pirated stuff

The couple of weeks after the election was quiet for Weiss.

Too quiet.

When he placed his ballot for the Germanian Democratic Party, it was announced that Degurechaff was no longer an associate of the Progressive Bloc. Talk about a wasted vote.

The open discourse of revolution was reduced to hushed tones when word got out that the Argent Silver was home safe, sound, and downright furious. It was terrifying to hear that the Communists and the National Vanguardists lined up at the voting booths like sheep being led into the slaughterhouse - Rohr, for all his drunken bravado, sobered up quickly in the face of the Argent Silver.

Visha was declared persona non grata by the Major herself. It was a very troubling affair to learn but he knew better than to question the wisdom of his superiors. Yet, he had not disagreed with the methodology and the enthusiasm employed by their favorite Russy.

But now that the Major was downcast - really downcast - as he had never seen her operate with such a sterile manner since returning from Westphalia, he could scarcely get a word in with her until now. She had spent the majority of her time denouncing the boycott, the violence, and Cossack brutality as she went on a brief tour to examine the damages done to vandalized shops and synagogues. A massive verbal flurry over the radio that was utterly scathing upon the ears.

Perhaps Randolf Jager was right, Slavic Lawlessness was poisoning Germania from within…more so than any Judeo-Cosmopolitanism that other nationalist ultraconservative pundits preach against, not that he paid attention to any of them. Regardless, the goal was to reunite the Empire, not establish the Second Russy Empire in Germania. Something the Cossacks failed to understand…

Speaking of, the Slavic boycotters were handed over to the police and the judicial courts for their crimes of vandalism and murder after the Major made a public announcement denouncing the violence. Unlike their Germanian counterparts who had sympathetic juries and judges who were cleared not guilty, the Slavs faced tougher sentences for performing the same crimes. Though, "tougher" would be an overstatement…there were traffic violations with greater penalties.

The newspapers that once praised the "actions of true patriots" for their boycott condemned the Russy Exiles the next day.

It was impressive how quickly everything was blamed on Slavic Lawlessness for inciting "racial disputes between the Germanians and the Good, Loyal, Judeans."

Of course, none of Rohr's men caught got persecuted since the fat drunk bastard controlled the largest paramilitary force in Europe.

But the most damning of all was how the Progressive Bloc blamed everything on Major Degurechaff. Weren't they the ones that got this country in the mire? Weren't they the ones who would benefit from sending the assassins after her in Konigsberg?

She said it was a complete coincidence that the Hammerstein Affair was exposed in the same timeframe and had nothing to do with the Konigsberg Incident. Weiss knew better than most that the Major would never deceive him but doubts continued to linger in his mind. Yet, a couple of times he had to reflect and remind himself of how he had already started believing the two events were intertwined despite knowing the true narrative. She was telling the truth.

After all, he was present in the secret conference.

Of course, one just had to look at Elena Muller to avoid further contemplation. As soon as Visha was gone, the half-Judean began overhauling the entire bureaucratic structure, purging the staff of Visha's old associates with her creatures. No one disappeared, yet. Just given polite encouragement to disassociate themselves from the Germanians. Nothing too alarming; Weiss didn't know who they were anyway on a personal level. But the results speak for themselves.

Everything was accelerating considering that Reichsbanner Drachen was on its own. But the principle remains constant: whatever Degurachaff says, goes. Which was why he was in a personal meeting with the Major.

"Major Degurechaff, I can never disobey any order from you," Weiss answered truthfully. Time and time again, he had placed his faith in the leadership of the Argent Silver and never once was it abused. "Whatever you ask, I shall do."

And yet, his response seemed to deepen Degurechaff's scowl. Did he say something wrong?

"I want you to know first that I am going to Yugoslavia."

What?

"Before you ask anything, I am not running away…I'm simply trying to make amends with the Progressives."

"You're wasting your time." Weiss blurted out before suddenly clamping his mouth shut.

Degurechaff was not joyous to hear his outburst when she stood up from her seat with her hands clenching into fists.

"Are you questioning my judgment?"

"No. Far from it," He shook his head, "I just don't think the politicians are worth your time."

"You do realize that those parties are the only ones that are working to create a functioning democracy? Rohr, Lutzbeurg, Class, and Goering; these demagogues would lead this country and its people down a path of ruination. Like it or not, Berning, Schlage, and even Herimann and Erbel have this country in their best interests."

Weiss kept his mouth silent though his eyes betrayed his inner turmoil. The Major was quick to catch onto it. Anger permeated the room and he felt like he was standing in the middle of a furnace.

"You still disagree. Why?"

"Permission to speak plainly?"

"I never considered you to be someone who withheld honest input. Was I wrong?"

Weiss's eyes glanced downwards, looking at his polished black jackboots, before looking back at the Freikorps commander. He wondered if he could survive when his words could not.

"The men in the Reichstag…they're worthless. They do not deserve your confidence. They are the real traitors to the Germanians. They colluded with the Soviet government, the same government that was content letting us starve to death in the Great War before entry. They do nothing but bicker and squabble with one another.

