pirated stuff

Wien. The Cultural Capital of Europe and the Empire. The City of Music, the Arts, and where Dreamers go to Dream. No self-respecting intellectual or visionary can claim fame and recognition without so much as entering a coffee shop here. This was the city of Kingmakers and Kaisers, rising from its humble beginnings at the dawn of the Holy Roman Imperium and the formation of the Osterrian Empire, with their monuments and palaces remaining. A stark contrast of past glories and present misery.

Despite Osterrians taking immense pride in being Imperial and Germanian Romanticists; being stewards of Germanic soil with its mountains, forests, and valleys; and making their region the breeding ground for new thinkers and poets revolutionizing science and philosophy, the November Boycott hit them like a typhoon. You could just sense the years of pent-up rage and despair emitting in Wien a mile away before arrival. The best I could say now is at least the Osterrians learned to clean up after themselves.

Unfortunately, my trip to Beograd was severely delayed as railroad unions were enacting a national strike. It would take days, if not weeks, for the government to reach an impasse with the Communists. Since it was futile to sit and wait, the servants encouraged me to take the time to tour the city and bask in its greatness. 'There is always something to discover in Wien' they said; that many a great man and woman found their calling here.

Upon exiting the train station, I immediately spotted several shops closed down, their windows covered in drapes, despite street traffic having reached its peak for the day. For a world-renowned city that speaks 56 languages, no one will look eye to eye with each other. If anything, everyone present excelled at ignoring what they were seeing in front of their face. Homelessness, unemployment, inflation; all the typical sins of current society were here.

Open shops were either fascist strongholds, communist bastions, or vanguardist castles with very few moderates in between. Judging by the magazines and newspapers on the stands, the Ostnationalist government endorsed the boycott, unlike the Progressives, pushing for its constituents to reject Judeo-Bolshevism, to reject Judeo-Capitalism, and to reject Judeo-Cosmopolitanism. Reading just a few transcripts by Ostnationalist President Endelmann Dollfuss made me wonder if I was trapped in a mental institute; there was nothing coherent in his words and I felt I was losing my mind trying to process his anti-semitic paranoia.

This is what the people of Osterry elected? This is what they wanted? Even the most ardent, brainwashed Communists had government policies more rational than this. Dollfuss openly praised the people of the Legadonian Entente as a model culture, calling their Nordic blood to be evidence of a successful European nation, and proposed policies to protect Osterry's national identity through racial purity. It made me sick to the stomach; I already had my fill of such rhetoric in my past life in Japan.

It disturbed me that a President blamed the multi-ethnic makeup of the Empire to be the primary reason for its defeat; blaming military incompetence and defeats on Magyar treason, Bohemian Slavicness, Pullskan degeneracy, Balkan stupidity, and Judean financial conspiracy. Meaningless crap as always. I decided to skip his thoughts about Konigsberg and threw the newspaper away since I already had an idea of what he was going to say.

Why, oh why did Foerster break his promise? Did he know what was going to happen once he leaked it to the media? I sighed heavily though my worries were not directed towards him; I have no sympathy for what Elena plans to do to him.

The further I walk, the more I see Ostnationalist paramilitaries marching on the streets, occasionally dodging a literal bullet when street fights break out between them and their ideological rivals, while occasionally searching for an inn or hotel to stay at. Preferably one that didn't have clear racial discrimination policies. Suffice it to say, it was nearly all of them, and I sure as hell would not want to be in the same building overflowing with Communists and National Vanguardists. It took an hour of wandering before I turned at a street corner and nearly bumped into a couple mourning the loss of their establishment.

I looked up to see what sort of business it was but their brand was missing some letters. It was as if someone went up a ladder to fix a nonexistent typo with a sledgehammer.

It had been smashed and vandalized during the Osterrian November Boycott, with its owners forced to clean up the mess. Like the other targeted shops, the broken windows were covered with curtains to avoid further humiliation. The wife did her best to smile at my greeting, forcing herself to stay polite when the world itself imposed unrelenting cruelty upon her, while her husband, a man dressed in drab civilian clothing with a toothbrush mustache put on a stoic face upon seeing he saw my war medal. Despite his poker face, fear, sorrow, and anger consumed him internally and there was a small fire in his eyes that seemed to grow even brighter the longer he stared at me.

"I'm sorry this has happened to you." was all I could manage to say.

"If you're looking for a meal," the husband spoke up, "We can still make something for you. The kitchen still works."

"That is…not necessary," I replied though my stomach began to grumble loudly in contention.

"We - we insist." the dark-haired woman nodded quickly, her eyes begging me to say yes. Hoping against hope I would say yes. "It is the least we can do."

"Very well," I bowed, "But I must be allowed to pay for the meal."

"Aye, I can accept that proposition." The man nodded before leading me inside, "I am Heidler, Addie Heidler, and this is my lovely wife, Ruth. Thank you for coming."

Heidler? Why does that name sound so familiar?

I dispersed these paranoiac thoughts and focused on the present. The toothbrush mustache was merely the latest fashion trend among middle-class men after all.

To say the interior was nightmarish would be an understatement. The smell was horrendous and the furniture, stands, and counters were overturned, abused, and set alight by torches. There was a small pile of bricks, broken upon impact on the hard floor, with rude and threatening remarks written all over the pieces. There were scorch marks everywhere, such that it was a miracle that half of the lights still worked and the air wasn't a choking hazard.

