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I’m aware. I was just saying that Myeongseong have a long reign since she died at a young age in OTL, tho there is a chance she could still end up assassinated due to being opposed to China's economic hegemony over Goryeo.
When I suggested the name "myrmidon" for an Angeloi unit, I had the Einsatzgruppen/Einsatzkommandos in mind, but I'm now wondering how the Holocaust would have been conducted in TTL since the concentration camps came later in the war?
I’m aware. I was just saying that Myeongseong have a long reign since she died at a young age in OTL, tho there is a chance she could still end up assassinated due to being opposed to China's economic hegemony over Goryeo.
I was planning on having LKR guy show up at a Nuremberg-style war crimes tribunal just to constantly scream "BOTH SIDES ARE THE SAME!" to everybody for several days before being executed, but with how I set things up, nobody's going to do such a tribunal. Every Jerusalemite leader who hasn't already fled to Japan is either dead or will shortly be executed by Chinese soldiers after being convicted in a kangaroo court. As for Bysandros, I have no plans for him. At some point I was supposed to have killed him off, but I don't remember where I was supposed to do that, so now he just disappeared into the chaos of the collapse. Though it's possible he could have made his way to Japan at some point.
When I suggested the name "myrmidon" for an Angeloi unit, I had the Einsatzgruppen/Einsatzkommandos in mind, but I'm now wondering how the Holocaust would have been conducted in TTL since the concentration camps came later in the war?
Probably the same degree of escalation as happened in OTL, though in the Reich it would have taken more from fascist regimes that the Nazis installed or supported in occupied/allied countries.
Ironically, for a war that Jerusalem started, the Reich and its former allies were the ones that suffered the most from it. India, one of the Reich’s oldest allies, suffered the worst of all. When Jayasimha finally returned to his home after so long in exile, he recognized absolutely nothing.
Dharanagara had fallen to Jerusalem, back when it was still wearing the corpse of the Reich as its disguise, in the war of 2034, and the Crusaders ruled it with an iron fist ever since. Over five years of occupation and battles against Indian troops attempting to take it back in the recent war, the city had been thoroughly devastated. The millions of civilians who were trapped there since 2034 were subjected to Jerusalem’s barbaric depredations, from the “usual” oppression of a military occupation to scientific experiments carried out by “curious” Jerusalemite researchers to cruel games played by bored soldiers. As the war turned against Jerusalem, its cruelty towards India only intensified, and even though Jerusalem itself began to fall apart, the Crusaders here devoted every bit of their energy towards eradicating all things Indian. Even as surviving Indian troops gained ground and Jerusalem’s occupation forces suffered irreplaceable losses, the Crusaders continued their suicidal and maniacal obsession with finishing the Purification of India—the Scouring of India, as Indians called it.
By the time the last Crusader was killed and the Indian flag was raised, there was nothing left of Dharanagara to call it a victory. The ancient Paramara capital had been effectively erased from the map of India. The last efforts of the Crusaders, after razing the entire city to a more thorough extent than had been done in Denmark or Lithuania, was to contaminate the entire metropolitan area with every last biochemical weapon they had in their stockpile, poison the lakes and cisterns, and mine the rubble with land mines containing both conventional explosives and more biochemical weapons which were now constantly set off by hundreds of thousands of refugees who desperately tried to flee this death trap. The total death toll was unknown and constantly rising. Dharanagara was dead, and it likely would never recover while Jayasimha was still alive.
Which was why he was in Kathmandu and not Dharanagara.
Originally a city of less than a million people, its demographics had massively changed over the last several months as many locals were killed in the fighting between Ranjit Ahluwalia’s army and the Paulluist regime that had previously ruled Nepal before being swamped by millions of refugees coming in from uninhabitable India. Civil authority had already been destroyed in the battle, leaving only Ranjit and his officers with the power to maintain order. But he was having trouble sorting everything out due to the large number of new arrivals.
“At our last estimate, the new population of Kathmandu stands at roughly two million, though at the current rate that is likely to double by the end of the year.” Ranjit gave his report to Jayasimha and the rest of his cabinet in a small conference room in what was once the royal palace of Nepal. The monarchy had been purged by the Paulluists when they took over, and the survivors had disappeared into the chaos of the war, so they had occupied the palace for the time being. “I don’t think there will be any reinforcements coming.”
“So what we have is what we’re going to get,” Jayasimha said.
“Yes. Every soldier who could have evacuated has already done so.”
“This is all a mess.” Jayasimha shook his head. “I would’ve hoped we’d have at least a part of India we can call home.”
“Do you really want to live in the northern Punjab or Kashmir?” Ranjit said. “Those places are far less developed than Kathmandu, far more open to bandit attacks and Crusader raids, and still have abnormal levels of certain toxins. We can’t risk it.”
“So you’d rather set up shop in an occupied capital of a nation we were just at war with?”
“It’s either that or the end of India itself. Besides, I’ve taken all appropriate measures. We’ll be holding a referendum on Nepal’s status once things are settled down. The remains of the old Paulluist regime are being dismantled, and I’ve ordered my men to not seize any property that isn’t already vacated.”