They do not know what we have sacrificed on the frontlines. They do not know what we have seen on the battlefield. And they do not care. They preach of Humanity, Peace, and a new Era. What did we get in reality? Mass unemployment, hunger, poverty, and national humiliation. We are buying Francois goods, not Germanian goods. We are supporting Francois businesses, not Germanian ones. We are enabling another Francian Empire, instead of looking after our own.

If you want to go to Yugoslavia, then go. But don't do it for those traitorous sellouts in the Reichstag, do it for yourself. I didn't follow you into Hell because you were a slave to the Brass, I followed you because you were the only officer who knew the truth."

Degurechaff looked rather offended but Weiss said his piece. He meant every word.

"The truth…" she grumbled, looking mournful yet so hateful. "Alright then, what do you think is the truth?"

"That you defend these men who plot your demise behind your back and turn around and attack those who wish to elevate you."

"Don't you dare bring Visha into this…" The Major warned, "Choose your next words carefully."

"Don't ignore the people who want to see you succeed. Don't forget their plights; they hoped against hope that we would finally triumph against the calamity…" He continued.

"Are you making excuses for her?! Are you conveniently forgetting what she has done? What she had orchestrated behind my back? I expelled her for the prejudices she hid under the veneer of a pollyanna, not for the Slav that she is, no matter what the media says."

"She did it because she was scared for you. It happened the way that it happened because you were the knot that held the country together. If her prejudices were the guiding principles of the boycott, every Judean in Germania would be dead right now."

"You say as if it was a good thing she showed restraint."

"Rohr had no such pretenses," Weiss countered, "He and his Brownshirts carved a bloody path to Berun, raping and murdering every Judean got his hands on. Visha smashed the windows of synagogues, but Rohr razed them entirely. He called it 'Workers' Justice' when he plundered Judean businesses to stuff his own pockets."

Would you rather have him directing the boycott? His words seem to imply.

"What are you really saying?" Her eyes narrowed and her gaze sharpened.

Glancing downwards again, the tall veteran mage tugged subconsciously on his yellow armband.

"When the Albish blockaded the North Sea, there was no longer enough food to go around. First, my family ate the horses. We weren't going anywhere, couldn't feed them and neither could the Army. Then they ate the family cats; including my cat, Felix. Then they ate the family dogs; loyal, strong, and dedicated but they ate them anyway. Then the rats. My mother traded half her jewelry for a sack of potatoes and my father gave up the family ancestral sword just to get a pound of meat.

When I came home, I realized it was no longer my home. My parents gave away so much wealth to find food that they had to move into a smaller, more humble manse.

My family was part of a distinguished line of cavalrymen. We have fought for Konig and Kaiser since the days of the Holy Roman Imperium. The Kaiser demanded loyalty and so we gave him loyalty. The Kaiser demanded sacrifice and so we gave him sacrifice. When the Kaiser surrendered, we surrendered. When the Kaiser fled, we stayed.

We stayed and swore loyalty to the Republic. When the Republic demanded we give up our pride, we gave them all we had left. When the Republic demanded to give up our money, we gave them all we had left. When the Republic demanded that we give you up, I only realized that we would have nothing left.

I joined the military because duty demanded me to serve my country. Just as it had demanded from my forefathers. I surrendered because duty demanded me to. Betrayed or not on Armistice Day, I did my duty and gave up.

But now that these Liberals and Socialists parade the Freedom of Choice, I choose the Empire and only the Empire."

"You want the Kaiser back?" She inquired with a heavy sigh, slumping back into her seat in the process.

"I want you." Weiss knelt before his superior like a knight of yore, "Only you."

"You believe I am fit to be the new sovereign?"

"There is no one better."

"I'm just a soldier, Weiss. Like you. Don't you find it ironic to crown a young woman - being a reactionary?"

"No."

"And if you were wrong? If the Empire came back and rejected me?"

"Then we will simply build a new Empire."

"That is what I was afraid of…" The Major grumbled under her breath, glaring at the mirror sitting in the corner of the wall. It looked as if it made contact with an angry fist. "I am not sure I can do this anymore…"

"You still can: you have the strength and the knowledge. You just need an opportunity. The opportunity that we can give you if you just give us a chance." Weiss implored her. "Have faith, Major. You can accomplish so much more."

Silence governed the room and he could have sworn he saw his war hero retreat within her eyes. Where was the fire in her soul? Never had he seen the Argent Silver so dull, lifeless, and rusted. Just when he had gotten acquainted with the quieter side of the Major in the past few days. Weiss strained his ears trying to catch the slightest noise emitting from her mouth. If he had said these thoughts differently, perhaps he would have garnered a more positive reception.

"What did you know of Visha's plan for the boycott?" The Ace of Aces finally spoke again. The tiredness in her voice nearly split Weiss' heart in two.

