, sure. Anyways, what’s the update on the P-1?” I asked.

               It was like Schugel’s personality performed a one-eighty. One moment, he was a zealot. The second, he turned into an articulate engineer.

               “The P-1’s design has been finalised, suggested improvements included. We’ve managed to manufacture two models of the completed version. At a realistic estimate, we could produce one such amplification orb per month. The test trials were rather impressive. Would you like to witness them?”

               When I assented, Schugel led me to the same room where we had viewed the P-1 prototype tests from.

             The finalised P-1 design was around the same size as before, but Schugel told me it was even heavier, at seventy kilograms now.

               The same tests were conducted like last time, with the same results. The barrier produced by the P-1 withstood the same amount of damage.

               “I don’t see how the finished P-1 is different from the prototype. If anything, it’s inferior because of the extra mass.” I commented.

               “Chancellor, that’s because we haven’t demonstrated the new tests yet.” Schugel chuckled, as though hearing a toddler ask how a motorbike was faster than a bicycle.

               The next tests had been the barrier inversion features that Elya had asked for. Namely the ability to block things from coming out and preventing sound from escaping. The barrier’s functionality could be inverted, yet retain the same durability, all whilst allowing people from outside to fire into the barrier. Schugel even added the ability for the barrier to become transparent, but only for people inside the barrier, and vice versa when the function was inverted. In this way, enemies could not see inside a normal barrier, and prisoners could not see outside an inverted barrier.

               I also thought about the P-1’s potential as a trap. If we could use its inverted barrier function, bury it deep under the ground alongside a mage, then activate it when the enemy was right above, we could trap a sizable enemy element inside a cage that they could not see or hear outside of. Meanwhile, our own forces could ambush them from outside, allowing them to fire through the inverted barrier at the clueless enemy inside. It would be a slaughter. In fact, I should lend some of these to the Annamese for a field test against the Francois. As long as the Annamese promised to destroy the P-1 amplification orb before it could be captured by enemy hands, I’d be fine with them performing our field tests for us. Ho Chi Minh already knew of the P-1’s existence when I employed it to protect us last year.

               “Most impressive, Schugel. Elya will be very pleased.”

               “I have one final test to show you, Chancellor.” Schugel started leading me outside of the viewing room. We travelled for what felt like ages, until we finally arrived at another viewing room.

               When I entered, what I saw through the window was not an open field, but rather the sea. This must be the naval development section of the Department of Research and Development, which was built next to the coast. Schugel must be showing me an application of the P-1 on naval battlefields.

               I spied on the sea an old battleship and another old destroyer, both Francois-make. It must be two of the ships that we captured instead of sunk during the naval battle with the Francois. Instead of scrapping them, we had repurposed them as training platforms.

               “Is the P-1 on the battleship?” I asked. This must be a demonstration of the P-1’s capabilities against naval artillery. Although I didn’t see how it was much different from the standard test, since the P-1 would still withstand the same amount of kinetic energy before the barrier was shattered.

               “No. The P-1 is there.” Schugel pointed over yonder, and I spied a dark shape emerging from the water. One of our few submarines.

               Schugel continued to explain. “At first, we thought that the P-1 could help increase a submarine’s maximum dive depth. However, we were quickly disappointed. The P-1 could not sustain itself against the ocean’s constant pressure. To withstand high pressure, a mage would undergo a net drain of magic to strengthen and repair the barrier, limiting the timeframe that a submarine could go below its crush depth. Even an A-class mage would last no longer than three minutes. Furthermore, the faster the submarine propelled itself, the more pressure was exerted onto the barrier. The P-1’s barrier could only be indefinitely deployed at a depth higher than one hundred metres.”

               “That’s practically useless. Most nation’s submarines have a maximum crush depth of two hundred metres or more. Although I suppose it would protect the submarine against depth charges.” I said.

               “Exactly. But when we were tweaking the barrier’s shape in order to achieve a configuration that would fare better under deeper pressure, we came across a spark of ingenuity.” Schugel said. “Just watch.”

               The submarine submerged beneath the waves. The radar in the viewing room showed what the battleship could detect from its position. With the advanced radar that the department equipped the training battleship with, we could detect the periscope of a submerged submarine from a kilometre and a half away.

               “The submarine crew should be activating the P-1 onboard soon.” Schugel said. “Right about now. Keep your eyes on the radar, Chancellor.”

               I trained my attention onto the radar, seeing the submarine approach the battleship from its twelve o’clock direction. Suddenly, the dot representing the submarine simply vanished. I jerked with a startle.

               “Impossible.” I muttered.

               “Not at all, Chancellor.” Schugel cackled. “General Weiss’s ideas had given me inspiration. While the completed P-1’s barrier could be modified by the mage using it to take any shape, and even wrap around the vehicle it’s on, I realised it could have another application. Stealth. I improved the shape modification of the barrier so that the user could customise the shape of the P-1’s barrier, eliminating flat surfaces and edges, and allowing the shape of the submarine and its periscope and antennas to be masked, thus making the reflections back to the radar much smaller. It could also be employed on larger ships and aircrafts to make them harder to detect.”

               My mind was officially blown. With this, any of our ships and aircrafts could have an active stealth mode. And this was without any transistors. I dreaded what Schugel could do when he could get his hands on them.

               Before I could express my praise. Schugel told me to keep watching. “The submarine should resurface soon.”

               Instead of seeing the submarine surface near the battleship as I expected, the destroyer near the battleship shook violently, then started tilting over slowly. No, the ship was listing. Sinking, even.

               The submarine then resurfaced a mere twenty metres away from the sinking destroyer, never having been detected by the battleship’s radar until it started resurfacing. It had to be noted that the destroyer had been positioned south of the battleship by a nautical mile while the submarine had initially been north of the battleship by two nautical miles.

               Sinking of the destroyer wasn’t much of a financial loss for the demonstration. The trial had been conducted in relatively shallow waters, so the destroyer could easily be recovered, refloated, and repaired.

               “How did it sink the ship?” I asked. That wasn’t a torpedo that hit the ship. It was a kinetic collision. A kinetic torpedo fuelled by hydrogen peroxide, perhaps?

               “The mage on the submarine shaped the P-1’s barrier into a thin needle and used it to puncture a hole into the destroyer’s hull. Remember, Chancellor, that the maximum range of the P-1 amplification orb’s barrier is two hundred fifty metres. While the P-1 still can’t be used for a long term at a lower depth than one hundred metres, the submarine could remain right under its target ship and puncture the hull from below or nearby with the P-1 barrier, as the durability of the barrier increases along with how much magic you put into it. With an A-class mage putting in as much energy as two artillery spells, you could ‘stab’ the hull of a ship and puncture its hull with the needle-thin barrier, as long as the armour is no more than ten inches thick. Once punctured, the mage could customise the shape of the barrier again by expanding the tip of the needle and widen the hole made in the hull, thus leading to the ship taking on water.”

               An undetectable submarine that could puncture holes into nearby ships or fire torpedoes, then slink away unnoticed? Absolutely terrifying for any naval captain. And unlike torpedoes, which could be detected by watching the sea from above, a puncture made from a P-1 would not be detected until it was too late. While the puncturing method would likely not work on heavily armoured battleships and battlecruisers, it would work against cruisers and smaller ships. For battleships and cruisers, the submarine could easily switch to torpedoes.

               This was something that could challenge Albish naval supremacy and elevate OZEV’s naval prowess. While the Imperial States was under a naval treaty with Albion that prohibited us from having more than five submarines on duty and two prototypes as training platforms, the treaty never mentioned our OZEV allies. Both Ildoa and Legadonia fielded a substantial naval fleet, with several modern submarines. Furthermore, Croatia was having a new submarine built in the Kievan drydock of Odessa. The Russy Tsardom too was exploring its naval designs for laying down its modernised Baltic Fleet.

               I could easily lend the P-1 amplification orb to my allies and teach them how to use it, then allow them to wreak havoc onto the enemy fleet, should we ever return to a time of war. And unlike with building ships, a P-1 amplification orb could be manufactured and transferred to any submarine of choice in complete secrecy.

               According to Schugel, Admiral Albrecht, who had seen the completed P-1 before me, had also been incredibly interested in the P-1’s potential contributions to submarine warfare. The admiral had even asked if the next version of the orb could somehow convert emitted waves from radar and convert it into heat or divert the energy into the sea, thus making a submersible completely radar silent. Unfortunately, that level of magical technology was still out of reach for the Imperial States, especially when we still only had vacuum tubes.

               Similarly, because of technological constraints, Schugel was unable to program more than one spell into the P-1. He theorised that to program more than one spell, he would need to drastically overcomplicate the P-1 and even double the weight. It was simpler to just wait for the transistors to be applicable to military hardware use before embarking on the P-2. In the meantime, Schugel was thinking about reformatting a P-1 amplification orb to cast healing spells instead of barrier spells, thus setting up mobile hospitals.

               Schugel working on two inventions in a row that would save lives instead of taking them? It seemed miracles really could happen.

               Before I left the Department of Research and Development, the chief engineer responsible for heading the semiconductor development project had caught up with me to inform me that his team had managed to develop a semiconductor that matched my specifications, although it made use of mainly germanium instead of silicon like I had anticipated.

               Nevertheless, I was ecstatic and had demanded to see the prototype straight away.

               This world’s first transistor did not look like how I expected at all. It was larger than I’d imagined, a spring-like piece of metal on top of a plastic triangular wedge wrapped in gold foil, having a point of contact below with a chunk of roughly cut germanium on top of a metal base. Two wires connected to both sides of the triangle. A point-contact transistor. Difficult to manufacture, low limitations and very fragile.

               There had been some difficulties during the development process. The team had brought up the problem with germanium being difficult to purify and having a restricted temperature range in which it could operate. Furthermore, national annual production of germanium was less than two hundred kilograms, thus making it difficult to mass produce these transistors. I planned to amend the latter issue by ordering more germanium mining in the future.

               This early transistor was nowhere near ready to be implemented into military electronics. However, I hid my disappointment and congratulated the team. This was merely the first step to an electronic revolution. They deserved to have their achievement celebrated for having invented the transistor four years before my world did.

               The lead engineer must have detected my disappointment though, as he pulled me aside and promised to further improve the design. According to him, they were already working on an improved semiconductor – a bipolar junction semiconductor.

               “Can you use more silicon in your transistors?” I mused.

               “Transistors?” The lead engineer asked. “Is that the name you’ve given it? We thought about calling it the transfersistor. But I suppose the transistor is an easier name to pronounce. I’ll tell the rest of the team.”

               Did I just accidentally coin the term transistor? Hopefully the engineers wouldn’t be offended by my naming an invention that they poured their sweat and tears into.

               “Anyways,” I coughed. “Silicon transistors?”

               “We’ve given thought about it, but germanium has a higher carrier mobility, so our team has decided to stick with it. Perhaps a silicon semiconductor would be easier to manufacture, but we haven’t explored that possibility yet.”

               “I’ll give you guys extra funding to try fabricating silicon transistors as well. Do you guys have any silicon germanium alloy, by any chance?”

               “Silicon germanium?” The lead engineer asked, confused. However, he still pulled out a notepad from his lab coat and jotted down the term for later exploration.

               Crap, did I accidentally mention something that hasn’t been invented or discovered by this time period like when I mentioned plutonium a few years back?

               “Don’t mind what I said, just keep up the good work. I’ll try to get you guys a raise as well.” I patted the man on the shoulder. Getting these people a higher salary was the least I could do after they propelled the Imperial States’ technology ahead of the other nations by years.

               Late at night, I lied on the bed with Visha as we discussed our wedding plans. We had already agreed that Visha would be walked down the aisle by Zettour. I would be waiting to take her hand, wearing a pantsuit instead of a dress. Neither of us could imagine me being walked down the aisle in a frilly wedding dress of all things.

               “I wished that it could be my father who walks me down the aisle.” Visha sighed in regret. Her parents and her aunt and uncle had died during the First Great War. Not because of violence or starvation, but rather simple tuberculosis. To substitute for her father’s absence, we’d decided to ask Zettour to do the honours in his stead. Having been like a grandfather to both of us, he’d readily acquiesced.

               While Visha and I would discuss the finer details of the wedding together, the main bulk of the planning fell onto her alone. She had a wealth of experience with planning and logistics. Compared to preparing for the World Cup, a wedding was child’s play. She’d already picked the date, time, and venue for the event.

               Even though the announcement of our engagement had made it to international news, we wanted the wedding to be a relatively private affair. The guest list would be limited to one hundred guests, and no more. Neither would we allow the paparazzi to be in attendance, nor televise the wedding. We’d still record a video of the wedding though, to be kept by us and distributed amongst the guests. However, this didn’t mean that the public wouldn’t be able to participate in the merriment. We intended to have a grand, televised wedding parade after the wedding reception.

               “I wished the rest of my family in the Russy Tsardom could see this. If they’re still alive.” Visha sighed.

               “I’m sure they’re still alive, Visha. The Russy Tsardom is a big place. Perhaps they haven’t found them yet. Or maybe they fled to Siberia or the Far East. That would explain why they haven’t come out of hiding yet.” Even after months of searching, we hadn’t found hair nor hide of the rest of Visha’s family. She was starting to fear the worst.

               Visha must have found it increasingly uncomfortable to speculate the fate of her family, as she quickly changed the topic.

               “What do you think people will bring to us as wedding gifts?” Visha asked. After the announcement of our engagement, many of our colleagues had started surreptitiously surveying for our gift preferences.

               “Hopefully something practical and not an expensive long-term burden.” I yawned. Back in my old life, I’d been to plenty of weddings. Most of the gifts brought to the wedded couples were monetary, but a few had been rather extravagant gifts that required upkeep. I remembered being at my CEO’s son’s wedding once, and he was given a small yacht by an executive of the company. I only later found out that such yachts required nearly a hundred million yen in annual upkeep costs, leading to the son selling it in less than a month.

               And speaking of gifts, didn’t Being X promise to give me one all the way back in May last year, when he last spoke with me? It’s been nine months now, and I haven’t seen anything resembling one. What a fraud. If a delivery company was ever this opaque about their exact delivery date, no customer would ever order from them.

               “Anyways, after the wedding, don’t you think that it’s only appropriate for us to adopt some children? Start a family? We could adopt an adorable girl that looks exactly like you. Or maybe a boy. You’ve always been a tomboy.” Visha asked, a sly smile on her face.

               “I’d be a terrible parent. I’m too busy to take care of children along with being the Chancellor. Being a parent requires time and effort in raising your child. I can invest in plenty of the latter, but I’m deprived of the former. Like I said before, we should consider it after my term ends. I can’t imagine how exhausted I’d be if I had to juggle both governance and child-rearing at the same time.” I said.

               “I think that you would grow into the role of a parent well, Tanya. Didn’t you manage to train up the 203rd in a few months? That’s like raising forty-eight children at once.”

               “There’s a big difference between training adults and raising children, Visha. I can’t just fire artillery spells at babies to discipline them, now can I?”

               Perhaps the one whose parenting skills I should be worrying about was Visha instead of me. If she was comparing a soldier from the 203rd to a baby, I’d be afraid for the baby’s life.

               Soon, we grew too somnolent to keep up our discussion and fell asleep, holding hands.

25th February 1943,

Tanya and Visha’s apartment,

               I woke up to noisy, high-pitched cries. Thinking that it came from Visha, I jolted awake. I tried to sit up but noticed that my body was weighed down by two weights on my arm, which at some point during my sleep had moved to my torso. At the same time, I felt utterly exhausted, as though I had used up all of my magic. Was there an attack? What happened? Was Visha safe?

               My bleary eyes forced itself open, and I saw Neumann flying down from the roof and entering via the window of our apartment. As part of the early morning shift rotation, he must have been alerted by Visha's cries. His eyes and mouth were widened in shock as he poked his head into our bedroom.

               Temporarily ignoring the weights on my arms, I turned to my right to check on Visha. At a glance, she was completely unharmed. In fact, she wasn’t even crying. Instead, she was staring at me with amazement. Or rather, the objects in my arms.

               In the midst of my bewilderment, I hadn’t noticed that the loud cries in the room were coming from the weights on my arms instead of me. 

               Feeling the viper of dread coiling up inside my stomach, I forced myself to stare down.

               Held in my arms were two naked, bawling newborns, covered in amniotic fluid. One boy and one girl, both with tuffs of blonde wisps on their heads. Two lengths of roughly cut umbilical cords still connected to their belly buttons. Aside from looking like they had literally been born today, both babies seemed utterly healthy. As if noticing my gaze on them, they opened their eyelids momentarily to reveal brilliant cerulean eyes. They quickly shut them again to keep wailing as though the sight of me had offended them.

               My mind went into shock and had to reboot itself. What? How? Who? When? Why?

               How was this possible? Where did these newborns come from? Where were their parents? Who were their parents? When did they get here? Why were they here? Did someone infiltrate my apartment, only to plant two newborns onto my arms? But I had 24/7 security. Not even the best mages in the world could make it past their surveillance. This was impossible.

               But then as I glanced down at the infants again, I noticed a card on my lap. It read:

               “Deus lo vult.”

               DDDDDDDDDAMN YOU! BEING X!!!

Chapter Text

AYKRR Chapter 32

Twin Issues

25th February 1943,

               Neumann loved his job. It was a massive improvement compared to being an officer in the military.

               He was entitled to fantastic monetary compensation and four weeks of annual paid leave. He didn’t need to keep to an overly strict training regimen like when he was in the military, nor worry about being sent on dangerous missions anymore. He could always count on having warm food at his table and a soft bed to sleep on. And having a beautiful fiancée waiting for him at home? The old Neumann could never even dream of that.

               He was fully aware that even though he was well paid, his job was superfluous in nature. Protecting the Chancellor? From whom? He was about as useful as a lifeguard for a professional swimmer. His position was less about protecting the Chancellor than intimidating and deterring those lacking enough brain cells to dream about attacking her.

               Which was why today’s event had flipped his view about the redundancy of his occupation upside down.

               The day started off like any other. He was taking the early morning shift from five in the morning to one in the afternoon, after which he would be relieved by another flight of mages. He confirmed the rotation with the night shift team and relieved them, then took his position on the rooftop, just above the Chancellor’s apartment. The rest of his men would situate themselves close by.

               It was at seven o’clock on the dot that he felt it. A massive magic signature. It was of such titanic magnitude that his instincts as a mage almost convinced him he had been struck by a spell. But there had been no explosions. No effects. Neumann himself was unharmed.

               That shouldn’t be possible. A basic law of magic was that it was impossible for a spell that consumed magic to not produce an effect proportional to the magic used. The signature had been so colossal that any magic scanner in the city must have caught it.

             His team had reacted much as he had. Frozen in total shock. Poor Albert had almost fainted from just feeling the magical signature alone. Neumann swiftly took charge again and tried to pinpoint the origin of the magical signature. But it was no use. Even though it was slowly fading, there were still remnants of it in the air. It was like trying to find a faint star during daylight.

               It was then that Neumann realised that while he couldn’t pinpoint the origin of the magical signature, he did recognise it. It was the Chancellor’s signature.

               His wartime training kicked in. He flew down to the Chancellor’s apartment, rifle gripped in hand. If she had used that much magic for a single non-offensive spell, then she must be trying to defend herself against an assailant who was trying to assassinate her with non-magical means, as Neumann had not felt any unfamiliar signatures. But how did anyone get past his team’s surveillance? And without magic too? No, that didn’t matter. What mattered was that Neumann fulfilled his true job description for once.

               He could hear cries from inside the apartment. His stomach dropped and fright dug its way in. Oh no. The apartment’s windows were opaque, preventing him from seeing inside. Neumann started to fear the worst.

               When he landed and pried open the windows to peer inside, the sight that greeted him dispelled his fear but left his psyche befuddled. There were no assassins, but there were two people that had not been there before. To be more specific, two mewling newborns in the Chancellor’s arms.

               Both of them were covered in amniotic fluid and had two lengths of umbilical cords still attached to their belly buttons. The Vice Chancellor was looking at the babies in astonishment. The Chancellor, cradling the two infants with stiff arms, was pale and looked exhausted. Normally, such symptoms were present in mages who had overexerted themselves through using too much magic.

               “Neumann! I need you to get one of your men to buy these items: baby formula, diapers and some clothing for infants. And call in another team, I want a double guard. I need it done ASAP!” The Chancellor ordered, and Neumann snapped into attention. He immediately flew away to complete her orders.

               As he flew, he wondered. How the hell did those babies get there?

               After I dismissed Neumann, I turned to Visha. I needed to somehow explain the mysterious appearance of these newborns. I was sure that Being X was responsible for them being here, but I didn’t know how. There was a possibility that these children were teleported away from their legitimate mother or mothers and dropped into my lap. In which case, all I needed to do was find their biological parents and return them.

               However, as with all things pertaining to Being X, I doubted it was that simple. Looking at how much these children resembled me, I had an inkling that they were related to me in some capacity. Knowing that egotistical douchebag, I would be their biological mother despite never having given birth. That would open up a whole can of worms.

               That would also mean Being X was somehow responsible for their existence. I had no idea as to Being X’s intention regarding sending two defenceless infants here. They likely weren’t here to harm me, as they were literally infants. Perhaps they might grow strong enough to threaten me one day, but then he should have delivered them to literally anyone else aside from me and have them raised to be my nemesis. He was practically wasting useful pawns by delivering them to me. While I wouldn’t harm innocent babies, whether from Being X or not – I wasn’t a monster – I could easily send them to a trusted orphanage and post agents to monitor their growth. Being X should know that I wasn’t someone to immediately develop maternal instincts just from seeing cute babies. I was a rational creature.

               “Tanya, where did they come from?” Visha asked in a whisper, admiring the children I was cradling. She must be as perplexed as I was regarding their origin.

               “It’s obvious that they’ve been abducted and deposited here.” I said to Visha. “We should try to find these children’s parents and return them.”

             I sighed in relief when Visha seemed to accept my reasoning. It was the most logical explanation, as even in a world with magic, the concept of babies popping out of thin air was ludicrous. This was one of the circumstances where most people would apply Occam’s Razor. When faced with multiple explanations for the same phenomenon, the simplest explanation is usually the most accurate.

               Visha leaned over to look curiously at the softly crying babies in my arms. For a moment, I feared that she was comparing their likeness to me. But instead, she offered to take the girl from my arms and started rocking her gently until she stopped crying. I clumsily imitated her, which did eventually calm the boy down as well.

               “Aww, look at how adorable they are.” Visha cooed. “I can’t believe that someone would be so malicious to abduct these two little angels.” I hoped that Visha wasn’t getting attached to them already.

               Visha was clearly more experienced with dealing with babies than I was, having babysat numerous younger siblings and cousins in the past. Having recovered from the shock of two babies miraculously appearing in our bedroom, she helped me clamp down the umbilical cords and cut them cleanly with mage blades. Then, she gently dried the babies of amniotic fluid and wrapped them in towels.

               Eventually, Neumann’s subordinate returned with what I asked for. Neumann had delivered the items to me personally and profusely apologised, but I simply forgave him due to the complete implausibility of the intrusion, then told him to give Visha and I some privacy. 

               Visha put the diapers on the newborns as I watched. She told me that a baby’s first bath should be delayed after the first twenty-four hours, to allow something she called the vernix caseosa, which was the waxy substance that covered the babies’ skin, to be absorbed by the babies. Afterwards, she used the formula powder to make two bottles of warm milk. She laid them on the bed and fed the two of them at once with both hands whilst gushing over how endearing they looked. It all looked so incredibly natural for her.

               In the meantime, I called Elya to get her to contact some investigators and a paediatrician. When she picked up the phone, her tone wasn’t calm like I expected.

               “Tanya, what happened? Practically every mage and magic scanner in the city felt your magic signature! We thought the city was under attack!” Elya said.

               “My signature?” No wonder I had felt so drained of magic. But what had all that magic been used for? I glanced back at the babies whom Visha was somehow managing to feed both at once while muttering about lacking something called ‘colostrum’. Hopefully, that magic I lost had been Being X influencing my magic to unconsciously teleport two random babies to my location. Please, please be the case.

               “Yes. Did you cast a spell?” Elya asked.

               “I suspect that I did cast one during my sleep. There was no attack, just to let you know. If it is convenient, can you send me some magicians to discern what spell it was? And also keep an ear out for any reports of missing babies with blonde hair and blue eyes.”

               Despite sounding completely nonplussed by my orders, Elya faithfully carried them out. In just a couple hours, two magicians – not mages – arrived at my apartment.

               There was a distinction between mages and magicians. A mage was more focused on the practical application of magic. Most mages these days were aerial combat mages or civilian mages involved in industry. Magicians were specialised in the theoretical aspects of magic, namely investigation, research, magical technology development, and theory.

               When I allowed them in to investigate, I told them as much as I knew without sounding like a lunatic. I had gone to sleep and had woken up with my magic drained and two newborns in my arms. The magic signature that I had generated in my sleep had been detectable throughout the entire city.

               The senior magician, one Finn Meyer, scrutinised the spot that I slept in. He fiddled with his computation orb and used a recording spell, as if to capture some intangible evidence. His younger subordinate, Adolf Muller, asked politely if he could see the babies and capture their magical signature if they had any. Visha and I had given him permission, as long as he did not do anything to make them uncomfortable. Given that they were likely what that abominable Being X had intended as a ‘gift’, I’d wager that they had high magic potential.

               After collecting all of the evidence that they needed, the magicians reported back to me and Visha.

               “Madam Chancellor, I’m not sure how to say this. I just recorded the leftover traces of magic in the air and gave it a look over. While it is very rare for mages and magicians to cast spells in their sleep, it can happen if the mage’s unconscious desire is strong enough. I’ve never seen one of this magnitude or complexity. If we want to discern what spell you cast in your slumber, we will need to take the recordings back to our laboratory and analyse it over a period of time.” Herr Meyer reported to me in my living room, his expression one of amazement.

               “And how long would that be?” Visha. The sooner we get our answers, the sooner we can decide what to do with these two children.

               “Months, at least. Like I said, I’ve never witnessed such a phenomenon in my life. I don’t even know where to start deciphering it. I might even need to call upon the assistance of my colleagues and mentors to hasten the process. If what you described about your experience is accurate, then perhaps you unconsciously cast a teleportation spell, which led to those children ending up in your arms.”

              Visha and I sighed in relief. At least there had not been an intruder. Still, that meant that I might have accidentally abducted someone else’s children. I’ll have to apologise and compensate them if that was the case.

               But aside from that. Waiting months for results? What was I going to do with these children during that time?

               “What about the infants’ magic signatures?” I asked.

               The younger magician, Herr Muller replied. “They both have very strong magic signatures, indicating high potential as a mage. Their magical growth should be specially monitored. We will also bring back recordings of their magic signatures to the lab and compare it to the national database for a match. Magic potential is hereditary, so we might be able to find their parents if they are registered mages. The results for that should come back in around a year.” The magician explained.

               This was what I was afraid of. If their magic signatures were similar to mine, it would suggest a genetic link. I chanced a glance at Visha. She would surely ask for us to raise them if those children were related to us.

               “A year? Is it possible for you to get it done any quicker?” Visha asked.

               “I would be able to find a match sooner if I could weave around the red tape. A lot of the magical signatures require a security clearance, which takes time to get approved. And since all magic signatures are recorded and visualised as 2D shapes on a graph, I’ll have to manually compare signatures via juxtaposition, then rank all of the magic signatures I compared by similarity.”

               “You have my permission to access the files to all magical signatures in the nation. How long would it take without the red tape?” Visha said. I didn’t say anything to refute her and lengthen the time it would take to find the children’s identity, fearing that it would put suspicion on myself.

               “Then five to seven months, at an optimistic estimate.” The magician answered. At least that was better than a year.

               Two hours after the magicians bid us goodbye, the paediatrician that I ordered arrived. Dr. Amsler was a gentle looking middle-aged woman, with crow’s feet at the corners of her eyes. She helped us measure the children’s weight, size and check for any hidden deformities or syndromes. The woman marvelled at the children’s results. According to her, she’d never seen babies in such perfect health.

               For some reason, she congratulated me for doing such a good job and recovering so quickly. What did I even do? Visha did all the work calming them down and taking care of them. I must have misunderstood her. She probably just complimented my competency as Chancellor and for recovering the country’s economy.

               After the paediatrician left, Visha and I were finally alone to discuss what to do with the infants in our apartment. Visha had just put them to sleep earlier.

               “Can we adopt them if we can’t find their parents?” Visha asked. This was what I was afraid of.

               “Visha, think about it. Both of us are busy with our work. How would we find the time to take care of two children?” I sighed.

               “We don’t have to take care of them alone. It takes a village to raise a child, remember? We could ask our friends to chip in.” Visha said optimistically.