Ruth picked up a broom to sweep away the debris and glass shards while Addie lifted a table and chair for me to dine at before he went downstairs to disappear into the kitchen. It was extremely awkward for me to simply sit there in silence and watch the acting waitress tidy up the area around my feet.

"This must have been a lovely restaurant," I said to her, trying to lighten up the mood. "It would have become the main center of attraction in Wien. I know a stranger's words mean little in these circumstances but please know that I would have supported your business endeavors."

The ruined paintings were perhaps the most pitiful sight of them all. I may not have an artist's hand but I do know that despite their crude aesthetic, it had brought joy to someone. I could not imagine the despair that would go through a creator's mind to have his life's work be put to the torch for the crime of promoting "degeneracy."

"How did you meet Heidler" I asked the woman when she arrived at my table to serve me a glass of cold water and milk. God, that name felt so strange leaving my tongue.

"It was at an art gallery." She smiled wistfully, wishing she was transported back into time to relive that moment. "Before the Great War, before Triano…Addy aspired to become a student at the Wien Institute of Art."

"Oh…how nice."

Wien Institute of Art?

Heidler…

"We were always struggling before but now…we'll have to close the care down for good." Ruth started to weep, "Oh God…what is going to happen to us? How are we going to repay my father?"

"Everything is going to be ok." I lied through my teeth in an attempt to console the waitress while her husband called out for her assistance, "Everything will fix itself in due time…"

No, it won't.

It will only get worse.

It will always get worse.

What did Zettour say?

The beginning of the end for them.

It is one thing to have an incompetent democratic government.

It is one thing to have a fractious democratic coalition.

It is another thing entirely to have a democratic republic that openly espouses what it hates.

To have pride and prejudice poison the office of the presidency. To give a platform for extremist movements to openly attack innocent citizens for the crime of mere existence. Sure, the Communists, the National Vanguardists, the Social Democrats, and other militia would be formidable roadblocks to Dollfuss' ambitions, but they're roadblocks nonetheless.

With government institutions on his side, he will be able to enact his vision with open impunity once the opposition has been neutralized. I hope that public resistance will be strong enough to vote Dollfuss out of office in the next election cycle. I can't believe I have to count on the communists to help restore common sense to the country.

The sound of footsteps on the hard surface floor alerted me to my order. It was extremely awkward to be served food by a waitress about to burst into a bawling mess. It didn't help that my meal smelled delicious; a savory crepe filled with a generous amount of sliced meat, vegetables, and spices as well as a side of sausages bathing in steaming sauce. My dessert was another crepe which was essentially a giant slab of melted chocolate decorated with strawberries and coated in whipped cream. It was a lunch fit for a Kaiser yet I scarcely felt the urge to eat considering my surroundings. I could tell I underpaying for my meal but since I was most likely their last customer, the couple had no incentive to be frugal.

Not wanting to make their experience with me any more miserable than it needed to be, I approached the food with renewed enthusiasm and found the taste to be highly luxurious. It certainly brought a small relief to Ruth and looked at me warmly with eyes both calming yet unfamiliar.

"This is a wonderful dish. Truly wonderful." I spoke as honestly as I could to her. Suddenly, I realized the kitchen below had gone silent.

Like a beast rising from the depths, the husband ascended the stairs with slow and heavy steps. At that moment, his face, dripping in sweat yet remaining stern and unflinching, bore an extremely uncanny resemblance to the mad orator of my timeline. It only left me wondering…just wondering…if he is really…

"Has the food exceeded your expectations, Argent Silver?" He asked innocently.

"In more ways than one," I replied solemnly.

Herr Heidler puffed his chest with great pride upon hearing my compliments; his dour attitude was immediately replaced with raw joy as his arm immediately leaned over to hug his wife. So lost in his euphoria of seeing a happy client has made him forget that his business was devastated beyond repair. But just as quickly, Heidler's face grew downcast when confronted with reality again.

The couple left me for my meal to resume clean-up duty, sweeping the floors and removing charred wood from the counters and shelves. The husband picked up a piece of artwork, buried underneath a small pile of rubble, that was spared the worst of the damages. I couldn't help but continue to stare at the man. This has to be a mere coincidence that he happened to be a lookalike to that Tyrant.

So lost in the painting that his wife went over to help anchor him back into reality. Shaking out of his thoughts, Herr Heidler walked over to my table to show me the painting. As it turns out, he made it during his time in service on the Illdoan front, a portrait of the Illdoan Alps with its snow-peaked mountains and deep green slopes.

"They say the River Rhine is hell." Heidler remarked bitterly, "They have not seen Ionzo."

I snorted in reply. I can't blame him. Given the incompetence of the Illdoan military, the Illdoan Front was where all the useless and stupid Imperial generals went. 24 Battles of the Ionzo was enough to make anyone insane; both militaries were performing an action equivalent of a man bashing his skull against a brick wall in an attempt to knock it down.

"When did you serve?" I inquired.

"As soon as the war began, but being my mother's caretaker, I requested to be placed in the reserve." he answered ruefully, "But it wasn't long before I was thrown into that hellhole."

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"She was a tough old woman." Heidler continued while his wife moved to embrace him, "She survived cancer thanks to the good doctor and the will of God but alas, she could not survive the Turnip Winters."

"Your father wasn't there to take over?"