"I was the one who suggested the boycott," Weiss answered truthfully, and just like that, like a flash of lightning, the spark of life compounded with a godly fury returned to her sapphire-rich eyes.

"And you didn't tell me…"

"It was far from ideal, I know, but current circumstances led me to believe it was the best possible outcome we had. We could control public opinion if we could control the narrative. Let's face it, Major. Someone was going to talk about Konigsberg eventually. It was for the best that we heard about it first for we could at least dictate the constraints for the inevitable outrage."

Another minute of silence passed between them before Tanya spoke again.

"What do you plan on doing next while I am in Yugoslavia?"

Is this a trick question? Weiss kept his mouth shut in case it was. Elena had plenty of eyes and ears throughout Germania and he rather not face an early, permanent retirement from Degurechaff's movement.

"I am not trying to deceive you…" she sighs, "I just want to know what you are planning next."

"It is entirely dependent on what you want us to achieve while you are gone," he replied. "What would you have me do?"

"If I tell you, can you promise me something?" She asked.

"I am not sure I have anything else to give you." Weiss shook his head slightly. "You have my sword, my loyalty, and my life."

"Can you give me peace? Give me stability? Some goodwill?"

"I can certainly try."

"I suppose that is good enough for me."

That tore a big hole in Weiss's pride. Even after all those victories earned in the Great War, she still sees men like him as mediocre.

"You will succeed Visha's position; assume her duties as my new adjutant. Find the most trustworthy men to oversee background checks of the Freikorps. No more boycotts or anything of the sort." The Major said, much to Weiss' surprise.

Elena Muller has been aiming to take over that role ever since Visha's fall. She would not take kindly to this new arrangement; this promotion would put him firmly in her sights.

"Why not Elena?" he asked as innocently as he could.

"She has enough responsibilities on her plate. Quite frankly, I don't trust her as much as I trust you."

"I am truly blessed. My deepest gratitude."

"Right…regardless, despite your…conservative mindset, I still want you to cooperate with the democratic establishment. Work to preserve the Republic from domestic threats and bring order back onto the streets."

Pardon? Despite everything he has told her, she still wanted to associate herself with them.

"Even if they do not want our help?"

"Even if they do not want our help."

Quite a tall order but there were victories won from less-than-favorable circumstances.

"I will do all that you command to the best of my ability." He swore an oath, raising his right arm for the salute.

"You can start by stop doing THAT." Degurechaff marched out of her seat to pull his arm down. "Why does everyone keep doing that?"

"Elena insisted on the political pageantry…"

"Elena? What-why?"

"When you were in Pullska, she stated in a report, a lecture to be precise, going over her observations and theories of Rohr's Arbeitsgemeinschaft and its recent success. And…um…Elena concluded that if we don't adopt similar methods of mass mobilization, we will not win popularity. She strongly argued that reputation alone cannot build a movement." Weiss explained the best he could. As if it was not already clear enough that politicking and campaigning was not his specialty.

The most quizzical face washed over Degurechaff as she studied his face like a prison warden reviewing a new convict. Brings back memories of training camp…looking back now, Weiss found it silly that his younger self was so terrified of Degurechaff as drill sergeant; if it weren't for her exercise regime, he may not have seen the war's conclusion.

"I will look into this later…" she finally huffed, earning pity from the First Lieutenant.

"Are there any other concerns you want me to address in your absence?"

"All decisions regarding the direction and structure of the Freikorps must have my explicit approval first. Send a letter or wait for my return, all actions from here on out are to assist the Germanian Republic, NOT to recreate the Empire. Do you understand?"

"I understand."

"And if Vis - Viktoriya comes back…" The Major's voice seemingly died in her throat.

"And if Viktoriya comes back?"

"Tell her to wait for me to return."

"Of course."

"And Weiss?"

"Yes, Major?"

"Was Lergen present in the meeting with Viktoriya?"

"Yes, he was. So was General Zettour."

Tanya von Degurechaff. Such a strange little girl. A strange, brilliant, dangerous little girl. The culmination of a thousand years of Germanian culture, knowledge, and martial tradition; she has a knack for exceeding expectations.

How the Empire lost the War with her in service was the Eighth Wonder of the World…

How quickly a decade came and went to Zettour's aging eyes. Like his old brother-in-arms, Rudensdorf, he witnessed the meteoric rise of the Empire during his youth and worked to defend its honor as a man, only to live in its carcass as an elder. Everything feels like a dream…or a nightmare.

The Liberal.

The Socialist.

The Judean.

The Queer.

They are all thieves.

Stealing the glory and the riches of the Empire that they did not earn. Prestige was won through the sword. Honor through blood and iron. These cowardly pacifists denounce the martial heritage of the Imperial Knights yet continue to live within the walls of the Empire like parasites and vermin. After all these centuries, they still mock the countless sacrifices of the men and women who built this country using their bones as bricks and blood as cement.