“That doesn’t put me at ease,” Jayasimha said, pointing at the ceiling, “I don’t feel comfortable taking this palace.”
“We can build you a new one once we have the funds and stability,” Ranjit said.
“That feels just as bad in these times.”
“In these times, your only options are ‘bad’ or ‘worse’. Pick one.”
“We should at least consider the wishes of the people.” It was then that Lakshmi spoke up. She had been patiently listening for most of the meeting. “Both refugee and native. Their concerns must be equally addressed if we want to rebuild India.”
“Most of the Nepali population was wiped out, and there is little left of the government,” Ranjit said, “It would be more logical to focus on the majority's concerns—the refugees.”
“Helping the majority should not come at the expense of the minority,” Lakshmi said, “That is how you get another Jerusalem.”
She winced as she recalled the last few years. Jayasimha found himself looking down at his legs and his beaten up wheelchair. He had been using the same once ever since that one Crusader had crippled him out of pure spite and pettiness. Ranjit’s men informed him that same man had now lost his memory and was now doing penance in the Roman settlement. He didn’t know how to feel about it. Of course he would have wanted him to stand trial for his crimes. He wasn’t alone. There were probably thousands of victims and survivors just like him who wanted to see him brought to justice. But since he lost his memory, would that really bring closure? What would that justice even look like if he didn’t even remember what he did? But on the other hand, was it right to let him effectively walk free? The contradiction ate away at him more than any physical injury could. No. I can’t dwell on that too much. It’s out of my hands anyways. I trust that Willie knows what to do. I’ve got other things to worry about here.
“If we try to help everybody, we’ll run out of resources and end up helping nobody,” Ranjit replied.
“We are Indians!” Lakshmi leaned forward, pounding a fist against the table, “Heirs to Jayasimha I and the Chola! Like it or not, the people here fall under our responsibility too! As the one who will reign over them in the future, they are my people too, and I will not abandon them! Are we clear?”
“Your Highness, as much as I’d like to agree, there are certain realities that will make that difficult.”
“But not impossible?” Jayasimha chimed in. He hadn’t expected Lakshmi to make some good points and join their conversation as forcefully as she did. It reminded him a lot of the stories he had heard of Empress Sita rebuilding India after World War II. We need a new Sita, now more than ever.
“We’ll have to make significant adjustments to the plan. Troops need to be deployed, budgets reallocated to different areas, stockpiles found and used, paperwork filed—”
“So it can be done. Get it done, then.”
As opposed to his stubbornness when talking to Lakshmi, Ranjit immediately folded when talking to the much older and sterner Jayasimha. The general saluted. “As you wish, Your Majesty.”
“And you will afford Princess Lakshmi the same degree of respect you give to me.”
“O-Of course, Your Majesty!”
“Now get on with it. Dismissed.”
Ranjit saluted again and left the room.
“Is this how it’s always going to be?” Lakshmi looked disappointed. “Nobody listening to what I have to offer?”
“You’re still young,” Jayasimha said, “Having been at war for so long, General Ahluwalia just isn’t used to talking to people your age.”
“I had to rely on you to get my plan out there. What happens after you’re gone and I take the throne? What if people still don’t listen to you?”
“Lakshmi…” Jayasimha put a hand on her shoulder. “This is perfectly natural. I was like this when I was your age. So was Sita. She didn’t start out the accomplished and dignified leader that we all remember her as, but she grew into that over time. Just as we’ll grow into our duties and become the leaders that the people count on.”
“Are you sure it isn’t because of…my decision?” Lakshmi looked at her body.
Jayasimha immediately shut that down. “No. The only people who hate your choice are Jerusalem and the traitors who supported them. There may be those among our people who still have…misgivings about it, but I’m sure that they’ll come around once you start ruling. Believe in yourself, and they’ll follow. It was like that for Sita, it was like that for me, and it will be like that for you. I guarantee it.”
Lakshmi nodded. “I…I hope so.”
“India has a long road ahead of it,” Jayasimha said, “I know we can make it to the end, even if I may not be there with everyone else. But I know you can do it in my place, no matter the odds.”
He smiled. “After all, we’re Paramaras—the descendants of Jayasimha I, who did the impossible and united all of India. If he can do it, we can rebuild India. Nothing is off-limits.”
Lakshmi smiled back, her hope restored. “You’re right, Father. Nothing is off-limits.”
Shiraz, Persia
“Set down that couch over there.” Gunduz stood in the middle of the room, giving directions to her vast army of movers. “Careful with those chairs. They’re Saltuk’s favorites—and no, I’m not returning them to whoever controls Baghdad. Especially Orhan. That brat’s getting too ambitious for his own good. Oh, and set that TV up in my room. Hey, that vase is worth way more than your entire company! So don’t—no, hey, hang that painting on the left! No, MY LEFT YOU FRAKKING IDIOT!”
“Ma’am, I think you should take a break.” Shayan appeared from one of the hallways. “I’m sure Shahrokh can take it from here.”