"No, he died way before the Great War started so it was up to me to make things right for my family. I guess I am just happy that my parents aren't alive to see me like this…What an awful mess the Francois had inflicted upon us."

"Francois? Wasn't Dollfuss elected?"

"Well, yes." Herr Heidler nodded, "But Osterry had one vote and one man to vote for. Parisee didn't want any Pan-Germanian parties anywhere near the capital so it was either him or the communists. They gave everything Dollfuss needed to win. I wouldn't be surprised to see Francois troops marching down Wien now."

Oh, the lengths the Republic would go to keep the Empire from reuniting. It ruined the flavor of a five-star meal; I barely felt the urge to take another bite. It is bad enough they are enabling a genocidal regime in Dacia, it's even worse that Dollfuss has the impression that he could conduct something similar. So much for the Rights of Man…

"No one realizes the dangers of what is to come," I muttered. "They can't see it."

"They can't or they won't?" Heidler replied rhetorically, "This is different, Argent Silver, very different. I have not heard of a single person who has not followed your career in Germanian politics and read your position on the Judean Question. Once knowledge has been gained, it is impossible to feign ignorance. Argent Silver, everyone knows where you stand and many of them disagree quite severely."

"An understatement of the century."

"So the rumors were true then? Did you get exiled by the Progressive Bloc?" Ruth said, breaking her silence.

"It is not exile - it's - errand work," I explained. "It would be more accurate to call it a demotion."

"You say as if it improves the reputation of the Reichstag…" Heidler scratched at his chin. "As far as everyone is concerned, the Ace of Aces can't get demoted - can't be demoted. Are you sure they're not just trying to get rid of you?"

Get rid of me? The Progressive Bloc did not betray me. None of the men did. I have failed no one in particular; if Herr Schlage had just listened to what I would say - if he had just accepted Moscic's letter with a grain of salt - I wouldn't be here and the Republic wouldn't be collapsing at the foundations. All because…all because…of Visha.

"I think we conversed long enough about my work. If you please, can I have a moment to finish this - delicious meal you have prepared." I glared at the man.

"Come dear," Ruth grabbed her husband by the army to lead him back down the stairs, "Let's leave her alone…we should probably discuss our future instead of hers."

As the only person left in this ruined wreck of a cafe, I continued my meal in peace as I tried to ignore the sounds of a busy street outside and the rumblings of an argument coming from the kitchen or the occasional gunshot in the distance. What a horrible, horrible mess to be in.

Here I am at the crossroads once again…to stay or to leave. Every minute I tried ignoring the calamity falling around my ears, the more I reached the same conclusion that the November Boycott had far exceeded its original purpose of expressing outrage - even if said outrage was extremely violent - about an assassination attempt on me by Judean gunmen. In Germania, I could at least see the argument, flawed as it is, that it was one last-ditch effort to instill a sense of collective unity towards the Imperial past. To remind the voters what they have lost from the Great War. I was the pride of the Imperial Army after all and militarist culture did not die easily among Germanians.

A type of unity that could only be obtained by identifying a scapegoat, to deflect internal criticism. It's a small wonder why Rudensdorf and Zettour picked the Judeans as culprits behind the Empire's defeat. Both men had every incentive to preserve whatever honor and integrity in the Imperial Armed Forces as if they weren't the ones that led the Great Power into the grave with their unrealistic expectations of me.

It is a shame that in this era, the world still operates under the clause that war is merely a continuation of politics; and that there is no room for pacifists or conscientious objectors. One would think after spending eight years drowning in blood, the world will heal itself and work towards a better future. But no, strip away humanity of its luxuries and all that remains is a deeply bitter and angry populace looking for something or someone to channel their malcontent rage towards destructive purposes. By painting themselves the victims, their demagogues can justify being awful. Awful to themselves and others.

So wrapped up in their misery and a mad desire to lash out in their humiliation that no one seems to stop and consider the implications of what they have done. Yes, there should be anger towards the occupation of Brussels. Yes, there should be anger for the naval blockade. Yes, there should be anger for the numerous injustices that have been inflicted on the people of the Empire. But the Judeans had nothing to do with this. I do not understand why some are so adamant about seeing them as the enemy when empirical evidence has suggested it was the Francois or the Albish behind these atrocities. It's almost as if it was some sick plot of divide and rule by the Allies to prevent the Empire from reuniting by fermenting and exploiting cultural divides.

The capitalist system was supposed to be a marvel of human prosperity even if it didn't always guarantee the individual would be happy when his pleasures could not become his life's work. Even as I looked around the wreckage, I could almost just see the business succeeding in another life. I could just see Heidler and his wife, the two of them working together to see their cafe rise to new heights, growing to become a star attraction in Wien. A pleasant dream contrasting with the stark reality of drab curtains blocking the sunlight, shadows of people walking by, and piles of glass shards swept to the side as if they were meant to be hidden.

If the furniture could talk, they would be weeping right now. They will have to be tossed into the bin, broken before they were even used and enjoyed, to be condemned as forgotten and unwanted garbage. Even the table I was eating on felt as if it were holding up the weight of the world, the loneliest table in Wien, and it too would have to be disposed of. Its vibrant colors were scratched away by the scars left by the fire. And yet, thinking about Herr Heidler, should I feel wrong pitying the man knowing what he resembled in my past life?