               While we had a sizable support network, most of them were also busy people. I could hire a babysitter, but they would need to go through a heavy vetting process.

               “We don’t even know if we could keep them. If their true parents are out there, we’ll have to return them. Right now, I think the best action we can take is to put them in my old orphanage’s custody until we can verify their parentage. I trust Sister Margaret. We can post guards to monitor the children’s safety too. If you want, we can visit them occasionally to check up on them.” I said.

               I could not discount that those babies were indeed agents of Being X sent down in the forms of infants to fool me into a false sense of security. I still had to be vigilant around them. The guards being posted near the orphanage were more to monitor them than to watch for intruders. 

               I also could not rule out the possibility that they were reincarnated like me. When I first got reincarnated, I had been too weak and unaware to do anything. When babies are first born, they are practically half-blind and half-deaf, with zero muscle coordination to speak of. It was only until I was around two that I had enough agency to explore the world around me and search for information about it.

               Just in case that the twins really were assassins sent to grow up and kill me, I’ll have to ask for regular reports about their development. Major milestones like crawling, walking, talking, and reading meant that they would be one step closer to being an actual threat to me. The guards that I post around them would also be required to immediately report to me if they did anything out of the norm or showed interest in topics too advanced for them to just be attributed to precociousness. Call me paranoid, but I’d rather be safe than sorry.

               No matter what Being X’s goal was in sending down these twins, I refused to fall prey to his schemes.

               “And if they don’t have any living parents, can we adopt them then? Just look at them, they look just like you.” Visha employed the deadliest weapon in her arsenal – puppy eyes. Damn it. I still haven’t developed a proper counter to it.

               I contemplated on how best to deal with these two children while considering Visha’s desire for a family. For now, it was best to keep their existence a secret to the public. In that way, if the tests came out that they were related to me, the media wouldn’t have a field day by calling me an irresponsible parent that put her children in an orphanage.

               Only after the tests showed definitively that I was related to the twins, would I reveal the existence to the public and pretend that I raised them in secret all along. I could lie that I conceived in secret with artificial insemination, which should be possible in this age if it was with fresh sperm. I could also state that the donor’s identity was anonymous. I’ve been wearing thick clothing lately to stave off the late fall and winter chill, so I could spin that as trying to keep my pregnancy a secret.

               Only my closest confidants would know the truth of how the children came into existence, which was likely Being X expending my magic to create them. In fact, he might have made my current body the same way, seeing how neither of my parents have been discovered.

               But I was jumping the gun here, if I was lucky, they wouldn’t be related to me at all, and I would not have any obligation to raise them.

               “Only if they don’t have any living relatives. And maybe when they’re several months old first. I once heard that the first six months of raising an infant is the hardest. It’ll be less arduous to raise them if they’re older. And we’ll have more time to sort things out so we can be less occupied. I think that adopting them right after our wedding would be for the best.” I reasoned. I was still hoping against hope that they weren’t related to me and had relatives that I could foist them on.

               Visha accepted my conditions merrily. I could see in her eyes the hope, excitement and eagerness that she failed to hide.

               “Shouldn’t we name them at least?” Visha asked.

               “It’s not our place to name them. It’s not like we’re their parents.” I said.

             “But we can’t just refer to them as ‘those babies’ all the time. And it’s illegal for children to go without a name for a month.”

               I sighed. “Alright then. Any suggestions?”

25th February 1943, 1:46 pm

10 Downing Street, Londinium,

               “Prime Minister, we have most concerning news coming from our agents in Berun.” Theodore Johnson, the Director of the SIS, reported.

               “Let me guess, it concerns Degurechaff? It’s not like half the newspapers on Earth have printed her name on their pages this past week.” Churbull mumbled.

               Degurechaff coming out as homosexual has actually done wonders for Churbull’s popularity within his political party – the Tories. As the Conservatory Party, most of its members were culturally conservative, and most held poor views of those with non-conventional sexual orientations. Degurechaff being homosexual had rallied the hard conservatives of the party against her, who then threw their support behind Churbull, known for his anti-Degurechaff and anti-OZEV stance.

               Churbull was almost grateful to the woman for causing his popularity to undergo a resurgence after it started declining at the end of the Second Great War. Lord Halifax was gaining some popularity within the party and there were rumours that he would soon challenge Churbull for party leadership. Some of the party found him a better alternative to lead the Allied Kingdom due to his more moderate stance pertaining to international relations with OZEV and Degurechaff. In Churbull’s opinion, that man was simply scared of the Devil and wished to appease her.

               Churbull had been a tiny bit provoked by her sending a wedding invitation to Buckingham Palace though. Fortunately, His Majesty had assured him that he had no plans nor inclinations to attend the wedding, although the invitation would be kept as a display in the royal family’s living room until the day of the wedding as a reminder that the royals of the Albion were not beholden to the Imperial States’ influence, despite their substantial Germanian ancestry. The soon-to-be seventeen Princess Elizabeth had been quite miffed that she was denied the chance to visit the Imperial States for the first time, but that was just teenage impulsiveness. Churbull was positive that the young princess would not do anything rash nor cause a ruckus.

               “Yes sir. At seven o’ clock this morning, all of our three mage agents in Berun were startled when they detected a gigantic magic signature emanating from Chancellor Degurechaff’s residence. We also spotted movement from Degurechaff’s bodyguards but were unable to discern what exactly they were doing.”

               “I assume that Degurechaff was responsible for this spell. How did your agents respond?”

               “They acted according to protocol. Should they ever encounter a large magic signature that they could not discern the purpose of, they are to immediately escape the city as surreptitiously as possible and report their findings.” Johnson reported.

               If Churbull remembered correctly, this should be the new protocol, updated after the assassination attempt on Degurechaff. It prioritised preserving their agents and getting any useful information back over deep infiltration of enemy organisations. The increased activity and freedom of the BND has made deep undercover missions too risky and prone to failure.

               “I’m not as well versed on thaumaturgy as you are. What are your opinions on the implications of this spell?” Churbull asked.

               “There were no explosions or obvious effects, nor did our agents feel any discomfort. But given how far away they were from Degurechaff’s residence, it’s clear that the spell used a great deal of magic. Therefore, I suspect that it was a long-range scanning spell of some kind. Perhaps a mapping spell. Some of the SIS have raised concerns that it could have been a detection spell for mages. If the latter was the case, then our agents acting according to protocol had saved their own lives.”

               “The Imperial States must have invented a new spell then. One that we have no information about aside from its range.” Winston cursed. Every year, it felt like they were increasingly lagging behind the Imperials in magic.

               “We do know that casting it requires an inordinate amount of magic. This at least confirms that Degurechaff’s unprecedented magic capacity was retained after her last battle with Mary Sue.” Johnson said. “It also lends some credence to Air Marshall Drake’s theory about the events in Vologda.”

               “Didn’t he say that even with Mary Sue’s magic capacity, she’d only be able to manage an explosion equivalent to the Halifax incident?” Churbull asked.

               “Yes. But given the Imperial State’s advanced computation orb technology, we cannot rule out that such effects could be amplified with their technology.” Johnson cautioned.

               “If Degurechaff could personally cast a spell over a dozen times more destructive than the Halifax incident, then we are at her mercy. I will not allow that to happen. We need some sort of deterrence for ourselves. I will bring up a proposal to PATO to authorise research into weaponizing nuclear materials.” Churbull murmured.

               “Prime Minister, that would take years with our resources. Maybe even a decade. And the associated costs would be staggering and potentially unsustainable when PATO is already dealing with rampant colonial unrest. We don’t even know if such technology is possible.” Johnson said quietly, fully aware of the magnitude of their discussion.

               “I am aware. But it is better than to see our empire crumble away and become a puppet state, strung up by Degurechaff’s strings.” Churbull stated resolutely. “Don’t repeat the mistakes of our predecessors and underestimate that woman. Right now, she is probably scheming to dissect our nation piece by piece. We cannot afford to be complacent.”

25th February 1943, 1:47 pm

Tanya and Visha’s apartment,

               “I’m sorry, what am I supposed to do?” I asked Visha with utter bewilderment.

               “Skin-to-skin contact.” Visha beamed at me brightly.

               Visha had ended up naming the boy Alexander, after her grandfather. It also meant ‘protector of men’. For some reason, the first person that I had thought of when she named the boy was Alexander the Great, who was a renowned general and established the largest empire the world has ever seen at that point in history.

               The girl was named Tatiana, which was the Russy version of my name, and meant ‘fairy queen’. She had quite the laugh about that one. Even after a decade, I still haven’t escaped that damn call sign of ‘Fairy’.

               Since we had no idea which one was the older one, we just arbitrarily assigned the older sibling status to the boy, since Visha had named him first.

               Visha had bought two baby cribs for them to sleep in for the night, even though we would give them to the orphanage tomorrow.

               “So, do I just touch them with my bare hand, or… what?” I asked tentatively.

               “No, silly. You do this.” Visha demonstrated by opening up her shirt to reveal her bare chest, then putting a compliant Alexander, dressed only in diapers, against her chest to make skin contact with the baby. Visha put a pillow against the bedrest and leaned against it.

               “That’s … embarrassing.” I was paralysed at the realisation of what Visha expected me to do.

               “It’s good for the baby’s health. And helps the parent bond with the baby too. Or at least that’s what my mother’s midwives taught me.” Visha shrugged.

               “Do I have to do it? Their skin is still waxy.” I bemoaned.

               “Come on, you can just shower off the wax afterwards. Do it for the kids at least. Consider that you’re doing it in lieu of their real mother. She would want you to do it since she can’t be present to perform skin-to-skin contact herself.”

               Visha was already getting ahead of herself and acting as though they were already part of the family. Reluctantly, I followed her example. I sat against the bed rest and held Tatiana against my chest, listening to the infant breathing softly and contently. Both Alexander and Tatiana were awake, and I felt them trying to look around to explore their surroundings, but their weak muscles prevented them from moving much.

               Huh, this wasn’t so bad. The babies were fed, well-behaved, and quiet. They haven’t even cried much aside from when they were ‘born’.

               On my chest, Tatiana made a soft noise that sounded like “Engh, engh.”

               Alexander also tried to move his neck from Visha’s bosom to look around but eventually gave up. Looking at them being so peaceful, I had to admit that they were pretty adorable.

               “By the way, how long are we supposed to keep doing this? A few minutes?” I asked. Perhaps taking care of babies wasn’t as time intensive as I assumed. I could get used to this.

               “Oh, the midwives taught me that you’re supposed to do it for several hours a day.” Visha answered.

               Never mind. I understood why people thought of babies as hassles now. I can’t wait to give them away to the nuns.

26th February 1943,

Degurechaff Orphanage, Berun,

               After making sure that every child has had their share of a nutritious breakfast, Margaret watched the children eagerly eat their meals along with Sister Annabeth and Sister Maria, two younger nuns that joined the covenant recently.  

               As Margaret went to check on the youngest toddlers to make sure that they could handle their solid food, she heard knocks on the door of the orphanage. Leaving her duty to Sister Annabeth, Margaret answered the door. She was met with two women dressed as secretaries, pushing two prams facing away from her.

               “Sister Margaret, correct? Pleased to see you. I’m Anna and this is Mildred, we are both secretaries from the Chancellery.” The lead secretary, a blonde woman, said in an official tone.

               “Did something happen to Tanya?” Margaret asked in concern. She glanced at the strollers.

               “As you know, the Chancellor is a very busy woman. Because she has put the nation above all else, she does not have time for many other obligations, especially time-consuming ones.”

               The secretaries turned the strollers around, presenting two adorable sleeping babies with blonde hair. There was no doubt as to who their mother was. They looked nearly identical to Tanya when Margaret had first laid eyes on her on the doorstep of the orphanage. No wonder Tanya has been wearing thick clothing for the last few months. She must have been hiding her baby bump.

               “As the Chancellor has a very high opinion of your character, she and her fiancée have decided to entrust these infants to your temporary care. Should you require additional funds, you can request them directly from the federal government. The Chancellor will also be posting guards in rotation to ensure that the orphanage receives 24/7 protection. They already had their birth certificates ratified this morning, so you don’t have to worry about any paperwork or registering them.” The woman stated.

               Margaret understood the situation now. As a renowned politician, Tanya must have doubted her ability to raise her own children properly, given how busy she was. Furthermore, the young woman had powerful enemies and detractors, who might stoop as low as to use innocent children against her. Margaret knew how overprotective new mothers could be. Tanya must have been deathly afraid for her children’s safety and decided to send them to the orphanage for safekeeping whilst keeping their existences a secret. What a solicitous, responsible, and thoughtful mother. 

               Margaret couldn’t believe that others had the gall to call Tanya cold-hearted and self-interested. Only if they knew the real girl that grew up in this orphanage.

               Margaret also realised why Tanya had sent her secretaries to deliver her babies in her stead. Tanya must have doubted whether she would have the will to actually part with her babies if she delivered them in person. In the past, Margaret had seen many mothers break down in tears when they had to give their children to this orphanage because their circumstances wouldn’t allow them to take care of a child. Tanya was surely no different.

               “Do you have any additional inquiries, Sister Margaret?” Anna said.

               “What are their names?” 

               “The boy is called Alexander.” The secretary pointed at the baby in the right pram, dressed in white clothes with gold thread highlights.

               “The girl’s name is Tatiana. The Vice Chancellor named both of them.” The other secretary, Mildred, gestured at the baby in the left pram, wearing black clothes with silver thread highlights.

               “Did Tanya state whether she would be visiting them?” Margaret asked in worry. Babies need regular interactions with their mother for proper development.

               “The Chancellor has expressed that she and the Vice Chancellor plan to visit at least a couple times a week.”

               Margaret nodded in comprehension. As expected, even someone like Tanya could not resist the maternal instinct to regularly check up on her precious babies.

Chapter Text

AYKRR Chapter 33

Taking Responsibilities

30th April 1943,

Morning Dew Beer Hall, Berun,

               At a rowdy yet relatively clean beer hall frequented by working-class men, Antoine kept an ear out for rumours told by loose-lipped men. It was 5:30pm, the time when working men would clock off and rush out with their friends for some alcohol at the pub before heading back home.

               As a Francois intelligence operative, it was Antoine’s job to collect any titbits of information and sort them out for potential valuable leads. His workload had increased lately, ever since all of the mage operatives in the city had to flee two months ago. He sat by himself at an obscure table situated near the corner of the interior, sipping his diluted beer. The men frequenting the beer hall were becoming increasingly inebriated. Soon, the flow of rumours will match the flow of alcohol.

               “Have you heard from the grapevine?” A drunk heavyset man said to his friend, sitting two tables away from Antoine. “The Chancellor and her fiancée have been seen visiting her old orphanage lately.”

               “What’s strange about that? She always visits that place. It’s her old home.” His friend, who was very thin in contrast, replied.

               “What’s interesting is that she’s been visiting it too often. Nearly every day. And what could a lesbian couple be visiting an orphanage for? They’re obviously going to adopt a child!” The fat man said in a conspiratorial tone.

               A man with a thick beard overheard the conversation and approached the two men at their table.

               “Ah, that’s where you lads are wrong! My sources say that the Chancellor got pregnant in secret and just gave birth a couple months ago. She left her child in the care of her old orphanage to protect them and prevent her baby from becoming a target!” The man interjected triumphantly.

               “And who are your sources?” The thin man eyed the bearded man sceptically.

               “My sister told me. Her boyfriend’s cousin’s sister-in-law’s neighbour works at the BND, so you can be sure it’s authentic.” The bearded man shrugged, leading to the other two men guffawing at such a claim.

               “Mein Gott, you could tell me that God descended to tell you this bullshit and it would be more believable. How would the Chancellor even conceal her belly?” The heavyset man asked good-naturedly.

               “Haven’t you noticed that she’s been wearing thick winter clothes? It’s all to conceal the fact that she’s pregnant! And when she’s indoors, she can just use her illusions to mask it. You’ve all seen the broadcast when she pretended to be in her office when she was actually in the sky, right? If she could do that, then making her stomach look smaller is a piece of cake!” The bearded man argued for his theory.

               The two men laughed heartily again at the man’s absurd claims.

               Suddenly, another interloper introduced himself into the conversation. He was a balding, bearded blonde man in his forties, wearing what seemed to be a white priestly robe and a misfitting military jacket. The man wore a cross on his chest, but his right hand carried a carved wooden effigy of a woman wearing a dress and an unmistakable military jacket.

               Antony leaned forward in interest. He had never seen this man before. His clothing was especially strange. Antony couldn’t discern whether the man was of a religious or military vocation.

               “My friends, you are only half-correct!” The man shouted in a fervent tone, bringing the attention of half the beer hall.

               “Our Holy Chancellor has indeed welcomed new life unto this plane, but it is not through conventional birth as you claimed! Nay! Our Blessed Maiden, through divine providence, has managed to conceive new life by herself without resorting to sin! This is a vision that was granted to the archbishop of our Church of Tanya! You unenlightened ones were welcomed to come to hear our sermons held at six every night!” The man raved with a crazed expression in his eyes, frightening the other three men.

               “Sir, you’ll have to leave.” The owner of the beer hall came out to talk to the man. “We have a no proselytising policy in this business. Leave the religious talk out.”

               With some additional intimidation from the owner, who called over a muscular bouncer, the strangely dressed man relented and exited the beer hall peacefully, although not without advertising his beliefs one last time.

               “You lost lambs are all welcomed to visit our church at 12 Wiedergeburt Street!” The man exclaimed before scooting off.

               Antoine shook his head in dismay. What a lunatic. Out of curiosity, he took a seat at the bar and asked the bartender the identity of that man earlier, along with buying a beer.

               “Oh, him? He’s just one of the priests of the Cult of Tanya. Although they call themselves the Imperial Catholic Church. They’ve been around since the end of the First Great War, established by veterans who were saved during the war by the Chancellor. They were a small underground organisation, quietly recruiting members for the most part. Only since last month have they been trying to spread their faith. Something major occurred to rouse them into action.” The bartender answered.

               “And they’re not being arrested?”

               The bartender shrugged and passed Antoine his beer. “They haven’t broken any laws yet. Sometimes bars even let them in because people find their preaching funny.”

               “And what exactly are their beliefs?” Antoine asked. He sipped his beer slowly.

               “While most of the nation admire Chancellor Degurechaff, they go to a level beyond just admiration. It’s practically worship. They think that the Chancellor is some kind of God’s chosen one. Call her the Blessed Maiden. They carve her likeness into the walls of their church. They even hand out free effigies like the ones that man was holding earlier.”

               “Isn’t that idolatry?” Antoine gasped genuinely. As a religious man, such sacrilege was unthinkable. Any man attempting to spread such profane practices would surely be excommunicated and labelled a heretic. Yet that ‘priest’ earlier, if you could even call him that, was proudly announcing his perverted beliefs. This was truly the land of the Devil. Antoine swiftly performed the sign of the cross.

               “It’s not illegal, so even the law enforcement can’t do anything about them. Freedom of religion and such. I also heard that they have some real powerful backers as well. The type to be filthy rich or high up in the government.” The bartender leaned close to his ear and whispered, as though the information could be sensitive.

               “I see, thank you.” Antoine downed the rest of his beer and slipped the bartender a few marks as a tip, before heading out of the bar. Degurechaff having a cult devoted to her was something interesting enough to report to his handler.

24th May 1943,

Chancellor’s Office, Berun,

               It’s been nearly three months since Being X unceremoniously dropped the twins onto my lap. Even though I said that we would only visit them occasionally, Visha practically dragged me to see them at the orphanage every day after work.

               Each visit mainly consisted of me asking Sister Margaret about their development, whether they were healthy, and whether they were well-behaved. Sister Margaret always enthusiastically updated me on what they did during the day.

               I was inquiring not because I was concerned at all about them, but rather because I wanted to watch out for signs that could hint at them being reincarnated souls like me. So far, they have acted exactly like any baby. They cried when they needed to communicate, ate when they were hungry, and slept when they were tired. But then again, they could be acting. The only other thing they did aside from the usual was smiling when they saw me and Visha visiting them. Probably a reflex. I would wager that they smiled like that at every person.

               On the other hand, Visha always fawned over them. On every visit, she would bring some type of gift for them. Often new clothes or toys. Every time she came into their room, she would pick up each baby out of their crib and cuddle them for a few minutes while gushing about how adorable they were to the point of incessancy. She even took dozens of pictures of them each visit like some Facebook-obsessed mom. It got to the point that she had to replace her computation orb because it couldn’t hold any more data.

               Every day we went to the orphanage, the nuns forced me to learn a new skill about child rearing. First it had been how to change diapers, then how to make a baby burp after eating, then how to put a baby to sleep, then how to bathe a baby, etc.

               On certain occasions, we would arrive when the babies were hungry. Those were the times when Visha would show me how to hold a baby and feed them milk. Strangely, I tolerated the experience well. It was oddly relaxing to feed and watch an obedient and admittedly pretty cute baby stare back at me with their big blue eyes. Probably because the low-stress monotony contrasted well with the high stress of my work. I even got decently skilled at feeding them. I only almost dropped Alexander on his head once. Luckily, nobody saw that incident, and I caught Alexander just in time. I’d certainly get an earful if Visha ever saw it happen.

               I wouldn’t be visiting the children at the orphanage later today because I had a meeting with my Governors about the general state of the various states in the nation.

               Absentmindedly, I read an international report. As of the beginning of March, Akitsushima had fully mobilised their military and launched an offensive military campaign against the Qinese communists in conjunction with the KMT. In just three weeks, the Akitsushima-KMT alliance had already captured the island of Hainan, mainly due to the overwhelming strength of the Akitsushiman Imperial Navy. The international observers that I demanded to be present for the battle had managed to prevent the worst of atrocities from happening to the civilian population of the island, although there had been some cases of Akitsushiman soldiers executing combatants attempting to surrender. Fortunately, just as the Akitsushimans promised me, those soldiers had been punished and made an example of.

               Overall, the Battle of Hainan had been a great success for the Akitsushiman militarists, having achieved a quick and glorious victory that they had always dreamed of.

               The real test of Akitsushima-KMT military cooperation would be the planned invasion of Guangdong Province and taking the cities of Shenzhen and Guangdong. The Battle of Hainan hadn’t been all sunshine and rainbows though, especially for the KMT. While the Akitsushiman military had taken minimal losses, the KMT had lost a staggering number of personnel. A large chunk of those losses had not been to casualties, but rather via defection.

               The root cause was because the KMT, in general, was disliked by most of the Qinese population, especially the peasantry. This was mainly due to the KMT’s horrendous reputation of corruption and pandering to the elite, as well as obstinately refusing to adopt popular policies that appealed to the people’s desires.

               On the other hand, the QCP attracted the common Qinese person more due to their gilded promises of elevating the poor and downtrodden. This could easily be seen in how the QCP leadership presented themselves in public compared to the KMT. While the KMT leaders paraded themselves in fancy uniforms adorned by countless glittering medals, most QCP leaders wore plain standard issue QCP uniforms. While I would always disagree with the economic and governmental principles of communism, it wasn’t hard to see how their ideals resonated with the landless and destitute.

               To combat the KMT’s poor reputation amongst the Qinese, the newly elected President Wang Jingwei had introduced a wave of sweeping reforms in the party, backed by his supporters.

               In an unprecedented move, Wang Jingwei had managed to implement land reforms policies, which had been one of the QCP’s greatest magnet for attracting new members. While not to the point of mass dispossessing landowners, the reforms prevented landowners from unjustly raising their rent and enforced the rights of tenants. It even punished landowners who had exploited their tenants in the past and settled their punishment in public court. Most of these punishments resulted in a fine, not in the form of money, but as land equivalent to the value of the tenant’s exploitation.

               I had no idea how Wang Jingwei had managed to pass such revolutionary reform through the KMT. I did hear some rumours about Akitsushima helping Wang Jingwei bribe the KMT, but they had been unsubstantiated and lacked credibility. I doubted that such dishonourable tactics were employed so brazenly, to the point that rumours of it could travel half the world to me.

               While the land reforms made many rich landlords unhappy, Wang Jingwei and his party had deemed it a necessary change to ensure the KMT’s eventual victory in the war. The new policies had only been implemented two days ago, so only time would tell whether it was worth it for the KMT to kick the hornet’s nest that was the upper class.

               Aside from that, Wang Jingwei had also convinced his officers to dress less ostentatiously and present themselves with a more relatable image. To encourage his party, the President had decided to lead by example and declined to wear his suit in his last public appearance, opting for a workman’s shirt and pants. I had to admit that it was quite the bold rebranding. There were even plans for further reforms, but the details were unclear. I wished him luck with his endeavours.

               My own military also updated me on our highest priority projects.

               Even after the end of the Second Great War, I had allowed the continuation of our ballistic missile and ballistic rocket projects and even allocated it extra funding. The possession of long-range, guided ballistic missiles would greatly increase the nation’s offensive and defensive capabilities in a conflict. In this era, a ballistic missile was practically impossible to reliably intercept, making it a terrifying weapon that was hopeless to defend against.

               Furthermore, the technology involved in guided ballistic missiles would be needed in developing guided nuclear missiles, as dropping nuclear bombs with bomber planes was too unreliable of a method. The plane could easily be shot down, leading to the nuke exploding on the wrong target or worse, not explode at all and be recovered by the enemy.

               For ballistic rockets, their propulsion technology could be transferred to a less deadly use – space exploration. As with every era of warfare, information was of paramount importance. The ambush at Vologda, where half a million men had sneaked to the border of the Russy Tsardom, had presented me with a valuable example of what could happen if your military intelligence was inadequate. This was something we could have detected if we had satellites.

               Once rocket propulsion technology was adequately advanced, a government space agency should be established. Its first priority should be to flood the Earth’s orbit with satellites to provide OZEV with total geographical coverage of the planet for intelligence gathering purposes. As satellite technology continues to advance, we could start launching GPS satellites. After that, the space agency could direct its aim towards other projects. Maybe this world could even see a man walk on the moon in less than thirty years if rocket propulsion technology keeps evolving.

               I also had a curiosity of mine that I wanted to be answered with the advent of space exploration. What if you put a mage in space? A mage’s barrier could be altered to become airtight and pressure-sealed, allowing them to theoretically survive in a vacuum with no specialised suit. And since a mage could use oxygen generation spells, which recycled carbon dioxide, how long a mage could last in space was limited by their magic capacity, not oxygen tanks. Furthermore, with reinforcement spells, mages could withstand a much higher G-force than any normal human being, allowing them to survive the ascent to outer space. In the past, I had personally withstood 15 G-forces with relative ease.

               When ascending in the troposphere, a mage’s maximum altitude was limited by their ability to simultaneously juggle spells for flight, mental acceleration, oxygen generation and pressurisation. Each spell added to the drain on their magic. An elite A-class mage, armed with the latest generation of computation orb, could perhaps operate in combat at an altitude of 12,000 feet. If they only cared about ascending straight up, then possibly a maximum height of around 30,000 feet could be achieved before they run out of magic and plummet to their death.

               In outer space with little to no gravity, a mage no longer needed to have any upward thrust to maintain their altitude or to ascend. Having little to no atmosphere also meant that thrust generated by flight spells did not have to be consistently maintained, as loss of velocity due to air resistance would be negligible. Flying in space would be much less magic-consuming than flying within the atmosphere. This could allow a mage to travel quite far in space, especially if there was a network of space stations to allow the mage to recover their magic for the next leg of the journey. And with the ability to slow down their descent, it might even be possible for mages to re-enter the atmosphere by themselves without being affected by the friction and heat commonly associated with re-entry.

               Perhaps I’ve seen too many sci-fi movies when I was younger, but I imagined that the military applications of space mages would be only bound by a commander’s imagination. Imagine if the Imperial States could house a battalion of mages in space, hovering above their targets. They’d be too high up for any anti-air gunnery to reach, while having the ability to freely rain down ultra long-range spells at enemy military installations, infrastructure, and cities. Simply having your mages too high up to be hit would render all enemy defences useless. Mages could also carry out hits on enemy satellites as part of information warfare, and perhaps even intercept enemy missiles mid-flight. If mages used stealth orbs to slowly glide down and re-enter the atmosphere, they might even be able to drop down behind enemy lines undetected for special operations.

               When combat mages were first introduced, most militaries used them as simple infantry. It wasn't until flight spells were invented around the invention of the aeroplane that mages took to the skies. Military analysts back then had expressed that the aerial mage was the apex of magical military application. I wondered what opinion they would express when they see a mage in space.

               But I was getting too absorbed in my daydreaming. Something like that was at least twenty years away. I wouldn’t even be in charge of the nation that far into the future.