Mocking the brave warriors of Germania while having the audacity to complain of many "injustices." Zettour has never seen such ingratitude before. The Empire was the most progressive and egalitarian nation in Europe, perhaps even more so than the Americans. Yet they still dare to complain. Being a soldier was a thankless job, that part was true, but the contempt that these idiots have against the Empire was most infuriating.

If they don't like it here, then by all rights, they can leave.

Let the Judean go to America, and see how the Klan welcomes them.

Let the Socialist go to Rus, and see how the Bolsheviks treat their own.

Let the Liberal go to Francia, and see how the Parliament uses them.

Let the Queer go to Albion, and see how the Albish views them.

The Empire was perfect; functioning as intended, but these problem-seekers desired nothing but to enact their hedonistic utopia on Earth. The destruction of his beloved country was not an act of God, Zettour would know, as there are at least ten good souls in the Empire with Degurechaff being one of them.

But the pride and the ego of these fools…they chose to destroy the Empire rather than be content living in it and dare act as if they were the victims of some unforeseen calamity.

Everyone has a role in society yet many are content being useless.

It is no wonder European Civilization has gone to hell.

But hope is not lost. There is at least someone with the strength and will to overcome this new dark age. She just needs guidance.

"I must apologize for not coming to you earlier." Tanya von Degurechaff greeted him with the proper military salute.

Hans von Zettour replied with the same gesture. It is good that she still respects tradition, unlike some people in Germania. Giving a nod to the butler, the servant brought forth fresh black coffee, tea, biscuits, and cakes.

"There's nothing to apologize for…" The old veteran shook his head while offering a slice of Flandern chocolate deluxe. "Eat."

"No thank you. I am not hungry right now." She shook her head politely.

"I wasn't asking. EAT. It is rude to refuse a host's hospitality."

The polite demeanor Degurechaff wore was dampened by a streak of defiance yet she took a small bite of the cake before setting aside the plate. While Zettour may not appreciate his subordinates acting out unaccordingly, her feistiness was rather enduring. He couldn't help but smile in her presence.

"So…what do you want to talk about?" She spoke her words calmly and slowly. "Since we last met."

"Since we last met? Those concerns became irrelevant given the current situation. Being ostracized and banished from the Germanian Democratic Party - that was madness - madness and stupidity governing the halls of the Reichstag…Heimal Schlage was blind and deaf not to realize how special you were to him."

"Yes…he didn't want to listen. I just want to explain what I could do…"

"Indeed, despite everything you have done for them, they eventually hated you. You offered them blood, sweat, and tears, and repaid you with an unmindful exile. Never have I seen such an unruly display by the leftists. Don't you understand, Tanya von Degurechaff? They were only using you."

"Using me?" She arched an eyebrow.

"Judging by the election results alone, the Progressive Bloc, in a coalition with the DNVP and other conservatives, holds a dominant majority in the Reichstag with Heinrich Berning as the new Chancellor. An unpleasant man to work with; how do you think your life would turn out being slandered by our new government?" Zettour inquired.

"Not very comfortable."

"Not very comfortable indeed, your knowledge and honor made them look weak. The Republic punished you for it. At least in the Empire, we rewarded patriots for their virtues."

Degurechaff simply shrugged her shoulders and let out a sigh.

"The Empire doesn't exist anymore so we'll have to make do."

"And what do you plan to do next?"

"To put simply, I will go to Yugoslavia, clean up the kingdom, and come home with enough goodwill to rejoin the Progressive Bloc."

"How fascinating. How do you know it will work? After all, their expansion in the Reichstag is the direct result of your contributions. If they did not appreciate you then, what makes you think they will appreciate you in Yugoslavia?"

The silence was Degurechaff's only reply. While such a response would have been a victory for the elder, it felt like a defeat - a loss more humiliating than Triano. His idol and muse was a beacon of initiative and forthright and to see her in such a state gave uncomfortable reminders of his granddaughter in this new world. Like so many of the youth of Germania, Degurechaff looked lost, hopeless, and robbed of their careers and aspirations.

So meek, so vulnerable…

"I will not take insult if you do go to Yugoslavia." Zettour walked over to place his aging hand on the shoulder of his greatest hero. "You are helping our fellow countrymen in these trying times. I could not ask for anything more - never had I seen anyone so selfless and loyal to the Empire. I just want you to know that you still have a home in Germania."

"Home…" Degurechaff repeated sarcastically, peeling off the old general's hand. "Is it still my home?"

She looked up and glared daggers at the man and he swore he saw a demon smiling in her eyes.

"They're trying to get rid of you by sending you into Yugoslavia." Zettour warned.

"Just like how you're trying to get rid of Judeans?"

His stoicism did not waver.

"Now, we get to it." He nodded in acknowledgment, "What do you wish to know?"

"I want to know why."

"To protect your honor - to protect Germania's honor - the honor all of the brave men and women that died to protect our nation."

"Is that the reason or the excuse?"

"Whichever you prefer."

A brief pause existed between the two veterans and although her face was blank, Zettour knew that the bloodlust returned to Degurechaff's eyes. Like a beast, violent and unbreakable, a terror to millions of soldiers in the Great War.