“Shahrokh’s only certified to talk about the damn walls and ceiling,” Gunduz muttered, “I’m the one handling the interior design. I’m the frakking shahbanu, so I must have a well furnished palace! What would it say about the state of this country if I can’t even have that much?” As she said that, she backed down a little bit. “Though I suppose there’s some stuff I can sell off for charity. Wouldn’t do good for my image if I’m the only one living in luxury.”
“Of course. Persia needs the money to rebuild.”
They needed lots of it. After all, that was why they were in Shiraz. That fierce battle that closed out the war in Persia laid waste to most of Isfahan, and the admittedly extreme tactics that Julian and the Ryukyuans employed resulted in most of the old capital being reduced to uninhabitable ruins. It would take many years to clear out all of the rubble, to say nothing of reconstruction. Much of northern Persia was in a similar situation, and their economy was in shambles. She had initially hoped to leverage trade ties with the rest of the Central Asian Confederation—recently renamed to the Khorasan Pact as the old name was an invention of the Reich—but Turkestan and Afghanistan both had suffered horribly due to Pesah epidemics, so the reverse was likely going to happen. She’d have to spend lots of money and resources to keep them stable. If they collapsed to the same degree as the Reich and India did, the resulting warlordism and refugee waves would push the massively weakened Persia past its breaking point.
“Part of that is my fault.” Murad appeared next. “Parviz destroyed everything we built to serve his nationalist ambitions, and I could only go along with it.”
“Stop beating yourself up, old man. It’s getting pathetic.” Gunduz was, frankly, tired of the bit. Looks like he needed some tough love. “This isn’t befitting of someone who nearly usurped this country from me. You repented for it by turning yourself in and fighting alongside me, and you will continue your service to the nation for the rest of your life. That is penance enough.”
“She’s right,” Shayan said, “We’ve got a lot of work ahead of us. You’ll have plenty of time for redemption if you don’t think you’ve earned it by now.”
“I…I suppose that’s true.” Murad sighed. “But there are some things that can’t be undone, right?”
Gunduz remembered the hateful words she had said many weeks ago. The words that she had been forced to say because of what Parviz did but after he had been deposed, because she had been given little choice. Because of that, the Romans had been permanently expelled from Persia, where they had lived in exile for five years, before they became scapegoated and demonized as terrorists and invaders by the Persian people. Even now she could not rescind that order she gave upholding Murad’s expulsion decree. It would cause social chaos and undermine the authority of the monarchy and the civilian government, and no Roman would reasonably accept it or trust her word. So there was no point in doing so. The most she could do was bury it and pretend this had always happened. It wasn’t the best solution, but the only other option was to double down again.
“Yes” she said, “I’d know just as well as you do.”
“We’ll all live with our sins until the day we die,” Murad said, “I only hope that Ahura Mazda recognizes the goodness we have done since then.”
“Me too,” Gunduz said.
After their talk, Gunduz returned to her room and slumped into her bed with a sigh. It was another tiring day for her. The move into the palace was going well, despite her earlier exasperation, and their work in the rest of Shiraz to convert it into a long-term capital that could accommodate thousands of refugees from across Persia, Central Asia, and the new occupation zones in the former Roman Middle East, was proceeding as planned. Tomorrow she would have to give a speech to the people about that progress. She didn’t particularly like the what she had to say, though she knew it was to keep morale up.
“This year, three thousand years of rivalry between Persia and the Greco-Roman civilization finally comes to an end, and against all odds we have emerged triumphant over the forces of Angra Mainyu, thanks to the guidance of Zoroaster and our own righteousness…”
True, it was a victory by any measure. Persian troops were currently marching through the ruins of Constantinople—a feat that no outside enemy had ever accomplished in the city’s long history. Persian occupation zones had been established over much of the Roman Middle East. Persia had survived the war almost intact, despite the state of Isfahan. Persia could arguably be called a winner. But that was fleeting. The Artesh was overextended. Much of it had been pulled back by Julian to carry out his strategy in the homeland. Another group had mutinied and joined the Romans. The rest were scattered across the Middle East, and when Chinese troops hopped up the Red Sea coast and raised the azure dragon flag over Alexandria, Aden, Mecca, Medina, and Jeddah, she had no choice but to order her troops to march forward and secure as much former Roman territory as they could before China did. The Persian lion and sun was raised over the rubble where the old Great Palace and Hagia Sophia once were just a day before a Chinese carrier strike group reached Constantinople. Fortunately, that was enough for the Chinese to turn back to Egypt. Han didn’t bother to land troops in Athens or the rest of Hellas—apparently Alexandria was his limit and Constantinople purely a prestige project. If anything, Persia got the short end of the stick, because now Gunduz had to sort out a Persia that was over double the size it was before the war—almost as large as it had been under Darius the Great 2500 years ago. Her own people, as drunk on success as they were despite everything around them being bombed to Duzakh, would not let her give up those “conquests.”
“Damnit…this isn’t a victory at all. It’s a defeat spread out over many years.”
