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March 28, 1941

Millicent Caldwell hadn't gone into journalism to become famous. To be honest, half the reason she'd taken the job was to spite her mother. She'd also been excited by the idea of traveling to Europe. She hadn't gone to Germania with any sort of master plan in mind for her career. And yet, somehow, when she returned to the Unified States she found she had become a household name.

After the fourth person stopped her on the street to ask what the World Cup had really been like, she started to regret posing for so many of the pictures that had run in the Observer. It was something of a relief when her editor insisted that she work on turning her columns into a guidebook as soon as possible, as it gave her an excuse to hole up inside for a while with her typewriter. She took to pinning her hair up and wearing sunglasses every time she went outside, which did give her some measure of anonymity.

Her mixed feelings about her success hadn't stopped her from putting in her best efforts. She had soon had a manuscript ready for editing, and with a publisher eager to capitalize while the subject was hot, the book was soon in stores nationwide. Her profile had been boosted even further by her interview with Chancellor Degurechaff—both the initial publication in Life magazine and her mention in Time magazine as the 'definitive interview' with their Woman of the Year resulted in a spike of sales.

She worried sometimes that her meteoric rise could be followed by a precipitous fall. After all, she was no Tanya von Degurechaff, meticulously shaping her public profile in calculated pursuit of a larger goal. No, Milly was just going with the flow.

One thing in particular that had caught in her mind were the occasional insinuations she was allowed to overhear that she was some sort of Germanian publicity flack, eagerly currying favor with Degurechaff instead of doggedly seeking out the truth. It was easy enough to brush those comments aside as the result of petty jealousy and to make sure the offenders found their social invitations drying up, but Milly wondered sometimes if there was a kernel of truth to that critique. She had reported everything honestly as she had seen it, of course, but she had only seen Germania.

It was possible that Germania's shine would wear off if it were compared to its European neighbors, rather than the Unified States. In the interest of fairness, she had figured she ought to at least consider the possibility. Also, she'd needed new material for another book.

And so she planned her trip to the Francois Republic.

This trip was not organized by a government representative. Nor, after a satisfying row with her mother, was Milly to be chaperoned. She was a seasoned international traveler by now, and she was traveling to a civilized country. There was no need for Uncle Charles to be hovering over her as though she were traveling to war torn Jiuzhou.

And so she had booked herself a cabin on the steam ship Champlain, traveling from New York to Le Havre. Compared to the dirigible, the ship added several days to the trip and the constant motion of the waves. Milly had tried to look on the bright side. The ship had much more room to move about in, and the delay gave her a chance to brush up on the Frankish that had been forced upon her in school. She'd also made use of the extra time to begin sketching out her plans for her book.

In the end, the journey was pleasant enough. The first thing she had done upon arriving in the Francois Republic was to book her ticket to Parisee. She wanted to start her travel diary from the cultural heart of the country. After her first night in the capital, she had stopped in the dining room for breakfast only to learn that war had been declared.

Obviously, she couldn't just drive around and play the tourist in a country at war. Milly had immediately phoned home, first to make sure that she could still get a byline with the Observer and then to tell her family of her plans. If providence had put her in the center of another world-shaking event, she could only accept the opportunity to become a war correspondent.

Unfortunately, she'd soon discovered that mere proximity to the war didn't provide her with any concrete information about what was happening. The Francois Republic put out official reports that were obvious propaganda of the sort that she would be embarrassed to report back to America. The only way she could have gotten any real information about going on would be to develop sources of information in the military, something she would have had a hard time doing back home, let a lone in a foreign country.

What she could write about was the attitude of the people of Parisee as their nation went to war. She thought she would at least be able to get a couple of decent articles out of the idea, until she ran in to a new problem. With the advent of the war, the government clamped down on transatlantic telegraph and telephone lines. They reviewed outgoing mail and refused to send anything that might compromise national security, which somehow included honest news. The only way she would have been able to print anything would be to sail home and try to publish week old news.

To Milly, that would feel a little too much like running away. Instead she stayed put in Parisee, taking notes every day of the changing moods of the city. It was the first time she really felt like an investigative reporter, trying to develop sources and really get a feel for the thoughts of the average man on the street.

It was hard to make a close connection with the locals when she was such an obvious foreigner, but she also benefited from the exotic aura of America. Whether because of fond memories of the last war or just the desire to tell their stories to the world, from time to time she would run into people who were eager to pour out all their hopes and dreams to a sympathetic foreigner. Even if she couldn't publish it yet, she wrote everything down.

