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March 15, 1941

Our first priority in building the Carinthian People's Front had been to obscure the fact that it was a tool of Germanian intelligence. Our second priority had been to obscure the fact that it was founded simultaneously with the date of its great success in capturing a radio station and calling for an uprising. Both purposes had been served by adopting the loose, cell-based structure employed by freedom fighters and terrorists since time immemorial.

After all, it wasn't so unusual for a new recruit to be placed in a cell with three or four other new recruits. Certainly, it was less noticeable than a meeting hall filled with hundreds of new members. The cell leaders would get around the question of their own time spent with the group by the simple expedient of lying. Our personnel could simply be ordered to lie, of course. When expansion of the group required cell leaders to be picked from among the locals, they were quietly encouraged to embellish their experience in order to reassure the fellow members of their cell.

All of this combined to make the organization's detailed information hard to decipher for its own members, let alone outside investigators. That much was all well and good. Unfortunately, it also meant that the top leadership of the Carinthian People's Front did not exercise tight control over the rank and file. Thus, when members were told to prepare themselves and bide their time for the right moment to act, there was nothing to stop an enterprising cell leader from deciding that the time to act had come.

And so, it transpired that after Ugo Scorza left his latest unproductive meeting with Boris Marinko, the Prime Minister of Carinthia, his traveling party was waylaid by a small group of paramilitary gunmen. After Scorza's bodyguards had been disarmed at gunpoint, tied up, and left behind, the group marched Scorza along for several city blocks before executing him in front of the Ildoan's residence.

Such brazen murder was bad enough. Unfortunately, it also revealed a second oversight in my Carinthian policy. The vote on independence had also doubled as a vote for the inaugural Carinthian government. At the time, the only truly organized political party was the front group that I had authorized as a dumping ground for the excess volunteers we deemed too sane to bring in to the Carinthian People's Front. As a result, they had dominated in the voting.

Unfortunately, sanity is a relative thing. It was true that the inner circle of the People's Party of Carinthia were older, stable figures who were seen as leaders in their local communities. However, it was also true that they had been willing to volunteer to join a terrorist organization. Those sympathies had obviously seeped through the government, as the killing of Scorza could only have been carried out with at least the tacit consent of the local population and local law enforcement.

It got worse. Necessarily, receiving reports from a spy network in a foreign country took time. It wasn't simply a matter of sending a properly encrypted email in this day and age, especially from a backwater like Carinthia. By the time Elya had burst into Zettour's office, the news was several hours old. No sooner had she finished filling us in on the initial situation than a telegram came in from our ambassador on the scene with an update on the ensuing reaction.

Ildoa had never sent an ambassador to Carinthia, as they refused to acknowledge the country's independence. Muzzioli's envoy was the closest thing they had to a diplomatic presence in the country, and his residence was the closest thing they had to an embassy. When the staff inside saw Scorza's execution, their natural response was shock and anger. The second in command had reached out to the Prime Minister, demanding to know how he could allow the death of a man cloaked in the majesty and honor of the Ildoan Kingdom.

Marinko responded that he, too, was surprised that the majesty and honor of Ildoa did not convey protection from rifle bullets, considering Scorza's behavior.

This, of course, upon being relayed to Roma, prompted a return telegram containing an ultimatum from Muzzioli. Rather than prevaricate and play for time, Marinko's response to the ultimatum was a vulgar hand gesture.

All of this was relayed to our ambassador by Marinko himself. According to our ambassador's notes, the man seemed proud of his actions and to be looking forward to a fight.

As the old saying goes, don't worry about the expert on the other team. Worry about your own idiotic teammates.

I did my best to stay calm as I learned of the depth of our diplomatic problems. I told Zettour to see if it was possible to smooth things over, I told Elya to put out the order that we weren't to mobilize before an official declaration of war, and I excused myself for half an hour. I then kept quiet as I returned to my office, stepped into my sound-proofed meeting room, and locked the door behind me.

Then I put the soundproofing to the test.

Damn it! Damn it! Damn it!

All I'd needed was a year. Was it too much to ask for one peaceful year? We had bent over backwards in order to give Carinthia a running start at a functional government. They'd taken our efforts as an open promise of unconditional support and decided to openly goad Muzzioli into an invasion. If I'd been there at the time, I would have grabbed Marinko by the shoulder and forced him to at least pretend to knuckle under to the ultimatum.