"You ignored my warnings." She said slowly.

"I didn't ignore them. I just held off from adhering to it."

"Why?"

"Because you offered nothing in return."

"Nothing? Was our relationship always so transactional?"

"Ever since you joined the Germanian Democratic Party and betrayed your true benefactors in the Germanian National People's Party, yes it was. How else am I supposed to know you held Germania's best interests in heart?"

"Are you accusing me of degradation of the Republic?"

"Never; merely stating the simple reality that you were aiding the wrong party."

"The DDP is not the 'wrong' party."

"Then why did you get expelled?"

Once again, another pause.

"It's…Viktoriya. She…cost me everything." she murmured, lustful murder lurking under her breath.

"A consequence of uplifting the ignoble above her station," Zettour remarked, reclining in his luxurious red velvet chair. "Her feminine approach to leadership left much to be desired in your absence - perhaps you should have placed good Germanian officers like Weiss instead before you left. You have seen what happens when you make Slavs leaders of men."

Under the savage gaze of Degurechaff, the likes that sent legions of soldiers in a panic flurry, was certainly an odd feeling. By all rights, Zettour should be terrified of staring down a dragon but he felt nothing; he was as calm as a lighthouse enduring a hurricane…

Somehow, her brutality enhanced her beauty in a hypnotic portrait of wrath and purity.

"The rhetoric that you have been spewing since the war - behind my back - is a disgusting mockery of free speech…" Degurechaff spat. "It is criminal!"

"In the eyes of the institutions of both the Empire and the Republic, I have breached no legalities."

"But I still have the right to demand -"

"Nothing. You demand nothing from me, Frau Degurechaff." Zettour scowled. "This is my empire and my empire alone."

Her small hands balled up in cute little fists; her nails digging into the skin of her palm just enough to draw a hint of blood. Immediately, she got up from the couch and proceeded to head to the main hallway of his mansion.

"You are not visiting Minister Lergen until we conclude our business here." the Preussian Junker called out to the blonde veteran. "You will not see him without my consent."

Like a beast dragged by a chained leash, Degurechaff quietly returned to her seat, seething under her breath.

"Alright." She snarled, "What do you want?"

"I want you to listen to what I have to say."

"Spit it out. What is it?"

"A new career offer in the Germanian National People's Party. Just because you were removed from your role as the mediator for the Progressives does not mean you can't be a mediator for the Conservatives. Join the party and they can land you a spot in the Reichstag to preserve the stability in the Republic." Zettour explained with a slight smile. "They cannot hope to rule without conservative support and with you on the scene, they will have to listen to reason and sensibilities. You do not have to go to Yugoslavia…"

"And?"

"And I want the same…mutual understanding…that you had given to Herr Goering and Herr Class: in return for ceasing all rumormongering, I want a referendum over the return of the monarchy. But…"

"But?"

"I want your full support for it. Tomorrow or next month, I want the Ace of Aces to announce on the radio, in the newspapers, or on a public campaign demanding an Imperial restoration."

"Really?" One of her eyes twitched in bubbling anger.

"No more ambiguity between us, is that not what you desire?"

"Yes…"

"If you accept, I will allow myself to be feathered and tared by the Germanian people for spreading malicious slander of the Stab-in-the-Back myth. You have my honor and my word that I will come forth with the truth and apologize to the world." He continued.

"And if I refuse?"

"If you care about the Judeans, you will do what I say. Otherwise, this national boycott will be the beginning of the end for them. Whatever end that awaits them for leeching off the Empire and plotting to assassinate its greatest war hero once Rohr takes power."

As silent as a statue, Degurechaff rose from her seat, and looked at the various portraits and landscape paintings of the romanticized, idyllic martial history of the Germanic people, before glaring back at Zettour.

"No."

"No?"

"You heard me, General." she growled.

Not the most ideal answer he was looking for but so be it. There is always next time. She will come crawling back; he just needs to wait and see.

"Very well," The old general nodded, pulling himself from his chair. "I understand…I will let Lergen know of your impending arrival. He will be expecting you when you arrive at Bendlerblock."

"Assuming the Progressives will allow me anywhere near their bureaucracy." Degurechaff gave a crooked smile.

"No worries. The men of the Reichswehr are loyal to me, not the Reichstag. They will grant you entry."

"How comforting to hear, Herr Zettour." She remarked sarcastically before turning to leave.

"One more thing, Frau Degurechaff," He called out once more, and though she stopped in her tracks, she did not turn to face him. "Get that Judean half-breed out of your Freikorps; she is too dangerous to be allowed to operate so brazenly."

"I appreciate your concern and will be ignoring it. Goodbye."

This was it. No more hiding. No more delay. No more secrecy. When Erich von Lergen received a phone call from his dear friend, notifying him of the Devil's appointment with him, his heart had already plummeted to Hell. As if his life was already agonizing enough. He felt dirty leaking classified information to the Reichstag, he felt dirty exposing his mentor and stealing his job as the new head of the Reichswehr, and most importantly, he felt dirty that he enjoyed his new promotion.