Milly was enjoying what had come to be her usual breakfast in the hotel's dining room, two weeks into her stay in Parisee, when a busboy approached her.

"Miss Caldwell?"

"Yes?"

"You're looking for news about the war?"

"That's right."

He looked at her expectantly. Once the silence had stretched out long enough that he obviously wasn't going to continue, Milly did a quick calculation in her head before fishing a few francs out of her pocket and handing them over.

"You should go to the Champs-Élysées Gardens as soon as you can."

"Oh?" she asked, but he had already turned to walk away. Perhaps she should have given him a few more francs.

Well, it was looking to be a nice day, anyways. Milly finished her last bit of croissant and polished off her coffee. The Gardens were a pleasant destination regardless of whether anything newsworthy were to happen. If she were to get a first hand look at something like an anti-war protest, so much the better.

For all that the Franks were a martial people, Milly had found the Pariseeans she spoke with to be somewhat less than enthusiastic about the current war. They disliked Germania, of course, but they also had little respect for Muzzioli's Ildoa and little trust for the Russy Federation. She had heard over and over again the fear that the Franks would be all alone in the war against Germania, and of course everybody knew how that had turned out in the last war. She hadn't thought that protests would be happening already, but she was fairly sure that the people weren't about to break out in spontaneous demonstrations of support for the government.

The only way to find out what was happening was to go and have a look for herself. She first made a quick stop in her hotel room to grab her camera. After a moment's thought, she also grabbed her film recorder and tucked it into her purse. It was only good for two minutes of film, but filming the right two minutes could be quite a coup. She grabbed an extra notepad, gave her outfit a quick once over, and headed out to catch a cab.

The Gardens looked as lovely as they had the first time that she'd visited. More importantly, some sort of event did seem to be taking place. Police officers had set up barricades blocking access to the Champs-Élysées, as though a parade was going to be coming through. That was odd. Milly thought she would have heard if a parade had been scheduled through the heart of the city. None of the passers-by she spoke to had any idea what was going on.

A small crowd was starting to gather, as the people who would usually simply be enjoying the weather in the Gardens were drawn to the opportunity of seeing a spectacle. A few commuters, too, seemed to be rather half-hearted in their efforts to get around the barricades, their curiosity winning out over their desire to get to work on time.

Milly worked her way through the mass of people. She thought that as she got closer to the front she might run into somebody who knew what was going on. Instead she found a very familiar face standing on the other side of the sawhorse. Anna, the helpful young woman from the Germanian government, stood in the middle of a group of Pariseean police officers. She was in the middle of a conversation with an older gentleman who bore a remarkable mustache, but she stopped mid-sentence to wave Milly over as soon as their eyes met.

Milly wasn't quite sure what the protocol was in this situation, but she figured that it couldn't hurt to talk. She dodged around the last member of the crowd in front of her and ducked under the sawhorse.

"Milly!" Anna said, happy as could be. "I'm so glad you could make it."

"What's going on?"

"You'll see," Anna said, still smiling, before turning to the man she had been speaking with. "This is Monsieur Marchand, the chief of police. Monsieur Marchand, let me introduce Millicent Caldwell. A reporter from America and a very good friend."

"Charmed."

His polite tone of voice sounded a bit forced, and the smile on his face looked strained. Milly greeted him politely, then turned to Anna, concerned. "Is everything all right?"

"Of course," Anna said, clasping her hands together. "We're all friends here."

Milly was going to ask again for an explanation about what exactly was going on when a murmur ran through the crowd. Anna's smile widened, and she pointed up the street. Milly turned to look and saw a tank driving around the Arc de Triomphe. She didn't think much of it, until she realized that the tank looked unfamiliar. Taking a closer look, she noticed that it was flying a flag.

A Germanian flag.

She immediately opened her purse and dug out her film camera. She could ask Anna to clarify the situation later. For now, she had to get this on film.

Fortunately, the camera was designed to be easy to operate. She did her best to hold it steady and film the tank that was driving down the street. A tank that was soon joined by a pair of identical brethren, and another, and another. There seemed to be no end to them.

The crowd, which had been buzzing as everybody reacted to the novel sight, gradually went silent. Milly pulled her head back without jostling the camera and took a glance around. She could see looks of anger, as she'd expected, but more than a few people simply looked resigned. They must have been as skeptical of the government reports about the progress of the war as she had. Monsieur Marchand, in particular, looked more depressed than surprised. Milly tucked the thought away in the back of her mind and focused on the camera.