Now that the die had been cast, though, I could hardly hang them out to dry. The whole structure of OZEV was built on mutual trust and support. If I suddenly announced that I would sit in judgment of my allies' actions any time war loomed, the whole thing would unravel.

And war was coming. It had been highly optimistic of Zettour to think that our alliance had been deterring Franco-Russy aggression. It was more accurate to say that the Francois Republic had been stuck in a balancing act, trying to accomplish its aggressive goals without turning the Allied Kingdom into an enemy. Launching a second war of naked aggression so soon after their invasion of Ildoa would have been too much. Now that Carinthia had handed them a casus belli on a platter, though, it was folly to cling to the hope that they would hold themselves back any longer.

I paused in my frantic pacing and grumbling to study the map that had been left out on the conference room table. Nothing had changed in the last half hour to make things any more favorable to Germania. Studied in light of the coming war, it was a chilling sight. The Russy Federation had more land and more people than all the countries of OZEV combined. The Francois Republic and Kingdom of Ildoa were both great powers in their own right. Yugoslavia, while not on the same level as the others, was still the local bully in the Balkans.

Not only were we outnumbered, we were facing war on multiple fronts. Three, or even four, depending on how you counted. Somehow, with all of my future knowledge and level headed, rational, thinking, I had managed to stumble into a situation more dire than anything the Empire had engineered. At least the Empire had only gradually surrounded itself with enemies. I had dragged them all in to fight from the jump!

I pulled myself together when I heard the sound of a key turning in the lock on the door. There weren't many people who had the key to this room. Certainly, I wouldn't want to let any of them know how badly I was rattled.

I had only barely regained my composure when the door opened to reveal Visha, a worried expression on her face. She stepped inside and closed the door behind her, then stopped to look me up and down.

I braced myself, hoping that nothing in my appearance had given away my distress. I then felt an immediate urge to slap myself in the face.

This was Visha. I didn't need to worry about her losing faith in me. If anything, I needed to worry about her having too much faith in me and in the country's military situation. If I wasn't careful, she'd cheerfully throw her life away in some hopeless battle.

"We're screwed! Look at the map," I said. This was no time for subtlety. "Not only are we badly outnumbered, we're surrounded as well."

"Chancellor-"

"I want you to flee the country as soon as troops from the Russy Federation cross the border," I said. "With the Type-99, you should be able to reach the Allied Kingdom."

Even as I gave the direction, I had second thoughts. Could I really trust Visha to resist the lure of battle and make the rational choice to flee the country? It was all too easy to imagine her fighting some doomed last stand against the Red Army on the outskirts of Berun, secure in the unwarranted belief that I was about to turn the tables with some sort of miracle.

"Tanya-"

"No, no, on second thought, you should head up a diplomatic mission to the Unified States," I said. "Then you can apply for asylum once-mph."

It had been so long since I'd felt a pair of lips on my own that for a long moment I didn't understand what was going on. I was looking into a familiar pair of eyes from much closer than usual, and... Visha was kissing me!

Then she took a step back. I brought a hand up, instinctively touching my lips. She straightened her blouse and turned her attention to the map on the table.

"We have four enemies, but they don't trust each other much and there's a lot of space between them," she said. "So if we act quickly, instead of beating four countries, we just have to beat one country, four times."

Visha kissed me!

"You kissed me!"

She smiled. "We should talk about that after we win."

Ten years. More than that, really. All that time spent restraining myself, avoiding any inappropriate looks or touching, hiding any appearance of unwanted attraction that might make Visha uncomfortable. All of that was coming undone, and I found myself looking at Visha with new eyes.

Crassly speaking, Visha had always been right in the middle of my strike zone. She was a classic beauty, and even in her thirties she still had the looks and vitality of a much younger woman. Had she been born in a different era, she would have been drafted into posing for magazine covers rather than for military duty.

More than that, though, she had been with me through thick and thin. She had been a pillar of support during the darkest days of the war, an indispensable assistant during my early days in politics, and a willing learner as deputy chancellor. There hadn't been anybody else in this world that I had even considered as a romantic companion. And, it seemed, I didn't have to hold myself back any longer.

I had always liked seeing Visha smile, but I wasn't so sure about the completely self-satisfied grin she was sporting. I took a step forward.

Something of my intentions must have shown on my face, as she took a step back. I took another step forward. She took another step back. I took a third step. This time, when she stepped back, her back ran into the wall. I quickly stretched out my left arm and planted my hand against the wall, cutting off her escape. Then I leaned forward and kissed her properly.