The coming famine would be brutal, and with her resources spread out over too large an area, she would not be able to save everyone. She was already in talks with Mali, Abyssinia, and Nsorala to buy their soybean exports. Soybeans could be grown and harvested in about three to four months, and if they started planting them now, they could harvest it in time for winter. But even then, they wouldn’t have enough time to feed everyone. Millions would still starve. Though if Gunduz prioritized delivering the soybeans to her own people in Persia proper, she might be able to save as many Persians as possible, while also letting the famine kill off troublemakers in the occupied regions and reduce their populations to acceptable levels. As soon as she thought that, she gasped. What the frak am I thinking? Letting non-Persians die to save Persians again, after everything we just went through? What have I become? But the logical part of her mind told her there was no other way. If she spready out the soybeans across every part of her empire, it would only make the Persians suffer just as much as everybody else, and then the country would collapse as Persians turned against her. But if the Persians were fed well enough, then her own rule would be secured, and the occupied regions would be weakened by comparison. No! I can’t go along with it! I need to find another way!
But Gunduz wasn’t sure she could. Just as before, she felt like she had been forced onto a path she couldn’t get away from. And she feared the consequences that awaited her.
The Kujawy region
The flight from the Astrakhan region was quiet and safe. Although bands of Crusaders and warlords still roamed much of Europe, their power was generally limited to the ground, allowing planes to fly over them completely unscathed. That allowed Angelica, Tania, and August to get to Kujawy with the bare minimum of a military escort.
As they descended through the clouds, the lands of Kujawy were clearly visible below. So this is where my ancestor came from, August thought. Raised in Italy, he hadn’t been to Kujawy before. It looked more rustic than he expected, or maybe that was because of Jerusalem, the war, and the collapse causing massive deurbanization. The town they were heading to had a few piles of smoke rising from certain neighborhoods, and he could see wooden palisades set up along its outer limits. Almost like a medieval settlement. Like we traveled back in time to Saint Gunhilda’s life.
They landed at the airfield that had previously been used by Persia, Ryukyu, and the anti-Moria rebels to coordinate their resources. Leaving the plane, they were greeted by troops wearing a variety of uniforms from all over Europe, including quite a few ex-Crusader ones. A Middle Eastern-looking lady stepped forward.
“Hello,” Binar said, “Welcome to Kujawy.”
“Thanks for having us,” August said, putting on the poise of a nobleman.
“Please, right this way.” Binar gestured to a waiting car.
After a short drive, Angelica, Tania, and August entered Lev’s office. The former Rusian general was working at his desk, reviewing reports on food shipments. Frederica, Sigmund, Binar, and Ludolf sat next to him, while Angelica, Tania, and August sat opposite him after shaking hands.
“Hello,” Lev said, “It’s nice to meet you all in person, ahead of next month’s big event.”
“Likewise,” Tania replied in perfect Rusian, “I’m glad to see that some part of my ancestral homeland was preserved under your leadership.”
“Same with my own,” August said.
“Oh, you flatter me,” Lev said, “It’s been a group effort from the start. Without my allies, we would have fallen to Jerusalem’s onslaught. Though not all of us made it out.”
August noticed Lev looking sadly at a photo of Boris and his Lithuanian troops.
“I see a Roman and a Rusian representative, but what about the Lithuanians?” According to the intel they gathered, the largest pre-war demographics in Kujawy were, in order from largest to smallest, the Lithuanians, Rusians, and populations formerly considering themselves Romans. However, Boris Bradziunas’ death left a power vacuum among the Lithuanian troops.
“The Lithuanian and Rusian royal families will be arriving soon,” Lev said, “Both are still held in high regard by their populations and seen as victims of Jerusalem. That should put to rest any concerns of a power imbalance.”
“But will the people here accept them?” August asked. “They were gone for most of the war.”
“That remains to be seen,” Frederica said, “But it’s our best shot for now. We don’t have anyone else who could step up to be a leader without reverting to warlordism. Especially since many of the talented will be heading off to the Roman settlement soon.”
Kujawy had recently entered into an agreement with the Roman settlement, which would provide any Roman or other individual of Kujawy with transportation to the settlement. The terms placed a higher priority on skilled individuals, in both practical and academic disciplines, which inadvertently resulted in a brain drain out of Kujawy. Still, there were many capable people who had chosen to stay in Kujawy, despite the program. Their work would be made much harder now.
“I promise you, we will be sending more aid as soon as we can,” Tania said, “Our yeast production is still getting started, but you will get much of the first batch.”
“Thank you for the offer, but don’t give us special treatment,” Frederica said, “There are millions elsewhere in the former Reich, the Eimericas, and Central Asia who need it more.”
“The former Reich is too dangerous for us, the Eimericas are out of reach for now, and Persia has stubbornly refused all of our aid,” Angelica said, “So really you’re our only trade partner.”
“Alternatively, we can try relocating all of you to the settlement area,” Tania suggested, “We have the aircraft to get everyone there by the end of the year, and we’ve got plenty of land that we’re developing at a breakneck speed. It would be far from any warlords or disease-filled regions, so it would make things much easier for you.”
“Thanks again, but no thanks.” Lev shook his head. “Those of us who want to leave—” He looked at Frederica and Sigmund and then at Binar and Ludolf. “—have already chosen to do so. The rest of us have chosen to make a new life here—a new country as well. I hope you understand that.”