The first tank was coming closer now. As it grew larger and larger in the viewfinder, Milly could see that somebody was standing on top of it. From the looks of it, the person wasn't very tall. As they came closer, she realized that it was a female figure, with blonde hair.

It wasn't until she was within half a block that Milly was willing to believe that Chancellor Degurechaff was riding a tank through the heart of Parisee. And she was looking right at her.

Her tank pulled off to the side and stopped not ten feet away. Behind her, the other tanks passed by, two by two. Milly barely looked at them as the chancellor hopped off the tank and headed their way. She finally shut off the camera and tossed it back in her purse as the chancellor came within speaking distance.

She exchanged a few words of rapid fire Germanian with Anna, which Milly was too dazed to translate. Then she glanced over and their eyes met. Chancellor Degurechaff's eyes widened in apparent surprise.

"Milly! What are you doing here?"

"I was working on a book, then the war broke out," Milly said, social conditioning prompting her to respond without thinking. "What are you doing here?"

"I was governing the country," the chancellor said, with a wry smile, "then the war broke out."

With that, she turned and stepped closer to Anna, asking a few more quiet questions. Milly couldn't make out exactly what they were saying over the rumble of tank engines, but they both seemed calm. Despite the absurd situation, it seemed that things were going according to plan.

Chancellor Degurechaff took a step back and turned her attention back to Milly. "You should come with us!"

It sounded like a request. Milly wasn't entirely sure what would happen if she were to refuse. Still, though, the most interesting events would certainly be happening around the chancellor, so Milly's nod of assent wasn't entirely forced. She had originally come here in search of news, after all.

A moment later, four aerial mages floating down out of the sky. After a brief conference with Anna and the chancellor, the four of them took the lead. The people surrounding them were too shocked to react or were intimidated by the concentration of military power. Either way, their group passed easily through the crowd. Milly found herself walking alongside the chancellor, across from the Pariseean chief of police. He looked uncomfortable to have the chancellor's hand on his arm but wasn't resisting as she dragged him along.

After a few twists and turns the crowd had thinned out. Rounding one last corner revealed a police car parked in a secluded alley way, directly in front of a limousine. An attractive young brunette was leaning against the police car, but straightened into an almost military posture as their group came into view.

"Ah, welcome to Parisee!"

"Thank you," the chancellor said, nodding, before gesturing at the cars. "Let's go."

The young woman nodded and opened the driver's side door of the police car, sliding into position and starting the engine. Three of the aerial mages piled in with her, while the fourth took on the job of driving the limousine. Milly followed the chancellor's urging and entered the back of the limo together with the chief of police.

They traveled in silence at first. Chancellor Degurechaff was lost in thought, Monsieur Marchand seemed afraid to talk, and Milly didn't know quite what to say. After a moment, the chancellor seemed to resolve herself and fixed Milly with a serious look.

"Have you studied military strategy?" she asked, before waving a hand dismissively. "Never mind, of course your readers haven't."

What followed was an explanation of all that had transpired in the war so far. The initial Frankish invasion, the initial battle, the Germanian counter-attack, and the final battle. The chancellor explained not just the troop's movements, but the reasons behind Germania's actions and what she surmised to be the Frankish strategy. She even used her computation orb to produce an illusion mapping out the terrain in order to explain why the battles had gone as they had.

It was surprisingly engaging, and Milly did her best to capture every word in her notebook. It also painted the Germanian military in an absurdly positive light. It was the sort of story that she would have dismissed as a blatant fabrication if she weren't in the middle of a relaxed conversation with the chancellor in the heart of Parisee.

With the part of her mind not focused on transcribing the chancellor's words, Milly wondered at the woman's underlying purpose. The Frankish government had censored the details of the war's progress in order to avoid spreading bad news, it seemed, but that wasn't the only reason for secrecy. She couldn't figure out why the chancellor would be willing to discuss military operations in such detail. She would have thought that tactics that had been used to such devastating effect would be kept as a closely held secret.

Milly couldn't resist voicing the question once the chancellor had finished her lecture.

"Should you be telling me this?" Milly asked, clearing her throat as she realized that the chancellor was hardly legally restricted from saying what she wanted. "I mean, is it all right for me to print this?"

"You can't keep something like that secret for long," Chancellor Degurechaff replied, waving a hand dismissively. "Besides, I have my reasons. In the last war, people spread all sorts of crazy myths about the Imperial military. I just wanted to make it clear that in this war, everything has been very simple. Nobody has had to make any superhuman effort."