Despite all the security afforded to him: secret microphones connecting to secret tapes, legions of infantry guarding every hall and corner of the Bendlerblock, and a hidden button underneath his desk specially designed to alert members of the Progressive Bloc of Tanya's presence; he felt more vulnerable than a man naked and exposed on the Rhineland Front. Lergen simply sat in his chair and waited. And he waited.

Waiting for the inevitable.

Distracting himself with paperwork did not provide the relief he wanted. The Treaty of Triano ensured that his burdens were light, straightforward, and quick to review. Given the sudden and vitriolic backlash towards the Progressive Bloc from the common soldiery due to Degurechaff's expulsion, ensuring a deep state within the Army on Zettour's behest had never been easier.

Suddenly, the door opened, and it revealed the woman of his worst nightmares. If he was a braver man, Lergen would have used his gun to shoot himself right there to avoid having a confrontation with her. But he did not. He simply laid down his pencil and brushed away his latest reports of the Reichswehr.

"General Lergen." Her eyes did not smile when her mouth did. Scorn and terror were the only thing he felt from her. "Congratulations on your promotion."

Slowly, but surely, Lergen felt his finger drawing closer, inch by inch, to the secret button just as she marched closer to his desk. Just press it, it screamed out to him. Just press the button. Help will come. Help will come and take her away. Take her far away so she will never scare him again. She will disappear if he presses that button.

Press the button, Lergen.

Just press the button and make her disappear.

"I was wrong about you." She spoke up; her cold, dead voice freezing his body in a place like some sort of spell. "I expected a man of great integrity, courage, and strength to see the truth and speak it. But you failed me. You failed everyone in Germania. Why?"

It was a simple question but it had so much weight.

"Because I was scared."

"Why? Are you scared of death?" her gaze narrowed in a frightful glare.

"No, I am scared of you."

Degurechaff's vengeful face suddenly grew melancholic and wistful; her wrath gone like mist dissolving under the morning sun. Her gaze was immediately downcast and withdrawn while she retreated into a nearby seat.

"How long were you scared of me?" She inquired. It was strange and terrifying to see her in such dismay.

"Since 1922."

"Is that why you didn't walk out of that secret meeting?"

Lergen nodded.

"You knew what I stood for," Degurechaff lectured him, "Didn't you say anything to dispel their delusions?"

"I did but-"

"But?"

"I was also scared of her."

"Who? Viktoriya? She is expelled. You don't have to -"

"No, it is Elena Muller," Lergen whispered, as if merely speaking the name would summon an apparition. "You should have expelled her instead."

Serebryakov, for all her flaws, is a useful brute and, like all Slavs, possesses a low cunning; nothing more than a cleaver or a hammer for Degurechaff to use against her foes and friends alike. A violent fanatic yes, but predictable too. Her cruelty could sleep and bloodlust sated for Degurechaff's voice was her prayer book. Serebryakov was a beast, but a tamed beast nonetheless.

But he still remembered his old friend's warning. Elena was too crafty for her own good, too enthusiastic to be part of Degurchaff's movement, and, if Weiss's assessment was correct, too ambitious to be content being a 'mere' secretary. She is a self-made orphan with an uncomfortably casual attitude towards inflicting murder and espionage.

"Elena?" She raised an eyebrow, seemingly unconvinced yet intrigued. "Viktoriya is the one that plotted the boycott."

"Elena Muller was the one who organized the meeting and seemed fully aware of what happened in Konigsberg. She was rather enthusiastic about the whole operation."

"Really now?"

"She stood to benefit the most from the boycott," Lergen remarked, "for her own aspirations. Whatever they may be."

"We could help each other," Degurechaff stated, leaning forward with innocent blue eyes, their color more royal than sapphires. "We can still turn this around."

"No. Not anymore."

"I can protect you, Lergen."

"That is a mistake, Degurechaff. Who is protecting you?"

The little monster murmured Serebryakov's name before holding her tongue from offering a retort. She simply slumped back into her chair, looking glum and half-dead. Strangely enough, it tore Lergen's heart in two. He would not say it aloud but he pitied her in that moment. She always had a plan, always had an idea…always thinking of the future. For all her bloodlust, her intelligence and leadership were unparalleled.

"You could protect me," she said quietly, hardly louder than a whisper. "We can protect each other."

"I can't do that, Degurechaff." He shook his head again. "I - I will not risk my career over you. You've made too many enemies in the new coalition. I must look after my own first."

"Lergen," She spoke up with a heavy sigh, "Why didn't you tell me about the meeting earlier? You know I would return to Germania immediately."

"I know. That's why Zettour and Muller wanted everyone to keep silent."

"You hid this from me?"

"I did send you a letter, through private channels, about the crude personalities of Serebryakov and Muller. I apologize for making it too vague but it was the best I could do."

"Oh…"

Silence pervaded the room as both parties stared at each other.