               Our ballistic rocket – the B4 – was still in the middle of its development. The first successful launch of the rocket had occurred just last week, with the rocket propelling itself for seventy-five seconds before the engines were shut off and entering a free-falling trajectory, reaching an altitude of a hundred and five kilometres. It was quite the impressive first launch, with the missile likely becoming the first military equipment to ever pass the Kármán line, which denoted the edge of outer space. The rocket had ended up falling into the Baltic Sea and its remains recovered.

               Fully loaded, the B4 ballistic rocket would weigh thirteen tons in total, including fuel and warhead. The lead engineer had told me that the rocket was expected to carry over one ton of explosives in its warhead. The Fritz X, our least powerful and lightest of the fourteen nuclear warheads in our arsenal, weighed over four tons. Of course, there were other technological considerations when it came to building ICBMs aside from propulsion, but it was good to know that our propulsion technology was not far off from making nuclear missiles a reality. If research and development progresses smoothly, the Imperial States should have nuclear warhead firing capabilities before 1960.

               As for the guidance system, the B4 would employ a simple preset guidance system. The trajectory of the missile would be determined before launch then programmed into the missile’s analogue computer guidance system, which would steer the missile to follow its flight path by controlling the missile’s control surfaces – four external rudders on the tail fin and four vanes at the exit of the motor in the jet stream. This method was not entirely accurate and could easily lead to the missile missing its target entirely. There were also discussions to potentially further guide the missile along its flight path by beaming radar signals to the analogue guiding computer as an additional input.

               It was clear to me that the B4 rocket was very similar to the V-2 rocket of my world. This meant that in its finalised design, its weakness would not be the power of its propulsion technology, but rather accuracy. So instead of being satisfied with the B4 rocket, I put forth a further requirement for the B4 that it must be able to accurately score a hit on a target the size of a small city.

               Our efforts in developing heat-seeking missiles were still going nowhere. Once again, our technology was limited by vacuum tubes. Most of the time, the missiles failed to lock onto enemy aircrafts. Although we have noticed a higher chance of successful homing when missiles were fired at jet fighters. Unlike propeller planes, the heat emissions of jet engine exhausts were great enough that the missiles wouldn’t veer off towards the sun most of the time. This was great news for the air force. The roll out of the Albish Gloster Comet jet fighters had been worrying them, despite our spies obtaining its testing parameters and reassuring us that the Gloster Comet was still marginally slower than our jet fighters due to its conservative design. However, it did have the advantage of having a longer flight time and being equipped with a more durable engine than our fighters.

               As for TV-guided and radar guided weapons, most of the budget for those projects had actually gone into developing more sophisticated camera technology and more powerful broadcasting systems.

             With the development of more advanced missiles underway, I also allocated the navy some extra budget to develop smaller nuclear reactors that could be employed for marine propulsion. These reactors should only require minimal refuelling and present a low risk to the crew. The submarines that would be outfitted with these engines would also need to have missile launching capabilities. Indeed, I was commissioning research on ballistic missile nuclear submarines.

               Like any major military research and development project, it wouldn’t be close to completion until well into the next decade. I needed the Imperial States to become a superpower in the future and for hopefully for the duration of my lifetime. Having some military projection capability was part of that equation. Instead of achieving that via building a massive surface fleet and dumping away material and money, building a small fleet of nearly undetectable nuclear submarines with nuclear missile launching capability that also employ amplification orbs to increase stealth was much more budget effective and terrifying for enemy world leaders.

               The potential threat of having a submarine with city-destroying weapons on board was not something that any nation could take lightly. Per our treaty with the Allied Kingdom, we were limited to only five active submarines. I wanted to make each one count. Of course, I wouldn’t reveal the power of our submarines until the Imperial States has managed to produce an adequate number of nuclear warheads for deterrence and self-defence. The threat would only be implied. I doubted it would ever need to be put into practice. I did want the world to see me as a world leader with great self-control and not someone reigned by violent tendencies after all.

               I snapped out of my musings as Elya delivered me a report from Adolf Muller, the magician that was investigating the twin’s parentage. Why was there a report already? He told me it would take at least five months.

               “Congratulations, the results for the twins came back already.” She smirked slyly. “Do I get to be your kids’ godmother?”

25th May 1943,

Berun,

               The results for the twin’s parentage came back early. Too early. It had only been three months. Herr Muller told me it was supposed to take half a year. I even sought him out myself for that reason. He had told me that discovering the twin’s parents only took a single day at the Imperial Military Archives. The rest of the time was for verifying the results and quintuple-checking that he wasn’t hallucinating the results. He also had to get his report peer-reviewed by his mentor Finn Meyer numerous times before he had the confidence to submit it to me.

               Because of the impossible nature of the children’s parentage, I had to classify the reports under high level clearance. Even Herr Muller had to sign a contract to promise that he wouldn’t tell anyone of the twin’s parentage aside from his mentor, who was already analysing the vestiges of my spell, until I would permit the publication of the results. I wasn’t threatening him of course, the contract was signed in exchange for the state providing him funding for his next research project. Some kind of blue-sky research about how magic users age over time. Probably a waste of money, but it’ll at least pay for his silence.

               With Visha sitting next to me in my office, I gingerly pried open the folder containing the report as though it was a bear trap. I had already read the report beforehand, but Visha had not.

               The report had stated the twin’s parentage clearly. It was none other than yours truly and her fiancée.

               Well, the genetic split wasn’t 50/50. The twin’s signature showed a whopping seventy percent similarity to my own magic signature. Herr Muller had expressed amazement at both the fact that I managed to create children without having to get pregnant, and them having the genetic data from two women. With the assistance of his colleagues, he theorised that as part of the rare unconscious spell casting phenomena, I created the twins with a complex spell, borne from my subconscious desire to have children with Visha. I knew that it was Being X’s fault, of course, but I didn’t correct him for fear of sounding like a maniac.

               Nevertheless, the origin of the twins had broken all boundaries of what was thought of as possible for magic. Herr Meyer had wanted to reverse engineer the spell for what he thought of as a solution to solve the dilemma of mages being in short supply. If a powerful mage could create more mages out of thin air without the need for pregnancy, the nation would be able to mass produce children with magical potential. I had tentatively given him permission to continue with his research of the spell, but I had the BND keep a close eye on him. This type of research could easily lead to gross breaches of ethics and morals. The last thing I needed to hear about was Herr Meyer going the mad scientist route and attempting eugenics to create an army of mages.

               Strangely, Alexander’s magic signature only had a twenty-eight percent similarity to Visha’s, while Tatiana had the expected thirty percent similarity. The report that Herr Muller wrote theorised that this was because of Alexander being a boy. As both Visha and I were female, Alexander’s Y chromosome could not have come from either of us. The hypothesis was that my spell also formed Y chromosomes for Alexander, but that could not be confirmed without advanced genetic testing that was unavailable in this age.

               After finishing her perusal of the report, Visha had sat in silence for a minute to comprehend the revelation, before jumping up in joy and enveloping me in a bear hug. This was a nightmare. I didn’t even like babies that much and now I had to take responsibility for two of them. At least Visha and I had agreed to keep them at the orphanage for a few more months beforehand.

               “Tanya, you made a miracle!” She exclaimed in sheer elation. “They’re our babies! I knew it!”

               I internally sighed and tried to look as enthusiastic as possible at the prospect that I was a parent now. It seemed to convince Visha well enough, because she kept rambling on about future plans.

               “Oh my god, that means we don’t need to adopt them at all. We just need to update their birth certificates and they’ll legally be our children. We need to prepare to welcome them into the family once they’re grown enough. We’ll need to get a more spacious apartment and install safety measures to prevent them from hurting themselves when exploring the house. And we’ll need to introduce them to our close friends too! Elya would love to see them. We should ask her to be their godmother! As for their godfather, I think I have an idea!”

               I smiled at her excitement. Oh well, at least she was eager enough to make up for the both of us.

               My smile froze when she turned around to ask me in curiosity.

               “By the way, can you make any more of them?”

26th May 1943,

Berun,

               Lehrgen looked down at the letter sent to his address with a sense of apprehension. The sender was the Vice Chancellor, Viktoriya Ivanova Serebryakov. He gulped. As the Chancellor’s lover and right-hand woman, she likely ranked above even President Ludwig in terms of how involved she was in the conspiracy to elevate the Chancellor to the position of Empress.

               Why was she sending this letter? Was she asking for an update on his progress in taking control of the military? He had already made some of the most anti-monarchy generals in the army retire, citing their age or poor performance in recent military operations as the reason.

               Was she asking for his opinion on her relationship with the Devil of the Rhine? No, it couldn’t be that either. He had declared open support for their relationship. It was also public knowledge that he had supported a program to promote progressive thinking in the military.

               Galvanising his nerves, Lehrgen removed the letter from its envelope and started reading it. His hands started to shake. It was about the two mysterious children that had appeared in the Chancellor’s bedroom three months prior. They were revealed to be genetically linked to Chancellor Degurechaff and Vice Chancellor Serebryakov. Through some inexplicable methods, Tanya von Degurechaff had managed to bring two children into this world. Children that were biologically her own.

               The envelope even contained a picture of the children. Alexander Degurechaff and Tatiana Degurechaff. Even though the picture was monochrome, Lehrgen could tell that the children had blonde hair like the Chancellor. Even as infants, they looked disturbingly similar to the Chancellor.

               Mein Gott. There were now three of them. He shuddered in a mixture of déjà vu and pain from his stomach ulcer. This world could barely survive one Devil of the Rhine. How could it possibly withstand three?

             Lehrgen forced himself to calm down. They were still babies. Completely innocent in nature. There were no guarantees that they would turn out to be a monster like their mother.

               He read the last line of the letter, which was written in bold. “Would you like to be their godfather?”

               And if he could do anything about it, they would never be as bloodthirsty as their mother. He’d take responsibility as their godfather and help influence them into becoming benevolent leaders of this nation.

Chapter Text

AYKRR Chapter 34

The Wedding

8th August 1943,

Degurechaff Orphanage, Berun,

               I had been spared from spawning a litter of children for Visha, simply because I had no idea how to replicate the feat of popping babies out of thin air. Visha was slightly disappointed; she had been raised with six siblings when she lived in Moskva and later moved to St. Petersburg. Fortunately, it seemed she was satisfied with merely two children.

               Visha had already made a mile-long shopping list of items we needed to buy for our children – it’s still weird thinking of them as that. We already moved to a large penthouse a mere two-minute flight from the Chancellery in preparation for the kids moving in after our honeymoon.

               Our wedding was in a week. All of the arrangements had been completed. There had been an issue with the invitation list a few months earlier though. Simply too many people had clamoured for an invite. Not openly of course, as they had not wanted to appear impertinent. However, it was clear what they alluded to. Those people were all representatives of world leaders of middle or minor powers, oil magnates, owners of successful newspapers, and even royalties from foreign dynasties.

               Even though I initially wanted my wedding to be quite the private affair, I hadn’t wanted to appear condescending by outright denying so many well-known figures. Stepping on too many toes was unwise for any politician. Furthermore, I didn’t expect that there would be so many people willing to attend the world’s first major homosexual marriage. Eventually, Visha had to convince me that it would be a positive development for social rights worldwide if a range of important global figures were seen attending our union. Therefore, I’d reluctantly expanded the guestlist from one hundred to two hundred, then had to expand it once again to three hundred a week later, then again to six hundred two weeks later.

               We even had to alter our wedding venue to accommodate the sheer number of guests. Instead of a quiet wedding hall in Berun like we first intended, the wedding ceremony would be held at the Berun Palace, previously the primary residence of Preussian and Germanian monarchs. With its numerous rooms and spacious halls, it could easily accommodate our guests.

               After the First Great War, the palace’s ownership had been transferred from the imperial family to that of the state. The intention for the grand Baroque style palace had been to use it as a venue for important government functions. As of right now, it was gathering dust and sucking up taxpayer money like a vampire for its upkeep. It was only reasonable that Visha and I put it to good use. It’s not like anyone would be residing in the palace in the future.

               The wedding reception would take place at Charlottenburg Palace, or more specifically its massive garden. The guests would be chauffeured there by a fleet of limousines that would escort me and Visha during the wedding parade. Visha and I would be standing together in a parade car to take in the televised public celebration of our marriage by the citizens of Berun.

               All of this was terribly expensive and would put both me and Visha in heavy debt even with our substantial salary. Fortunately, we weren’t the ones paying for it. The Minister of Finance had argued that the cost of the grand wedding should be borne by the state, under the justification that the impact of my work for the country and its future deserved such special treatment. Of course, the fact that the broadcasting of the wedding would reach millions of people across the continent and generate substantial profit went unspoken.

               I had just wrapped up my work for the day and was visiting Alexander and Tatiana at the orphanage. However, unlike the usual occasions when I was accompanied by only Visha, Elya and Ludwig were tagging along to see them for the first time.

               At nearly six months old, the twins could sit up by themselves now. They looked up curiously at Elya and Ludwig, likely wondering who these strangers were.

               “Bata, bata.” Tatiana babbled nonsensically, as if greeting.

               “Oh my god, Visha. You were right. They look exactly like Tanya. It’s like your genes didn’t try to fight back at all.” Elya exclaimed when she saw them.

               Visha picked up Alexander and presented him to Elya proudly. “Aren’t they just the cutest? They’re growing up quickly too. The nuns said that they’re showing signs of learning how to crawl already.”

               Elya nudged Ludwig with her elbow, giving him a knowing glance. He merely coughed awkwardly in response and shrugged noncommittally.

             Elya looked at Ludwig in disappointment and gave me a look. “Men, am I right?” She said knowingly. I had no idea what she even meant with that comment.

               “Can I try holding them?” Elya asked, holding out her arms towards Alexander. The baby shrunk back into Visha’s embrace, hiding his face away from Elya.

               “They’re not used to strangers, so they’re a bit shy.” I explained. I held my arms invitingly towards Alexander, and he practically scrambled into my embrace. For some inexplicable reason, both of the twins preferred being carried by me more than Visha, despite her being the motherlier one and coddling them more.

               I held him against me at chest level, and Alexander put his head on my shoulder in total trust and smiled at me. The twins were gaining weight at a healthy rate, and both Alexander and Tatiana looked perfectly chubby as most babies ought to. Carrying most of Alexander’s weight with my left arm, I used my right hand to squeeze his cheeks lightly, the fat on his face giving it a marshmallow-like softness. I wasn’t doing it because I found him adorable, of course. I was simply testing his reaction to external stimuli.

               Any reincarnated person would instinctively react indignantly at having their cheeks pinched by an adult and treated like a baby. If Alexander was reincarnated, he would start squirming in protest. However, he simply grinned and squealed in delight. He could just be acting though, so I couldn’t dismiss my suspicion just yet. I squeezed his cheeks again to reconfirm, just to receive the same reaction.

               I had tried the same thing to Tatiana yesterday by squeezing her cheeks with both hands, and she simply blew raspberries at me in response and giggled. Apparently, that was also a developmental milestone, as the babies were on the verge of developing language skills.

               “When are you two planning to announce them to the public?” Ludwig asked.

               “We’ll announce that we had a baby with magic and release the corresponding report that proves it when they’re about two years old. But we don’t plan to have the public know what they look like as they grow older. We want to send them to school so they can make friends and interact with other people. We don’t want them to be followed by the media every step of their life just because we’re their parents.” Visha explained, picking up Tatiana and rocking her.

               “What do you want them to become?  Soldiers or politicians like you two?” Ludwig inquired.

               I hoped not. Being a soldier was an alright occupation in peacetime, but the worst job on Earth during a war. Thankless and demanding superiors ordering you to complete tasks with inadequate information or logistics, only to give you even more challenging jobs once you’ve completed your assigned tasks perfectly. I wouldn’t wish either of the twins joining the military.

               Being a politician was not as bad, except if you were a high-ranking one like me. I wouldn’t wish the hell of being stuck babysitting an entire nation on anybody. Well, anybody except for Being X.

               If anything, I sincerely wished that they would become involved in finance and earn generational amounts of wealth. Becoming a politician was acceptable, as long as they avoided any leadership positions.

13th August 1943,

Buckingham Palace,

               “Alan, h-have you seen Lilibet a-anywhere?” Albert Frederick Arthur George, known as King George VI, asked his Private Secretary, Alan Lascelles. His childhood stammer still accompanied his words, even with his speech training. 

               As the King, he just finished perusing the various reports that Parliament had sent him, just in time for afternoon tea. He was hoping to spend it with his daughters.

               “Princess Elizabeth? I’m afraid I haven’t seen her as of late, Your Majesty. Although she did mention something about heading to the docks. I think Princess Margaret might have a better idea of her plans for the day though.” Alan replied.

               The docks? What could possibly make the heir presumptive of the Albish Empire interested in the docks, an environment where sweaty-backed and coarse-tongued men laboured? It was hardly befitting of her station.

               Sighing, Albert sought out his younger daughter, Margaret. He found his twelve-year-old daughter, soon to be thirteen, in her bedroom, drawing something on a map of Europa.

               “What are you d-doing, Margot?” He asked, looking over her shoulders. He noticed that she was drawing dotted lines from the coast of Albion to the city of Rotterdam on the continent, then continuing to Berun.

               “Oh, it’s nothing. I’m just tracing the path that Lilibet is taking to Chancellor Degurechaff’s wedding.” His daughter answered sweetly. And it would have been sweet, if not for what she said.

               “What!?” Albert exclaimed in alarm.

               “Oh, don’t you worry, father. She can take care of herself. She brought her computation orb with her. She even planned her own journey and bought her ticket for a ship to ferry her to the Imperial States. She’s going there under a secret identity too.” Margaret said nonchalantly as though she didn’t see what the issue was.

               No wonder Elizabeth had ventured to the docks. She had planned to sneak to the Imperial States to attend that thrice-damned wedding. Even worse, instead of burning the wedding invitation, he had framed it in the family living room where anyone could easily reach it. She could be halfway to Berun by now.

               “Margot, tell me honestly. At w-what time did your sister leave for the docks? And why d-didn’t you tell everyone of her intentions sooner?” He asked sternly.

               “Oh, she left six hours ago. She made me promise that I wouldn’t tell anyone until three in the afternoon. Otherwise, I wouldn’t get any souvenirs.” Margaret smiled mischievously.

               Damn children and their ability to be bribed. Six hours ago!? She was easily within Imperial States borders by now. He had no power there to force her to come back. Elizabeth had always been a responsible girl with a good head on her shoulders. The rebelliousness commonly associated with teenagers had not manifested when she grew up. It was something that he had taken for granted. The moment that she decided to become rebellious, it left him blindsided.

               Sighing in frustration, he searched for a phone and dialled the Prime Minister’s number. After ten seconds of ringing, the call was picked up. 

               “Who do I have the pleasure of speaking to?” Churbull asked.

               “Winston, it’s me, Albert. We have a serious problem on our hands. Elizabeth has gone missing.” He snuffed out his stutter with great effort by speaking slowly.

               “Missing!? What happened? Your Majesty, was she kidnapped!? I’ll order the military and SIS to rescue her this instant!” The reply came back immediately. Churbull’s voice was aghast. The missing case of the heir apparent to the Albish Empire was one of utmost importance. Of course, Albert thought the wizened man was also likely suspecting the young heir’s disappearance to be part of the nefarious scheme of a certain petite blonde woman.

               “No need to be so alarmed. I’m afraid Elizabeth has decided to kidnap herself. S-She took the wedding invitation and ran off to the Imperial States to attend C-Chancellor Degurechaff’s meeting. She should be within their borders already.”

               Albert heard a drawn-out sigh on the other side of the line. “Teenagers. I should have known. Your Majesty, I’ll contact whoever I have in the Imperial States at the moment.”

               “Thank you, Winston.” Albert said. Elizabeth was in massive trouble once she was back.

15th August 1943,

The Berun Palace,

               My cheeks ached as I smiled for the umpteenth photo of the day. Practically every guest at the wedding had been photographed with me at least once, although most opted for several photos. With great foresight, the photographer crew that we hired had brought several rolls of film. The grand historical walls and portraits of the Berun Palace provided the perfect background.

               I let my smile relax after the photographer snapped another picture. I was dressed in a black woman’s suit, reminiscent of a man’s tuxedo. Against my own preferences, I was wearing light makeup. I practically had to fight the beautician on how much she was allowed to put on my face. I didn’t want to have any makeup on at all, and in fact had never put on makeup in both my lifetimes. But the beautician had explained to me that even male grooms had to look dashing on their wedding day, and makeup was essential in ensuring that. In the end, I allowed her to put on some light foundation, mascara, and lipsticks. The whole time, the beautician and her makeup artist assistants were lamenting over how such a waste it was that I never once employed makeup to enhance my natural beauty.

               Having taken my last picture with President Roosenvelt, I engaged him in pleasant small talk completely unrelated to politics. It was best to leave our work out of a special occasion such as this.

               The President of the Unified States then left for the wedding hall, his secret service shadowing him a respectable distance away. Fortunately, Visha and I had the foresight of considering the number of security personnel accompanying important figures here as well and had made additional preparations, including spare tables, seats and extra replenishments.

               Speaking of my fiancée – soon to be wife – I hadn’t seen her since yesterday. As was tradition, the married couple should not see each other before the wedding ceremony. Visha would be taking pictures with a separate set of guests in another wing of the Berun Palace.

               The next guest nervously approached me for photographs and curtsied. She was an older teenager, perhaps seventeen or eighteen, dressed in a turquoise gown. Her face seemed oddly familiar. I felt a sense of déjà vu while gazing at her visage. For some strange reason, I imagined her older, with wrinkles and white hair.

               Thankfully, the tall and wiry Master of Ceremonies that I hired – Herr Bachmann – for this occasion stated her identity, which was provided by every guest upon entering with their invitation. The invitation was printed with their real name, but the guests were allowed to request the Master of Ceremonies to use a pseudonym, even though I didn’t expect anyone here to. Most famous people wanted to be known, after all.

               “Lisbeth of House Saxe-Coburg and Gotha.” Herr Bachmann said. A proper Germanian noble house name, although one that I didn’t quite recognise. I was never one to pay attention to the nobility. I only paid attention to people based on their value to me and merits, never their pedigree. I must have encountered her grandmother in the past to have evoked such strong familiarity.

               For some reason, there was quite the stir amongst some older guests at hearing Lisbeth’s announcement. Was her family famous in the Imperial States or something? In my peripheral vision, I spotted Ludwig staring at the girl with eyes wide as saucers, as though she was an extraterrestrial. I better approach him for some clarifications later.

               I took a couple of photos with the girl, although I noticed she was constantly scanning the venue with her eyes the whole time, as if some strange men were about to burst out of the crowd and take her away.

               After taking the photos, I spoke with her as I did with every guest. “Is something wrong? You’ve been looking pretty nervous.”

               Lisbeth spoke in accented Germanian. That wasn’t strange, plenty of noble families sent their children to foreign countries to study or even live. “Oh, it’s nothing. My father doesn’t approve of me coming here. I thought that he might send someone to bring me home.”

               Ah, I understood. A sheltered noble girl with overprotective parents, likely having lived abroad for a long time and only coming back to the Imperial States now. She probably snuck under her bodyguards’ noses to attend this wedding.

               “Don’t worry, we have plenty of security posted here. Nobody can force you to leave if you don’t want to.” I reassured her.

               “Thank you. On a separate note, Madam Chancellor, I’m trying to find someone I know. He goes by the name of Phillip Mountbatten. Or Battenburg, if you don’t recognise the aforementioned surname.” Lisbeth said.

               I searched my memories for the guests that had taken photographs with me. I think I heard of that name before.

               “I think he’s in the dining hall on the second floor.” I said.

               Lisbeth thanked me gratefully and curtsied before departing for the second floor.

               Before any guest could approach me for more pictures, Ludwig walked briskly towards me and abruptly pulled me away into an unoccupied room for a private conversation.

               “Chancellor, that girl earlier is Princess Elizabeth, first-in-line for the Albish throne. House Saxe-Coburg and Gotha was the previous name of House Windsor.” He informed me in a hushed voice.                

               I nearly choked on my saliva. No wonder she had looked familiar. She was probably the only famous historical figure I had met in this world that was still alive in my original world when I died in 2013. There were even jokes that she was immortal. The father that she referred to earlier must be King George VI. I knew that I had sent the Albish royal family an invitation, but that had been a provocation! I never expected any of them to accept. Being an impulsive teenager, she must have stolen the invitation to come here. To meet this Phillip she previously asked about, I assumed. Wasn’t that the name of her future husband?

               “Don’t cause a commotion. Pretend like we expected her to be here. Relay that order to all the security guards and BND agents here. If we find any SIS agents in the crowd, leave them alone. They’re likely shadowing the Princess and protecting her. Unless it seems like they will interrupt the wedding, don’t have anyone engage them.” I ordered calmly.

               “I’ll relay it to security chief Neumann.” Ludwig nodded and left the room.

               I took a deep breath and exhaled. As long as the Imperial States treated the young princess kindly, there shouldn’t be any diplomatic incidents. In fact, it might even improve international relations. She would eventually inherit the Albish throne and rule for many decades, after all.

               Hopefully, no other unexpected guests were coming.

               As I stepped outside the room to return to taking photographs again, I heard a commotion by the entrance of the Berun Palace. There, stood several clergy members wearing zucchettos and red silk mozettas. Odd, I hadn’t asked for this to be a religiously ordained wedding. The former Kaiser was supposed to officiate it.

               I made my way to the entrance to sort out the confusion. Was it the local archbishop? However, before I could part the crowd to see the newcomers, Herr Bachmann, with his much taller frame, saw the arrival and identified their leader.

               “Announcing the arrival of the Bishop of Rome, Vicar of Jesus Christ, Successor of the Prince of the Apostles, Supreme Pontiff of the Universal Church, Primate of Italy, Archbishop and Metropolitan of the Roman Province, Sovereign of the State of Vatican City, Servant of the Servants of God, His Holiness Pius XII!”

               The crowd at the entrance parted themselves like the Red Sea, revealing a friendly elderly man in papal regalia, followed by half a dozen cardinals wearing red vestments. At that moment, I remembered sending an invitation to the Vatican as a joke, thinking that Being X would be enraged by such an act. This was how he was responding to my insult.

               Damn you Being X!!!

Chapter Text

AYKRR Chapter 35

You May Now Kiss the Bride

In another wing of the Berun Palace,

               Visha sat down for a break after having greeted guests non-stop for over an hour. It was agreed between Tanya and her that Tanya would greet guests with political power, while Visha would greet the rest. These were mainly business tycoons, although there were the occasional scientists, authors, artists and actors.

               The guest list was mostly composed of individuals with massive influences or large followings. Each name on the list was recognisable enough that some people would literally pay to have them attend their wedding. Yet Visha and Tanya had them beckoning for an invitation by the hundreds.

              Her own mother and father would have wept at how far Visha had come in life.

               Very few had been given an invitation without pleading for one. These included their friends, close colleagues, war buddies, and important world leaders. One of which was the Pope, an invitation that Visha hadn’t expected Tanya to extend, nor for him to respond in confirmation.

               In hindsight, she should have expected it from her fiancée. Tanya had been raised in a Catholic orphanage and had spent every Sunday during the war attending church and praying. Her impeccable attendance rate had fallen off when she became Chancellor due to her busy schedule, but it was enough to spark rumours of Tanya losing her faith. Tanya arranging her wedding to have very little Catholic elements seemed to confirm this theory for many. But Visha knew that it was just Tanya being respectful of Visha’s own Orthodox beliefs. This invitation to the Vatican and the response from the Pope was proof to everyone that Tanya’s faith was just as strong as before, and not only that, it had been rewarded.

               I fingered the Type 95 inside my breast pocket. I had brought it along in case that an extremist faction, such as the communists or an independence movement, would try a suicide tactic and attempt to blow up the venue. The Berun Palace was full of significant figures in global politics and business, just a quarter of them dying on the same day would deal untold geopolitical pandemonium. Now, I wondered if the Type 95 was a bad luck charm. Ever since Being X had spoken to me last year, something unexpected occurred to throw a wrench into my plans and make my days more arduous every time I carried it around.

               Acting quickly, I approached the Pope and greeted him. “Your Holiness, we… didn’t expect you to arrive… so early.”

               When preparing the wedding, Visha had taken up the duty of reviewing the list of guests. I had told her to inform me beforehand if anyone unexpected was coming. How was this not an unexpected guest!? Or did I forget to peruse the list? I couldn’t quite remember. The last couple weeks leading up to the wedding had been hectic.

               “I couldn’t afford arriving late. This is the wedding of the decade after all.” Pius XII chuckled. This damned servant of Being X. He was playing coy with me. Was he here to denounce me publicly? Perhaps excommunicate me? Try to declare the wedding invalid as the head of the Catholic Church?

               “And your goal here is to…” I said.

               “To officiate your wedding, by the grace of God.”