Milly furrowed her brow in thought for a moment, thinking through the implications. "So, destroying the Frankish army in two weeks was simple?"

"What? No no no no, not like that," she said, holding her hands up in a warding gesture. "It's just, have you ever played poker?"

Now it was Milly's turn to be flustered as she admitted the truth. "I'm familiar with the game."

"Right. So, the Francois Republic just kept betting everything they had. It didn't matter if their hand was no good as long as their opponent folded," Chancellor Degurechaff explained. "We just called their bluff, is all."

Milly chewed her bottom lip. She wasn't about to contradict Tanya von Degurechaff when it came to military matters. Still, it seemed to her that taking out a country's whole army in two weeks, not to mention capturing their capital, was an impressive feat no matter how you sliced it. She couldn't quite figure out how to phrase her objection by the time the limo came to a stop.

"Good, we're here," the chancellor said, hopping out of the car. "Come on, come on."

Milly followed her, while Monsieur Marchand followed in their wake. The poor man seemed even more downhearted than he had when the chancellor first arrived. Milly paused for a moment to let him catch up and gave him a friendly pat on the shoulder. It didn't seem to do much for his mood.

Their destination, it turned out, was Parisee's largest radio station. The chancellor waited impatiently at the top of the stairs for the rest of the party to catch up with her. The brunette who had been driving the police car took the lead as they went inside.

They passed through the building with none of the fuss and bother that Milly would have expected. Not that she expected anybody to make trouble in front of four aerial mages and Chancellor Degurechaff, but she had expected at least some sort of emotional outburst. Instead, every employee they passed just looked, well, resigned. That carried through to the broadcast studio. The chancellor stepped inside without hesitation. She dragged Monsieur Marchand along with her, while Milly and the rest stood outside.

The radio announcer looked at the approaching duo with alarm, but his voice remained professionally level.

"Now, our special guests for this morning. The chief of police, Monsieur Marchand, and... the Chancellor of Germania, Tanya von Degurechaff."

The room itself was soundproof. However, as he spoke into the microphone, his voice was not only broadcast out over the city but also over a speaker into the observation room.

The brunette—Milly doubted she would ever learn the woman's name—was looking into the technical area. She must have liked what she saw, as she turned and gave the chancellor a thumbs up.

Chancellor Degurechaff didn't waste any time once she got the go ahead, picking up the microphone with gusto. "Good morning Parisee! I'm sure I'm happier to be here than you are to be hosting me, but I bring good news: your part in the war is almost over."

"I'm not sure what your government has told you about the war. As you can guess from hearing the sound of my voice, they haven't handled it very well," she continued, taking a seat behind the desk. "As of now, the only organized military force under your government's command is the navy. While they're doing a fine job manning a blockade, at this point-"

She cut herself off as the brunette guide opened the door to the studio. She leaned in and whispered into the chancellor's ear. The microphone didn't pick up anything of what she was saying, but it did faithfully relay the chancellor's reaction.

"They what? ...all of them?" she asked. Receiving a simple nod in return, Chancellor Degurechaff cleared her throat and took a moment to sort out her thoughts while her helper exited the studio. "Pardon me, well, never mind about the navy. As I was saying, the only organized military in this country marches under the Germanian flag."

She had been slightly wrong-footed by the surprise news, but Chancellor Degurechaff settled back into a groove as she returned to the subject of the war on land. Watching her, Milly was struck by just how natural she looked in a military uniform. She had seemed perfectly comfortable the first time that they had met, dressed in her usual dress and jacket outfit, but something about the uniform seemed to better fit her inner nature. Although it was possible Milly was being unduly influenced by the fact that she had been reintroduced to the chancellor as she was riding atop a tank.

"With no experienced troops to serve as the core of a new army, and with a severely compromised transportation network, the only question is how many lives President de Lugo will throw away before he admits his error," the chancellor continued. "As for you, dear listeners, the only question is this: who is prepared to be the last man to die for a mistake?"

She let the question hang in the air for a moment before she continued. "I will be waiting for President de Lugo in front of the Palais Bourbon. I naturally will offer him safe conduct under a flag of truce. Unfortunately, considering the circumstances, no armistice will be put in place until the final peace agreement is signed. I hope to see President de Lugo soon. I can assure you, the terms on offer will not be made more generous by keeping me waiting."

Once more, the chancellor paused. She seemed lost in thought for a moment before she nodded to herself and turned to the man who had been silent thus far. "Now, Monsieur Marchand, if you would."