Tania nodded quietly. “Yes, of course. We’ll give you all the support you need to do so.”
“I’d appreciate that.”
---
After the meeting, Binar knocked on the door to Ludolf’s room. “Hey, Ludolf. Are you ready?”
“Almost done,” Ludolf said, “Hey, can you come in and help me with the last bit of packing?”
“Sure.” Binar was still trying to get used to Ludolf’s more peaceful demeanor. Ever since the war came to an end, he had made every effort to stop being a soldier. But the issue was he didn’t know what to do, so as a result he had been bouncing between jobs every couple days. Everybody appreciated his enthusiasm, but it was getting a little annoying.
She helped put the last of his few clothes into the suitcase, then began sorting out his documents. “Identification papers? Check. Map? Check. Notebook? Check. Wallet? Check.”
“Thanks.” Ludolf put the documents into a pocket inside the suitcase and closed it up.
Binar noticed the guns placed on a nearby desk—the Jerusalem-issued assault rifle and pistol he had used for the last few years, along with their magazines, stocks, sights, bayonets, and other add-ons. “You’re not taking that?”
“Someone here will find better use for them, now that the biometric locks have been turned off,” Ludolf said, “It’ll cause problems in the settlement too. They aren’t keen on Jerusalemites, or people who look like them.”
“That much is true,” Binar said, “Have you given any thought of what you’ll do in the settlement?”
“I was hoping I’d find an answer before the plane arrived. But I’m still lost.” He shook his head. “It’s just like how I joined the Crusaders, really. I was lost and didn’t know what to do.”
He was an ordinary Roman man one could have found everywhere back in the day, lost and without aim as flawed economic policies cost them jobs, the cost of living went up, and traditional manufacturing jobs dried up due to international outsourcing. With nowhere else to go, they turned to the Shepherds’ Brotherhood, which eventually turned them into Crusaders. They would do anything for Jerusalem because it gave them a purpose, something to strive for in life. Now that Ludolf was freed of Jerusalem, he had returned to how he was before Jerusalem’s rise, for better or for worse.
But this time, Binar would make sure he didn’t go down the same path.
“I hear Angelica’s setting up a bakery in the yeast production plant,” Binar said, “She’s looking for chefs and cooks.”
Ludolf gave her a puzzled expression. “Me? A baker?”
Binar shrugged. “I mean, not like you have any better ideas, right?”
“I know, I know, but I don’t really see myself as a baker.”
“You won’t know until you try,” Binar said, “Come on, give it a shot. It can’t hurt, can it?”
Ludolf looked at his suitcase, and then at the guns he would be leaving behind. “I suppose it can’t hurt to try. I’ll ask Angelica on the flight.”
“Alright! We did it!” She grabbed Ludolf’s hands and bounced up and down in excitement.
“What’s with all this?” Ludolf asked, confused. “You’re acting as if we won something.”
“We did.” Binar was genuinely relieved and excited. She wasn’t exaggerating any of that even though it had been years since she last felt this way. “We won your future back.”
---
That evening, Frederica finished packing her things. Not that she had much. After so long on the run, the most she had were her clothes and medicine for Sigmund’s injuries, as well as some personal effects. Wait, where did that last one go? She first looked in her suitcase, but it wasn’t there.
“Damnit!” She desperately searched the entire room. Pillows and blankets and cushions flew. Desk drawers loudly rolled open. Chairs and tables creaked and screeched against the wood floor. “Where did it fall to?!”
“Frederica?” Sigmund entered the room. “You okay?”
“I can’t find it!” Frederica’s heart rate had spiked, and her eyes were wide with fear. She hadn’t felt this way since her lunar lander crashed all those years ago. But this was just as bad.
“It?”
“You know what it is, Sigmund!” Frederica snapped.
Sigmund did know what it was. He had made it for her in college, as a Christmas gift. And yet…
“We don’t have time. The plane’s leaving in an hour.”
“Surely they can wait a few minutes. We’re no longer at war. There’s no rush anymore.”
“Still, holding up the whole plane because of that?”
“They’ll understand.” Frederica continued searching. “Wilhelmina will understand.”
Fortunately, it didn’t take long for her to find it. “Ah, there it is!” She held it up triumphantly. “Now we can leave for our new home without regrets!”
“So are you going to put that in the suitcase?” Sigmund asked.
Frederica shook her head and closed the suitcase. “Nah. I’m holding it in my hands the whole way. Good luck, you know?”
At first, she hadn’t thought there would be any benefits to the collapse of post-industrial society, but she supposed not having to deal with airport security checks would be one of them. Might as well make use of it before society rebuilt itself to get back to that level, though she didn’t know how long it would take.
“Suit yourself,” Sigmund said, “But you’ve got only yourself to blame if it breaks.”
They left the room for the last time. After a short walk, they arrived at the airport. The only security checks came from soldiers watching a gate leading onto the runway itself. By then, the sun had disappeared below the horizon, and the moon was rising in the darkening sky.
“I wonder what the settlement’s like,” Sigmund said, “Thea made so many grandiose claims about what she was doing there lately, but can she really deliver on all of them?”