Once I finished my meal, I called out for my check, causing the Heidlers to emerge from the kitchen looking slightly worse for wear. The chef looked as if he was drowning in his thoughts while his wife forced herself to put on another smile. Just as I was paying, the cafe door swung open to reveal half a dozen men armed with machine pistols. Their eyes were cruel, hateful, and directly aimed at me.

The red banner they wore suggested only one thing.

Communists.

Herr Heidler looked ready for a brawl but the company leader simply pointed his gun at him to stand down.

"Don't try anything stupid. We're just here for her." he said initially before looking at me specifically, "So the rumors are true, the Argent Silver did come to Wien. Put your hands up!"

Right now the idea of being accompanied by an entourage of bodyguards was appealing. I should have Elena or Weiss smuggle me a computation orb, even a civilian one. A knife and a fork are not going to do much against a firing squad equipped with automatic weapons and I certainly can't risk the cafe owners being caught in the crossfire. Perhaps I could try bluffing them into disarming?

"Please, I'm just an entertainer!" I gave my best impression of a naive, innocent cosplayer. "I'm…practicing my…acting skills for the cabaret!"

One of the men immediately blushed a deep scarlet while his leader looked at me with great suspicion before giving Herr Heidler the odd stink eye. A sharp glance from me was enough to alert the chef to play along.

"She is from Berun!" he told the communists. "From Walburger Street."

That prompted a very sour and quizzical look from his wife.

"Good Lord, not another one…" the squad leader cursed under his breath before looking down at my chest to spot my medal. "Where did you get that?"

"From a close friend," I answered quickly. Just take the bait already. "She is a good customer designer. We were students in theatre."

"It looks very realistic," he remarked, seemingly unconvinced. "What's her name?"

"Put the guns away and I will tell you."

"What do we do now, Comrade Klein?" One of the gunmen whispered to the commander.

"Can we keep her?" another said.

"I suppose we can still send her to Moskva…" the commander grumbled. "Of all the entertainers, you look just like her the most. I doubt they could tell the difference immediately."

Shit. This is not good. I do not want to be sent into the communist heartland. I immediately glanced over at Heidler and gestured at him, as subtle as I could given my limited body movement, to bring out any firearm he stored to shoot at the communist thugs in the back when they escort me out. I could try to at least stall for time in the vague hope of allowing the police to arrive.

As mad as Dolfuss is, at least we share the commitment of opposing the Reds; his minions will surely come here to distract them long enough for me to escape.

"Can I at least finish paying?" I pleaded with the men, "Are chefs and waitresses not part of the working class?"

That caused the leader to give a devilish smirk. "You're a good liar, I can give you that."

"Good actors make good liars" I smiled back, "It's in the trade."

Just go away already.

But before the communist could make another snappy comment, several sharp cries were heard just on the other side of the curtains as if a mass stabbing had taken place. For a brief moment, I just realized how quiet the streets have become.

"Get on the floor NOW!" I shouted at the married couple before diving underneath a table.

Herr Heidler understood the message enough to grab his wife and take shelter behind the counter. It was not a moment too soon as the cafe was quickly flooded in a hail of bullets. Indiscriminate fire ripped through the curtains and placed a hundred holes all over the walls and communists. The poor fools were like fishes in a barrel with the curtains obstructing their sight of their attackers. It wasn't long before the floor was covered in a small pile of bodies and a large pool of blood.

Poor Ruth looked ready to faint though I kept my eyes locked on the door as I crawled out of my cover. The first person who came through the door was a plain, young, brunette girl dressed in drab clothing as if she were a grocery bagger armed with a machine pistol and a large dagger. Despite the mundane cuteness she exhibited, her face was anything but ordinary.

She had a look of utter contempt toward the corpses as if the communists were worth less than the cockroaches underneath her feet. But upon seeing me, her expression transitioned into a quiet satisfaction before bowing in my direction.

The next person who followed her was an older man still wearing the Imperial uniform with the addition of the Totenkopf painted on his helmet. It was a sharp indicator that he was part of a right-wing Freikorps.

"My compliments to the Executioner." He nodded at the young girl before turning towards me with eyes wide open. "Damn, you really did come to Wien."

"Are you an Ostnationalist Fascist?" I asked him.

"No. I'm a Pan-Germanian Fascist, my lady." he quickly shook his head, "Just because we collaborated with Ostnationalists during the boycott doesn't mean we are close friends. We seek the return of the Empire after all."

"That distinction does not fill me with confidence," I grumbled as the Heidlers slowly emerged from their cover. "I would thank you for your intervention, however, your firing squad nearly killed us in the process."

"My humblest apologies. I was working under the assumption that you had a sixth sense in these sorts of things."

"Oh really? Who told you that idea?"

"She did." He pointed at the young girl with the gun.

"Alfred? Is that you?" Herr Heidler looked at the fascist in open amazement.

"Hi Addy, what are you doing here - oh shit, this is YOUR place. Sorry for making a mess." the Freikorp soldier cringed under his helmet.

"A mess?!" He nearly roared, "You promised that we were to be spared in the boycott!"

"I did! I told my men and my fellow Pan-Germanians to avoid your cafe. It's the Ostnationalists who made the mess of it all. The barbarians that they are…"

"Wait," I looked between the two men, "You know each other?"

Alfred nodded.

"We both served in the Illdoan Front. Addie saved my life when my plane crash-landed after a bad air sortie. He dragged me from the fire and into a nearby hospital. Thank God I could still use my legs. Stopping his cafe from being torched was the least I could do. Though I seem to fail at that part…"

"It's -" the chef stopped himself from bursting a nerve, "It's fine. We were going to have to close down anyway. Dolfuss made it impossible for us to conduct business in this country."