"What else have you hid from me?" She asked once more.

"Everything..." Lergen sucked in his breath as if it were his last. His hand finally moved away from the button to retrieve some classified documents.

"Was that Zettour's idea?" Her rage slowly crept back onto the surface.

"No…it was mine." He looked down on the hidden files as if the cruel numbers and testimonies would absolve him of his guilt. She was going to find out eventually but it was crucial that she would not know until after the signing of Triano. "These were from the Great War."

Though he showed her the papers, he gently brushed away her hand. The harsh details were not meant for her eyes after all. But Lergen did, however, read it to her in a quieter tone. Everyone had an idea of how grim the homefront was during the Great War. By his design and machinations, everyone but Tanya von Degurechaff and the 203rd Mage Battalion had an idea of how dire the situation was.

Ever since unification, the Empire enjoyed a massive population boom, eventually surpassing the Russy Empire and maintaining the lead over the later Russy Federation in Europe's largest population with the densest cities. With such an astronomically large labor pool, industrial production surpassed Francia, Albion, the Unified States, and the Soviet bloc combined by 1920. But that was not without a cost.

At first, the Great War was manageable, considering the naval superiority the Empire had over the Legadonian Entente and the Francios Republic, rationing was tolerable considering the trade lanes were open. But that all changed when Albion, Illdoa, and the Unified States entered the conflict, bringing forth an armada too vast for the Imperial Navy could ever hope to defeat in a single-pitched battle.

And so a blockade was established, putting the Empire dependent entirely on the good graces of Magna Rumelia and the Russy Federation for food and resources but they drove a hard bargain.

The Rumelians, while not a friend of the Empire, were close trade partners and heavily relied on Imperial engineers and technicians to assist in modernization. At the time, it was a fair assumption that the Rumelians would want to maintain that relationship, but the Empire was outbid by the combined financial weight of Albion, the Francois Republic, and the Unified States. Although Magna Rumelia did not enter the war, the wedge the Allied Powers placed between the two nations did the trick. Thanks to Albish troops landing in Gallipoli and Athens, the Allies intimidated the government into submission. An embargo was eventually placed on the Empire with its assets and agents seized by the enemy.

The Russy Federation, in return for the wheat, coal, and oil trade, demanded to uplift the ban on the Communist Party of Germania, reserving a quarter of the Reichstag seats to them, and forbidding the police and corporations from breaking up labor strikes. The result was a near-breakdown in the war effort: workers in the factories and railroads were encouraged by the KPD to cease all productivity to protest the "illegal, imperialist war for capitalism." With the trains halted, food could not be delivered to the cities, and with no food, bread riots broke out. With the riots, the Communists urged a revolution to overthrow the monarchy.

When Zettour and Rudensdorf enacted a soft coup in Berun, the Soviets demanded Pullska and East Preussia be annexed by the Federation in return for maintaining the trade. They refused, of course. But that only ensured that the Red Army moved westward, crossing the border and marching straight into Warschau. Soviet disorganization and infighting as well as the spectacular efforts of the 203rd Mage Battalion and Degurechaff herself allowed the weakened Imperial forces to hold the line but only just.

No empire in history lives off of taxes alone and there wasn't enough arable land within the country to feed a population growing by one million babies a month at its peak. 85% of all food consumption was from imported goods, whether overseas or through the Russy Federation, and much was the same with the coal and iron ores. The Empire was producing far more than it could harvest and mine; trade was its lifeline.

By 1931, the Empire was a lion starving in a locked cage. The stockpiles of food and fuel simply ran out. No amount of careful rationing and self-sufficiency of the average citizen could stop the cost of attrition.

By 1932, two weeks before the Armistice, the Empire had become a walking skeleton. There were reports of cannibalism in poorer communities who could not afford an ounce of bread. The situation grew so atrocious that even the KPD pleaded with Moskva to halt its military operations and provide humanitarian aid. According to some anecdotes, Comrade Jughashvili "laughed upon hearing the news of the Imperial plight."

As for Francois occupation of the Rhineland and the lower half of Lothiern, rumors flew of their rule being particularly egregious and offputting. Especially when the rumors concerned the Imperial stronghold of Brussels; Francois expansionist ambitions into the Lowlands did not end with the Preussian-Francian War.

Just as the 203rd Mage Battalion was sent to put down an insurgent uprising in Arene, the Francois Republic was performing similar actions to crush Imperial resistance in Brussels. While the destruction of Arene was indeed shameful, judging by numbers alone, Francois actions were even worse.

Arene was a thriving, prosperous city with a growing population, that part was undeniable, but its size was less than 300,000 residents. Meanwhile, Brussels, being the beating heart of Imperial industry, had well over a million inhabitants.