The chief of police looked startled to be called out by name. He sat up straight and had to clear his throat several times before he could speak. "Citizens of Parisee, please remain calm. Obey all orders from the police and from any military authority. This will- this will-"

Tears had begun streaming down his face as he started to talk. He stopped when he was finally overcome and began to sob.

Chancellor Degurechaff looked obviously uncomfortable and unsure of what to do. It was the first time Milly had ever seen her look anything but perfectly composed. The chancellor finally patted Monsieur Marchand on the shoulder and muttered something that sounded like "there, there."

"The Republic is doomed!" Marchand wailed, "God has cursed us for our hubris! We will-"

This time he stopped because the chancellor had slapped him across the back of the head. Her face, which had been showing sympathy, was now set in an irritated expression.

"Pull yourself together," she snapped. "I lost a war once, it's not the end of the world."

Even after the chancellor had opened up to her during her interview, Milly still tended to see her as the invincible public figure who had gone from strength to strength as she ascended to the highest level of political success. Just now, she felt she had caught a glimpse of the young girl who had amassed such an astonishing war record over eight years of constant combat, only for her country to throw in the towel. It was startling to think that the chancellor had once felt so keenly the same pain she was currently inflicting on the Francois Republic.

Monsieur Marchand stared at the chancellor, taken aback by both her harsh attitude and the assault on his person. "But, what can we do?"

"You can take the defeat like a man," Chancellor Degurechaff said. She still sounded irritated, though less so than before. "You're in for a rough year or two, but so what? Life goes on."

Optimism in even the darkest hour was perhaps Chancellor Degurechaff's defining characteristic. When her country had been at its lowest point, months after losing the Great War, the chancellor had already begun planning its rise from the ashes. In the face of someone who pursued such audacious goals with such a positive attitude, it felt downright sinful to cling to feelings of self-doubt and defeatism. Milly found herself looking back on her own grumbling after the Frankish government had restricted overseas communication with a bit of shame.

"Life goes on. Yes, life goes on!" Monsieur Marchand said. He had lost his aura of despair as he studied the chancellor with new eyes. Coming back to himself, he returned his focus to the microphone. "Ladies and gentlemen, life will continue after the war. We can rebuild. But to do that, we must continue to live. Today, please go about your daily business. The police will disperse any large public gatherings. Treat this like an ordinary day, and leave the peace negotiations to the government."

"Well said," Chancellor Degurechaff said, giving him a firm pat on the shoulder. "I look forward to meeting with President de Lugo."

With that, she stood and left the room. She wasted no time before finding the helpful brunette.

"Is the recording done?"

The brunette nodded.

"Good. Make sure they play it every half hour."

Satisfied that her orders would be followed, the chancellor led them back outside. With the brunette left behind to manage the radio station, their group had been reduced to Chancellor Degurechaff, Milly, four aerial mages, and Monsieur Marchand.

"Wherever de Lugo ran off to, that message should get to him eventually," the chancellor said, before pausing for a moment to look up at the sky and admire the weather. "Ah, what a beautiful day. Milly, you've flown before, right?"

Milly nodded, puzzled by the question. Surely she knew that Milly had been taken to Germania by dirigible. Before she could say anything, though, she found herself scooped up in a bridal carry and receiving an introduction to magical flight.

For all that the chancellor's movements were smooth and well-practiced, with none of the rattling around that came with powered flight, Milly still found the rapid ascent disconcerting. Judging from the string of Frankish obscenities she heard trailing off behind them, Monsieur Marchand felt the same way. She couldn't spare the man much thought, though. She was more focused on the fact that her life rested on the strength in the arms of a woman who, for all her political power, was both shorter and smaller than she was.

Anything that Milly did to express her displeasure would only exacerbate the danger of the situation. All she could do was closer her eyes and give a silent prayer for a safe and quick journey.

They did indeed arrive at their destination both quickly and safely. Milly knew she should probably credit the chancellor's skills rather than divine intervention, but she wasn't going to quibble. She was just happy to be standing on her own two feet again, however wobbly.

Once she gathered her wits and took a look around, Milly found that they were standing in front of the Palais Bourbon. The beautiful building would ordinarily host the Francois Republic's national assembly, though she had a feeling that there wasn't any government business being conducted at the moment.

The plaza in front of the palace was filled with Germanian armored vehicles. On a second look, Milly amended the observation. Rather than filled, it was more accurate to say that it was ringed by Germanian tanks. From what she could see, the plaza across the Seine had been given a similar treatment. A single tank was parked directly in front of the palace itself in what she could only surmise was a deliberate provocation.