"Don't worry, there's always a place for you in the Imperial People's Fascist Party." The veteran assures.

"But my wife is -"

"Your wife is one of the good ones. I can vouch for the both of you."

One of the good ones? What a strange comment to make.

"Alfred?" I spoke up to grab the man's attention. "Just how strong is the communist movement here?"

"Every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, there's a Communist revolution of some kind; and every Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday, Dollfuss commands his men to shoot the Reds. Of course, we'll help Dollfuss stop the Reds but the only reason some strikes last for more than a day is because the workers hold valuable skills. The employers rather not have them all killed at once."

"Like the railway workers…" I grumbled, "Does the President hold a popular mandate? His speeches left much to be desired."

"Popular mandate?" Alfred chuckled as if I had told a joke. "It was between Dollfuss, the Communists, or the Francois to rule Osterry directly and everyone disliked the last two. Come the next election, I reckon the campaign trail will be even more divided than before. I know my party will want to usurp Wien."

"That's assuming we last long enough for the next election." Addie Heidler fumed, "The man is one step away from declaring himself a dictator like that mad fool in Dacia."

"He probably will." The Freikorps soldier shrugged, "If not tonight, then certainly tomorrow or the week after. I heard he already won the full support of the Judiciary and the Legislation."

How wonderful. A dictator-wannabee corrupts the institutions of a democratic state and uses their functions to silence and intimidate its political opposition into compliance. An aspiring despot relying upon historical prejudices and fermenting new xenophobia to exploit societal fears of decay and alienation in the modern setting. Hate is the only guiding principle in his movement - Hate and Paranoia - and the only reason his brand is successful is because his opposition is too busy tormenting each other.

Where have I heard such a man like this before? I pondered to myself as I glared at Heidler. He looks so much like that great tyrant in my timeline, so much like him.

The angry chef caught my gaze and for a while, we stared at each other. Feeling discomfort, he immediately broke away to tug his wife away for a private conversation.

"Well, I'm going to go talk to the police," Alfred said to no one in particular as he moved to walk out the door. "Hopefully it will be someone sympathetic to our cause. Oh - wait, before I forget, can you get your autograph?"

Our cause? I shook my head in exacerbation when he dumped his helmet in my hands and reached into his pockets for a small paintbrush and a small jar of white paint.

"I knew these would come in handy." he smiled to himself

"If I sign this, will you put an end to whatever prejudices you hold?" I inquired.

"Prejudices? Please, Argent Silver, let's not be so childish -"

I used his helmet to bludgeon his temple like a frying pan, causing him to immediately recoil in pain. He was swearing to high heaven as he clutched furiously at his head.

"Alfred," I spoke to him in a harsher tone, "This is not up for debate. It is a 'yes' or a 'no.' Will you stop perpetuating the Stab-in-the-Back myth that I had worked so hard to discredit?"

"I - I mean…"

"Yes or No, Alfred."

"Yes! I'll do it. I really want your autograph!" He begged.

"Good." I huffed, signing my name using his paintbrush on the back of his helmet. "Now take this news and share it with your cohorts outside and elsewhere, commanding officers included."

"Wait - what?"

"You heard me. I don't care what you do or say but everyone must know these lies need to be laid to rest. Permanently. And if they do not listen, abandon them."

"Abandon?"

"Yes."

"I'll try." he begrudgingly accepted.

I silently watch him exit the door before moving to speak with the armed woman standing quietly at the corner.

"You're one of Elena's girls, are you?"

At my words, she sputtered suddenly. Her stern look immediately gave way to panic, "Please, Commandant, don't say her real name so openly. Secrecy is paramount."

"So is that a yes?"

The young woman fiercely nodded.

"What is the current status of her operations?"

"Suboptimal. With the funding cut, the labour pool had to be momentarily shrunk to save costs. I was deemed useful enough to remain in service." she explained quickly.

"How many more of you are out there?" I inquired.

"Not enough to assist you in full capacity I'm afraid. We would have intercepted the communists tracking you down hours earlier to prevent this kind of confrontation."

"What will be your next task after this?"

"I can't really say -"

"Listen." I gently grabbed her wrist. "If you truly work for Elena, you work for me. There are to be no more secrets withheld from me, understand? I am your real superior and if there is something that is either a detriment or a boon to my cause, I must hear of it. Regardless if Elena authorized it or not."

"I'm sorry, Argent Silver. I understand." she nodded once again.

"Good, now tell me…what conclusion did you draw from your observations of Osterrian politics?"

"That a revolution is coming." She answered forebodingly. "Whether from the far-left or the far-right remains to be seen. Again, our resources remain extremely limited to provide a concrete answer, Argent Silver. I apologize."

"You don't need to express sorrow, just - I - you're dismissed." With a sigh, I let go of her arm and watched her skitter out of the cafe.

I can't blame her for making such a blanket statement. Dollfuss is doing everything he can to alienate everything but his most fervent supporters in the pursuit of forging a new Osterrian national identity, even if it is built around extremely nonsensical ideals. As much as I would like to see that man removed from power before he implements anything extreme, I also rather not let the communists gain the upper hand nor would I want the Pan-Germanian fascists. Where did all the moderates go?