               My mind froze for a second. Surely he had said something else. The Pope of all people did not just tell everyone, in public, that he wanted to officiate a gay wedding. I blinked twice slowly.

               “B-But surely such a decision is c-controversial within the Church. And what about the Bible’s doctrines?” I uncharacteristically stuttered, chancing a look behind the Pope to see the cardinals lined up behind him.

               “That is of no concern. The Universal Church has unanimously agreed that the current Bible passages that condemn homosexuality have been grievously mistranslated. Our theologists are already working on a re-translation as we speak. God’s love should not be exclusive to anyone.” The Pope assured me.

               Thoughts sprinted inside my head. I’ve finally figured out the Pope’s game. He wanted to use my marriage to promote the Catholic Church, even if it meant renouncing the Church’s long-held stigma against homosexuality. He planned it out well too, ambushing me with his entrance while most of the guests have already arrived. For me to flat out refuse his service in front of so many influential people would cause massive social, diplomatic, and religious controversies. I had no desire to have such connotations mar my wedding.

               Fortunately, I had an excuse. The former Kaiser was supposed to officiate my wedding. I could say that my hands were tied and refused the Pope’s service because I had worked under the assumption that the Kaiser would marry me and Visha. To decrease the chance of the Vatican being offended and to ameliorate the situation, I could still offer them a table at my wedding. In this way, I could still seem like a gracious host while denying Being X his chance to gain faith.

               Speaking of the former Kaiser, I glanced behind me to see the elderly man make his way to the front of the crowd that had formed around me, the Pope, and his retinue of cardinals.

               “Your Holiness, I’m afraid that you will not need to exercise any duties today. The former Kaiser Wilhem II had agreed to be the officiator of my wedding. But you and your coterie are always welcomed at the wedding as esteemed guests.” I winked at the old emperor as a sign for him to go along. He seemed to understand, as he returned me an imperceptible nod of comprehension.

               “Ah, I see.” The Pope frowned in disappointment. Good, his schemes have been foiled. Take that, Being X, you fraudulent Devil.

               “No need to be sombre, Your Holiness.” The former Kaiser said. “I am fully willing to relinquish my duties to someone more qualified than me. I’m sure that Chancellor Degurechaff wishes the same.”

               I turned to look at Wilhelm II in shock. That was the opposite of what I wanted him to say! Was he going deaf? Was his age making him senile and clouding his thoughts?

               I tried to reiterate my intentions to the Pope. “Your Holiness, what he meant was-”

               “Thank you for your consideration, Chancellor. By providence, I shall accept the duty of officiating this joyous union and carry it out with decorum.” The Pope replied loudly for all to hear.

               Around us, the crowd that had gathered to witness the commotion cheered at this unexpected but not unwelcome (for them) development. They must have thought that this spectacle was planned from the very beginning.

               There was no coming back from this. I’d look like a clown if I suddenly announced that I didn’t want the Pope to officiate my wedding. That was like a university student announcing he didn’t want to be taught theoretical physics by Oppenheimer.

               I was hoping that the Pope would fail at his duties and bumble along the way. But alas, the Master of Ceremonies gave him a script detailing my specifications for the wedding ceremony.

               In a hotel room with an open window a block away, Agent Henry Evans, codenamed Stockfish, scribbled down a hasty message on a tiny piece of paper after witnessing the most recent guests arrive at the Devil's wedding. As the most senior agent amongst those still operating in Berun, he was the coordinator for their most recent assignment of shadowing and protecting the Princess. The other agents were inside the Berun Palace, posing as servers and servants. However, Londinium needed to be urgently informed of this newest development.

               The Pope coming to the wedding, presumptively to personally officiate the wedding, was earth-shattering news for the Christian world, especially amongst Catholics.

               It signified two major implications. One, the Roman Catholic Church had changed their stance on homosexuality, or at least on marriage. Two, Tanya von Degurechaff had somehow managed to coerce, threaten or hoodwink the Catholic Church into giving her support. Perhaps by promising to instate Catholicism as the state religion, but he could only speculate in the absence of evidence.

               Nevertheless, he needed to send this report. Agent Stockfish entered his bathroom, where his messenger pigeon, wearing a little bag, was perched in its cage. He rolled up the message with the words ‘Pope. Wedding. Officiate.” and opened the cage. He inserted the report into the little messenger bag and returned to the window to release the pigeon into the sky.

               The pigeon would fly for sixty miles to the north, where it would arrive at a PATO-coordinated spymaster post. The spymaster operating there would relay the message back to command.

               Ludwig watched in baffled amazement as the Pope and his cardinals were led to their own table in the dining hall. Just how did the Chancellor manage to achieve this? Truly, she was capable of one miracle after another.

               When Ludwig started dating Elya, he had noticed her almost zealotical belief in Tanya von Degurechaff. It bordered on worship. He didn’t understand why she had such faith in the Chancellor then, but after witnessing the Chancellor achieve the impossible again and again, such as defeating an army half a million strong in a single day or literally creating children from thin air, a part of him started to believe as well.

               At this point, he was taking the Chancellor’s feat of convincing the head of the Catholic Church to officiate her wedding for granted. It even made his job of assisting her ascension to the throne easier.

               As he was making his way to the Pope’s table, Ludwig passed several businessmen conversing with each other animatedly. He vaguely recognised two of them as wealthy American oil barons and the third person as Anton Ehrlich, CEO of Volksauto. While the discussion of politics and business was discouraged at the wedding, no strict ban was held. At an event with some of the most influential and wealthy people in the world present, unofficial deals and agreements being made in the background were inevitable.

               In the corner of his eyes, he saw the famous reporter Millicent Caldwell – the only reporter invited to this wedding – chatting with various officials and asking for their opinions on the wedding. It was well known that the American reporter was favoured by Chancellor Degurechaff. She alone had been given explicit permission to interview the guests at the wedding and write an article on the wedding afterwards.

               Ludwig eventually weaved through the throngs of people and circled around the ambassador of Akitsushima conferring with the Ambassador of the Republic of Qin to arrive at the Pope’s table. He greeted the head of the Vatican with the utmost respect, knowing what he was about to propose to him.

               “Your Holiness, I am the President of the Imperial States, Ludwig Ernst. Would you be available for a chat? Privately, that is.” Ludwig made a gesture with his hand at an unoccupied room to the side of the dining hall.

               “Of course, young man. In fact, I’ve been waiting for you. I believe that our discussion will be very fruitful.” The Pope stood up from his seat, lunch abandoned. A glimmer of ambition sparkled in his eyes.

               Weiss munched on his apple strudel, savouring the sweet taste. He might not be knowledgeable enough about politics to comment on Heidler’s political views, but his taste buds were sensitive enough to acknowledge that the man could run a restaurant chain well. No wonder he has already managed to open at least one restaurant in eighteen cities across the Imperial States.

               After the very enlightening conversation he had with Heiddler earlier, Weiss had just learnt from the man that most of the food here at the Berun Palace had been supplied by Heiddler’s company and staff. All of the ingredients were also sourced inhouse, as Heiddler had insisted on complete control of his own supply chain.

               When Heiddler had started expanding his business countrywide, he’d scouted the countryside and bought land to operate farms on. The first farm he had established was at a town called Dachau, where much of his vegetables were sourced. Heiddler’s largest farm was in Auschwitz, where his beef, lamb, and poultry were produced. All free-range, of course. Heiddler’s Ovens only accepted the highest quality ingredients.

               Signature dishes like the Amsterburgers specially prepared for this event were absolutely mouthwatering, utilising the highest quality bread, creamy cheese, fresh vegetables and high-grade beef. There were even kosher options. The culinary result was food that Weiss would likely kill to obtain during the days of the First Great War if he saw it in another man’s hands.

               Of course, the true culinary masterpieces were the pastry. Perfect golden-brown colour. Tender and flaky but not crumbly. Sweet but not overpowering. Light and airy yet also filling. Most guests have indulged in a two-digit number of pastries. It was only due to Weiss’ impeccable military discipline and self-control that Weiss limited himself to just six pastries, at least for lunch. He couldn’t say the same for dinner at the wedding reception. Say what you want about Heiddler, that man knew how to run ovens.

               As he gulped down the last crumbs of his apple strudel, he noticed his long-time superior, Tanya von Degurechaff, sitting by herself at the table reserved just for her and her fiancée, soon to be wife.

               Back in the First Great War, he and boys used to joke around that a person would have an easier time separating a married couple than the Major and her adjutant. Half of them had thought that the two were so inseparable because of their so called ‘sisterly bonds’ formed by having been paired together since even before the formation of the 203rd battalion. How naïve they were. How little they knew.

               “Why the long face? Cheer up, you’re about to get married.” Weiss said as he approached her from behind.

               “It’s nothing.” The Major said. Her body language conveyed otherwise. “I’m just nervous. I’ve been calm in the months leading up to the marriage but I’m suddenly getting the jitters now because a couple things didn’t go according to plan. What if I somehow screw up during the ceremony because of a mistake that I overlooked?”

               The Major, nervous? That was an almost preposterous thought. Tomorrow’s weather had a greater chance of raining gold coins. But then again, he supposed that only the Argent could find her own wedding more nerve-wracking than a battlefield. As the best man, he should try to ease her nerves.

               “Before I got married to my wife,” Weiss started. “I spent the night before unable to sleep. I only managed to doze off when I imagined the future we would build together after our marriage. Having something to look forward to helps calm the nerves. Perhaps ponder about that to reduce the tension. You do have those kids of yours, don’t you?”

               Weiss jerked his chin towards where a covenant of nuns and a group of nicely dressed orphans were fawning over two blonde babies sitting in strollers. The Major had invited the entirety of her orphanage over, including the orphans. While even millionaires couldn’t even sneak a whiff of an invitation, the Major’s gratefulness towards the closest people to mother figures to her must have compelled her to invite them to her most significant day thus far. It also gave the Major an excuse to have her children witness their parents’ wedding. As one of the Major’s closest confidants and an old war colleague, Weiss was aware of the twins’ true identities and origin.

               Like many others who knew the truth, he had been incredulous when learning of the news. While magic could perform numerous implausible tasks, creating life should be impossible. But then again, a prepubescent girl should never have been able to strike primal fear into the hearts of every foreign mage on the continent. At this point, Weiss was sure that whatever most people dismissed as impossible, the Major thought of as trivial.

               The corners of the Major’s mouth upturned slightly, and her pupils involuntarily dilated when she looked at the twins. She could deny it all she wanted, but Weiss knew that the Major had a hidden soft spot for kids that even she was unaware of.

               “You know what, Weiss? You’re right. I shouldn’t just focus on what could go wrong. I should think about all that could go right.” The Major said, with a hint of realisation in her voice.

               “It’s good that you finally realised that. You’ve lost track of time in your brooding. The wedding ceremony is only twenty minutes from now.” Weiss pointed out after glancing at his wristwatch.

               The reminder that the ceremony was imminent seemed to set a fire under her and gave her a sense of urgency. She stood up, flattened the creases on her pants and adjusted the medal on her chest.

               “You kept my wedding ring safe?” The Major asked.

               “Of course,” Weiss patted his suit pocket. “Been with me the whole time. Elya should have Visha’s ring.”

               I stood at the end of the aisle on the wedding altar, watching the doors leading to the wedding hall. I tried to ignore the conspicuous presence of the Pope standing right next to me, trying not to let him distract me. The wedding was planned to be a traditional one and not very religious, so he would not be reading out any religious texts as the officiant ought to at a Catholic wedding.

               The processional was already nearing its end. The only ones left were Visha and Zettour. Weiss and my groomsmen arranged themselves to the left of the altar, all current or former members of my 203rd. Most people simply assumed that I would take the place of the groom, seeing how Visha was much more feminine than me. The bridesmaids were mainly composed of the few female members of the 203rd and some BND secretaries, with Elya acting as the maid of honour.

               Despite the wait only being half a minute, it felt agonisingly long for me. Eventually, the double doors leading to the hall creaked open, revealing my fiancée and Zettour escorting her.

               Having not seen her since yesterday, I momentarily forgot to breathe. I might not have faith in God, but a miniscule portion of me started believing in angels when I laid eyes on her gorgeous figure. A translucent veil covered her head, still allowing anyone to see her impeccable visage. Her long hair, the colour of chestnut, flowed freely down the back of her wedding dress. Her gown was pristine, and I almost had the impression that she was glowing. The voluminous skirting was intricately embroidered with pearls, and the wedding dress train was longer than three men lying down.

               Zettour played his part to his utmost capacity, appearing dignified as he escorted Visha down the aisle. When Visha took her place opposite me on the altar, the Pope began his words of welcome.

               “I am Pope Pius XII of the Catholic Church, and I have the honour of performing this monumental ceremony today. On behalf of Tanya von Degurechaff and Viktoriya Ivanova Serebryakov, welcome and thank you all for being present at this historic occasion. People often wonder whether love can bloom on the battlefield. The presence of these two individuals here is the answer to that question. They are living proof that even the ugly scars of war could not obscure the beauty of humanity. They began as superior and subordinate, then comrades-in-arms, progressing to colleagues, and eventually lovers.”

               He continued. “By being here, you acknowledge that their love is one that should not be hidden. It is a love that should not be shunned. And it is a love that should not be shamed. Any love that God creates cannot be a love that is wrong. We are here this afternoon to celebrate this great love shared between two equally great people. We come together to witness and proclaim the union of Tanya von Degurechaff and Viktoriya Ivanova Serebryakov in marriage.”

               A round of polite applause followed.

               “I must remind the couple that the ceremony of marriage is one of the oldest and holiest of sanctimonious rituals. To commit to a marriage is to dedicate your bodies, your minds, your souls, and your futures.”

             I had to give the Pope credit, he knew his ways around words. This wasn’t the speech that the former Kaiser crafted, meaning that the Pope had written it himself. Before continuing on to the exchange of vows, the Pope spoke one final address to the audience.

               “Should anyone present know of any reason that this couple should not be joined in holy matrimony, speak now or forever hold your peace.” He announced, searching around.

               I stared at the assembly of people in front of me with intensity. If some idiot thought to interrupt my marriage, I would strap them to an atomic bomb and drop it into the ocean. Fortunately, no such opposition revealed themselves.

               “You may exchange your vows.” Pius XII said.

               Both of us had memorised our own personalised vows. The contents of which were carefully concealed from each other’s ears. Today would be the first time that we would hear each other’s vows.

               I began my piece. “To my one and only love. My life has been the greatest journey, but you are its destination.  I, Tanya von Degurechaff, vow to be your partner in every step of the way. I promise to hold your hand through every hardship and tribulation, even if the sky itself were to fall. As sure as the sun rises and sets every day, my love for you will forever hold true.”

               Visha teared up a little but blinked it away before exchanging her own vows. “I, Viktoriya Ivanova Serebryakov, vow to be your faithful and dedicated wife, for all my waking moments. No matter who you were, no matter who you are right now, no matter who you will be, I shall always cherish you. Even if I’m lost at sea, you shall forever be my guiding star. I promise that the blooming flower of our love shall never wilt.”

               I liked to consider myself a creature of logic and rationalism. Scientifically, love can be explained by the complex interaction between brain chemistry, synapse activity, hormones, and human behaviour. Of course, knowing that didn’t stop me from blushing intensely at listening to Visha’s vows.

               With the movement of a professional, the Pope signalled for Weiss to hand Visha my ring, and for Elya to give me Visha’s ring. We gently accepted the golden bands.

               “Will you, Tanya von Degurechaff, have this woman from this day forward to be your wedded wife, to live together in the sacred state of matrimony? Do you promise to love her, comfort her, honour and cherish her, in sickness and health, in trying times and smooth, in lean times and full, till death do you part?” The Pope asked me.

               I answered. “I do.” I slipped the wedding ring onto Visha’s finger.

               “Viktoriya Ivanova Serebryakov, will you have this woman from this day forward to be your wedded wife, to live together in the sacred state of matrimony? Do you promise to love her, comfort her, honour and cherish her, in sickness and health, in trying times and smooth, in lean times and full, till death do you part?” The Pope asked Visha.

               “I do.” Visha answered in turn. Visha slipped the wedding band onto my finger.

               Pius XII nodded.

              “In the sight of God and these witnesses, I now pronounce you two wives together!” The Pope declared, his voice resounding across the hall.

               Thunderous noise shook the building as people stood up to applaud us. I even saw President Roosenvelt being assisted up by his sons to stand up on his feet.

               Sister Margaret was openly sobbing and could barely contain herself. It was only right that I had extended the nuns an invitation to my wedding, since they had taken care of the kids in my stead for months, all without a word of complaint. The kids had been conveniently invited along simply because I couldn’t expect the nuns to temporarily abandon the orphanage. The twins had been brought along as well, although their identities were unknown to most guests.

               Speaking of said babies, Alexander and Tatiana were mimicking the audience by clumsily slapping their chubby hands together, still sucking on their pacifiers. Their curious eyes questioned why people were so excited.

               Zettour was dabbing his eyes with a handkerchief. Near the altar, my raucous 203rd were cheering and whooping like wild animals.

               Millicent Caldwell, armed with the only camera recorder in the entire building, was personally filming the entire ceremony from beginning to end, giving me a thumbs up. She would give us the original roll of film after it has been copied.

               The Pope reminded us. “You may now kiss the bride.”

               I needed no such reminders. I swept Visha off her feet and held her in a bridal carry. She barely had time to lift up her veil before I enveloped her lips in a prolonged kiss as the applause around us redoubled.

Chapter Text

 AYKRR Chapter 36

In Capable Hands

80 minutes before the wedding ceremony,

               “Holy Father, would you be willing to coronate Chancellor Tanya von Degurechaff at a later date? Having you coronate her instead of the Chancellor crowning herself would give her reign more legitimacy and recognition.” Ludwig asked the Pope in the private room, having cast a privacy spell.

               “I actually wanted to offer my services in the first place. But out of curiosity, why at a later date? I thought you people would have crowned her immediately after the wedding ceremony.” The Pope replied.

               Ludwig shook his head. “The preparations have not fully fallen into place yet. We need a bit more time. The Chancellor also wants to take a two-month long honeymoon after the wedding. Besides, the coronation will be even grander than this wedding.”

7 hours later,

               I sipped my wine as Weiss stood on the stage at the wedding reception in Charlottenburg Palace’s garden, telling yet another story about me during the First Great War.

               “…And that’s why the logistic department never delivered our rations late ever again, after a twelve-year-old gave them an absolute verbal lashing when she went without her precious coffee for twelve hours.” Weiss finished, inviting yet another resounding wave of laughter from the guests. He was really milking the war stories for all their worth.

               Weiss eventually stepped down from the stage to make way for the Glenn Miller Orchestra, hired from the Unified States and having been flown over to the Berun to provide musical entertainment at the wedding reception.

               I sat at my table with Visha, watching dozens of people twirl on the dance floor that had been cleared out in the gardens. We’ve already gone through at least a dozen dances together, and my feet were terribly sore. How Visha managed to do all that dancing whilst in heels and not even show a hint of discomfort was a mystery greater than the universe for me.

               Numerous ambassadors and dignitaries had tried to approach us to either carry out political discussions or curry favours, but most of them had been intercepted by either Zettour or Ludwig. Both of them were authorised to act on my behalf and would report back the topic of their conversations after the wedding reception.

               Besides me, Visha ate a slice of our wedding cake, personally baked by Heiddler and his wife.

               “Is this everything you imagined our wedding would be?” I asked her, eyeing our wedding rings and gesturing with my hand at the hundreds of guests before us.

               Nearly everything that we had arranged for the wedding had gone to plan. Well, all except for the surprise appearance of the Pope. I still couldn’t believe that Being X and his peons had managed to outsmart me to use my wedding as a message that the Catholic Church still wielded considerable influence. But an event where I was unaware of the Pope’s arrival would never happen again, I’d ensure it.

               “Well, there is something that we haven’t done yet.” Visha mused.

               “Missing? What is it?” I scratched my head in bewilderment. I had already publicly kissed her again in front of tens of thousands of celebrants during the wedding parade to Charlottenburg Palace, cut our wedding cake, listened to the toasts, and danced together. Really, all that was left was the departure.

             Visha leaned towards my ear and whispered in a sultry voice. “The consummation of marriage.”

               Blood rushed into my cheeks and ears, colouring them crimson.

20th August 1943,

Chancellery, Berun,

               Let’s just say that the consummation of our marriage had been… passionate. Nothing too destructive of course. The floor of the apartment had been unharmed; we only had to replace our demolished bed with a sturdier one.

               The following week had been occupied by us opening our wedding gifts and writing back letters of appreciation. Most of the offerings had been monetary, although some wealthy business owners had gifted us stocks from their own company. Knowing how high the valuation for those stocks would grow in the future, I certainly did not mind holding onto them. If I sold them at just the right time, we would easily become multi-millionaires without lifting a single finger.

               Our friends and acquaintances, having known our preferences, had presented us with personalised and practical gifts. Elya had gifted us a recent invention from the Unified States – several pairs of nylon stockings. It was manufactured by DuPont, which I had been gifted stocks of. Zettour gave Visha a copy of the novel Carmilla, while I got a translated version of the Art of War. Weiss, perhaps being blessed with a moment of clairvoyance, had contributed a sturdy teakwood bed. Lehrgen gave me a brand-new washing machine. The former Kaiser and Ludwig had given us elaborate royal cloaks and robes straight out of their family treasury, with the reasoning that they wouldn’t be needing them anymore. The cloaks and robes were quite gaudy, but I couldn’t deny that they had quite the sense of style and flair to them.

               Having gone through all of our wedding presents, I was perusing through the various reports made by Zettour and Ludwig on the topic of the conversations they had with the ambassadors and dignitaries who tried to approach us during the wedding reception. I also had to complete the last bit of work before embarking on my well-deserved and long overdue vacation with my wife.

               As expected, the vast majority of those delegates were simply trying to curry favours, but one particular ambassador had wanted to convey a legitimate concern. Namely, the ambassador of Magna Rumeli, which was comparable to Greece in my world. He wanted to consult me on the precarious topic of Magna Rumeli’s territorial security.

               Down in the southeast, tensions between Magna Rumeli and the Turkmen Empire had been mounting. In this world, the Turkmen Empire had never been as successful in holding onto Anatolia as the Ottomans had been in my world, having lost Constantinople in the nineteenth century after Magna Rumeli declared independence from the empire. The Turkmen Empire still held most of Anatolia, but they did not have administration over the Bosporus Strait nor the Dardanelles Strait. However, having never participated in the First Great War and suffering defeat, the Turkmen Empire never did rapidly decline and fall apart in the twentieth century as it did in my world, resulting in it still standing even now, controlling great swathes of territory in the Middle East and being deferred to by several vassal states.

               In 1929, the Turkmen Empire had invaded Magna Rumeli-held western Anatolia. This event had mostly gone unnoticed by most nations in Europa, having obviously been tied up in the First Great War to care about what two unrelated powers were doing. The war had concluded with a decisive victory for the Turkmen Empire, allowing them to establish even more control over Anatolia, with the current borders being only fifty kilometres east of Constantinople.

               Due to insufficient logistics and strategy, Magna Rumeli had lost nearly half of their armed forces in the two-year long war. The majority of their navy had also been sunk, with only a few destroyers and frigates left to assert their control over the Aegean Sea. This had left Magna Rumeli in a tenuous situation, making itself extremely vulnerable to another conflict with the Turkmen Empire.

               Tensions had already been mounting within the past few months, with the Turkmen Empire sending their navy to probe the Aegean Sea and even had one of their dreadnaughts, the Reşadiye, circle the island of Cyprus, where both Rumelian and Turkmen Cypriots lived. An obvious provocation to the Rumelians. The fact that the Rumelians had not responded in kind was also proof of Magna Rumeli’s lack of any sufficient naval defences.

               It was no secret that the Turkmen Empire wanted to conquer all of Anatolia and establish concrete control over Constantinople and the Dardanelles Strait. These two strategic points made Magna Rumeli a quintessential figure in regulating maritime travel from the Black Sea to the Mediterranean and vice versa. If the Turkmen Empire could seize Constantinople and the Dardanelles, all maritime traffic to and from the Black Sea would have to answer to them.

               This was a developing situation that OZEV could not afford to ignore. Many OZEV warships were being built in Odessa. Once completed, they would have to cross through the Bosporus Strait in Constantinople and the Dardanelles Strait to make it to the Aegean Sea and travel to their respective country’s sovereign waters. OZEV had an agreement with Magna Rumeli to allow passage of our ships through their straits, given that we pay a one-time fee. This agreement might not be upheld if the Turkmen Empire were to seize the two straits from Magna Rumeli. Moreover, Magna Rumeli bordered OZEV to the south through their border with Croatia, which had greatly expanded their territory through annexing Herzegovina and Montenegro. If Magna Rumeli suffered yet another catastrophic defeat, there might be tens, if not hundreds of thousands of displaced refugees flooding Croatia. Having just finished annexing large chunks of territory and having barely gotten started on assimilating their new citizens, Croatia was not infrastructurally or administratively equipped to handle a massive influx of refugees. Furthermore, a large chunk of the refugees would continue onto the rest of OZEV, with the Imperial States being a prime destination due to our high level of development and standard of living.

               As for the Turkmen Empire, OZEV had an ongoing deal with them to move oil from Azerbaijan through their railway lines to the Black Sea, then shipped to OZEV. This was a deal brokered by Dacia from last year. However, the usefulness of this arrangement was coming to an end. With the Russy Tsardom firmly on OZEV’s side, Azerbaijan oil could instead be transported safely through the Russy Tsardom and to OZEV.

               Additionally, I was averse to the Turkmen Empire joining OZEV due to their policies concerning minorities. Namely, their inhumane treatment of minority ethnic groups such as the Armenians, Assyrians and Anatolian Rumelians. Even though their decline had not been accelerated by losing a major war, the Turkmen Empire’s rot was still glaringly inevitable. This had resulted in the sultan, Mehmed VII, utilising various minority groups as scapegoats for the country’s issues instead of instituting meaningful policies.

               Pogroms, deportations, forced religious conversions, lynchings, death marches and straight up genocides were but a few of the treatment of minorities in the Turkmen Empire. Stolen reports estimated at least one million deaths from just Armenians, let alone the Assyrians and Rumelians. Such a horrendous waste of precious human resources. Even worse, many of these atrocities had gone unnoticed or unreported due to the Turkmen Empire’s media suppression. Overall, I was both politically and morally disinclined towards forging any alliance with the Turkmen Empire, unless they could convert to a functioning democracy and acknowledge their crimes against humanity.

               As such, it was in OZEV’s interest to support Ragma Rumeli should they ever come to blows with the Turkmen Empire. It should be a topic of contention to be brought up in the upcoming OZEV meeting on the twenty-fifth of this month. However, I’d be going on my honeymoon with Visha in two days. As such, I wrote down a memo for Ludwig to get OZEV to assess Magna Rumeli’s eligibility as a prospective member and extend them a membership if they did not approach OZEV first, since he would be attending these meetings in my stead during my honeymoon.

               On the other hand, the Turkmen Empire wouldn’t just take it lying down when they find out that OZEV planned to renege on our oil transportation deal just to ally with Ragma Rumeli. It was expected that they would turn to PATO’s assistance. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if the Turkmen Empire decided to seek out PATO membership. Their sultan might evaluate that the benefit of controlling access to the Black Sea outweighed the cost of helping PATO administer their colonial holdings.

               While the prospect of PATO gaining a strong ally in the Middle East was troubling, I knew that neither us nor PATO were itching for a war anytime soon. The scars of the Second Great War were still fresh. If anything, PATO would actively strive to assuage the Turkmen Empire’s bellicosity to prevent any hostile action towards either Magna Rumeli or OZEV.

               Moving onto the second issue that I had to deal with before leaving, there had been reports of insider trading by members of the Reichstag who had abused non-public information to secure outstanding financial gains. Such practices made it too easy for politicians to become corrupt and susceptible to bribery. Politicians abusing public trust for personal gain would weaken the foundation of democratic governments. This was something that I had to address for the sake of maintaining the Imperial States as a strong democracy.

               To combat insider trading by legislators, I drafted down the Legislator Finance Transparency Act, aimed at curbing insider trading. It prohibited any exploitation of non-public information for financial gain and would require all legislators to publicly disclose any trade they have made within seventy-two hours to promote transparency. Any legislator suspected of insider trading would be subjected to blackout periods, whereby they would be forbidden from purchasing stocks the day they vote on a bill and the following week after, regardless of whether the bill passes or not. If they violated the blackout period, they would be urged to divest all their holdings of stocks and bonds, then banned from owning stocks during their tenure as a legislator. Even I, the Chancellor, wasn’t exempted.