Outside of the ring of tanks, Germanian soldiers were putting sandbags in place to block easy passage between the vehicles. Outside of them, the Pariseean police had set up barricades to ward off the public. The crowds outside hadn't fully dispersed, but they also hadn't grown much since the last time Milly had seen them.

Inside of the ring of tanks, Germanian soldiers were unrolling their bedrolls in the shadow of their vehicles and laying down to sleep. It struck Milly as an odd thing to do first thing in the morning upon entering a hostile city. The chancellor followed her gaze and seemed to sense her thoughts.

"We've been driving most of the night. The men will catch up on their sleep in shifts," Chancellor Degurechaff said. "I'm going to take a nap soon myself. President de Lugo won't be here for a while, so you have time to go file a story without missing any of the action."

"Well, I would..." Milly said, before hesitating. It felt churlish to voice a complaint after the chancellor had done so much for her, but when the women gestured at her to continue Milly decided that she might as well explain the situation. "The government isn't allowing international telegrams or phone calls."

"That's simple enough to solve," the chancellor said, turning to the four aerial mages who had been with them all morning. "Gentlemen! You are to accompany Miss Caldwell and ensure that she is able to communicate with whomever she wants, however she wants."

The four men saluted in response. Milly blinked, not sure what to say.

"Your photographs," the chancellor said, drawing her attention, "can you send them by wire?"

"Not from here," Milly said, shaking her head. "I'd have to send the film back by air, but even if the government allowed the flight, they've taken most of the planes."

"Hmm. Our flying boats should have the range. They had been watching over the Frankish fleet deployment, but they should have some free time now," Chancellor Degurechaff said. "One of these men can ferry your film up to rendezvous with one of them for the delivery. Ah, before that, please feel free to take any photographs you like around here first."

"Thank you," Milly said, before her curiosity finally overcame her sense of courtesy. "You're being awfully helpful."

"I'm a strong proponent of a free press," the chancellor said, before she leaned in and gave her a wink. "Of course, I'm also eager to spread any good news around as quickly as possible."

"Well, thank you," Milly said again. And again, her curiosity got the better of her. "Chancellor, do you really not know where President de Lugo is?"

It seemed obvious that Germania had thoroughly infiltrated Parisee before the war had even started. Otherwise, they wouldn't have been able to drag the city's own police into blocking off the streets in order to make their tank's progress more convenient. If they could pull off something like that, she certainly thought that they should have been able to keep track of the President's movements.

"Ah. Can you keep a secret?" Chancellor Degurechaff asked. Milly nodded. The chancellor gave her a searching look, then turned to the other men around them. "Give us a moment, please."

The four aerial mages stepped out of earshot. Monsieur Marchand seized the opportunity to scurry off and head for the Pariseean police officers, either to see if they needed supervision or simply for the company.

"Now, this is something you can't print," the chancellor said. She took a step closer and spoke quietly. "First of all, there would be a practical problem if we captured de Lugo and forced him to sign at gunpoint."

"That kind of thing, somebody or other would be sure to use it to argue that any peace treaty was invalid," she continued. "The real issue, though, is that I don't want to humiliate the Francois Republic."

Milly cocked her head, not quite sure that she had heard correctly. "You drove a tank through the heart of Parisee."

"Well, certainly I want them to feel our strength and know that they have lost," the chancellor said, "but undue humiliation would be bad for business. After all, I want a lasting peace. That won't be possible if the Frankish people are bent on revenge."

"That's a noble sentiment," Milly said.

It was the first time she had ever heard any kind of leader of a country at war express concerns for the feelings of the other side. Although the impromptu military parade down the Champs-Élysées suggested that the chancellor wouldn't exactly be treating the Franks with kid gloves, it was heartening to discover that she at least didn't harbor any desire in her heart for vengeance.

"Yeah, well, still, don't tell anyone," Chancellor Degurechaff said. If Milly didn't know any better, she might have said the chancellor was embarrassed. "All right, I really do need to take that nap."

With that, the chancellor excused herself and made her way to the tank parked in front of the Palais Bourbon. She hopped up onto the tank's body and laid down. One leg was bent as she braced herself, while the other dangled off the side. She pulled her hat down to cover her face and interlaced her hands behind her head. To all appearances, she fell asleep as soon as she stopped moving.

Milly found her hand drifting to her camera. Yes, she should take a few pictures before she phoned home.