When I finished and took a step back, I was the one with a self-satisfied smirk on my face. Visha was flushed, leaning against the wall for support.

"After we win, then," I said.

I then strode over to the door, tossing it open to find Elya waiting on the other side. "Call General Lergen! We have a war to plan."

ooOoo

The strategic meeting was attended by the usual members of my inner circle: Zettour, Visha, Elya, General Lergen, and myself. There was no need to involve a whole mess of generals and admirals. It was General Lergen's job to present options to the civilian government and to convey our decisions to the military. The last thing I wanted to do was to undermine him by giving instructions directly to his underlings. Conversely, the rest of the cabinet had to focus on their side of things. Civilian crises might inform military strategy, but I didn't particularly need to hear my finance minister's thoughts on the use of our army.

I found myself more aware than usual of the fact that Visha was sitting next to me. I certainly felt more than an ordinary pull to look over in her direction. I managed to resist the temptation to moon over my deputy chancellor, though. This was a serious meeting. If I was smiling more than usual, well, nobody said that meetings have to be dour affairs.

"Let's assume for now that war breaks out tomorrow," I said. Zettour had tried reaching out to the Ildoans, but they didn't seem to be in a mood to talk. I didn't expect Muzzioli to wait long before his official declaration of war. "What can we expect?"

"The Francois Republic will attack immediately. Otherwise they would lose the advantage given to them by the demilitarized zone," Lergen said. "The Ildoans will conduct some sort of offensive right away, but they will need time to organize for a serious invasion. The Russy Federation, even more so. Yugoslavia is more difficult to predict, but in any event is not an immediate threat to Germania."

"They still pose a threat to OZEV's interests," I said.

"Yes, of course. However, our plans call for any Yugoslavian offensive to be met by local forces," Lergen replied. "Our immediate concern is the Francois Republic."

He pulled a map from his briefcase and unrolled it on the table for everybody to see. On it was a close up view of the border area. Helpfully, it was color coded according to the terrain.

"They will first secure Saarbrücken. It's the largest town in the immediate area and will serve as a convenient logistical hub," he said, pointing it out on the map. "From there they face a choice. In medieval times, the Francois Kingdom would send its armies to Kaiserslautern and then onward to secure a crossing on the Rhine. That would open the way to Bavaria in the southeast, or to the northeast to old Preussia and eventually to the capital. For a modern army, though, they could simply continue directly north from Saarbrücken, only needing to cover two hundred and fifty kilometers to reach the southern edge of the industrial heartlands on the Rhine."

"Moving east would also move them towards our prepared defenses," Visha said. I smiled, nodding in agreement.

"Indeed. I expect that they will take Kaiserslautern to screen their advance and to serve as an airfield," Lergen said, "but the main effort will be the push north. Should they push far enough north to maintain heavy artillery fire on the Rhine industrial area, the result would be devastating."

Of course, indiscriminate fire on an inhabited city would be a violation of the rules of war. It would be foolish, though, to trust our safety to our enemy's good conscience. No doubt they would try to justify their behavior on the theory that the city produced military equipment or some such nonsense.

"What do you suggest, then?" Zettour asked.

"We've already begun evacuating civilians from the areas where we anticipate heavy fighting," Lergen said.

I nodded. "Good."

"Beyond that, broadly speaking, we have two options," Lergen said. "We can attempt to fortify a position and stop the Francois Republic as close to the border as possible before driving them back. If we begin immediately we may even be able to keep them out of Saarbrücken."

I shook my head. "Unfortunately, we have to play to the audience in Albion. We can't do anything at all provocative."

Silly as it was to describe defending ourselves as provocative, we had agreed to the demilitarized zone throughout several rounds of international negotiations. If we were to violate that agreement, the Francois Republic would be certain to seize on the obvious talking point. The last thing we needed was to drag yet another major power into the war on the other side. For that matter, I was still holding out some hope that the Allied Kingdom might intervene on our side. In order for that to happen though, we needed to be on our best behavior.

I looked to the side. Zettour didn't seem happy about the situation, but I was sure that he understood the necessity. Visha was chewing her lip in frustration. I watched for a moment, waiting to see if she had anything to say. She looked over and met my eyes briefly before looking down at the table, her face flushed.

"I don't like the idea of putting on a show."