               If the issue of insider trading continued to persist, I would be forced to enact a more heavy-handed solution by banning any trading of stocks during a legislator’s term of office. They would still be able to hold onto any stocks that they held before taking office but would be rendered unable to sell or buy any stocks.

               Furthermore, the LFT Act also required legislators to publish their annual income stream and tax returns. The purpose of this was to ensure that our politicians were not taking any bribes, especially from corporations. Corruption and political bribery had no place in a free market. If a business wanted to thrive, it would be better off achieving that via introducing a more competitive product or service instead of paying government officials to misuse their powers. In terms of the market, government intervention should only be kept to necessary regulations such as discouraging the abuse of externalities, dishonesty, health and safety violations, free-riding, and anti-competitive practices including corruption. While the government should never go overboard with regulations on the market, people should have a certain level of trust and confidence in the market for the free market to work as intended. Corruption undermines this trust and confidence, potentially leading to hindered economic growth, less entrepreneurship and stagnated development.

               Having lived in this world for nearly thirty years, I’ve been slowly recognising the differences in the markets of this world and my world. This world’s market was an absolute wild west. A glaring difference had been the utter lack of labour rights and safety and health regulations. Minimum wage was non-existent. Unpaid overtime was common. Food products weren’t even required to have expiration dates on them. That was just to name a few. Any efforts in ensuring the labour rights of workers had mostly been conducted and enforced by unions instead of any legislative body.

               Instead of letting employees be exploited and have their labour rights abused and only being recompensed if they were a union member, I had elected to tackle these issues on a national level. I had to pander to the working class at some point, lest they turn to radical ideologies like communism or anarchism. After all, some of the contributing factors to the Russy Communist Revolution had been the Tsarist government ignoring the plight of the working class, leading to mounting discontent and radicalism. I had no aspiration for the Imperial States to suffer the same fate, even if numerous atrocities of communism like Holodomor had been exposed, giving multitudes of people a hatred and aversion of communists. Nevertheless, I should never underestimate the parasite that was communism; I had to stomp down on it until it stopped breathing. It would be the type of irony Being X enjoyed, having me successfully fight off communism, only to have that poison fester in my country due to me becoming complacent regarding the working class.

               I’ve done my best to patch up a few of these issues, such as instating laws that made it illegal for employees to be denied pay for overtime labour and ensuring that all food products now had an estimate for expiration. Alas, it was as though for every legal loophole or issue I sealed, another one was discovered.

               It would take years for me to resolve all of these issues, but I didn’t intend to. I’d only patch up some of them and leave the rest for my successors. Years down the line, they would need to secure their own political reputation and legacy, and what better way to increase their popularity among the working class than establishing minimum wage or creating an occupational health and safety administration? My successors should be grateful that I decided to leave so many low-hanging fruits for them to pick.

               Having finally finished all of the work that had to be done, I could finally set my mind free and only focus on what I planned to do on the honeymoon.

21st August 1943,

Berun,

               Ludwig sipped his coffee as he read the Legislator Finance Transparency Act that Chancellor Degurechaff drafted, to be passed in the Reichstag by him in her absence. While it was framed as an anti-corruption and anti-bribery bill, having learnt many valuable political lessons from Chancellor Degurechaff, he could pry apart that veneer to discern her true intentions.

               It was not explicitly stated, but this bill would ensure near total financial surveillance over every member of the Reichstag. The government would be able to identify the income streams of problematic members of the Reichstag, allowing them to threaten all but the most financially secured with bankruptcy should they try to revolt. It would also ensure that wealthy politicians would be unable to sponsor any rebel groups to challenge the Chancellor once she becomes Kaiserin.

               Ludwig’s own control over the Reichstag had been fraying a tiny bit recently with him forcing the Reichstag to pass two bills in a row to decriminalise homosexuality and legalise all forms of marriage between two people. A small fringe ultra-conservative enclave in the Reichstag had even begun to speak against him. The group was composed of completely law-abiding legislators, even though Elya had tried to bait them by sending agents to bribe them several times. Those attempts had all failed, with the group vehemently refusing to take bribes. The usual method of tailing them to see if they could be caught in the middle of sedition didn’t work either. This meant that Ludwig had no way to coerce them into voting as he wanted.

               The vote to reform the Imperial States’ government into a monarchy would require a supermajority of two-thirds of the legislative body. While he nominally had the support of eighty-five percent of the Reichstag, there was no guarantee that there would be no defectors when faced with such a pivotal vote. He needed to secure every vote he could get.

               The Chancellor must have recognised his struggle with the ultra-conservatives and drafted this bill to assist him. Every single one of those ultraconservatives were owners of multiple businesses. If this bill were to pass, Ludwig could glimpse into their income stream and identify which sources of income were most lucrative for them. With that knowledge, he could threaten to sabotage those businesses if the ultraconservatives didn’t comply. After all, all it took was a few cases of ‘mismanagement’, ‘malpractice’ or ‘financial fraud’ to completely bury the reputation of a business.

               Once the LFT Act was passed, Ludwig would finally have the power to ensure that the return to monarchy would be possible.

22nd August 1943,

Berun,

               I bid farewell to my staff as they saw me off for my honeymoon. As both Visha and I wanted this honeymoon to be a stress-free one for us, I had instructed my staff to not contact us unless there was a major emergency that they couldn’t resolve. We also wouldn’t be reading up much on news, preferring to be updated once we were home. Going on vacation for two months was quite long for a head of government. I had only planned this honeymoon to be a month long at first, but every single member of my government had insisted that we deserved a longer vacation.

               Both of us had already visited the twins at the orphanage together, promising to pick them up to live with us after the honeymoon. We could have brought them with us on our honeymoon, but like I said, we wanted a stress-free honeymoon, and taking care of children wouldn’t be very conducive to a relaxing vacation. After we kissed them farewell and were leaving the orphanage, I swore the twins tried to wave goodbye.

               I wasn’t worried that they’d be lonely without us. The twins had several nuns taking care of them, not to mention the two dozen or so kids in the orphanage that found themselves fascinated by those two adorable creatures.

               With both Visha and I unavailable, Ludwig would be Acting Chancellor-President, with Zettour receiving a temporary promotion to Acting Vice Chancellor. I wasn’t worried that anything would go wrong in their presence. Both of them were competent and had the mettle to run the country in my absence.

               “Have a wonderful honeymoon, you two. Remember to bring back some souvenirs for us.” Zettour bid us farewell in a grandfatherly way.

               “Of course.” Visha nodded. “We’ll take plenty of pictures to show you as well.”

               I turned to Ludwig. “You remember what to do while I’m gone?”

               “Rope Magna Rumeli into OZEV and pass the Legislator Finance Transparency Act through the Reichstag.” Ludwig answered. “Aside from just that, is there anything else you want me to do?”

               “Just don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” I advised him before giving a quick thought about what he asked. “Well, pleasantly surprise me if you can.”

               “Consider that done.” He said, a smile on his face.

               Elya stepped up to hug both me and Visha. “Don’t accidentally make another baby while you’re having fun.”

               “Elya!” Visha blushed. I simply scoffed.

               I then addressed Lehrgen, who stood off to the side. “Lehrgen.”

               The Field Marshall and Minister of Defence stood at attention. “Yes, Chancellor?”

               “If we get into a war, inform me immediately, okay? Wouldn’t want to miss out.” I joked. At the same time, it was an implicit reminder for him to refrain from showing aggression towards foreign countries, since I would promptly return to put a stop to it.

               With that, Visha and I boarded our flight for our honeymoon. We were going to sightsee and explore various destinations all around the world, all while circumnavigating the globe by travelling eastwards.

               Fifteen minutes later, the captain of the plane announced that we would be taking off for the first destination on our itinerary – Rome. As the plane finally took off, I turned to ask Visha.

               “Do you think I should have given them more detailed instructions? I’m not worried about Zettour, but what if Ludwig does something undesirable while we’re away? Both of us know how much power a Chancellor-President has. Power can tempt anyone to become a tyrant.”

               Visha gazed at me with an amused expression and assured me. “Ludwig won’t be tempted by power; he’s a bit like you in that sense. Not to mention, the Reichstag is there to act as checks and balances against him, not to mention the military led by Lehrgen. Besides, we’ll only be away for two months. How much damage could possibly be done in that time?”

               I relaxed. That’s right. While there weren’t as many checks and balances against power as I preferred, there were several groups with power in the Imperial States. A Chancellor-President couldn’t upend democracy unless he had both the unequivocal support of the Reichstag and the military. The hundreds of Reichstag members would never allow Ludwig to consolidate power, and the military would never let him get away with it. Furthermore, there was also the loyal BND to act as a hidden check against totalitarianism. As a last stand, Governors could refuse federal orders if they felt it went against the principles of democracy. Unless someone had the support of all four of these groups of people, democracy could never fall in the Imperial States in a mere two months.

               “You’re right. I shouldn’t be so paranoid. The Imperial States are in capable hands. Democracy should be safe and sound in our absence.”

Chapter Text

AYKRR Chapter 37

The Uneventful Vacation (Part 1)

23rd August 1943,

Rome,

               I munched on a square slice of pizza, savouring the iconic Ildoan food. Visha and I were partaking in a quick lunch at a pizzeria after visiting the Roman Forum and the Trevi Fountain. This was a fairly busy pizzeria during lunch time, so we had to book a reservation beforehand.

               Next on our list was the Colosseum, which was under recently ordered government-led restoration efforts. Normally, visitors wouldn’t be allowed during this time, but Prime Minister Luigi Falasca had given me express permission to view the site, as long as I don’t interfere with reconstruction efforts.

               Once we’ve visited all the famous historical buildings and sites in Rome, I planned to have a romantic boat date with Visha in Venice, then spend several days on the beaches in Sardinia.

               Just as we finished up the last of our lunch, a cardinal dressed in red passed through the entrance of the pizzeria. I instinctively tensed up. The Vatican knew I was here.

               The cardinal timidly approached our table and politely bowed, taking absolute care to not invade our personal spaces.

               “Greetings and salutations, Chancellor Degurechaff and Vice Chancellor Serebryakov-Degurechaff. The Supreme Pontiff wishes to extend an invitation towards you two to visit the Holy See for a short discussion. You two may come whenever you wish.”

               Out of the tourist destinations in Rome, I had made an intentional effort to avoid Vatican City. Why was the Vatican so damn obsessed with me? My moniker was literally the Devil of the Rhine! Surely that would have made them rethink their decisions.

               As I was about to refuse, I noticed that the customers inside the pizzeria were staring at us. The restaurant custodian stopped his cleaning to gawk. A waiter froze in his tracks, a plate of pizza held in his hands. A couple of businessmen put down their coffee to watch the little spectacle. A toddler was pulling on her parents’ sleeves and pointing at us. Drat, those snide Vatican bastards. They intentionally extended a public invitation  in front of dozens of witnesses. If I refused, it would make me look ungrateful and condescending for dismissing the Pope’s hospitality, especially since he had been the one to officiate my wedding.

               I looked at Visha to see her nudging me to accept. I sighed.

               “Fine. Inform him that we’ll be arriving at the Vatican later in the afternoon.” I answered.

               The visit to the Vatican had not been as daunting as I’d expected. Being greatly influenced by stereotypes and what I have seen in various media, I’d anticipated being led to a massive cathedral to see the Pope sitting on his papal throne while children sang hymns and trumpets blared around us. Contrary to my expectations, the Swiss guards had escorted us to Pope Pius XII’s private residence in the Apostolic Palace, where we held an informal, private conversation.

               The Pope personally greeted us and led us through the halls of the Apostolic Palace to arrive at his living room. The Pope’s residence was spacious and tastefully decorated but lacked the opulence or excessive luxury that I expected from someone of his position. I had half-expected his furniture to be gilded.

               Vatican City still gave me a bone-chilling creep, though. I felt watched everywhere I went. It was as though Being X was staring at me through the eyes on every painting and stained window.

               As we sat ourselves on high-backed wooden chairs, a nun from the Pope’s staff of servants served us coffee while the Pope indulged in tea. For some reason, the air inside the Pope’s residence felt a little chilly despite it being early autumn.

               “Thank you for graciously inviting us here, Your Holiness.” Visha said politely. As a follower of the Eastern Orthodox Church, she had never dreamed of being invited by the Pope to Vatican City. When we were being led through the Vatican, Visha had treated it like a student going on a guided tour, constantly asking about certain locations or objects.

               “Chancellor and Vice Chancellor, I’m pleased that you have found the time to visit this old man. Please forgive me for interrupting your vacation. What I want to discuss with you is of paramount significance.”

               “And what is it you wanted to discuss with us?” I asked, trying to keep the impatience out of my voice. I wanted to go back to enjoying my vacation in Ildoa already. This was my first proper vacation in twelve years. I only knew of salarymen arduously working in some nefarious black companies receiving less time off.

               “It has come to the Church’s attention that there is a proselytising cult in Berun. They claim to be an offshoot of the Catholic Church. Most concerningly, this cult seems to worship you, Chancellor. They call you the Holy Maiden and carve figurines in your likeness to pray to. I want to inquire whether you were aware of their existence and intentionally neglected to inform the Church.” The Pope said with the most serious tone I’ve ever heard from him.

               A cult? Why the hell were people worshipping me? What have I done to deserve it? I’ve never encouraged anyone to partake in such a wasteful exercise. I wasn’t a megalomaniac like Being X.

               The Church must be paranoid that I was trying to become an object of worship in the Imperial States. It was understandable from their perspective. Their whole mission was to spread their faith across the world. Having a heretical cult competing with them would undermine that objective.

               “I wasn’t aware of their existence. To be frank, the idea of a cult worshipping an ordinary person like me sounds ridiculous.” I answered truthfully. Instead of making figurines of me and praying to it, it was a better investment of their time and energy to pursue new avenues of interest or business to improve their lives.

               “I see. Then would it be fine for you if the Catholic Church were to deal with them? Not through violence, of course, God forbids. But through simple persuasion or if it escalates, through legal means.” The Pope said.

               “Sure.” I waved dismissively. I wanted nothing to do with religious conflicts. And the quicker I leave this place, the better. Something about the place’s aura gave me goosebumps.

               “Thank you for ensuring a brighter religious future for the world, Chancellor. You truly are a devout child of the Catholic faith as the nuns of Degurechaff Orphanage have told me.” The Pope praised. I tried to hold a civil smile and not let a vein pop. I was anything but a faithful devotee.

               “If that was all, allow us to excuse ourselves.” I said, motioning towards the door.

               “There’s something else I wanted to address.” As he said that, a nun came into the living room bearing a Bible and handed it to the Pope. The corners of my mouth drooped. A sudden chill went up my spine again, as though a premonition of ill omen. Don’t tell me he wanted to read out a sermon.

               “Some necessary changes have been made to the Bible to reflect more accurate translations to modern languages. The most major changes were made to the Book of Leviticus, more specifically the verses pertaining to homosexuality. After revising it, those verses have been rewritten to condemn paedophilia instead. The Church has not started mass-printing these new editions yet, but a limited number have been made available to the members of the Vatican. As such, we would like to present you with one such Bible as a parting gift.”

               He continued. “But that’s not all. This second gift was dependent on your answer pertaining to the cult in Berun. For allowing the Vatican to officiate your wedding and deal with a heretical cult, the Vatican would like to bestow upon you a title. The title of the Patrician of the Romans. An acknowledgement of your role as the protector of the papal state of Vatican City. You may also call upon the support and protection of the papacy in return. Both of these gifts will be published, of course. The Vatican does not wish to hide anything from our believers.”

               I let out a breath of relief that I hadn’t noticed I was holding. Just a book and some silly pretentious title, not a half hour long religious lecture.. The Vatican likely invented that title on the fly to make me feel special and indebted to them. What a bunch of conniving conmen.

               I nearly declined the gifts just to spite them and Being X but hesitated. I suddenly had an idea to turn the Vatican’s plans onto their own heads. They wanted to use my fame and reputation to ride their way back to political relevance. But the Vatican leadership was obviously detached from the common sense of the world. If I accepted the fanciful title, it would present me as a religious egomaniac. The Vatican’s believers would be disappointed that the Church would try to bribe the egos of politicians to remain relevant in worldly politics. It would drag down both my reputation as a politician and the Vatican’s reputation as an institution. Two birds with one stone. I would be avoiding the fate of being dragged back into the political spotlight in the future whilst simultaneously tarnishing the Vatican’s lustre.

               As graciously as I could, I accepted the book and title, then excused myself and Visha. Feeling yet another ominous chill, I left the Vatican like a ghost was nipping at my heels, forcing Visha to jog to catch up with me despite my shorter legs.

24th August 1943,

The Rathaus, Wien,

               Like every politician in the world, Ludwig read various newspapers daily to be up to date with current events. Imagine his surprise when he saw the name of a specific blonde Chancellor showing up on the third page of the Berun Times when she was supposed to be on vacation. Despite mentioning her, the article had been uncharacteristically tame for something involving the woman. A small section concerning an announcement from the Roman Church that they had decided to grant the Chancellor the title of Patrician of the Romans for her efforts in preserving Catholicism.

               While to anyone uninterested in Europan history, that title might just be some random grandstanding epithet the Catholic Church slapped on any politician whose ego they wanted to stroke, Ludwig had been well educated from birth on Europan history. This same title had been granted to many famous historical figures before, but one amongst them stood out. As a member of a dynasty descended from Charlemagne himself, Ludwig knew that this was the same title that Pope Adrian I granted Charlemagne before the king’s ascension as the Holy Roman Emperor.

               While not granting any power over Rome, the title implied that its holder had protection and support from the papacy. This was the Pope’s way of publicly declaring his support behind Chancellor Degurechaff.

               Ludwig smirked. Careful there, Chancellor. You’re getting a bit too obvious with your ambition. We’re supposed to uphold a veil of deniability before the curtain rises.

25th August 1943,

The Rathaus, Wien,

               Ludwig waited for the vote on Magna Rumeli’s entrance into OZEV to commence. Yesterday, he had already discussed terms with Ragma Rumeli’s ambassador to the Imperial States. He had been able to wrestle out some concessions from them, simply because of the fact that Magna Rumeli needed OZEV more than OZEV needed Magna Rumeli.

               If the Turkmen Empire managed to conquer Constantinople and block the Black Sea, there was nothing that suggested OZEV wouldn’t be able to broker a new deal with the Turkmen Empire, even if the Turkmen Empire tried to squeeze out more money from them than Magna Rumeli did. Of course, it would be inconvenient to process and allocate resources to take care of a flood of Rumelian refugees into OZEV, but it wouldn’t be an insurmountable task.

               On the other hand, Magna Rumeli risked coming under a full invasion if they dawdled. Should the Turkmen Empire launch a full invasion, there was no doubt that Constantinople would fall. In fact, the entire Kingdom of Magna Rumeli might be annexed should the Turkmen Empire harbour further ambitions of conquest.

               Furthermore, the economy  of Ragma Rumeli was in shambles. Losing a war thirteen years earlier against the Turkmen Empire, then getting hit by the Great Depression had effectively rendered their economy one of the weakest on the entire continent. Alongside Serbia and Bulgaria, both of which had been part of the defeated Kingdom of Yugoslavia, Magna Rumeli had one of the lowest GDP per capita – a recently invented metric of individual welfare – in Europa.

               As such, Magna Rumeli had agreed to waive all fees for ships, whether mercantile or military, entering or exiting the Black Sea. In addition, Magna Rumeli’s King and Prime Minister had agreed privately to support Tanya von Degurechaff’s ascension to the throne in the upcoming months. In exchange, they would be given a membership into OZEV and the security guarantee and economic opportunities associated with it.

               The voting concluded in an unsurprising unanimous vote, which officially made Magna Rumeli OZEV’s ninth member. OZEV member states were interested in bolstering the ranks of the alliance to strengthen their side of Europa. By admitting Magna Rumeli as a new member, OZEV now had control of access to and from the Black Sea.

               Ludwig was confident that the Turkmen Empire wouldn’t do anything as rash as attacking Magna Rumeli after their rival had joined OZEV. To do so would be utter suicide. Just the combined OZEV Armed Forces, even after demilitarisation, was enough to crush the Turkmen Empire in a year. And this was without dipping into the Imperial States’ nuclear arsenal of eighteen atomic bombs, each capable of leveling a city.

               Now that another country in Europa has been added to the ranks of OZEV, Ludwig wondered how far the Chancellor’s ambitions lied. Surely her visions were not just limited to just Central and Eastern Europe. Given how she had Elya silently train a secret revolutionary army in Eireland, he’d wager that she harboured a grand plan to decouple Eireland from Albion’s tether and inviting them into OZEV.

2nd September 1943,

Nosy Iranja Island, Malagasy,

               Visha slapped her neck, crushing yet another mosquito trying to suck her blood. While tropical islands like Malagasy were famed for their beautiful beaches and clear ocean, they were also infamous for the atrocious number of insects that wanted to take a bite out of you. There were no solutions to deal with the innumerable flies and mosquitoes aside from swatting them.

               After inquiring with the locals, who had pointed out this ideal location, they had brought over enough supplies for a beach picnic to enjoy a relaxing afternoon together. Except that some godforsaken flies had been attracted by the food they had brought over, forcing them to gulf down their lunch as quickly as possible.

               When they had tried to relax under the sun, mosquitos had been attracted to their swimwear-clad bodies. The swimwear that Tanya had brought for them was a new invention by the former chairman of the Imperial Party, Walther von Schiel. Apparently, after the country went under material rationing during the Second Great War, he had an idea for a new type of women’s swimwear that used less fabric. The design was quite scandalous though, being a two-piece swimwear that left little to the imagination. He had dubbed it the bikini and started selling them at the clothing store he owned.

               It was actually Visha who had persuaded Tanya into purchasing two pairs to bring on their trip. Tanya had been enthusiastic when buying them from Walther von Schiel, until she realised that both pairs weren’t meant for Visha alone.

             Reluctantly, Tanya had agreed to don the bikini for the beach, but only if they were in an isolated location. As such, they had only worn very conservative swimsuits in Sardinia. That didn’t stop some flirtatious men from trying to seduce them, but a couple glares from the ZEZP officers stationed in Ildoa to protect them sent those men scurrying off.

               However, here in Nosy Iranja Island, separated from the mainland, there was no one to stare at them aside from themselves. Tanya had certainly been shamelessly ogling her, to the point of forgetting that she was wearing the same thing as Visha.

               Speaking of her petite wife, Visha turned from her sunlounger to peer at Tanya. She was pretending to read a book on the history of Malagasy while sitting on her own sunlounger. However, it wasn’t challenging to notice that her eyes were not focused on the book. That, and the fact that she was holding the book upside down.

               Conspicuously, Tanya was not covered in any bite marks. Her skin was pristine and without blemish, although it was rather pale. Fortunately, they were trying to get a tan. Tanya certainly needed the sunlight. Being stuck all day completing paperwork in offices was not conducive towards attaining a healthy complexion.

               Visha noticed that Tanya was wearing her Type 99, the faint shimmer of a barrier covering her. What an ingenious solution. This way, Tanya wouldn’t have to expend any physical effort to prevent being swarmed by bugs. Visha grabbed her own Type 99 from the picnic basket and channelled a nearly imperceptible amount of magic to maintain a thin barrier around her. It wouldn’t stop a punch, much less a bullet, but it was the perfect defence against the stings and bites of insects for a miniscule magic cost.

               After a few more minutes of sunbathing, Tanya sat up and started stretching.

               “I’m going to go for a swim. The water’s too clear to not take a dip in. You want to come with me?” Her wife said. Weird, she never knew Tanya could swim. Visha never saw her swim before. They had been practically stuck together at the hips since the start of the First Great War, and Visha doubted that Tanya’s old orphanages had swimming lessons. The Imperial Army’s boot camp for mages didn’t require recruits to know how to swim, and neither did officer school.

               Mages never had the need to learn how to swim. They could simply fly over bodies of water instead. Some well-trained marine mages could even dive deep underwater with the propulsion from diving spells and using barriers to create air bubbles, eliminating the need for diving gear. If a mage ran out of magic when flying over water, they would die on impact with the water surface. The only possible situation in which a mage would need to know how to swim was if they ran out of magic while flying at very low altitude and speed over water. Therefore, swimming was deemed a superfluous skill for mages.

               “I think I’ll have to decline. I never learnt how to swim.” Visha said. Growing up as a middle-ranking Russy noble, there had been skills deemed more essential for her to master. Besides, the lakes and rivers in her homeland that remained chilly even in summer were hardly suitable for swimming in.

               “Really? I wouldn’t mind teaching you.” Tanya offered with a cheeky wink. It was just like her to educate other people. It was almost nostalgic actually. During her first few months fighting in the war, it was Tanya that had taught her practically every skill that basic training had neglected to provide. Sometimes, it felt as though Tanya was the older one due to her precocious maturity and uncanny knowledgeability.

               Gratefully, she took Tanya’s offer. It took half an hour of trial and error, including one time when Visha had to hang onto Tanya for dear life, but eventually Visha managed to float by herself.

3rd September 1943,

Antananarivo, Malagasy,

               Aside from frolicking on the beaches of Malagasy and failing to get a tan, I also went to get a firsthand look of the Imperial States’ investments into the island. I was thoroughly impressed by the speed of their progress. New roads, modern hospitals, and budding industries—fish canning, textiles—had sprung up. The capital’s port had been expanded, and the old, dilapidated airfield used by the Francois rebuilt into a proper airport. Astounding progress for an island only two years in our possessions and sixteen months under any meaningful construction efforts.

               As this was my last week in the colony, I had a brief meeting with the colonial administrator of Malagasy, Dirk Ackermann. The colonial office had selected him to administer this territory for his integrity, industrious work ethics, and deep respect and fascination for Malagasy culture, even picking up the native Malagasy language to communicate with the locals and listen to their grievances.

               Herr Ackermann brought up the topic of certain groups of people in Malagasy desiring a meeting with me when they heard that I was visiting the island. I tentatively agreed, knowing that it would be an informative experience to hear from the island’s natives. As my goal in Malagasy was to cultivate friendly relations before granting the island independence, earning the trust and respect of the people living here was a must. All I needed to do was listen to their complaints and vow to fix it while dumping all of that work on Herr Ackermann. I didn’t mind spending a couple hours from my vacation to secure an easy PR win with minimum effort.

               Herr Ackermann organised my public meeting with the Malagasies on Sunday afternoon at the town square in Andohalo, to the east of Antananarivo’s city centre. Initially, I had expected a turnout of a couple hundred at most. However, words were spread around by Herr Ackermann, and I was faced with a gathering of over six thousand people. It should be known that the population of Antananarivo was only around three hundred thousand. This meant that two percent of the capital’s population had shown up to the assembly. Most of them couldn’t fit into the town square but were content to stand on the cordoned off streets as I addressed them.

               It made me concerned about the development of Malagasy that so many people had elected to attend this public assembly. Even if it was a Sunday, surely such a crowd didn’t gather simply to witness the sight of me out of curiosity. Therefore, most of them must have some complaints about the state of the island. Normally, this would reflect on the incompetence of the island’s administrator. However, it had only been two years since Malagasy was ceded to us. Sweeping progress would take a longer period of time. As such, I was willing to give Herr Ackermann the benefit of the doubt, at least for the time being. Furthermore, from what I already saw, much development was already either completed or underway. Perhaps there were issues of social inequality or racial prejudices?

               While schools in Malagasy had switched to teaching Germanian instead of Francois, most of the island’s inhabitants aside from the youngest and most adaptable children had yet developed sufficient fluency in the language. As such, a half-Malagasy interpreter translating my words for me while I dictate. I couldn’t converse with six thousand people simultaneously either, so I told them that I would only pick them out of the crowd if they held their hand up. As soon as the interpreter relayed my words, several hundred hands shot up. Out of the sea of upraised hands, I randomly picked a young woman with a long braid.

               “What is your name? Do you have any complaints about your living conditions?” I asked. My words were swiftly translated.

               The girl answered back with a couple of sentences, and the interpreter relayed back to me. “She said she is completely satisfied with her life here, as her quality of life is improving rapidly. She wanted to know if investments into the country will keep flowing in.”

               “The Imperial States’ investments into Malagasy will continue as long as it remains a colony. When the island is granted independence, all of the infrastructure and industry that we have built here will stay.” I announced truthfully. When my answer was translated to the audience, the reception was wholly positive. While I couldn’t understand what they said, their tone and body language was enough for me to guess that my answer was what they wanted to hear.

               The next question, proposed by a middle-aged man, was whether Malagasy natives would be afforded the opportunity to seek management positions in the colonial administration.

               “Of course you’ll be allowed to seek any job you want. As long as you don’t abuse your position, I don’t see a reason to refuse anyone with the needed capabilities. In fact, I highly encourage the people of Malagasy to take up the responsibility of managing the island. I believe that you are more knowledgeable than us when it comes to recognising factors that could improve your livelihoods.” I said. Before giving them their independence, I wanted the people of Malagasy to already have expertise in administration and governance, allowing for a smooth transition of power.