Surely they didn't get murdered already? Perhaps they're in exile in the Francois Republic? However, that would be extremely stupid considering the mutual disdain everyone had for the Victorious Allies; those exiled moderates would be permanently branded as traitors and puppets of Parisee no matter what they say. A label used by their peers and enemies alike till the end of time itself.

"Do you have a place to stay?" Ruth spoke up behind me with her husband in tow. "If not, we can accommodate you."

"What a fascinating proposition," I muttered, sharing a house with that man. "I don't want to burden you unnecessarily. You've seen what kind of dangers I attract."

"We are not as defenseless as you think." Herr Heidler spoke with burning conviction. "And no dares to attack the Argent Silver and lives to tell the tale…"

"I really need to get to Beograd." I told them.

"The strikers won't relent, even in your presence, and you're likely to be shot from the windows if you take a taxi." The chef countered, "President Dollfuss will ground every airplane in the country at gunpoint once he hears that you've bought a ticket. You will be a powerful bargaining chip for him to get the Western Allies to recognize his tyrannical regime."

"Please, we need you here," Ruth begged.

Please, Help Us.

Please, Save Us.

Please, Protect Us.

My eyes went to stare directly at Herr Heidler. What a bizarre situation to be in. It's that damn mustache of his that makes it so unusual to want to agree to stay. Perhaps - just perhaps - I should stay for the moment to keep an eye on him.

"What do you want me to do?" I gave a small smile.

"To do what you do best, Argent Silver." He replied.

"And what do you plan to do?"

"A putsch, Degurechaff, a putsch. I'm going to take down Dollfuss directly."

What?

Somehow, his proposition did not disturb me as it should have yet I cannot help but express caution. If I endorse this course of action, the Progressive Bloc will be correct to condemn me and cast me out like a leper. That my presence will be a threat to democratic government everywhere, forgetting what I have done in Daneland; getting dragged into assisting Pilsud was bad enough. But if I do not, my reputation will surely be tarnished as an enabler or worse, a sympathizer, of radical ethnonationalism in the eyes of many. Listening to the recordings of my Fireside Chats will have to be done with a grain of salt.

What an awful situation to be in.

If I did go with Heidler's plan of a revolution, what horrors would it unleash on the world? Magyarozag, Pullska, and now Osterry…my endorsement will surely cement the fact that coup d'etats are a legitimate, positive method of changing the direction of bureaucracy. Republics, new and old, would face a very real danger of finding Caesars and Napoleons leading a violent mob of disgruntled voters storming Parliament to set up a more "effective" regime. Any grievance, no matter how petty or ill-conceived, that is not addressed in a matter deemed satisfactory, will eventually be a catalyst for a violent overthrow of the state.

And yet…

Do I trust Herr Heidler's words that he would save Osterrian Democracy? Do I want to trust him? Granted, the thought of saving democracy filled me with a sense of joy and pride that I could not explain. Removing that idiot Dollfuss from power would give me the odd satisfaction I had not felt since killing Mary Sioux.

As much as I do not want to set the awful precedent of coups, I definitely don't want President Dollfuss to set precedents either. Has there been not enough suffering already? Instead of digging old wounds, why can't we move forward together and build a common future?

"Herr Heidler," I said to him while I accompanied the couple to their place of residence, "I must warn you: if you do this, there is no going back. The abyss will swallow you."

The man gave a brief pause when he turned to look at me with uncompromising eyes. "Argent Silver, look around you. Is it any worse than what is happening to us right now?"

"No." I muttered, "I suppose not."

Well then, so be it. Above all else, Dollfuss and his ilk must go.

Our journey took us to the Judean quarter in Wien but Herr Heidler said that the label was a misnomer. Yes, this side of the capital was home to many Judeans but it had grown during the Imperial era to include every ethnic minority from all four corners of the Empire. Bohemians, Croats, Magyars, Bosniaks, everyone who lived in and fought for the Empire, was found here. There were even Illodoans, White Russites, and a few Asian expatriates operating noodle stands. Cosmopolitan in action with the various smells, sights, and sounds working in harmony to produce something grand.

Of course, since this is Dollfuss' Osterry, this area looked as if it was dragged through hell even though the residents spent their entire day still cleaning up the bullet holes and shattered glass. The Freikorps that stood as guards wore armbands and helmets depicting the Red-Yellow-Gold, the colors of the Germanian Republic and no doubt a strong indicator of the Pan-Germanian sentiment that resided in the Judean Quarter. I can't blame them for romanticizing the Empire; I too would have supported the Empire of Japan if the State of Japan failed every promise imaginable in uplifting its citizens to a higher standard of living.

Once again, I saw my face on the walls in the form of reused Imperial propaganda pieces. I had expected the men who pasted these images would have updated the words to suit the current times but I suspect that no one could spare the funds to do that. I can't imagine anyone wanting to invest in a nation so desperately trying to tear itself apart.

Other than a few odd looks from the civilians and sentries who saw my face, the path to their house was clear and undisturbed. From what Ruth has told me, they had a small guest room where I could stay for the time being. I offered to pay rent for the duration of my stay but she quickly refused. Helping her husband on this dangerous mission was more than enough payment as it was.

With a huff, I followed Ruth with my luggage in my hands while we walked up the stairs to the guest room while Herr Heidler disappeared into his personal study to make a phone call. Unlike the rest of their humble abode, my new room was completely barren save for a bed, some sheets, and bright baby-blue walls; a stark contrast to the flower wallpaper in the living room.