“Guess we’ll have to see,” Frederica said, “That’s why we’re going, right? To help her out?”
“Admittedly it sounds great. ‘We will restore the values and ideals of Roman society as embodied by Saint Gunhilda, to preserve them for future generations of humanity.’ But I’m not sure if we can achieve that in this broken world.”
“We won’t know until we try,” Frederica replied, “We have all the time in the world now. Plenty of time to find an answer.”
As they approached the plane, Sigmund looked back at the town. “An answer for just the settlement, or the entire world?”
“If you still have your misgivings, we can come back here anytime to deliver aid and teach people what we’ve learned,” Frederica said, “Not like we’ll be locked away like under Jerusalem.”
“True.” They reached the plane, and Sigmund got onto the steps first. “Anyways, we should really get going.”
“You go on ahead first. I’ve got to sort out some thoughts first.”
“Now, of all times?”
“It’ll be quick, Sigmund. Only need a few seconds.”
Sigmund nodded. “Alright, then.” He climbed inside.
She was the only one on the tarmac, ignoring the people inside the plane. Tuning out the hum of the idle engines, she looked up at the darkening sky, then at the shining Moon whose size and brightness commanded her attention, then at the small red light of Mars barely visible behind it. She stretched out her hand skywards, holding up her Palla bobblehead as if letting it take flight into the stars. Once, she had been up there, before being cruelly cast back down to earth before her job was done. Now the people responsible for that were gone, and there was no longer anything stopping her from pursuing her dream.
“Someday, I’m going to fly again. And I’m going to fly further than anyone has ever flown before.”
Reykjavik, Iceland - September 1
Here, on this volcanic island in the middle of the Atlantic, Nordenland survived. What remained of the government and military relocated here when it became clear that the mainland was both lost to Jerusalem and largely uninhabitable. Formerly a minor fishing town exporting cod to both the Reich and the Nordenlander mainland, Reykjavik now took in thousands of refugees. Its population in September 2039 now surged to roughly three times what it was before the war. As Clara walked through the streets, she saw constant reminders of this. Entire extended families were panhandling from cardboard boxes, with the lucky ones residing in small tents stolen from abandoned camping equipment stores. Those who had arrived early enough to be assigned housing were crammed into small apartment blocks. The streets were almost as crowded as Tingvalla's were.
Fortunately, that would change soon. The Roman settlement was offering to take in many of Reykjavik’s refugee population, particularly those with learned skills. The Nordenlander government had already signed a preliminary treaty, hoping to alleviate the strain on Reykjavik’s social services and establish friendly relations that could lead to economic benefits down the line. Clara and Sylvia were among the first to register for the program. Reykjavik hadn’t matched up to their expectations. The population issues and collapsed economy meant they couldn’t achieve their old dream of owning a new home. But perhaps the Roman settlement could help with that.
“Come on, keep the line moving!” Soldiers in strange Roman-style uniforms waved them along. “We want to get everybody’s papers processed in a timely manner. Please be ready to show your papers.”
There were only so many flights that the settlement and Nordenland could organize every day. They couldn’t even use the old airport, as it had been bombed to pieces by Jerusalem. Luckily, Jerusalem’s bombs had missed the runway itself, so planes could still use it. However, everything had to be handled manually. There were no gates, no air traffic controller, no baggage check-in. The only security measures were these soldiers, guarding a gate in a metal chain-link fence. Although they arrived early in the morning, there was already a long line. This was their third attempt to get on a flight to the settlement. The previous two times, they had lined up but were turned away due to running out of room.
“Hey, doggie!” Eleven-year-old Oliver pointed at a guard dog. “He’s so cool!”
Clara noticed it seemed to be a bomb-sniffing dog, much like the ones she used to work with. It didn’t look that intimidating, and it was well-trained, as it didn’t bark or bare its teeth. As they passed by, it dutifully sniffed their bags, then continued on to the people behind them.
“Why does this feel so familiar?” Sylvia said.
“Yeah, it really does,” Clara said.
“I hope it doesn’t end the same way, though.”
That would be a shame, but not entirely unexpected.
After a few minutes, they reached the head of the line. With a clear view of the gate, Clara saw the runway behind it and a waiting plane ready to take them to their new home. But before they could board it, there was one more soldier in their way. He politely held out his hand.
“Do you have your documents?” he asked.
Clara handed her and Sylvia’s papers to the soldier. There were a lot of them—their application for this resettlement program, the Nordenlander IDs they had been using most recently, their work and residency permits, Oliver’s school records and birth certificate, their old Roman passports and drivers’ licenses, Clara’s Athanatoi badge, and Clara and Sylvia’s marriage certificate. The soldier took his time looking through them, carefully making sure every detail was in place.
“How old is your son?” He looked at Oliver.
“Eleven,” Clara said.
“I see. Must have been hard raising him in these times.”
“It has,” Sylvia said.
“Don’t worry, things should be getting easier for you.”
“What do you mean?”
“The Roman settlement prioritizes those with useful skills and cultural significance, sure. We just admitted a guþi who carried a sapling from the Sacred Tree of Uppsala. But we also prioritize children and their parents. By the way, good job providing your son’s birth certificate and your marriage certificate. That must have been hard to hold onto over the years. So you’re in luck.”