               Next, I picked a young man, perhaps a teenager. “Young man, do you feel like Malagasy has anything in dire need of fixing or improving?”

               The young man answered quickly.

               “He wants to attend higher education but is unable to because Malagasy does not have any universities.” The interpreter told me.

               When we took control of the island, Malagasy’s education system was reformed to be almost identical to that of the Imperial States’. However, the island lacked any schools that provided formal tertiary education.

               Establishing a university was a lengthy and complex process, requiring years of preparation and work. In Malagasy, the site for a university campus in Antananarivo has already been surveyed, but no construction efforts have yet been initiated. It would take a few years to construct the campus, hire foreign professors, and design appropriate courses before the university could start enrolling students. Fortunately, my Minister of Education had already tackled this issue a couple months ago. The programme he wanted to introduce was not yet finalised, but the main principles have already been fleshed out. I might as well announce it early.

               “We plan to open a public university here in Antananarivo in less than a decade. In the meantime, universities in the Imperial States welcome aspiring students from all backgrounds, provided you satisfy the entry requirements. If you worry about being unable to afford the tuition, the Imperial States will soon introduce a state-sponsored system with post-study work requirements. In exchange for students agreeing to work in specific fields or regions that have a labour shortage in the Imperial States for a period of two to five years, the government will provide financial support to them to complete their tertiary education. After the programme concludes, they may choose to return to their homeland or continue working in the Imperial States indefinitely. This programme is only available to students from Imperial States territory and not to international students from other countries.” I stated. Upon hearing my translated announcement, the young student broke into a wide smile and said one of the few Malagasy words that I understood – thank you.

               This wasn’t the Imperial States being generous or charitable. Our colonies would be the only places outside of Europa from where students would have part of their tuition covered by the programme and allowed to work in the Imperial States. According to the constitution of the Imperial States, they were already considered citizens, and as such may travel and live anywhere within the Imperial States. This programme wasn’t meant to be biased against Imperial States citizens living in Europa either. They too were eligible to apply for the programme.

               For international students from other countries, we didn’t intend to offer them any such programmes as of yet. They would still have to pay international student fees, which were much higher than what domestic students would pay.

               What we were offering with our state-sponsored system with post-study work requirements was a chance to attend top-tier institutions in the Imperial States at a lower fee while guaranteeing employment in essential sectors. Due to the Empire’s meritocratic culture and lack of state tampering in university education, the Imperial States were leading in fields such as mathematics, engineering and physics. The University of Frankfurt in particular was held on a level of prestige nearly on par with Oxford and Harvard due to its high output of research papers.

               These state-sponsored international students would be providing essential work in fields such as engineering and research, which the country was having an ongoing labour shortage in due to our numerous and extensive research and development projects. Furthermore, by providing them with higher education at a discounted cost, it would ingratiate us with them.

               Once they eventually return to their homeland and take up essential positions in the independent Malagasy to become well regarded experts or high-ranking politicians, they would have a positive impression of us from when they studied in the Imperial States. These alumni would also bring back titbits of culture and societal values from the Imperial States due to cultural diffusion. Who knows, perhaps once they become successful and have children of their own, these alumni would send their children to our universities or make donations towards their alma mater. I wanted to build trust and goodwill with our colonies’ future leadership, elites, and experts to ensure favourable actions from them towards us in the future. This was part of my efforts to elevate the Imperial States into a superpower by building up our soft power and international image.

               After half an hour, I’d addressed the most pressing questions from the Malagasy people. Most of them concerned our planned infrastructure development projects. Interestingly, very little were complaints. If anything, our efforts in developing the island were widely praised. I did note that no one brought up the topic of the relationship the Imperial States would have with Malagasy after the island obtains its independence. They must think that we would never let them go without a fight, much like the Francois. It has already been several decades since Malagasy became a colony. While this level of pessimism concerning their independence was understandable, I’d prefer some of them to have visions for the path forward for an independent Malagasy. Oh well, they still have plenty of time to ruminate about that future.

               Once the event was near its scheduled end, I spotted a congregation of Malagasy men garbed in high quality lambas – a traditional Malagasy shawl – marching towards the assembly. Fearing that they were dissidents arriving here to incite violence, I gestured for the security guards in the area to prepare themselves.

               To my surprise, the congregation approached the assembly peacefully. As they came closer, the crowd actually parted for them. This action alone implied that this group of people commanded either great respect or fear from the Malagasy. Leading the front of the group was an elderly Malagasy man, whose lamba seemed the most elaborate of them all, judging by its intricate design. He reverently carried a large wooden box in his arms, its contents unknown.

               The congregation stopped just shy of the stage upon which I stood. Their leader bowed his head at me respectfully before breaking out in an extended speech, his tone deferential.

               The whole speech took a few minutes, which required considerable effort from my interpreter to translate everything. The congregation waited patiently with bated breath. I also noticed that the crowd had gone silent as well, watching my reaction with anticipation.

               As my translator told me, the man explained that he was Ratelifera, the grandson of Rainilaiarivony, the last Prime Minister of Malagasy before it lost its sovereignty to the Francois. He was the leader of a group of Adriana – a traditional class of nobility within the old Malagasy caste-based system. His grandfather had served the last sovereign of Malagasy, the late Ranavalona III, before the kingdom fell and the queen and her family were exiled. The queen had passed away in 1917 at the age of fifty-five. This left her niece, Marie-Louise, as the last heir apparent to the throne. This niece apparently had moved to the Francois Republic and married a Francois agricultural engineer before divorcing him later. Despite receiving a small pension from the Francois government due to her status, she had decided to pursue a career in nursing.

               Marie-Louise’s wellbeing had been known to Ratelifera until 1937, when the Francois government stopped updating Malagasy of Marie-Louise’s status. Despite countless attempts over the years requesting an update, the Governor-General of Malagasy had refused to say anything about Marie-Louise’s status. Ratelifera feared the worst. He had sent out his son to seek out the heir apparent in 1941, but war had broken out on the continent, forcing him to fruitlessly return.

               With the war concluded and the Imperial States taking charge of Malagasy, along with my arrival, Ratelifera aspired to directly appeal to me with a request to seek out Marie-Louise. He was also humbly asking me to present Marie-Louise, should she be alive, with the Royal Crown of Malagasy stored in the box he carried, which had been safekept by loyalists all this time. He also wanted to request her to return to Malagasy, as with the exchange of Malagasy’s ownership to the Imperial States, the royal family was no longer banished.

               When the interpreter finished, Ratelifera dutifully proffered the box he carried towards me. I took a moment to contemplate my decision. By the expectant silence of the thousands of people in the square, the former monarchy of Malagasy still held some significance in their hearts, even though it’s been nearly five decades since their expulsion by the Francois.

               “What happens if I can’t find Marie-Louise or if she’s dead?” I asked. The interpreter then had a short conversation with Ratelifera.

               “He said in that horrible case, he would like to entrust the Royal Crown of Malagasy in your hands for safekeeping. As a renowned politician of a powerful country, the crown would be much more secure than in the custody of declining former Malagasy nobility. The people of Malagasy will then elect the next sovereign before asking for the Royal Crown to be returned.”

               While monarchies were an outdated form of governance, the old Kingdom of Malagasy operated with a constitutional monarchy, with much of the power residing with the Prime Minister. I didn’t mind if, once the Imperial States granted Malagasy its independence, it reinstates the monarchy as a figurehead to foster a sense of national unity and cohesion much needed for a newly independent nation. Moreover, by helping Malagasy locate their missing heir apparent, the Imperial States would earn the gratitude of the Malagasy people, which would contribute towards my goal of fostering positive relations with Malagasy before granting it independence. The task of finding Marie-Louise and convincing her to return to Malagasy should be simple with my power and influence.

               Even if the search for Marie-Louise was futile or if she was already dead, then the people would simply elect a new sovereign. This sovereign would presumably be from their own populace, as I doubted they’d ever elect a foreigner to rule them.

               “Fine, tell him that I accept his request and will try to carry it out to the best of my capabilities. Does he have any clues about the last known whereabouts of Marie-Louise?” I said while smiling gently towards Ratelifera to give myself a dependable aura.

               When my interpreter translated my agreement, Ratelifera and his congregation celebrated with joy. Ratelifera himself seemed to have aged backwards by half a decade, as though stress had been lifted from his shoulders. The assemblage of Malagasy natives around me also responded in kind by whooping loudly. Wow, the former Malagasy family must mean a lot in their eyes.

               “He said that in the last letter he received from her, it detailed news that Marie-Louise was accompanying the 32nd corps of the Francois forces occupying the Rhineland in 1937. She was the personal nurse of the commander of the 32nd corps, as the commander was acquainted with her and was personally suffering from a case of gout. Ratelifera lost all contact with her shortly before the 32nd corps was decimated.” 

               My smile slipped from my face like melted ice cream. My 203rd and I had personally crushed the 32nd corps at Duisbusch. My first four shots had even targeted the command tent of the 32nd corps. I gulped. Hopefully Marie-Louise had not been anywhere near the command tent at the time.

              For some curious reason, Ratelifera and his council did not look very concerned for the fate of the heir apparent. They acted as though a great goal has already been accomplished. Those poor fools, they must be overly optimistic that I would find her safe and sound. I felt bad for them. I promised to find their queen, but I might have buried her under fire and rubble six years ago.

               When the assembly eventually ended and the people dispersed, I walked off the stage, gait slightly unsteady. Awaiting below the stage was Visha and Herr Ackermann, who had been smiling encouragingly at me the whole time. We had already

               I asked for Visha to come with me for a private conversation back at our hotel, with the intention of detaching ourselves from Herr Ackermann’s presence. He didn’t know of our involvement in the Duisbusch ambush.

               When we entered our hotel room, I asked with a hushed voice, despite having cast a privacy spell. “If Marie-Louise is already dead, what are we going to do?”

               Visha mulled over my dilemma for a moment. She knew that I wasn’t feeling guilty for potentially causing the death of a nurse in a conflict; Visha was a former soldier too. The ambush in Duisbusch had been a necessity to ensure the future of Germania. Some casualties, even among innocent medical staff, were considered acceptable losses. “Tanya, I know that you’re generally an honest person. But in this instance, just tell a white lie. Nobody needs to know who did it. If Marie-Louise is alive, then that’s great. If she’s dead, then we could pin it on the Francois stationing their nurses in dangerous situations while actively provoking Germania by occupying the Rhine industrial area, resulting in their unfortunate deaths.”

               I ruminated on what she said. Her idea was quite brilliant. In this way, I could pivot the blame from the Imperial States onto the Francois and framing them as irresponsible and negligent with their medical personnel, resulting in the untimely demise of Malagasy’s last heir.

               I nodded. “Alright, let’s agree on doing that. I’ll call back home to get an investigation into Marie-Louise going before we depart for Qin.”

Chapter Text

AYKRR Chapter 38

The Uneventful Vacation (Part 2)

18th September 1943,

Nanjing,

               Visha and I thanked the party attendees profusely as they toasted in celebration. Although Qin was still embroiled in a civil war, the KMT had sufficient control of their territory to guarantee utter security of their capital city – Nanjing. In addition, with the aid of Akitsushima, the KMT had succeeded in conquering the provinces of Anhui and Guangdong, marking yet another victorious step in their war against the communists.

               Even with the communists controlling half the territory of Qin, we had still been able to visit many of the historical country’s notable sites. We explored the Forbidden City, visited the Summer Palace, walked on the Great Wall of China (the parts that were under KMT control), flew up Huangshan Mountain, and watched classic Qinese operas. I even got to hold a baby panda who tried to nibble on my hair.

               On our last day in Qin, the KMT leadership had decided to hold a farewell party in our honour. Nearly all attendees were significant members of the KMT or the party’s benefactors, although there were a few interesting individuals among them that didn’t fit into that subset. All of them greeted us cheerfully with benevolent smiles and cordial words. However, we both knew that most of them were putting on a façade.

               Qin, under KMT control, was a conservative and traditionalist state with much of their cultural ideals and values based on Confucianism. In terms of progressivism, it was decades behind the Imperial States. Most of these partygoers were likely pretending to tolerate our homosexual marriage. It wouldn’t surprise either me or Visha if most of these guests harboured discriminatory remarks about our relationship.

               Of course, they were wise enough to keep their thoughts to themselves and steady their tongues before careless insults could be uttered. We were not people that could be offended at a whim. I was a powerful world leader, likely the most powerful one in the Eastern Hemisphere, and wielded great political power. Furthermore, I was on terrific terms with the KMT and President Wang Jingwei. The alliance they forged with Akitsushima had only been possible because I helped Admiral Yamamoto convince the Akitsushiman militarists to seek out an alternative to invading Qin. It wouldn’t shock me if the KMT higher-ups gave instructions to everyone regarding proper etiquettes when interacting with us.

               Hooking elbows with Visha, I sipped my glass of cognac as President Wang Jingwei droned on about preparations for the next assault on the QCP. Initially, their next target had been the coastal province of Guangxi, with the goal of utilising the mighty Akitsushiman Navy to blitz their coastal cities and rendering the QCP landlocked. However, with the QCP dropping a network of naval mines near the coast, that plan had to be abandoned and Jiangxi Province was selected as the next target.

               While the KMT-Akitsushima alliance had encountered great success during the early months of their joint war against the QCP, greater resistance was starting to mount as the QCP recollected itself and consolidated its resources. As their forces headed inland, they lost access to the assistance of the Akitsushiman Navy, and their supply lines became stretched, resulting in worse casualty rates. Respectively, taking Guangdong and Anhui had resulted in two and four times the casualties of taking Hainan. As a small comfort, the communists were suffering even more casualties than the alliance.

               The alliance would need to slow down their advance and establish supply depots and military bases in their newly conquered territory before the assault on Jiangxi could begin in earnest. Otherwise, they risked Jiangxi becoming a graveyard for their troops.

               While the war still looked optimistic, I now held some doubts as to whether the alliance could finish off the QCP for good. The QCP still had North Bharat as a bordering ally, and it wouldn’t surprise me if North Bharat were trying to support their Qinese neighbour in resisting the alliance. There were also worrying reports about rising communist sympathies in Laos, Kampuchea, Mongolia, Qazaqstan, and Afghanistan. No doubt an effort by the communists to export their ideology.

               The communists were being backed into a corner, with enemies all around the world. To survive, they had to either establish new allies or convert other countries to communism. No sane world leader of a capitalist nation would ally themselves with a communist country. Not after the disastrous alliance between the Francois Republic and the Russy Federation. Therefore, the QCP and North Bharat could only try to convert nearby countries to their parasitic belief.

               If Ho Chi Minh could be trusted, then I could rely on Annam to act as a check against further spread of communist in Southeast Asia. As for Mongolia and Qazaqstan, the Russy Tsardom bordered both of those countries, although I’m not sure whether the fledgling nation would have enough influence to prevent a communist revolution there. The only unreachable country for me was Afghanistan, as I had no ally or partner with easy access to the landlocked country.

               I could try to send agents to train anti-communist militia resistance groups there, but that could easily backfire once the communist threat was gone. In the worst-case scenario, I could end up with pockets of highly trained terrorist cells or a militant government. For the meantime, it was best to leave Afghanistan alone. It wasn’t called the Graveyard of Empires for no reason.

               As our conversation with President Wang Jingwei drew to a close, I spied out of the corner of my eye a Qinese couple approaching us. The man was unassuming in stature, with a plain face upon which round spectacles rested, giving him an almost scholarly appearance. He wore a stock-standard western tuxedo with nothing to distinguish him from the average male party attendee.

               In great contrast to the man, the pretty woman accompanying him wore a vermillion and gold traditional hanfu, sticking out from the sea of western-influenced formal garbs. She was petite, walking towards us in small, delicate steps. As the couple drew closer, I was delighted to see that the woman was a couple centimetres shorter than me. Finally, a shorter adult that wasn’t hunched over with age. At closer inspection, there was a large bump in her belly, an incongruence from her skinny frame, suggesting she was a few months pregnant.

               “Chancellor and Vice Chancellor, allow me to introduce you to the former emperor Puyi and his wife, Zhu Lan.” President Wang Jingwei gestured to the couple.

               The man enthusiastically shook hands with me and Visha, while the woman politely bowed.

               Around this time in my world, Puyi was the Emperor of Manchukuo, a puppet state established by Japan. In practice, Puyi was no ruler, but simply a clueless puppet emperor paraded around by my former country to secure gains in Manchuria. I vaguely remembered reading that a contemporary commentator had said that Puyi had the dubious honour of being crowned multiple times without knowing why and apparently without relishing it. What a pitiful distinction. Then again, it was his own fault for being so naïve and uninformed in the first place. Such a situation would have been entirely avoided had I been in his place.

               I had no idea what his role and position in this world was. I hadn’t encountered him in the Forbidden City or the Summer Palace, so I could assume that the Articles of Favourable Treatment had been abolished. Judging by how President Wang Jingwei had so eagerly introduced me to him, I guessed that he was being employed as a mascot of some kind for the KMT, brought out to entertain foreign dignitaries.

               Puyi beamed at us and spoke in Germanian, albeit slightly accented. “Thank you for visiting my country. It gladdens my heart to know that you recognise the great beauty and history of Qin. It is disappointing that the country is not yet united. Then, you would be able to view the whole republic in its grand glory.”

               His words venerating Qin as a republic certainly lent credence to my assumption that he was under the KMT’s thumb. To his side, Zhu Lan said something in Qinese, upon which Puyi translated.

               “My wife and I would like to take this opportunity to ask you for a gracious favour. We would like to temporarily live in the Imperial States and raise our child there, away from the civil war.”

               “Of course, your family is welcomed in the Imperial States anytime.” Visha smiled benevolently. “When do you plan to travel to the Imperial States?”

               “Zhu Lan is due by December, so we want to move by late October.” He answered. That was around the time when we would return from our honeymoon.

               As the couple thanked us and excused themselves, President Wang Jingwei spoke to us as soon as they were out of earshot. “In case you’re wondering, the KMT isn’t forcing them to do anything.”

               “Truly?” I asked incredulously.

               “Yes. When he was expelled from the Forbidden City, he left Peking for Nanjing and joined the KMT after the civil war started. You could argue that he only did it because the QCP would have treated him worse, but the former emperor joined the KMT out of his own volition. It’s quite auspicious that you met him now and not earlier. In the early days, he was basically a spoiled man-child with an irritable personality and no redeeming quality. You would have found him utterly insufferable. He’s grown mature as of late though, once he realised that Qin would remain a republic instead of converting to a constitutional monarchy.”

               “It was that bad? He didn’t give me that impression when we talked.” Visha mused.

               “Well, he’s mellowed out even more once he married his most recent wife. She’s the only one that can control him and was the catalyst for his growth. You might not know this, but she has quite the storied lineage. Her father is formerly the Marquis of Extended Grace, a title the Qing dynasty gave to descendants from the previous Ming dynasty. I suppose you could see their marriage as a union of two derelict dynasties in an age where people no longer believe in the Mandate of Heaven.” President Wang commented.

               “What does he do as a member of the KMT? Unless you pay him a stipend?” Visha asked.

               “After the KMT provided him with job training, he can now afford his own living expenses. He works as an editor for a KMT-owned newspaper. Occasionally, he makes public speeches or acts in propaganda plays to increase morale and recruitment.” President Wang answered succinctly.

               “I suppose it’s quite beneficial for you, having the former emperor praise the KMT.” I nodded. From a propaganda perspective, having the acknowledgement of the last emperor in Qin’s history made your claims as the legitimate government more credible. I wonder if I could get the old Kaiser to do a similar thing by offering some incentives and have him talk about why the Imperial States needed to instate more checks and balances.

19th September 1943,

Berun,

               Gunther Wagner, Chairman of the Democratic Socialist Party, felt like he had just sold yet another piece of his soul to the Devil when he voted in favour of the Legislator Finance Transparency Act. On paper, it was a decent bill, acting to prevent corruption amongst elected officials. Yet it gave Degurechaff and her administration a legal reason to monitor the income streams of any member of the Reichstag.

               Wagner sighed, the air escaping him more like a whimper. He was already being blackmailed for having taken a role in devising a seditious plot against Degurechaff last year. If he and his party, which controlled 20 seats in the Reichstag, didn’t vote according to how the BND instructed him, he would be immediately arrested, tried, and found guilty.

               The passing of this bill wasn’t meant for him. It was for any member left in the Reichstag who didn’t have any dirt on them. To wipe out the last vestiges of resistance.

               In the chamber of the Reichstag, several politicians stood up to applaud the passing of the bill. Wagner glared at them. From the semicircular arrangement of the seats in the Reichstag, Wagner could deduce that they were all either from the Germanian Workers Party or the Imperial Party. Stooges of Degurechaff all, celebrating the death of democracy with thunderous applause instead of mourning it.

               It should have been obvious to them before the election that the Imperial Party was just another arm of Degurechaff. Another right-wing party whose policies mirror that of the GWP, with the only difference being that they wanted to transition to a monarchy. They should have recognised Degurechaff’s ploy for what it was and tried to snuff it out before the election.

               Even immediately after the election, there had been some devil’s advocates who had argued for giving Degurechaff the benefit of the doubt. After all, hadn’t Degurechaff always tried to establish more checks and balances in the government and had repeatedly expressed that a new presidential election should be held so that she no longer had to bear two titles? How foolish they were to not see past her acting.

               Her supporting Ludwig Ernst for the bid of presidency had been the ultimate betrayal to those who once believed she stood for democracy. Now that young upstart was rounding up any opposition countrywide and ensuring total obedience in the Reichstag. The return to monarchism was inevitable.

               After the voting session ended and everyone was dismissed, Wagner somberly walked down the steps of the Reichstag building to find his car and return home so he could properly mourn for the dying breaths of the Imperial States as a republic.

               Once he spotted his reliable beetle at the nearby parking lot, he was surprised to see a familiar face leaning against his car, indulging in a cigarette.

               “It seems like I forgot my car keys, could you give me a ride back home, Gunther?” Johan Dressler asked, dragging another inhale of the cigarette one last time and exhaling the smoke before throwing it away. The man didn’t own a car. He also didn’t have a reason to be near the Reichstag building as he wasn’t a voting member.

               Wagner scanned the founder of the GWP himself in all his faded glory. After being supplanted by Degurechaff, the man had been relegated to well-compensated politically irrelevant roles, without even a chance to influence voting in the Reichstag. Rumours were that he was threatened by Degurechaff to remain far from her business.

               “Sure, why not.” Wagner shrugged.

               Five minutes into their drive to Dressler’s house, Wagner spoke in a cautionary tone. “I suppose you want to organise some grand anti-Degurechaff alliance? I’m warning you, don’t try it. I already did and it failed miserably. Look at where I am now. Another tamed hound in the Reichstag.”

               “I shall propose no such futile resistance, old friend. Political opposition against Degurechaff in the Imperial States is impossible.” Dressler said.

               “Then why approach me? Surely you know that I’m being watched? By conversing with me, you’re putting yourself under the gun as well.” Wagner replied, taking the third exit at a roundabout.

               “The fact that Degurechaff hadn’t forced me into retirement shows that she still retains some gratitude for having recruited her into politics. I’m confident that I still have some leeway. I’ve come to you to inform you of my decision to immigrate. You may well consider this option.” Dressler spoke.

               “I can’t leave the country even if I wanted to. They want me and my party’s votes. I’m barred from leaving the country until the vote for Degurechaff’s ascension.” Wagner frowned. He stopped at an intersection as the lights turned red.

               “Then you should consider following me once Degurechaff becomes Kaiserin. Many promising talents and thinkers in the GWP and other parties who share my ideology are following me. You may have even heard of them. Martin Boremann, Baldur von Spinat, Heiner Himler, Josef Gebels, just to name a few. Even the ace fighter pilot Herman Gohrer.”

               “And then what? You’re building a second GWP abroad? Do you really think you’ll gain traction outside the Imperial States?” Wagner pressed on the gas pedal as the lights turned green. Wagner considered how he would try to re-establish the Democratic Socialist Party. The amount of effort and capital needed would be enormous to gain anywhere the influence he had in the Imperial States. If Dressler was trying to establish a new political party outside the Imperial States, this meant he already had support in whichever country he and his compatriots planned to immigrate to.

               Dressler ranted. “I want to build something new. A party rooted in scientific socialism, but one that also speaks to national pride. This new party shall be engineered to appeal to both the left and the right. The ideology must be flexible to survive. I think that the name ‘National Socialism’ would be a very fitting name for this ideology.”

               Wagner turned the car right, the last turn before they would reach Dressler’s house. “You still haven’t told me where you and your cadre are immigrating to.”

               Dressler chuckled. “I have received support and financing from an automobile company president to make speeches to his workers. There are no more opportunities in the Imperial States for my ideology to grow. So where else should I go to but the Land of Opportunity itself?”

               As he said that, Dressler flashed a business card. On it was the name ‘Henry Ford’.

               “The American billionaire?” Wagner mumbled. “I heard that he is a strong proponent of welfare capitalism.”

               “Indeed. Although we share a staunch belief in something else. The Judean question. I’ve passionately read those booklets that his news outlet published – the International Judean. Absolutely enlightening literature. It truly exposes the villainy of Judean influence. Only until reading it could one truly recognise Judean wickedness for what it is.”

              The corner of Wagner’s eye twitched as his annoyance mounted. While Wagner may agree with Dressler on some topics of contention, Dressler’s incessant paranoia of Judeans was something that he could not condone nor tolerate any longer. If anything, Dressler’s hatred of Judeans had only intensified in the past years.

              Dressler rambled on.  “They are everywhere, Gunther. Spread out like ants. Their skulking masses are ubiquitous in every country. Their race acts only in its own interest, never integrating, never loyal to any nation. They’re the true mastermind behind the Great Depression miring most of the world. Hell, they’re why we lost the First Gear War in the first place by stabbing our forces in the back. We only won the last war because the Judeans decided to tear down the Russy Federation instead as revenge for Jugashvili interning Judeans in his gulags.”

               He remained silent as he pulled into Dressler’s driveway. Dressler exited the car and walked to the driver’s side of the vehicle. Wagner rolled down his window.

               “So, what shall you say, old friend? Care to join me in the Unified States at a later date?” Dressler invited him.

              Wagner resolved his decision in his mind. While he was bowing down to Degurechaff now, he has not yet submitted in spirit. He wasn’t a coward who fled the country when the people needed to be rescued from the throes of Degurechaff’s tyranny.

               “I think I shall remain in this country for a while longer. Someone needs to have the gall to stay and keep an eye on Degurechaff.” Wagner quipped before backing out of Dressler’s driveway and driving back to his own abode.

Chapter Text

AYKRR Chapter 39

The Uneventful Vacation (Part 3)

23rd September 1943,

In a ryokan near Kyoto,

               I let out an exhale as I lowered myself into the steaming outdoor onsen, feeling the accumulated fatigue of yesteryears seep out of me like a sponge being wrung of water. Across from me, Visha submerged herself up to her neck, humming in satisfaction.

               I marvelled at the scenery from our hot spring, situated on a mountain near Kyoto. The rolling mountains brought a sense of peaceful seclusion, isolating us from the hubbub of busy suburbs and metropolises. The wind carried the subtle scent of morning dew, invigorating my mood. Down below, I spied a chubby tanuki slumbering in a pile of leaves. It was a great idea to stay for two nights at this ryokan nestled in the mountains. I didn’t even need to pay for it. As a token of friendship, the emperor had insisted on reimbursing me for any fees I incurred in Akitsushima during my honeymoon.

               “You know, the owner of this inn told me that dipping oneself into hot springs can help relieve muscle tightness, improve circulation, and even improve skin condition.” Visha said, putting a hand on her cheek.

               “Are you worried about your skin? Even when you look like an ancient and wrinkly grandma, you’ll always be beautiful to me.” I blurted out. When Visha glared back at me, I realised that my words were perhaps unwise to utter.

               Trying to salvage my mistake, I continued. “I mean, you always look young, so you don’t have to worry about aging, sagging, grey hairs, premature wrinkling, or anything like that.” I felt as though my level of eloquence had just dropped by several grade levels.

               I meant what I said. Although she was well in her thirties, an age where many women started counterproductively stressing about their facial wrinkles and skin complexion, Visha’s appearance has barely changed from when the First Great War ended. Without knowing her age, one could easily guess she was in her early twenties.

               Having thought about it, most mages I knew never look their age. Elya’s case was similar to Visha, given that they were the same age. Most of the former members of the 203rd like Weiss, Koenig, and Neumann looked to be in their late twenties or so despite being well into their forties.