"Does my husband scare you?" Ruth asked me while I laid my suitcase on the bed. "I couldn't help but notice that you looked intimidated. Was the food not to your liking?"

Hmph. Scared? The tyrant of Germany does not scare me; he is but one dead man. No, I am not scared of him.

"Whatever do you mean?" I smiled at her, "Your husband is full of surprises, that is all. He is a good artist but a better chef. I didn't think he had it in him to take such drastic action. I was expressing pity that the Republic has been corrupted so soon by irrational actors."

Ruth bit her lip as if she was suppressing some hidden worry before a knock on the front door startled her.

"Strange," she said, turning around to walk downstairs. "We're not expecting visitors…"

"I'll get it, honey!" Herr Heidler shouted, racing out of his officer with a handgun. "Looks like the Reds want a second round!"

Part of me contemplated hiding in the closet or the drawers but at the same time, I rather not see Ruth become a widow so soon after meeting her. I simply closed my suitcase and quickly searched the room for anything that could resemble a weapon. Perhaps a walking stick would do?

"So Addie, you're one of Dollfuss' henchmen now?!" came a sharp, raspy voice bellowing from below.

"Sorry, Father." I heard the chef mumbling an apology. "You caught us off guard."

"Likewise," the old man grumbled like a thunderstorm before suddenly adopting a softer tone. "I nearly had a heart attack when I heard what happened this afternoon. I just need to know -"

"I'm here, Father," Ruth said, her footsteps quicked to embrace her parent. "We're safe…We're safe."

"Good. Good." he mumbled, "That's what I want to hear. Thank God you're safe. First, Dollfuss, now the communists…we can't stay here any longer. We must leave. We're not safe here any longer…"

"And go where, father?" she asked him, "Who will accept us?"

"The Americas. The Unified States should be safe enough to live. We can stay in the Francois Republic if possible."

"That won't be necessary." Herr Heidler remarked, "I already have a solution."

"Solution? Are you going to bake Dollfuss a chocolate pie and bribe him into resigning?!"

"No, I have something even better."

"What then? Who -"

Three pairs of eyes were on me when they heard my footsteps and all voices ceased at once. Herr Heidler regarded me with absolute adoration, Ruth looked at me with sorrowful hope while the old man turned as pale and white as his long, thin beard. He would have collapsed on the floor if it weren't for his daughter and son-in-law helping him into the nearby sofa. The elder was completely stuck dumbfounded as he continued to stare in my general direction, even as the Heidlers immediately departed to retrieve tea and coffee.

Grief. Joy. Panic. I saw a whole slew of emotions emerging and disappearing from his face as he regarded me with aging eyes. I extended my arm to greet him but he merely grabbed it with his callous hands, feeling my palms as if he wanted to know I was not an illusion.

"It's not you the Reds are after, it's me," I explained to him. "I suspect someone in Germania realized that I was moving south and notified their comrades here to intercept."

The elder was completely lost for words even as the wedded couple returned with a pot of tea and coffee. With a sign, I turned to Herr Heidler.

"Who did you call?"

"Everyone: old friends and alike," he answered with finality. "There will be a meeting tomorrow night, a party conference to be exact, and don't worry, we won't be disturbed."

"How can you be so sure?" I told him.

"With the communists in an uproar, he'll have his hands full putting them down in the meantime."

How fortunate for us, how inconvenient for him. Our conversation soon drifted to more mundane topics as Herr Heidler grumbled ideas on how he would pay back his father-in-law's loans and how his political party, the Ostzentrum, was split between Pan-Germanians and Ostnationalists while Ruth gave me a short overview of her family history. Her family was Bohemian Judeans, living in Prag for nearly six centuries, before her grandparents immigrated to Wien for better work opportunities after Imperial Unification. For all the flaws of the Empire, labor discrimination was not one of them. Just like the military needed more bodies in the trenches, the need for skilled hands would only continue to expand as industries consolidate and become increasingly specialized in the global economy.

It is easy to assume that political rights and economic freedom are separate concepts, and in a way, they are. Separate but invariably linked. What is the point of opening a business when the state could just march in anytime to charge exorbitant taxes without any input from the owner? What is the point of having freedom of movement when the person can't exchange his labor for money? There's a reason why many Samurai were so eager to embrace modernization from the Western Powers.

Perhaps this was Dollfuss' plan all along. The Konigsberg Incident and the November Boycott were the perfect excuse to enable his agenda of disenfranchisement and creeping authoritarianism. Sabotaging the economic enterprises of his rivals before passing laws to stifle recovery. Without capital to fuel political activism, his rivals would be helpless and forced to watch him move to consolidate the three branches of government around his party and ideology to further alienate the "undesirables." New discriminatory laws will be enacted to clamp down on whatever remaining freedoms the people have by limiting where they can work, live, and travel. With so many barriers to entry, Dollfuss could finally enact the final stage of his national purification to bring forth a new Osterrian identity: extermination or expulsion.

If Alfred's words were correct, there is not much time left before everyone will be suffocated in a vice. Tyrants mostly kill out of revenge, greed, or power. But this is different, very different.

The sun was setting outside when I was done articulating my thoughts and predictions to the Heidlers and suffice it to say, Ruth broke down in tears again. Her father moved to comfort her while Herr Heidler regarded my words with quiet disbelief.