The Francois Army, whether out of a lack of discipline or encouraged by its commanders, led the pillage and desecration of Brussels. They plunder the city of its industrial machinery, wealth, and food supplies from the local populace in an attempt to destroy an underground resistance ring and strengthen the Republic's war effort. Arson, murder, and torture were frequently employed to break the Imperial spirit. Conservative estimates that 100k civilians were executed or murdered by the Francois Army; a further 600k were 'forcibly evicted' from their homes to be used as forced laborers. In addition, spies and refugees reported numerous instances of mass rape during the occupation. Initial estimates were placed between 40,000 to 90,000 women and children raped by the Francois due to how frequently the high command received these reports -

"Stop. Please, stop." Degurechaff interrupted, turning pale yet riled as if she were forced to sit on a pile of nails. "I was labeled as a war criminal for leading the assault into Arene while they get to act in open disregard for the law?"

"Allied propaganda power was stronger than ours. They controlled all communications with the outside world." Lergen replied glumly, "Together with the Albish, the Francois isolated news leaking from the city by exaggerating your actions in Arene. At least, that is how the General Staff concluded. No one in Berun believed the reports to be true until Imperial troops liberated the city and spoke with the locals there."

"Did the Americans know?"

"I suspected it was politically inconvenient for them to bring up the subject. Again, Francois propaganda efforts were successful in diverting attention to Arene instead of Brussels, even Imperial troops were swayed into thinking it was the bigger calamity."

"So why didn't you tell me?" Degurechaff asked calmly.

"Would you have surrendered if I did?" Zettour replied.

"Surrendered? I don't understand."

"Tanya…" he huffed, laying down his glasses before rubbing his temple, "Do you realize how valuable you were for the war effort? Every after-action report, every victory we hear, no matter how outlandish it was or how desperate the situation devolved into, you kept pushing forward, always forward. Your actions, your face, your words, you were all we had left to keep going, to overcome the trap we have walked into. It was the only thing everyone looked forward to reading in the newspapers, on the radio, on every morning and every evening when all other Imperial battalions were lost."

It was the most depressing three years of his life during the final stages of the war. Not the worst nor the most stressful, it was the most depressing. The demon that he had grown to fear was the angel he needed most. The Illdoan Front was a hellhole, the Rhineland Front was a bottomless pit, the Legadonian Front was a nightmare, the Balkan Front was a slog, and the Pullskan Front was apocalyptic. Anything outside of Degurechaff's reports was nothing but misery, death, and decay. General Starvation and Colonel Disease were the new commanders of the Imperial Army.

"You were - are - the greatest thing that has ever happened to the Empire." He continued with a great sigh. "Never had anyone seen a soldier that acted so selflessly towards her nation; the modern Joan d'Arc, and it scared me how you managed to pull off these impossible maneuvers. It scared me that in our most desperate moments, grown men like me had to resort to sending a child like you to fight our battles. It scared me that it worked. Even in defeat, you are still victorious and it still scares me."

"How many lives were lost?"

"You already know the statistics on the military but at least 12 million citizens starved to death after the blockade though there are some who placed estimates as high as 22 million." Lergen looked down at a different ledger. "Combined with the military casualties, the Empire lost between 12% to 23% of its total population as we are still counting the dead. A real humanitarian disaster…"

"I still don't understand...why? Why did you hide these…reports from me during the war?" She inquired.

"Because I feared that we would have to put you down!" Lergan slammed the file shut. "For your own good and for ours, you had to be kept in the dark. We could not risk defeatism infecting the 203rd nor allow you to go on an eternal crusade. I feared that if I had told you the truth of the situation of the Home Front, you would not surrender. Such is your loyalty and devotion to the Empire, you would dedicate your whole life to killing the Francois and the Albish when we needed peace the most."

"You really believed that I would never hand over my rifle?"

"Anything is possible when it comes to you, Degurechaff. I had to prepare for the worst."

"Is there anything I can do to regain your trust?!" Her voice just came short of shouting.

Trust.

By all rights, Lergen was supposed to be the one to ask that question. After all, she had sacrificed so much during the war while he scribbled away on ledgers and charts behind the safety of Imperial walls. He was the one who led the effort to shelter her from the reality of the war, shelter her entire battalion, under some grand delusion that she alone could fix the Empire's woes.

Trust, Loyalty, Valor…Friendship…Oaths of loyalty…all worthless when convenient.

"It would be very good for me…most beneficial to you…if you stayed and took up Zettour's offer." Minister Lergen answered softly. "But, if you decide to leave to go to Beograd, let them know that I sent you there as well. I have colleagues in the kingdom who will provide the necessary armaments to assist in your endeavors."

"I…see." Degurechaff contemplated, "What else?"

"Please, you must also be mindful of Muller. She is the real threat, not Serebryakov."

"I understand that." She nodded, suddenly eyeing him with great suspicion. "May I ask why?"

"I feel that she would be a negative influence within your Freikorps." Lergen warned, though his mind had already moved to contemplate destroying the secret recording of this meeting.

"And why should I believe you?"

"Despite everything you have done, I still want you to succeed. For good or for ill, you deserved it more than anyone here."

"Anything else I need to hear?"

"Just know that there will be consequences upon your departure…"