               Could being a mage actually slow down your aging and increase your lifespan? Could Herr Muller’s research on the lifespan of mages have some basis behind it after all? It would explain why people kept mistaking me for a teenager despite me being nearly thirty years old.

               But mages have been around since time immemorial. From my brief military lessons on the history of magic in this world, the existence of mages has been documented as far back as the Indus Valley Civilisation. There were even anti-theist historians who theorised that Jesus Christ was a mage who used his magic to fool the populace. Surely a phenomenon like anti-aging would be well comprehended by now. Why would mages only start aging slowly since the start of the twentieth century?

               Oh well, that wasn’t a mystery for me to solve. I’ll leave that to specialised magicians who had the expertise to conduct empirical research regarding the subject.

               It seemed like my attempt to mollify Visha’s anger worked, as her expression tempered. She waded through the water to sit next to me and placed her hands on my shoulder. Thinking that she was about to do something frisky, I was about to remind her that intimate activities were banned in the onsen when her hands suddenly shot out like twin anacondas, pinched my cheeks, and pulled.

               “Ow, ow, ow! Visha, I’m sorry.” I squeaked out.

               Moments later, I nursed my swollen red cheeks, brutally squeezed by Visha’s hands as vengeance for my folly.

3rd October 1943,

Nevada, USA,

               After a quick night of gambling for amusement in Las Vegas, we decided to return to our hotel room at the Golden Gate Hotel & Casino. Contrary to most frequenters of casinos, we had won more than we lost. I hadn’t even needed to do anything. It was Visha who had played.

               Her poker face was honestly immaculate. Even as someone who had known her for two decades now, I was unable to detect any facial muscle twitches when she played. Her bluffs were unpredictable and undetectable, allowing her to win most of her matches. I almost felt bad for her opponents. However, they knew the risks yet had still decided to come back for more rounds after losing half a week’s worth of money. Overall, Visha won about two hundred dollars from playing eight rounds of poker. Quite the decent haul. With our salary, we didn’t actually need any extra travelling money. As such, we ended up donating the money we won to a random orphanage in Las Vegas.

               When we arrived at our hotel room, there was a female hotel employee knocking at our door while holding an envelope, her sight on the door and away from us. I coughed politely to gain her attention. The employee twirled around immediately, her expression flustered, likely embarrassed from having not noticed us standing behind her while cluelessly knocking at the door.

               “Chancellor Degurechaff and Vice Chancellor Serebryakov Degurechaff! Uh, I, uh, came here to deliver this letter to you. T-The one who gave it to me was a military man. A c-colonel, I think. Said the upper military brass would a-appreciate it if you would give them the opportunity to show you something. I-I was delivering it to you but didn’t know you two were away.” The employee, a short redhead in her early twenties, stuttered as she handed us the letter with both hands.

               “Thank you.” I said as I took the letter from her, glancing at the employee name tag on her chest. Barbara. Before she started leaving, I grabbed her hand.

               “For your services, Barbara. If anyone delivers us letters next time, you can just slip it under the door instead of handing it to us personally.” I smiled gently as I generously took out a five-dollar bill and slipped it into her hand. That was around a day’s wage for a hotel attendant in this age.

               “No problem, ma’am. Just doing my job. Hotel policy and all.” The girl was blushing profusely as she rushed away.

               Once out of earshot, Visha nudged me and said in a teasing voice. “Don’t make me worried about losing you to younger women, now.”

               I glanced at her in confusion. What was that about? Honestly, even after nearly three decades of living as one, I still don’t understand how other women think.

               Just then, the doors of the two adjacent rooms to our hotel room opened, as four members from our security detail filed out. Neumann, their chief, saluted me.

               “Nothing unusual in the past three hours, ma’am.” He reported.

               I nodded in affirmation before slipping inside our hotel room with Visha. Once inside the privacy of our hotel room, I slipped the letter out from the envelope and started perusing through it with my wife. The letter was indeed from the U.S. Department of War. They were politely inviting us to the Las Vegas Army Airfield to witness a demonstration of their aviation arm’s latest development in practical combat, to be held in two days. President Roosenvelt himself would be present.

               I discussed the decision with Visha. We were here to enjoy our honeymoon, not to act in any official capacity. The U.S. surely knew this as well because they had very respectfully kept their distance from us, only having sent in this letter.  However, I was extremely curious about what the only country in the world that could surpass the Imperial States in industrial capacity had cooked up while my home continent had been engulfed in war. If I wanted to make the Imperial States into a superpower, it needed to surpass its rivals militarily. Las Vegas Army Airfield was also within driving distance from our hotel, so it wouldn’t inconvenience us much.

               In the end, we had agreed to take a one-day intermission from our honeymoon to watch the military demonstration at Las Vegas Army Airfield. As a compromise, Visha made me agree to buy tickets to watch ‘Oklahoma!’ at Broadway.

5th October 1943,

Las Vegas Army Airfield,

               President Roosenvelt sat patiently as he watched Chancellor Degurechaff and Vice Chancellor Serebryakov-Degurechaff ascend the stairs of the temporary viewing platform. Standing behind him were the Secretary of War, Henry. L. Stimson, Major General Dwight D. Eisenhowitzer, and Lieutenant General Henry H. Arnold. All of whom had majorly contributed to arranging this demonstration. For their security, arranged around them were eight men from the Secret Service, all highly trained mages equipped with the Type 97 computation orbs that were sold to the U.S. a few years prior.

               “Morning, Mr. President. I trust you are in good health?” The Chancellor greeted, extending a hand in greeting, which he took politely.

               He was in fact, not in good health. His personal doctor had informed him that alongside his crippled legs, he was suffering from high blood pressure and hypertensive heart disease. His doctor had advised him to reduce his workload and stress, lest he suffered from a heart attack or stroke. However, he had to appear healthy for the nation, and that also meant putting the Imperial States under the same illusion.

               “I’ve rarely been better. I trust that you two have been enjoying the hospitality of the Unified States?” He asked.

               Vice Chancellor Serebryakov-Degurechaff spoke. “Of course. The people here are so friendly and accommodating. Our experiences have been most satisfactory.”

               “I’m glad you two could spare some time to watch this simple demonstration from our army. The boys in the Air Force have been cooking up quite the grand show.” He said, gesturing to a fenced off area two miles away from the airfield, their observation platform allowing them a clear view. Within the fences, a small forest of beech trees 10 acres size nestled. A small lake occupied the centre of the forest.

               Set up near the forest were numerous old vehicles, including two obsolete tanks produced twenty years ago. All of these vehicles had been considered disposable due to their redundancy or poor condition and as such used for this test. Arranged around and inside the vehicles were cardboard cutouts meant to represent humans. The entire set up covered a circular area around 3000 feet in diameter.

               “When will the demonstration begin?” Chancellor Degurechaff inquired. Cutting to the chase then. As expected from a veteran.

               “I gave the boys the signal to go ahead with the demonstration when the entrance guard reported to us via walkie-talkie that you entered the airfield. The planes took off half an hour ago, they should already be circling around.” Lieutenant General Arnold said, looking towards the east. “Ah, there they are.”

               Looming over the eastern horizon, seven Consolidated B-24 Liberator bomber aircraft flying in formation cruised at an altitude of 20000 feet. The nearly cloudless weather allowed them a clear view of the approaching aircraft.

               Introduced to the Air Force just last year, the B-24 had a higher cruise speed, longer range, and much higher bomb load compared to its contemporary, the Boeing B-17 Flying Fortress. However, it came at the cost of a lower ceiling and higher fragility when taking enemy anti-air fire. There had been considerations to use the B-17 for this demonstration, but command had opted for the B-24 due to its higher bomb load. There was also the B-29 Superfortress, but the plane was still in its trial phases. It would still be a few more years before they could manufacture the B-29 in any quantity and begin phasing out the B-24.

               “What’s their speed?” Vice Chancellor Serebryakov-Degurechaff asked.

               “220 miles per hour when cruising long-distance. But they can reach up to 300 miles per hour in short bursts. The Consolidated B-24 Liberator is only 10 miles per hour slower than the B-17 but has a maximum range that is forty percent greater.” Major General Eisenhowitzer boasted.

               “Isn’t that still slightly slower than a mage using a dual-core orb?” The Vice Chancellor pointed out.

               “Yes. But the B-24 can reach an altitude of 25000 feet. No mage can reach a high enough altitude to pose a threat to it, nor fly for nearly 3000 miles. No matter how good their orb is.” Eisenhowitzer coughed awkwardly.

               “Of course.” Serebryakov simply nodded. Roosenvelt briefly wondered if she had information that could contradict what Eisenhowitzer claimed. It was no secret that the Imperial States had possession of the most advanced computation orb in the world in the Type 99, although no one outside of OZEV was aware of their upper parameters.

               This invitation sent out to the newlywed couple was no whim. It was a deliberate scheme to show them the improved aerial capabilities of the Unified States. The demonstration today was meant to impress upon them an image of the Unified States’ strength and to serve as a sales pitch for the vehicles and weapons they were showcasing. Furthermore, they had deliberately chosen to send out the invitation during the couple’s honeymoon to isolate them from any military advisors that could otherwise spot flaws in the demonstration.

               As one of the manifold approaches to pull his country out of the Great Depression and stimulate the economy, Roosenvelt had decided to take a note out of Degurechaff’s playbook during her early days as Chancellor of Germania. As part of the New Deal, he had ordered a broad infrastructure development initiative, with a focus on building country-spanning superhighways, meant to create jobs, connect the country, and facilitate movement of goods and people. This push for constructing a broad network of highways had also been backed by automobile companies like Ford, General Motors, and Chrysler. Other infrastructure projects such as dams, public buildings, and bridges were also included, albeit of lesser focus.

               However, with such an increase in public spending, the national budget was running on a deficit, forcing the government to incur higher public debt. The Unified States could borrow from other countries, but Roosenvelt would prefer not to be financially beholden to another country if necessary. Printing money was also an option, but everyone had seen how well that had gone for Germania.

               As such, he had arrived at a careful solution after having carefully observed the shifting of international politics. PATO and OZEV were priming to butt heads at some point in the future. Currently, these two factions were content to carry out proxy wars in the Southern Continent and Annam, but a true war was always a possibility.

               The best outcome for the Unified States was to maintain neutrality and stay away from any destructive conflict. The States should preserve its industrial capacity and avoid pointlessly depleting its population in a war. However, it should also profiteer from the conflicts that these two factions would stoke up on the globe. After the hypothetical war between PATO and OZEV has ended, the Unified States would be in a prime position to swoop in, establish themselves in new foreign markets, and position themselves as the new world hegemony. As one of the steps to achieving this goal, he had proposed that the Unified States should start selling military equipment to both PATO and OZEV to make a tidy profit and offset the budget deficit while also benefiting private companies responsible for manufacturing military vehicles and equipment.

               The sale of their helicopters to PATO had been the first of these deals. As a vertical take-off aircraft, the helicopter was perfect for reconnaissance and rapid deployment in areas with a lack of flat terrain, which would normally prevent conventional aircraft from taking off and landing. They could also fly at lorewer altitudes, making them harder to detect with radar. These features made the helicopter ideal for fighting in the dense rainforests and vegetation of some of PATO’s colonies.

               And now, he was pitching the B-24, America’s most advanced bomber, to Degurechaff, along with a secret weapon that the University of Harvard recently developed.

               As the B-24s approached, a rare cloud drifted over the test site, obscuring direct sight of the test site from an aerial view. Normally, this would require the pilots to commit to some guesswork or even recircle to drop their bombs when the cloud has passed. Fortunately, the possibility of uncooperative weather has been accounted for. As the B-24s drew closer, several figures were seen  jumping out of the planes and flying ahead of them at a lower altitude. Mages. Going ahead of the bombers, they coordinated together to project a massive target board illusion at an altitude of 10000 feet, allowing the pilots to know exactly where to aim for.

               “Shamelessly copying my methods? How unoriginal.” Degurechaff drawled.

               “We would be foolish to discard such an effective tactic simply because we didn’t come up with it ourselves.” Major General Eisenhowitzer said.

               As the B-24 bombers neared the target site, their bomb bays opened. Two 3000-pound bombs released from each bomb bay, their releases staggered by a short interval.

               “A twin bomb bay?” Degurechaff remarked.

               “Yes. The B-24 has twice the bomb load capacity of the B-17. It can carry up to 8000 pounds of bombs on missions.” Lieutenant General Arnold said, advertising another key feature of the B-24.

               “I see.” Degurechaff said, tone unimpressed. Could her military have an even better bomber in storage? He knew of their jet fighters, ones that put any fighter plane the US had to shame. But the latest observations haven’t reported any bombers equipped with jet propulsion technology.

               The six bombs fell in a rough circle around the small forest, impacting the ground and raising thundering explosions like the hammer of God. The devastating effects were obvious. The vehicles in the test areas, including the tanks, had been reduced to charred wrecks and thrown away by the blasts like discarded toys. The cardboard cutouts meant to represent humans had all been burnt to black crisps, implications of similar results to real soldiers hung in the air.

               “That’s an impressive bombardment. High accuracy too. Did you spare the forest on purpose?” The Vice Chancellor asked.

               “The forest is for our new weapon. A chemical discovered in the labs of Harvard.” Secretary Stimson said, pointing to the northeast.

               Flying towards the test site alone was a single B-24, carrying the newly developed weapon that Roosenvelt had been hoping could convince Degurechaff to loosen the Imperial States’ purse strings.

               With the interloping cloud earlier having floated past, a clear view of the forest was afforded to the lone bomber. Its bomb bay opened, but instead of two singular bombs, a cluster of smaller bombs were released, previously held by a net. These devices were diminutive in comparison to the 4000-pound bombs earlier, each weighing only 100 pounds each. If they were conventional munitions, such bombs could do some damage to a forest but would hardly devastate it.

               If.

               The first bomb to impact the ground missed the forest by a good 20 feet. But instead of exploding in a fireball of heat and shrapnel, the bomb erupted into long tongues of scorching flames that spread outward, fanned by gusts of wind. The fire spewed forth for dozens of feet from the impact site, sticking to the trees at the edge of the forest like glue. The other bombs descended upon the forest like a shower of deadly meteors. Despite their relatively small size, each bomb brought forth a small corner of hell. The inferno even defied common sense as it set even the surface of the lake on fire, burning atop water for over twenty seconds.

               Roosenvelt sneaked a glance at Chancellor Degurechaff and her wife’s faces, gauging their reaction. Their impassive expressions gave him no clue as to whether the display impressed them or not. Did he fail to impress them? Or did the Imperial States military already invented something that harboured even greater destructiveness?

               I pursed my lips. The Unified States had certainly not been dawdling while Europa was at war. Given that they have successfully replicated our tactics of using mages to improve bombing accuracy, they must have been dutifully observing and recording the stratagems employed by both sides in the Second Great War.

               I tried my best to keep a poker face and not look nervous as the forest was consumed by the inferno like a starving man devouring a meal. In mere minutes, the bombardment from a single bomber rendered a forest teeming with life to a lifeless field. Had soldiers been hiding in there, they would have all been rendered charred, smoking corpses. The wind carried down the smell of the incendiary material inside the bombs, a smell similar to gasoline, but with a hint of burnt plastic.

               It wasn’t hard to deduce the Unified States’ true intention of advertising their military vehicles and weapons. And since this was technically an informal visit and not an  official one, considering I was on vacation, media coverage of the event would be non-existent. Other countries would never know I was here to watch the US Army Air Forces’ demonstration.

               “The substance inside those bombs was invented by a team of chemists at Harvard. We call it napalm. It can stick to and burn practically anything. With it, any airplane becomes a dragon.” Roosenvelt introduced the weapon.

               I couldn’t let PATO get their hands on napalm, at least for the duration of the Annam War. The casualty tolls on the Annamese would be devastating once the Francois could drop napalm on them. Not to mention that mass firebombing would remove the foliage that has been such an advantage for the Annamese’s guerilla warfare.

               Beside me, Visha suffered a bored expression. From her point of view, napalm must pale in comparison to our nuclear arsenal. However, the circumstances in which the deployment of a nuclear bomb could be justified was extremely limited, while napalm could be employed liberally in a variety of combat situations. Furthermore, a sustained napalm bombardment could be just as deadly as a single atomic bomb. In my world, the firebombing of Tokyo with napalm had caused the deaths of around 100,000 people, a greater figure compared to the atomic bombing of Nagasaki.

               “Consider me interested. How much of it can you produce?” I asked Roosenvelt. The man gave his Secretary of War a meaningful glance.

               “40,000 pounds a month. We can sell it by weight or per standardised incendiary bomb. Whichever one you prefer, Madam Chancellor.” Secretary Stimson answered.

               The claim of the US being only able to produce less than 20 tons of napalm a month was likely pure baloney. That figure was too miniscule for a country of the Unified States’ industrial capacity. I’d bet good money that they were saving some to sell to PATO. Regardless, a barrel of napalm in our hands was one that PATO couldn’t use to drop on the Annamese. Furthermore, we might be able to make use of that napalm at one point.

               “Call me back after my vacation and quote your price.” I said. Roosenvelt nodded in satisfaction at my answer.

               “And the bombers?” Secretary Stimson asked, hopeful.

               “Unfortunately, I’m not interested.” I declined.

               While the B-24 was an alright aircraft by this age’s standard, it was not something I needed. With its large range and high bomb load, it was a more suitable airplane for fighting wars in the Pacific or Atlantic, where great distances needed to be covered without any suitable landing zones in sight.

               The current bomber used by the Luftwaffe was the Junkers Ju 88, a versatile aircraft employed in an extensive range of roles. It could be utilised as a dive bomber, a recon craft, or even a night fighter. Its cruise speed was even higher than the B-24, at 370 kilometres per hour, although its maximum speed was inferior. As for range and bomb load, both aspects were outperformed by the B-24. The Ju 88’s bomb load was less than the B-24, and its operational range was only 1700 km. While I had to admit the Junkers Ju 88 was showing its age, it was still perfectly suitable for fighting a war in Europa.

               Furthermore, even with its high bomb load, the B-24 was unable to drop an atomic bomb. Our lightest atomic bomb weighed 5 tons, way above the B-24’s maximum bomb load. For special missions like an atomic bombing, our military had bespoke aircraft built. Those specialised bombers sacrificed speed, comfortability, and manoeuvrability for much greater range and a single bomb bay capable of being outfitted with a nuclear bomb. However, due to the high costs in producing them and setting up a production line, we were unable to manufacture them en masse. Last I checked, we only had three aircraft capable of carrying out atomic bombings. Any one of these aircraft being damaged or going under routine maintenance would greatly reduce the Imperial States’ ability to enforce nuclear deterrence.

               That wasn’t to say that we weren’t developing more advanced bombers of our own. However, our military brass was more interested in building a turbojet-powered bomber rather than a higher performance propeller-based heavy bomber.

               Our first jet bomber, the Arado Ar 234 Blitz, entered production three months ago. While its cruise speed of 690 kilometres per hour blew any bomber in existence out of the water, this came with several drawbacks. Due to its small size as a light bomber, its bomb load of 1500 kg was frankly pitiful. Even if it was loaded with only a third of its maximum bomb load, its range was still limited to 1500 km.

               This was why what I was interested in was not the B-24, but rather its vastly superior cousin, the B-29 Superfortress. Although it was relatively slow, the range of the B-29 was massive; an unburdened B-29 could cross the Atlantic with ease. Furthermore, it could carry up to 9 tons of bombs. The B-29 Superfortress was in fact the only aircraft model to drop atomic weapons in combat, having been the aircraft employed to release the Fat Man and Little Boy. If I could purchase a fleet of B-29s, then I could rest assured of the Imperial States’ ability to deploy atomic weapons at a moment’s notice.

               If my memory of technological development during WW2 has not dulled, then the US should already be manufacturing the B-29 by now. Since the US wasn’t showcasing it, I assumed they must be withholding it from me to maintain their own technological edge in aviation. How cunning. They knew that the B-24 was going to be rendered obsolete by the B-29 soon, so they decided to offload their inventory by selling it to me. Afterwards, they would unveil the B-29, a vastly superior bomber, forcing me to either buy the new bomber or cope with inferior goods while PATO bought the B-29. A shrewd strategy to ensure repeat business. Once with obsolescence, and again with superiority.

               Fortunately, I saw through their tactics and refused to be tricked. I planned to pass up on the B-24 and wait for them to publicly announce the B-29. If I hinted that I knew of the B-29’s existence, something that was sure to be kept under wraps, the US government would suspect the presence of my spies within their network, of which none existed. I didn’t want to cause such unfortunate misunderstandings.

               “Would it be impertinent if we are to ask for a reason? If the demonstration didn’t lend you enough insights into the B-24’s capabilities, we can also show you the plane’s interior and avionics.” Lieutenant General Arnold said.

               “No need for that. While adequate and relatively advanced, I simply think that the B-24 isn’t exceptional. My country will have to pass.” I waved down the offer.

               After Degurechaff and her wife’s polite departure from the airfield, Roosenvelt turned to discuss with his staff.

               “So, what do you make of their reactions?” He asked.

               “We’ve all seen how nonchalant they were when it came to the B-24. This practically confirmed that the Imperial States have more advanced bombers stashed in their arsenal.” Major General Eisenhowitzer mumbled. “We just don’t know how advanced.”

               “You’re implying that they have successfully implemented the turbojet engine into heavy bombers as well? But surely making jet engines for a heavy bomber would be a different beast compared to putting it on a fighter. They only debuted their jet fighters last year. It would be realistic if they have already produced jet-powered light bombers, but it should be infeasible for them to already be manufacturing heavy ones.” Lieutenant General Arnold said.

               “They could have been working on several projects simultaneously instead of arriving at each development sequentially.” Secretary Stimson pointed out.

               “Regardless of how advanced they currently are, it is obvious that the Unified States is currently lagging behind both PATO and OZEV when it comes to jet powered aircraft. We can’t afford to be technologically undeveloped in any area if we want to be the world’s primary arms dealer.” Roosenvelt inputted.

               The Unified States’ own development in jet-powered aircraft was still in its adolescence. Their first jet fighter, the Bell P-59 Airacomet, was an underpowered craft that would be slaughtered if paired against either the Messerschmitt 262 or the Gloster Comet. They had to start over and explore another option with a different jet fighter design by Lockheed while the Airacomet was slated to become a training craft.

               “Well, you know how it is, sir. We could always use more resources for the Air Force.” Lieutenant General Arnold said, a conspicuous request for extra funding.

               Roosenvelt sighed and pinched his nose. One problem after another. First Ford threatened to split from the Democratic Party and establish his own political party if his company didn’t become the exclusive manufacturer for their Boeing bombers, and now this. “Fine, I’ll try to convince Congress to approve more funding for the Air Force.”

               “At least she decided to purchase the napalm. I didn’t expect her to buy our whole stock though. I would have allocated more resources to produce napalm had I known.” Secretary Stimson rubbed his chin.

               “One has to wonder who she plans to use them on.” Major General Eisenhowitzer mused. “Whoever it is, I pity those poor bastards.”

12th October 1943,

Atlantic Ocean,

               In our private first-class suite on the ocean liner taking us back to Europa, Visha’s mouth hung agape as I finished the recount of my life after the First Great War, up until the end of the Second Great War. The mug of hot chocolate in her hands had grown cold. She hadn’t taken a single sip from the moment I began my narration, only listened attentively and quietly.

               I grew slightly worried when her frozen expression and silence were maintained for well over a minute. Did I make a mistake when deciding to tell her about my true reasons for joining politics? Visha was a principled person who always saw for the good of the nation first. Did my selfish motivations clash with her ideals?

               My fears were proven unfounded when Visha calmly put her mug of chocolate on the coffee table, then immediately doubled over in laughter.

               “HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA~” She fell off her chair and continued guffawing on the carpeted floor, tears leaking out of the corners of her eyes, as though I had just shown her the height of comedy.

               “Are you okay?” I asked. While I was glad that her reaction had not been one of disappointment, surely my circumstances were not that humorous?

               “HAHAHA~hahaha~hihihi.” Visha’s laughter finally subsided when her abdominal muscles started to cramp. She managed to climb back into her seat and wiped a tear of amusement from her eye.

               “Surely it wasn’t that funny?” I crossed my arms and pouted.

               “But it is! Imagine if the world heard that the only reason you became Chancellor was because you wanted a steady salary and job security! Or that you’ve been trying to quit this whole time, but they keep giving you a reason not to! I think that half of the Francois Parliament would drop dead on the spot if they realised they could have asked for your resignation at Londinium and prevented their country’s humiliation.” Visha giggled.

               “I still don’t think it’s that funny.” I huffed indignantly. “I’ve been trying hard to get myself fired, you know. No matter what I do, it’s not working!”

               “Perhaps you’re approaching your problem from the wrong perspective? Instead of trying to get yourself fired, maybe you should make it so that you’re ineligible to hold office?” Visha offered.

               I contemplated for a moment. What Visha said just opened my mind to a new possibility. An imaginary lightbulb lit itself above my head in a moment of eureka.

               Term limits! I could introduce term limits for the Chancellorship. Why have I been ignoring this possibility? It was so obvious in hindsight. Let’s see. This was my third term and seventh year serving as Chancellor. Guaranteeing the Imperial States’ path towards becoming a superpower should take half a decade or so. General elections are normally held every four years, barring events like the dissolution of a political coalition or an incumbent government losing their majority. Hmm, since term lengths can vary, a limit on the number of years could be a substitute. A limit of four terms or twelve years for Chancellorship, whichever duration is shorter, should be ideal. It would ensure that I would be Chancellor for no more than five more years, as then I would be legally obliged to resign from my post.

               Term limit should also serve to ensure that my country would not become an autocracy or gerontocracy in the future by preventing a single figure from becoming too politically entrenched. It should also increase political competitiveness, forcing parties to adopt more attractive policies to compete for power in the long term instead of relying on a single massively popular candidate to carry them through.

               “Visha, you’re a genius!” I exclaimed as I picked her up in a bridal carry and planted a deep kiss on her lips.

25th October 1943,

Waldstatten,

               I groggily woke up next to Visha, rubbing my eyes as the first rays of sunlight peeked through the curtains of our hired one-bedroom holiday cabin. Visha was still soundly in slumber. Reluctantly leaving the embrace of my lovely wife and our cushy bed, I walked over and opened the glass sliding door leading to the balcony. Stepping into the wooden balcony, I performed a few sets of military stretches while deeply inhaling the refreshing air of the mountainside, free of the pollution so ubiquitous in big cities.

               We had spent our last ten days of vacation in the Waldstatten Alps. Having depended so much on magic and computation orbs in my daily life to supplement my lack of natural strength and stamina, I had wanted to build some modicum of fitness for myself. As for Visha, she was worried that she was gaining weight due to a lack of exercise, although I personally thought that her figure was perfect as it was. The physical activity along with high altitude acclimatisation had done plenty of favour for the two of us. Visha’s stamina had slightly improved from all the cardio while I had finally shrugged off some of the effects of my accursed low blood pressure. It was the only reason I could get out of bed so early compared to before, when I needed a good half hour to shrug off the morning dizziness and fatigue.

               After watching the sunrise and basking in its gentle light for a few minutes, I went back inside to brush my teeth and freshen up for the day. I checked my watch for the time. Ten past six. The morning newspapers should already be at the cabin’s door. As I had instructed my staff to only contact me during emergencies, my only daily brief on worldly current events was from the local newspaper. To be honest, I preferred it this way. Much less stress when you didn’t need to be updated about twelve new infrastructural developments, four government reports, and eight top secret missions each day.

               Opening the cabin’s door, I picked up the roll of newspaper lying on the welcome mat and headed back to the cozy living room. I brewed a rudimentary cup of coffee for myself and took a sip. Decent, but not as good as Visha’s brew. I lit up the fireplace – a luxury for a cabin of this size – and confirmed that the smoke billowed through the chimney instead of building up inside the cabin. Having established a cozy atmosphere, I sunk down onto one of the two plush lounge chairs placed in the living room, steaming coffee mug in one hand and newspaper in the other. I took a big sip of coffee from my mug, placed it down onto the coffee table by my foot, unrolled the newspaper,… and promptly spat out my coffee when I read the title on the front page and saw the corresponding pictures.

               “THE EMPIRE RESURRECTED! IMPERIAL STATES RETURNS TO MONARCHY!”

               The accompanying pictures showed the interior of the Reichstag, with Ludwig seemingly holding a vote for a bill to be passed along with another picture of a crown. I cleaned up the coffee to the best of my ability and scanned through the newspaper.

               No. No, this couldn’t be real. I read it again. I hoped that I was hallucinating. It was futile. There was no mistake. With dread and fury building in my stomach, I read the article.