I chuckled. Of course Visha would prefer the straightforward cut and thrust of battle without any diplomatic considerations. "Our situation is precarious enough. We simply can't afford to do anything that would push the Allied Kingdom to join hands with the Molotov-Ribéry pact."

General Lergen cleared his throat. "In that case, we could establish a line north of Saarbrücken that blocked off the roads to Kaiserslauten and to the Rhine industrial area. Operations designed to push the Francois Republic's army back would take place as both countries mobilized. In time, the balance of forces would tilt in our favor. We should be able to push them out of Germania within two months."

I took a moment to study General Lergen. He had a neutral expression on his face, but I knew he was hardly a man who would be satisfied to spend two months fighting just to restore the pre-war status quo. Not after he'd spent a decade stewing over the Empire's ignominious defeat.

"What's our other option?"

"While it would be dangerous," Lergen said, "we could attempt to trap the invading force and destroy it in its entirety."

I could feel the smile on my face take on a more aggressive cast. As expected, when it was time to take him off the leash, General Lergen didn't disappoint. All of the headaches associated with supervising him paid off in moments like this.

Of course, if even General Lergen thought the plan was dangerous, there was certainly a chance that things could end in disaster. Fortunately for me, going on the run didn't seem so bad now that it meant going on the run together with someone.

ooOoo

March 16, 1941

Frederick Rosenvelt hadn't expected to be working late into the night after being elected to the exalted office of President of the Unified States of America. Ongoing events in Europe had dragged him into the office after dinner on Sunday, an experience he had thought he had left behind in his younger years. Even so, he was grateful for the chance to guide his nation's course through such a momentous occasion. He knew that his countrymen thought that he should focus on the economy, and he did, but he also knew that the Unified States couldn't afford to ignore the world-shaking events taking place across the ocean.

Sharing in his late night were William Riley, the Secretary of State, John Dern, the Secretary of War, and Claude Pritchett, the Secretary of the Navy. Also in the room with them was a nervous White House technical assistant, busy fiddling with a film projector. A knock on the door drew their attention, and the door opened to reveal Charles Morrow, looking rather rumpled.

Rosenvelt had appointed Morrow as a special advisor to the President. Ostensibly his brief was on matters of magic, but Rosenvelt had also wanted to bring somebody with him to Washington from New Amstreldam who was willing to call a spade a spade. Somewhat to his surprise, Margaret Caldwell had made the move along with Morrow. It seemed she was intent on making an honest man out of the old bachelor. Rosenvelt was a good friend, though, and didn't give Morrow a hard time about it more than once or twice a week.

"Charlie," Rosenvelt said, "I'm glad you could make it."

Whatever else Morrow had been appointed to do, he was also the closest thing in Washington to a personal acquaintance of Chancellor Degurechaff. It would be a waste to miss the opportunity to pick his brain over what was going on in Europe.

"Of course," Morrow said. He looked around the room, seeming a bit distracted.

"Have you heard anything from Milly?" Rosenvelt asked. He did keep track of his subordinates' personal lives, at least to some degree. The last he had heard, Millicent Caldwell had been touring the Francois Republic.

"I got hold of her on the phone. Told her to get on the first ship headed home," Morrow said, shaking his head. "She insists she wants to stay in Parisee and report on the war. It's the damnedest thing."

Morrow received murmured condolences from the other men in attendance as he took his seat. Rosenvelt looked over to see that the technician had finally finished with his work.

"I'm afraid Europe is in for rough times, gentlemen," Rosenvelt said. "You've seen the notes from de Lugo and Muzzioli."

War had been declared. If early reports were to be believed, the Francois Republic was already on the march. Now, the open question was how Germania would respond. Rosenvelt had read the speech already, but words on a page were no substitute for looking a person in the eye and taking her measure. He couldn't meet Degurechaff face to face, of course, so he had to turn to the next best thing.

"This is Degurechaff's response," he continued. "It was broadcast on live television earlier today to all of Germania."

The projectionist took his cue and started the machine. There was a moment of confused flickering light that resolved itself into the familiar face of Tanya von Degurechaff, seated at a desk. Rosenvelt noted absently that the camera had been set close enough that Degurechaff dominated the picture.

"My fellow Germanians," she began. "It is my solemn duty to inform you that our nation is at war."

"The Francois Republic and Russy Federation have been salivating over the chance to divide Europe between them," Degurechaff continued. "They have found their excuse in Carinthia, and now intend to plunge the whole continent into war."