After clearing that up, he looked at the adults’ papers. “So it says here you had Roman citizenship?”
“Yes,” Clara said.
“And you have Nordenlander citizenship?” He asked Sylvia.
“Yes.”
“Okay…” The soldier consulted a paper notebook. “That shouldn’t be an issue. You’ll be allowed to travel together, since you’re a family.”
“Really?” Sylvia said.
The soldier looked at her weirdly. “Of course you are. You have the papers to prove it, and Nordenlander law backs you up. So does the settlement.”
“Gods, the last time this happened to us, it started nightmare that would never end…” Sylvia couldn’t believe what she was hearing.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” the soldier replied, “I know Jerusalem was cruel, but we aren’t Jerusalem. We won’t separate families, no matter what.”
Tears flowed from Sylvia’s eyes, and she buried herself in Clara’s shoulder. “Thank goodness! The nightmare’s over!”
The soldier tapped his earpiece to accept a call. “Hello? Yes. Uh-huh. Got it. Understood.” He turned to the other two. “Please come through the gate, but we’d like you to stay off to the left.”
“Why?” Clara asked.
“Your papers got flagged in the system. Someone would like to talk to you.”
Sylvia’s heart dropped, and her eyes widened. She wrapped her hands around Oliver protectively. “No! Not again!”
The soldier patiently held up his hands. “Calm down. You haven’t done anything wrong. Somebody just wants to double-check a few details.”
“I don’t want to miss the flight,” Clara said.
“You won’t. It’s not going anywhere. We’re not leaving you behind.”
“How long do we have to wait?” Sylvia asked.
“Not at all!” a familiar voice said.
Clara gasped when she saw Angelica approaching, waving casually.
“Hey, Clara,” Angelica said, “Been a while, huh?”
“What are you doing here, Angelica?!” Clara spluttered.
Angelica took out a dusty and tattered photograph of Sylvia and Oliver sitting in a living room. “I’m here for that damn house tour! Even though it was probably nuked a while ago.”
Clara stared at her for two seconds, trying to process everything. Then she laughed out loud.
“You actually remembered!” she said. “Even though it doesn’t mean anything anymore!”
“Why wouldn’t I?” Angelica said. “It kept me going all this time. Speaking of which…that’s a nice haircut you got. Though now that I’ve seen it, I think you look better with long hair.”
“I agree,” Sylvia said.
Clara became self-conscious of her hair and twirled a strand in her hand. “Yeah, you’re right.”
“Anyways…” Angelica pointed at the plane. “We’re all waiting for you.”
“Really?” Clara said.
“You may have lost your house in Oslo, but we can get you a new one in the settlement. We’ve got plenty of room, and Thea’s got plenty of resources. I don’t know how she’s funding the whole thing, but money’s no issue…hopefully.”
“You sure?”
Angelica grinned. “We’re not separating you again. Not on my watch.”
More tears ran down Sylvia’s cheek. “Then what are we waiting for? Let’s go!”
Clara gave Sylvia a reassuring hug. “Alright, then let’s go.”
They took Oliver’s hands and followed Angelica into the plane.
Bielefeld, Westphalia - September 2
When Tania arrived in the town of Bielefeld, she was surprised by its state. While many of the neighboring towns had been devastated during the collapse or by warlords in the current period of post-Jerusalem anarchy, Bielefeld looked perfectly intact, with little damage. If not for the makeshift barricades and wooden palisades set up at the town limits, she could have thought it had been frozen in time since 2029—an average Roman town one could find anywhere back in the day. She didn’t know how it had managed to survive like this for so long. Maybe it was because it had absolutely nothing of value to any would-be conqueror.
Whatever. She didn’t feel like wasting time on a question she didn't know how to answer. She had already taken a big detour coming all the way out here. There was no reason to be here. Well, she did have one, but it wasn’t anything that the settlement had asked of her. She had already cashed in quite a lot of favors to get a plane for her pet project. Then again, the town’s state would make her work a lot easier.
After landing her small plane at Bielefeld’s airstrip and getting her papers processed, she took a bus to the town hall. If this town had miraculously survived the war intact, then its records were probably also intact, which would save her a lot of time.
The bus gradually passed through the suburbs into downtown, and people got on and off on their way to work, paying for their fare with Roman coins. They crowded around her and took their seats, some taking out a book to read. Nobody said a word, aside from some teenagers in the back chatting about the latest gossip. It all felt normal. But to Tania, who had been at war for many years, “normal” was now “abnormal.” She couldn’t process how normal everything was here. Why didn’t they get bombed or attacked or slaughtered by Jerusalem? Why didn’t the warlords who overran every other surrounding town not come after Bielefeld? Why did they pretend there was no war at all? Shouldn’t they suffer like everybody else? No. She shook that thought out of her head. I can’t keep thinking like this. If they survived when nobody else did, that’s something to celebrate. We should help them keep surviving.