               “Just yesterday afternoon, a historic bill was passed in the Federation of Imperial States’ Reichstag building, transitioning the country’s form of governance from a parliamentary democracy to a monarchy. A revolutionary development in the political landscape of Europa, with many wondering if the spirit and body of the former Empire has been brought back in full.

               At 3:27pm Berun time, Acting Chancellor-President Ludwig Ernst, with the support of his Imperial Party and Chancellor Degurechaff’s Germanian Workers Party, managed to pass the Restoration of Imperial Monarchy Bill with an unprecedented eighty-eight percent supermajority. It is assumed by political analysts that the bill was secretly under works for several months, given that no prior indication had been made for its proposal, although the sentiment for a return to monarchism had always been strong within the former territory of the Empire.

               Once underway, the Restoration of Imperial Monarchy Bill will implement several sweeping changes to the political structure of the Imperial States. However, the main actions that the bill will induce are:

1.       The position of the Reich President shall be abolished and replaced with that of a monarch, upon whom both legislative and executive power are vested upon.
2.       The role of the Reichstag will be divested of their usual legislative power and relegated to that of an advisory body for the monarch.
3.       The role of the Chancellor and Vice Chancellor shall still remain, but they shall act in a capacity similar to that of counsellors or deputies to the monarch.
4.       The Reichstag shall hold one last vote to elect their chosen monarch.

               While such a transition may seem drastic to our readers in Waldstatten, this development would not be shocking for avid followers of political trends in the Imperial States. Monarchism has been on the rise in the former nation states that used to compose the Empire ever since the end of the Second Great War. This sentiment is greatly reflected in the sudden upheaval in popularity of the Imperial Party, with the party blossoming from an insignificant minor party to the second largest political party in the country in one election cycle.

               In the country, both anxious and anticipatory reactions followed the announcement. While some decried the dearth of democracy and citizen’s input in the new government, others were seen relishing in nostalgia as the government returned to a familiar form. The upheaval of the Imperial States’ political landscape gave rise to mixed international reactions, with OZEV allies commenting on the transition with cautious optimism while PATO-aligned countries denounced it as a form of systemic regression to autocracy.

               Acting Chancellor-President Ernst had further announced that the vote for the Imperial States’ monarch shall take place early this morning, with results to be announced at noon. While the identities of the candidates for this vote is temporarily kept secret from civilians, it is obvious to all citizens that the frontrunner-”

               I couldn’t bear reading any further. In a fit of rage, I ripped the newspaper apart and threw it into the fireplace. It was no great loss. I didn’t need to read the entire article to figure out what had transpired while I was gone.

               I’ve been betrayed. My initial fears concerning Ludwig were not unfounded after all. In my absence, he has somehow usurped me to elevate himself to emperor.

               I needed to return to Berun immediately to prevent this.

Chapter Text

AYKRR Chapter 40

Unwanted Favour

               What a naïve, overly trusting idiot I’ve been. How could I have been so blind?  Ludwig had been secretly aspiring to overthrow my government the whole time under my nose. With the opportunity that our absences afforded him, Ludwig had sprung his trap.

               How did he do it? I understood why the Imperial Party voted for the bill, given that he was their Chairman, but how did he manage to subvert my grasp over my own party? And that wasn’t all, there were other forces and measures in place to stop something like this from happening. What about the BND? The military? The other parties in the Reichstag? The citizens? The language and tone used in the newspaper was too calm and neutral for an event this momentous. It wouldn’t have been so unperturbed if there had been any significant push back or resistance against Ludwig’s power grab.          

               I mulled over what this development meant for me and Visha. Ludwig would likely elevate himself or a close relative, probably his mother, to the throne. After doing so, he would need to centralise his power and assert control over his empire. This meant that he needed to either cooperate with me to stabilise this newly revived empire or neutralise my power and influence within the Imperial States, then take over the power vacuum that would be left in the wake.

               If he wanted to cooperate with me, then he would have already brought up the topic before my vacation or even sooner. Given that no such conversation had taken place, I could assume that he had no wish to maintain my and Visha’s positions as Chancellor and Vice Chancellor after ascending the throne. It was treason, then.

               If he had decided to neutralise my influence, that meant either capturing/killing me or launching a massive defamation campaign to negate my popularity. Given that we were still here instead of being taken in the middle of the night by special forces, I could only assume that Ludwig had selected the latter approach.

               I must put an end to this charade and return to Berun ASAP before any smear campaign could be put into action, assuming it hasn’t been already. Having made up my mind, I went to wake up Visha before contacting my team of bodyguards to announce a change in our schedule.

25th October 1943,

10 Downing Street,

               Churbull sat at his desk and leaned back on his chair as reports from the Imperial States came flooding in, one after another. He swiftly skimmed over each one just to get the gist of it before continuing onto the next report due to the sheer quantity of information flooding in.

               Student-led protest at Frankfurt University suppressed by the military.

               Reichstag legislators tried to flee the country. Abducted by unidentified women and later seen attending the Reichstag.

               Several early production model helicopters lended to media companies by the military.

               The Dominion of Akitsushima, the Russy Tsardom, the National Republic of Qin, and the Kingdom of Magna Rumeli all expressed full recognition of the Imperial States’ transition monarchy as legitimate and lawful.

               Churbull rubbed his chin and took a sip of his brandy. It was clear that once the final voting session of the Reichstag concluded, the official announcement would soon follow and the coronation mere months behind. The Imperial States reverting back to a monarchy did not come as a shock to him. Given how Degurechaff had centralised power and dominated more of the Reichstag over the years, coupled with rising pro-monarchist sentiments in the Imperial States, the writing was on the wall. Of course, the results for the elected monarch of the Imperial States has not yet been announced, but even an uneducated drunk in a rundown pub could tell it would be Degurechaff.

               Her honeymoon was practically a victory lap around the world. Receiving a title from the Vatican that Charlemagne once held, which practically confirms that she had earned their support even despite her sexual disposition. That whole display in Malagasy to tell everyone watching that she had proclaimed herself sovereign of the island as well. Networking in Qin and Akitsushima. There was even a report from one of their eyes in America that Degurechaff was seen being driven to an US airfield in a military vehicle. Likely some shady dealings with the profit-driven Yanks.

               Regardless, Degurechaff’s ascension came sooner than he and most political spectators had foresaw. Churbull had expected Degurechaff to wait until the Russy Tsardom joined OZEV, which wouldn’t be the case for at least a couple years. As another monarchy with close ties to Degurechaff and owing a great debt to her for personally assisting in the Russy Civil War, the Russy Tsardom was inclined to support Degurechaff as Kaiserin of the reborn Empire. Once it was part of OZEV, it could help Degurechaff pressure more reluctant OZEV members into accepting Degurechaff’s subversion of her country’s democracy on the basis that the Imperial States would remain a steadfast ally in the alliance.

               Degurechaff was never known to be impatient. Something must have happened to accelerate her plans. Did she know about PATO’s secret operations to destabilise OZEV? Impossible. Operation Drifting Iceberg was known to only a handful of the most trusted intelligence agents in their service. Operation Amalgamation had less operational security, as agents were cooperating with non-professional elements, but their collaborators had no reason to leak any sensitive information to outsiders. Regardless, it was best to assume that at least one or even both operations were compromised.

               They had already spent too many resources into both projects, so it would be an immense waste to pull back their presence now. He had to appeal to the rest of PATO at their upcoming emergency meeting concerning the Imperial States to further accelerate Operation Drifting Iceberg. On the other hand, Operation Amalgamation would be temporarily delayed, to screen all personnel involved in the operation for spies and leaks.

               I sighed, rubbing my face and leaning back on my seat in the break room connected to the hangar that our plane was stored in. We were all waiting for our private transport plane to be ready for take-off. Visha and I sat at one table opposite one another while I told her what happened back home. 

Neumann and his fellow bodyguards sat at the other table with a map of Berun spread out in front of them, discussing plans for a rescue operation of our twins at the orphanage, should such an operation be necessary. I felt bad for Neumann, my head of security. What he thought would be a relaxing trip around the world whilst performing perfunctory security duties turned into executing a rescue operation for two VIP babies not even a year old. While I didn’t believe that Ludwig would stoop as low as to involve infants in his power grab, it was better to take precautions. 

               “I just can’t believe it. Are you sure this whole debacle isn’t a misunderstanding? You said you didn’t finish the newspaper before chucking it into the fireplace.” Visha mumbled. Even as I reiterate the situation at home to her, she refused to believe it and vehemently denied such a betrayal could have happened.

               “The wording was clear and unmistakeable. I don’t want to believe it either, but it’s the truth. Democracy in the Imperial States has fallen. Ludwig will likely declare himself emperor today.” I shook my head ruefully. In hindsight, leaving the country in the hands of a past royal formerly known for his monarchist views was not the brightest decision. I heavily attributed this titanic blunder to my psychological state at the time I was leaving for vacation.

               Ever since the end of the Second Great War, I’ve grown more desperate when it came to retiring from my position as Chancellor, leading me to tolerate things that I normally would not. The prime example being temporarily foisting my responsibilities onto Ludwig, a known monarchist. The accumulated stress and fatigue of leading Germania through the Second Great War followed by an election campaign had led me to develop symptoms of burn out, resulting in loss of motivation and reduced job performance. What a rookie mistake. As a former HR manager, I should have been able to detect it sooner, given that I’ve always been adept at detecting burn out in other employees. Had I not been so impatient to go on my honeymoon, I would have ensured that there were more failsafes to restrict Ludwig’s power before leaving.

               Then again, it wasn’t as though I had many reasons to suspect his intentions at the time. Ever since I recruited him, Ludwig had been loyal, reliable, and steadfast. He had even ceased his constant advocacy for monarchism as promised. During my absence during OZEV’s intervention in the Second Russy Civil War, he had maintained the stability of the country and had refrained from interfering with the bureaucracy or legislature. The only time he ever did something without my explicit order was when he legalised homosexuality and same-sex marriage. Even then, it had been for the sake of Visha’s desire to marry me.

               Alas, hindsight is always 20/20. Lamenting my mistakes would do nothing to fix my situation.

               Visha sighed in confusion. To call today bewildering would be an understatement. First, she had been woken up and told that they needed to return to Berun immediately. Then, Tanya had explained to her that Ludwig had somehow masterminded a takeover of the Imperial States’ government while they were gone.

               It was as though the revelations that she received from Tanya a couple weeks ago regarding her true intentions when she debuted in politics had not been surprising enough. While she should have been resentful, as Tanya had even confessed to contemplating fleeing the country and leaving Germania to fend for itself against the Russy Federation, she had never actually done  such a thing. Regardless, Tanya never did abandon the country and had instead led the nation to stand victorious over the communist behemoth. As such, there was no point getting furious over hypotheticals. This had allowed her to find humour in Tanya’s uncommon plight of failing to quit her job instead. However, the situation they were facing right now was anything but humorous.

               “Even if Ludwig had been harbouring insidious intentions for the past year, I still find it strange that no one managed to stop him once he made his move.” Visha said. “What about the military and the BND?”

               “Ludwig could have offered the military some serious concessions regarding the defence budget or perhaps relaxation of requirements for nuclear bomb usage. If that’s the case, then we are facing a serious coup. As for the BND, Ludwig is Elya’s boyfriend…” Tanya said, her voice trailing off towards the end awkwardly.

               “You can’t seriously be suspecting Elya to be a traitor.” Visha glared, ready to defend her best friend’s loyalty. Elya had been an integral part in Tanya’s rise to power in the first place and had been there with them since the start of Tanya’s political career!

               “I’m not accusing her of being a traitor.” Tanya put her hands in front of her placatingly.

               Tanya continued to explain. “But it’s possible that Elya’s trust in Ludwig could have allowed him to incapacitate her in some way, then send orders to the BND while pretending that the orders were from her. By the time they realise anything, it would have been too late, allowing Ludwig to make use of the BND.”

               “That still leaves the Reichstag. Such a major change in government would require a two-thirds supermajority at the minimum. Let’s assume that the Imperial Party all voted yes, that still leaves seventy percent of the Reichstag opposed. He could not have done anything without the GWP.” Visha said. Of course, a good chunk of the GWP’s political views overlapped with that of the Imperial Party, but the instinct to follow Tanya’s leadership had been drilled into them over the years. They wouldn’t ever go against her.

               “That is true.” Tanya scratched her temple in thought. “Even though I did leave things in his hands, the GWP surely must have realised what was going on when the bill was introduced. Unless…”

               Tanya looked around the room, her gaze settling on a newspaper stand near the break room’s stove, placed there for the pilots and mechanics meant to use to break room. She went over to pluck a roll of newspaper from the stand and walked back to spread the newspaper on the table. She started reading the newspaper again, starting from where she left off.

               “I understand why the GWP voted with Ludwig now.” Tanya said with comprehension dawning on her visage. “Read this.” She pointed at a paragraph on the paper, near the end of the article.

               “While the identities of the candidates for this vote is temporarily kept secret from civilians, it is obvious to all citizens that the frontrunner is none other than the incumbent Chancellor of the Imperial States, Tanya von Degurechaff.”

               Visha gasped. There had been a misunderstanding after all! Tanya always did enjoy unprecedented popularity, to the point where most citizens could no longer imagine a future where she was not the leader of the country. Although Visha still couldn’t fathom what possessed Ludwig to act against Tanya’s orders, his actions now made more sense. Although Ludwig attempting to make Tanya the Kaiserin was preferable to him taking the throne himself, it was still not a desirable outcome for Tanya, who had made it clear that she didn’t want to stay in power for longer than necessary and in the past, and had even baulked at the notion of elevating her status to royalty.

               Visha glanced up at her wife, knowing that Tanya must have arrived at the same conclusion. “Tanya, this could only mean-”

               Tanya declared triumphantly, as though having solved a great conundrum. “Yes. He deceived the GWP into thinking that I was going to be elevated to the throne while planning to commit voting fraud to make himself the Kaiser!”

               What? Visha stared at her wife like she had grown a second head. How could have compelled her to possibly arrive at that absurd conclusion?

               Tanya continued. “It’s the only logical conclusion. To have the GWP on board, he must have convinced them that it was my order to vote for the bill to revert to monarchism. He must have promised them great rewards, all whilst planning to dupe the vote for a monarch to place himself on the throne. After that, he’d quickly seize power and prevent any investigation or questioning of the vote’s legitimacy.”

               “Tanya, that doesn’t make any sense. Voter fraud in a general election is simple to commit, but one performed in the Reichstag, with high security and constant eyes everywhere as members cast their vote individually and discuss with each other regarding who they’re voting for? It’s practically impossible.” Visha said in exasperation.

               “Intimidation or blackmail, then. Either that or shady deals promising overblown benefits.” Tanya pivoted, running along with her narrative.

               Visha had a niggling instinct that something was tremendously wrong with Tanya’s mental state when it came to accepting greater responsibility. It was as though her wife was deluding herself in a desperate cognitive attempt to reconcile her beliefs with her actual circumstances.

               Visha turned to Neumann and his team, who were still smoothening out the finer details of their rescue operation while trying their best to ignore Visha’s argument with her wife. “Gentlemen, can you leave us for a moment? I promise it won’t take long.” They nodded and left for the hangar, still discussing the operation in professional tones.

               Visha turned back to Tanya. “Tanya, I think that Ludwig wants to make you the Kaiserin. In fact, I think even the general population wants you to become the Kaiserin.”

               Tanya froze for a moment, then recovered. “Don’t be ridiculous, Visha. This isn’t the last century anymore. Besides, why would Ludwig want to elevate me, a former commoner, to a position that his family once held?”

               Visha hesitated to think for a moment, before replying. “Because he knows that the people won’t accept his family on the throne again. Public opinion of the royal family was in the mud near the end of the First Great War. The people would only support an immensely popular, proven, and revered leader who has repeatedly performed great services to the nation. Someone like you. By supporting your rising star, he and his family stand to gain.”

               Tanya shook her head. “You’re overselling me. You and I both know that a lot of what I did as Chancellor was either accidental or in an attempt to get myself fired.”

               “Your achievement of winning the Second Great War wasn’t.” Visha retorted. “You had every intention of winning it.”

               Tanya nodded reluctantly. “Except for that. But still, let’s assume that Ludwig wants me up on the throne, what about the people? Sure, I’m popular, but why would the citizens of our nation want a Kaiserin when our democracy has been delivering satisfactory results?”

               “Our democracy has been doing just fine? Tanya, name a single decent Chancellor we have had since the end of the First Great War aside from you.” It might be a contradictory belief for a person of her current position, but Visha had always thought that democracy was a flawed system. Perhaps it was due to her aristocratic upbringing, or maybe even her views being jaded by incompetent elected officials, but it was a view that she had always harboured. In democracy, it was far too easy to misinform voters and to manipulate votes. Any charismatic person with a gift for the gab could theoretically win an election without the necessary qualifications unlike nobles that have been trained to rule and manage since birth. Visha had supported Tanya not because she believed in democracy, but because she believed in Tanya.

               “You can’t be using that argument. I’m only the third Chancellor since the country became a republic.” Tanya waved it aside.

               “Fine then, what about since you were born?” Visha said. Silence from Tanya as she tried to rack her head for the names and careers of Chancellors since 1914. A moment of realisation dawned in her wife’s eye as she acknowledged that there really wasn’t any Chancellor that fit the criteria.

               Knowing that she had momentum, Visha continued. “Tanya, you’re underselling yourself. Go ask anyone in the Imperial States and they would proclaim that you are the greatest Chancellor they've had since Bismarck. The people latch onto you because they see you as the greatest hope for prosperity and national ascendency in decades. You’re young, charismatic, a visionary, and most of all, competent. A diamond found in a trough of coal. Is it really a surprise that most of them would want you to be the nation’s leader permanently because they’re scared that whoever takes the mantle after you would undo all the progress you have made?”

               Tanya simply stared at her, an almost scared expression on her face.

               Visha kept going. “I’m not asking you to seize power and become a dictator or anything like that. I know you don’t want power, and that’s a wonderful thing. Power rests best in the hands of those who have never desired it. Someone like you. In the worst-case scenario where Ludwig is truly trying to usurp you, we’ll all go with your plan. But please, consider every possibility here.”

               Tanya contemplated for a moment, an anxious look present on her expressions. Eventually, she nodded in acquiescence. “Fine, I’ll… consider it. Even if I don’t think it’s the case.” She added quietly at the end.

               Just then, a knock rang out from the break room’s door leading to the hangar. Neumann’s voice came out. “The pilot told me that all preparations are done. We’re cleared for departure.”

Same day, Berun,

               Seated in one of the Reichstag’s numerous recess rooms, Ludwig tapped his feet with a mixture of impatience and trepidation as he strained his ears, enhanced with an eavesdropping spell to listen to the sound of ballots being counted in the main chamber. It was useless, of course, the team of mages in the Reichstag building’s direct employ had cast a privacy spell over the whole main chamber once the doors were shut after the anonymous voting period ended and the members of the Reichstag temporarily retired for an extended recess.

               Ludwig had done everything he could to ensure this day would come, as per his grandfather’s instructions. If all went smoothly, he should have more than enough votes to revert the Imperial States back to a monarchy. By tomorrow noon – the time that the Chancellor and Vice Chancellor were scheduled to return – the nation would receive Chancellor Degurechaff as its Kaiserin.

               It had taken no effort to earn the votes from his members of the Imperial Party. Not only were members of his party tended to vote according to party lines, the purpose of the party’s founding had been to reestablish the monarchy after having seen how a singular strong-minded and charismatic leader, driven by loyalty and love for her country, could much more effectively and resolutely lead a country compared to a gaggle of semi-competent elected officials, all with their own conflicting agendas.

               The Germanian Workers Party had not been much harder to crack. At least a fifth held the same beliefs as members of the Imperial Party but had been too hesitant to switch parties and leave the indolent comfort of resting under Chancellor Degurechaff’s shadow. But most had been ecstatic to follow along with the plan, especially when he revealed that members of the Reichstag would continue to receive the same salary, even with their reduced responsibilities and power. There had been some detractors, of course, as a party as encompassing as the GWP held various smaller factions and groups that subscribed to slightly nuanced beliefs but still carried core GWP values. However, those contrarians had all been dealt with via diplomacy or … aggressive negotiations.

               As for smaller parties in the Reichstag, he had actually refrained from approaching them and their members unless they actively participated in treason, sedition, or sabotage.

               Ludwig checked on the clock hanging above the entrance to the recess room. Forty minutes to noon. He had no idea how much the vote tallying had progressed by. Although there had been only around a thousand votes in total, such a monumental vote required various rounds of recounting and assessing for any sort of cheating or manipulation. For all he knew, it could take another two hours for the results to be announced.

               Just as he was deciding whether to leave the Reichstag building to get some lunch, the double doors leading to his recess room opened, and his personal secretary along with an air force general entered.

               Ludwig immediately stood up from his sofa, focusing on his secretary and temporarily ignoring the general. “Is it done?”

               Hannah stopped with a click of her heels, an ever-professional look on her face. She shook her head. “Unfortunately, the counting is still ongoing. But we might have trouble.” She turned her head towards the general.

               The general, a man in his fifties with greying sideburns, stepped forward and reported in a familiar military manner. “Herr President, I am General Bastian von Goldstein. At 1020, we received a notice from Berun air space control. They detected an unidentified airplane coming from the west at high speed, flying low to avoid detection.”

               Ludwig’s eyebrows shot up in alarm and anxiety. “Don’t tell me PATO sent in a warplane to disrupt our proceedings!? Did the plane identify themselves?” As much as PATO was against Chancellor Degurechaff amassing greater executive power, he didn’t expect such a bull-headed move. Such an action could risk war!

               General Goldstein shook his head. “It made no attempts to respond when we hailed it. Air control forwarded a warning to us, prompting us to send several jet fighters to intercept the craft. However, we lost it when it made an abrupt landing around a hundred kilometres from Berun. We’ve yet to discover the plane but we suspect that the occupants of the plane have deboarded and might be making their way to the city. Marshall Lehrgen has already put the military on high alert and patrol the city perimeters. We suspect it could be a discrete attempt from PATO to disrupt the ongoing Reichstag session.”

               Ludwig nodded, grateful for the military’s quick response. He was alarmed, yes, but not surprised by such a turn of events. While a reckless move from PATO, their leaders might deem it a worthy gambit to strike at the Imperial States’ government now while it was in a tumultuous transitional state, with the ultimate goal of destabilising the country’s political scene and damaging their international reputation. Furthermore, there were various ways to shift or avoid accountability for an assault on the Imperial States. They could claim that the operation was executed by agents they had no authority over, such as soldiers gone AWOL, hired mercenaries, or terrorists, all whilst covering their traces competently and setting up unwitting individuals to take the fall. It was what he would have done.

               He dismissed General Goldstein, who left quietly without letting anyone else in the Reichstag become aware of his arrival. Ludwig sat back in the chair again, confident that the military would be able to provide adequate security against any intruder, even if they were highly trained special operatives.

               Ten minutes after he sat back down, the doors into the Reichstag’s main chamber finally reopened, the sign that the vote counting had concluded. An announcement was quickly made via speakers interspersed throughout the Reichstag building, informing sitting members of the Reichstag that they were to return to the main chamber to receive the result.

               In less than twenty minutes, the near one thousand members of the Reichstag including Ludwig found themselves seated appropriately in their own designated sections. Amongst his chattering colleagues of the Imperial Party, Ludwig’s heart thumped heavily against his chest. Like a student mentally perusing through his exam answers after his papers were already collected, Ludwig found himself paranoically simulating hypothetical situations in which his plan could have been foiled.

               Perhaps the members that he bought off and threatened had somehow grew integrity out of the ether and abstained from voting. Maybe the Speaker of the Reichstag had been bought off by some anti-Degurechaff faction he had neglected to deal with to announce a different winner. Or assassins could storm the Reichstag and kill every person in the room, thus disabling the country’s government.

               To his side, his friend Walther von Schiel and former Chairman of the Imperial Party squeezed his shoulder in a display of camaraderie and assurance.

               Fortunately for him, his fears were proven unfounded when the Speaker of the Reichstag – a member of the GWP – stepped up to make his speech.

               “In times of crises throughout time immemorial, great men and women have repeatedly stepped up to guide humanity out of untenable situations or make priceless contributions to our advancement, earning themselves great merit, trust, and respect from their fellows. It is because of this that they find themselves awarded with positions and titles that allows them to best make use of their prodigious talent and expertise. Prestigious and lauded positions such as generals, administrators, statesmen, prime ministers, presidents, kings,…” A long pause. “And emperors.” The Speaker of the Reichstag finished with a solemn note of reverence.

               Taking a short breath, the Speaker continued. “It is with great honour that I shall announce the name of the new monarch to head our great nation, who shall be elevated to the throne and invested with the power and responsibility to guide the Imperial States and her peoples to a new Golden Age, as agreed upon by the democratically elected sitting body of the Reichstag. Having earned over eighty-eight percent of all votes, it is without a doubt that this individual was the only viable candidate to lead our glorious and esteemed nation. Please all rise for our new Kaiserin – Tanya von Degurechaff!!!

               The Reichstag immediately erupted with voices. Cheers of joyous celebration dominated the sections seating the GWP and Imperial Party. In great contrast, the other sections housing lesser political parties were subdued with a sense of defeat and finality. It was no great surprise, many of them had their hands forced into voting for the legislature, and again when voting for Chancellor Degurechaff. Ludwig had only insisted upon an anonymous vote to graciously save a modicum of their dignity and popularity, so that they could still preen and pretend to their colleagues and voters that they had been against it all along. Of course, even that was a favour that he could then cash in on at a later date.

               Amidst the loquacious congratulations by his fellow Imperial Party members for his efforts, Ludwig noticed that the double doors leading into the Reichstag main chamber had been flung open, the sound masked by the raucous noise of the Reichstag and leaving most people unaware of the disturbance.

               Ludwig’s instinct as a former soldier had his hands moving deftly into his jacket pocket, gripping his computational orb tightly. All sitting members of the Reichstag that were supposed to be here today had been accounted for. That meant no one else was meant to enter the main chamber anymore. His mind immediately went back to the conversation he had with General Goldstein earlier that day, warning him of a potential attempt by PATO to disrupt the Reichstag proceedings.

               But before Ludwig could make any move, his mind caught up with his body, and he noticed the features of the intruder, causing him to relax. She was panting hard and slightly dishevelled, as though having just greatly exerted herself to make it here, but she was unmistakable. Diminutive stature, short blonde hair, blue eyes, and donning an unconventional outfit of an old military jacket over a simple dress. Her mouth was slightly agape, as though prepared to make a proclamation. Only one person fitted that description. Chancellor Degurechaff, no, Kaiserin Degurechaff had returned early from her honeymoon.

               Before he could voice his questions concerning why she had prematurely ended her vacation and returned to the capital without informing him or any other staff, people seated near the doors started to notice Tanya von Degurechaff as well. Soon, exclamations of recognition and surprise echoed throughout the chamber. Within half a minute, she was surrounded by dozens of well-wishers and sycophants, all clamouring to congratulate her and further earn her favour. Even the Vice Chancellor, who arrived just a minute later, looking as rumpled as her wife, was unable to push through the veritable sea of opportunistic politicians who all tried to ingratiate themselves with their new empress. The fact that amongst them were politicians who he knew had not voted for the former Chancellor was not lost to him.

               “Well done on your ascension, you have outmanoeuvred all of us, Chancellor Degurechaff, or should I say, Kaiserin Degurechaff?” An aged left-wing politician reluctantly congratulated even as he bristled.

               “Your Majesty, the sincerest of congratulations. I’ve always been a fervent supporter of your policies, if you’re ever in need of a viceroy for our oversea colonies, I’d like to unabashedly recommend myself to-” An overly ambitious member of the Imperial Party tried to make his case before he was pushed aside.

               “Congratulations, our new Kaiserin, we all knew that only you were worthy to lead us.” A senior member of the GWP shook her hands enthusiastically, ignoring the fact that she kept her arms limp.

               “Your Majesty, I would love for you to visit my estate in Munich one day, my wife and I shall welcome you with the most lavish-” An obsequious politician-cum-businessman shamelessly ranted before he too was interrupted.

               The former Chancellor’s facial expressions froze, her eyes widening almost comically and her mouth slightly open, perhaps as a result of being overwhelmed by so much stimuli at once. But as expected of her, she quickly snapped out of it, eyes scanning around the Reichstag. Eventually, she locked eyes with Ludwig, who was calmly making his way down from his seat instead of rushing Tanya like the others.

               Ludwig expected her to give her a nod of approval or a smile of appreciation for his grand efforts, but what Tanya did next baffled him. Eyes set in a bizarre mixture of wrath and dread, and with a grimness reserved only for criminals who were being handed life sentences, she silently mouthed the words. “What have you done?”