"Do you - do you actually believe that Dollfuss would engage in - in extermination?" He asked skeptically, almost scared to say the word aloud. "Despite everything he has done, the man is still a lawyer and experienced bureaucrat. Surely, even he knows that there are some things he just can't do."

"Do you want to wait long enough to find out for yourself? Look at what is happening in Dacia." I shot back at him. "The man has broken the social contract by searching for fictional enemies rather than fighting real ones. Disregarding the Empire is one thing, betraying its legacy is another. He is desecrating centuries of laws and cooperation the people of the Empire have forged through blood and iron."

Why would I lie about this?

With no one else wanting to argue, Ruth's father got out of his seat, bid Me and Heidlers farewell, and left the house with a thundercloud following him. Ruth decided to retire early to bed, her face contorted in pure distraught, and quite frankly, I don't blame her. It would be much easier to hear my words and assume that I became a nihilist doomsday prophet, that tomorrow will prove to be a better day than before.

Feeling exhausted myself, I opted to go to bed early as well. Herr Heidler escorted me upstairs but made a quick detour to retrieve something from his study which was fine by me since it gave me personal time in the washroom to clean my face and brush my teeth. The chef met me in the guest room again with a large, hastily crafted book.

"If it's not too much to ask," he began, pointing to the front cover, "Can I have your autograph? Can you sign here?"

"Mein Acht Jahre des Kampf." I read the title aloud, "What's this? Your political manifesto?"

It is him. It really is him. I'm spending a night sharing the roof of one of history's most maddening tyrants. And yet, after everything I saw, he isn't.

"My war diary. Everything from the start of the war, in Illdoa to Norden." He answered honestly, "I was thinking of publishing it to get a minor alternative source of income to help my restaurant business. The idea was recommended to me by a good friend."

"Why didn't you?"

"I tried but thanks to Ostnationalist interference, no one was willing to do it. I managed to arrange a deal with Otho Francois but his publishing company got vandalized during the boycott so there's that."

"How unfortunate," I mumbled, grabbing a pen to sign the title page. "What were you doing in Norden?"

"Garrison duty. My regiment was badly mauled again at the 17th Battle of the Ionzo River so the high command transferred us north to the occupied Legadonian territories to rest and reorganize."

"How did you like it?"

"Awful. Somehow, policing the locals there was even worse than the trenches. All the women there were poisoners." Heidler grumbled, seemingly lost in his memories. "Even today, I can't fathom why Dollfuss looks to them as the ideal pure-blooded race. I've met Croats, Serbs, and Magyars who had more honor and valor than any of those bastards. Even Imperial Illdoans were better comrades."

I rolled my eyes in reply when I handed his draft back. Another small wonder why Daneland wanted nothing to do with the Legadonian Entente.

"Well, there will be a big day ahead of us." I coughed to snap Heidler out of his daydreaming, "I suggest we get all the rest we need to plot a putsch against the government."

"Wait," he spoke up almost immediately, "Can I ask just one more question?"

"Ask away. I can't stop you from saying it in your head."

"How do you know?"

"Know what?"

"Everything." Heidler said, "Everything."

Oh, Heidler. If only you knew the truth. If only you knew what your alternative self was. I couldn't help but sneer at the thought.

"You would not believe me if I told you," I answered.

"You have not deceived us thus far." he countered, "I'm all ears."

"It's simple really: I've been cursed by God and condemned to be his toy."

The whole Great War started because of me. He was willing to condemn the entire world into pointless bloodshed to ensure that I would be a slave in his grand schemes.

I didn't ask to be the chosen one. I didn't ask to be the show pony in the war effort. I didn't ask to be placed in this position. I did not wish to be born here nor did I wish to be born as a girl! I joined the military to escape the poverty that God has condemned me to suffer. And what did God do in response?

He has reduced mankind to animals to torment me. He turned my peers into pathetic morons! He corrupted the elders into cowardly demagogues! Where did all of Humanity's progress go? Did God destroy that too? All because he fears that there will be a day when the world will move on without him. A day that his image and his temples be swept into the dustbin of history.

There is no need for the existence of a Devil when God has placed all these burdens and tribulations before me. The experience wouldn't have been so terrible if my allies and partners had not failed me so spectacularly!

"Condemned?" He raised an eyebrow, "To have the full attention of God upon you, most would consider that a blessing. For you to be under his glory and divine protection…that is very lucky indeed."

"No, it is not." I shook my head. "You don't understand."

"Perhaps I never will. Perhaps you are indeed cursed by God. Doesn't change the fact that the person I see before me is someone very extraordinary."

"That's the hilarious part. I don't feel extraordinary. Quite the opposite in fact, I feel like I should have spent the extra Reichsmarks to buy a plane ticket to Beograd directly."

"Still banned from using a computation orb?" Heidler huffed, "Here I thought they had bent the rules to accommodate your skillset. A true shame."

"I don't blame them for sticking to Triano's terms. Besides, Germania was not being invaded nor was the internal threats dangerous enough to warrant it." I replied. "Though, it would be nice if I did have a computation orb, even if it was civilian."

"I think that could be arranged."

"Don't push your luck too much, Herr Heidler. Once Dollfuss sees a violent mob outside Parliament, he'll have to stand down."

"And if he doesn't?"

"Then no one will miss him once he is gone. His brain will be a useful donation to psychologists everywhere."