Rosenvelt hummed to himself. It was a neat bit of rhetoric to make Scorza's assassination disappear, at least.

"It brings me no pleasure to make this announcement. I would rather be celebrating the success of our new professional football league or touting the sales numbers of the People's Car," she said. "The last ten years of peace have been much better for our people than the previous eight years of war."

Degurechaff sighed. For a moment, all his knowledge of the woman to the contrary, Rosenvelt could almost believe that she regretted the need to go to war. Maybe there was something to that magazine article, after all.

"I prefer peace. The good and decent people of Germania all prefer peace. But through these years of peace, we have not forgotten how to wage war," Degurechaff said. "If it is a war our enemies want, then we shall give them all the war they could ask for, and more besides."

Her posture shifted as she spoke. Rosenvelt suspected he was getting a look back through time at Major Degurechaff, now.

"Germania does not stand alone in this fight. The people of Pullska have long been preparing a defensive line to see off the army of the Russy Federation. Czechoslovakia and Dacia, too, stand ready. A great iron wall stretches from the Baltic to the Black Sea, holding the line against the communist menace," she continued. "Hungary and Croatia are with us, prepared to work together with Dacia to thwart Yugoslavia's bloody expansionism. Carinthia, of course, may be small, but they certainly aren't afraid to take on the swaggering bully Muzzioli. And Daneland has stood tall, contributing both soldiers and material support to the common cause even though its borders aren't directly threatened by our enemies."

He had been expecting her to extol her own people's history of military success. There were plenty of examples she could have chosen. It was interesting that she had instead chosen to emphasize the presence of her allies.

"We, the people of Germania will add our voice and our strength to the rest of the nations in the Central European Treaty Organization. Our message is simple: to nations that greet us with good will, we are happy to extend the hand of friendship, establishing cordial relations and healthy trade agreements," Degurechaff said. "To the nations that seek to use force to take from us what is ours, we say: no! To the petty tyrants yearning for conquered territory: no! To the communist zealots on their dark crusade: no!"

Her voice was gradually rising as she built up to the big finish.

"The free people of Europe reject your bullying! We reject your extortion! We reject your grasping ambitions!" she said, bringing her fist down on her desk. "When this war is over, your evil plans of conquest will be cast into the dust bin of history where they belong!"

She sat back and cleared her throat. "To all the people of Germania, this is a moment when we must stand together, work together, and fight together. Difficult times are ahead, but in the end, we will be all the stronger for it. Thank you, and good night."

With that, the film came to an end. For a moment, the room was still.

"Well," Claude Pritchett said, breaking the silence, "I'd say she isn't looking for a compromise."

"It's going to be a hell of a scrap," John Dern added. "Damn near half of Europe against damn near the other half."

"She didn't mention Legadonia," William Riley said, scratching his chin. "I wonder if there's been a quibble about the terms of their mutual defense pact."

Rosenvelt nodded along with their observations. He wouldn't be surprised if Legadonia was getting cold feet over jumping into a war that Carinthia had blatantly provoked. Most of his focus, though, was on turning over what he had just seen in his mind's eye. Something about it itched at him.

"Can you play that over again, without the sound?" he asked the projectionist, who scrambled to comply. He turned back to the other men. "Just watch Degurechaff. Tell me if you notice anything."

He didn't want to prejudice the other men, so he didn't give any more specific instructions. Watching the speech again without the distraction of the oratory, though, he was more and more certain that he was on to something.

Riley was the next to pick up on it. "Does she seem... happy?"

It was a subtle thing. She wasn't grinning or laughing, but any time during the speech when she wasn't deliberately adopting a rhetorical pose, there was just something in her posture, something in her face that stood out.

"If it were any other woman, I'd say she looked like a blushing bride," Morrow said, slapping his leg. "Damn, I'd hate to be in the first army to try marching across her border."

When Rosenvelt had first considered attempting to mediate the coming conflict, part of his motivation had been to protect Germania. It was an important trading partner for the Unified States, after all. Now, he was starting to suspect that any future form of mediation that came to fruition would be more in the nature of trying to find some mercy for Degurechaff's enemies. As badly tilted as the raw numbers might appear, a canny military thinker like Degurechaff wouldn't be so jubilant on the eve of war if she didn't have at least one ace up her sleeve.

He wondered for a moment how long she had been working to line up the dominoes to fall just how she wanted, then shook his head. From this distance, he couldn't hope to see behind the scenes. All he could do was enjoy the show.