“Next stop: Town Hall.” The bus arrived at the town hall. It was an old building, probably from the late Imperial Century judging by its architecture, more reminiscent of a castle than a modern office. After getting off the bus, she entered through the heavy front doors and approached the main desk.
“Excuse me.” She reached into her pocket and took out some dog tags. “I’m looking for the individual on these dog tags.”
The secretary nodded. “Lost family in the war?”
So they weren’t totally ignorant about the war. “A friend. He asked me to deliver his dog tags back to his family.”
“I see. Let me check then…” The secretary typed the information on the dog tags into his computer. “Alright, Max Mustermann…date of birth, May 18, 2017…military identification number…huh?” He suddenly stopped typing and stared at his screen. “Strange. Let me try again.” He typed in a few more keystrokes, then shook his head. “Again?” Same response.
“Is there something wrong?” Tania asked.
“Actually, yes,” the secretary said, “The identification number you provided is valid and associated with someone of that name. From the standpoint of the military database, he’s real.”
“But?” Tania suddenly felt a chill go down her spine.
“We have no records of anybody named Max Mustermann born on May 18, 2017. None at all, with no signs of tampering.”
“Impossible!” Tania said. “Maybe the date of birth is wrong. Perhaps he lied about his age.”
The secretary typed on the computer some more. “I just ran a check for anybody with that name. Nothing in the entire database.”
“That can’t be.” Tania’s memories couldn’t be wrong. She knew she was in that town, where she met that soldier trapped in a hell beyond all comprehension, who had given her his dog tags and asked her to get it to his family. She knew he was real. She wasn’t lying to herself…was she? “Max Mustermann is real.”
“Not according to our records,” the secretary said, “There has never been anybody by that name in our town. Maybe he lied about his name too?”
“No, his name was definitely Max Mustermann, and I know he was from Bielefeld,” Tania said, “Yet you’re telling me he doesn’t exist?”
“That’s what it looks like.”
Tania couldn’t believe what she was hearing. It was unthinkable, incomprehensible, that someone she had seen with ehr own eyes would straight up not exist. The dog tag sitting on the counter before her was proof he had existed, and she knew what she had seen in that town. Yet the evidence on the computer was as equally real. It was a contradiction, a paradox. That chilling feeling going down her spine continued to intensify as she tried to process what she was seeing now…and realizing just how much danger she was in back then.
What really happened back there, and can It happen again?
---
In case people are still confused, Nordenland is the new name for Scandinavia.
I have changed everything that happened in Delhi in previous chapters to now be in Dharanagara, except for Banda Ahluwalia’s last battle, which is still Delhi. I can’t find a screenshot right now, but the reason I had all those refugees in Kathmandu is because it ended up with at least 8 million pops in-game by 2050. In comparison, this chapter’s outline made a note that Livonia’s population is around 3.21 million pops in 2039. I remember that many older capitals had their populations reduced to 1-2 million, and Yavdi has a comparable if not smaller population than Livonia.
"Max Mustermann" is the closest I could get to the most generic German name possible, equivalent to "John Smith." His date of birth was chosen to be the day I started NWO. Bielefeld, of course, is a reference to the meme.
She had initially hoped to leverage trade ties with the rest of the Central Asian Confederation—recently renamed to the Khorasan Pact as the old name was an invention of the Reich—but Turkestan and Afghanistan both had suffered horribly due to Pesah epidemics, so the reverse was likely going to happen.
True, it was a victory by any measure. Persian troops were currently marching through the ruins of Constantinople—a feat that no outside enemy had ever accomplished in the city’s long history. Persian occupation zones had been established over much of the Roman Middle East. Persia had survived the war almost intact, despite the state of Isfahan. Persia could arguably be called a winner. But that was fleeting. The Artesh was overextended. Much of it had been pulled back by Julian to carry out his strategy in the homeland. Another group had mutinied and joined the Romans. The rest were scattered across the Middle East, and when Chinese troops hopped up the Red Sea coast and raised the azure dragon flag over Alexandria, Aden, Mecca, Medina, and Jeddah, she had no choice but to order her troops to march forward and secure as much former Roman territory as they could before China did. The Persian lion and sun was raised over the rubble where the old Great Palace and Hagia Sophia once were just a day before a Chinese carrier strike group reached Constantinople. Fortunately, that was enough for the Chinese to turn back to Egypt. Han didn’t bother to land troops in Athens or the rest of Hellas—apparently Alexandria was his limit and Constantinople purely a prestige project. If anything, Persia got the short end of the stick, because now Gunduz had to sort out a Persia that was over double the size it was before the war—almost as large as it had been under Darius the Great 2500 years ago. Her own people, as drunk on success as they were despite everything around them being bombed to Duzakh, would not let her give up those “conquests.”
“I can’t find it!” Frederica’s heart rate had spiked, and her eyes were wide with fear. She hadn’t felt this way since her lunar lander crashed all those years ago. But this was just as bad.
“It?”
“You know what it is, Sigmund!” Frederica snapped.
Sigmund did know what it was. He had made it for her in college, as a Christmas gift. And yet…
“We don’t have time. The plane’s leaving in an hour.”
She was the only one on the tarmac, ignoring the people inside the plane. Tuning out the hum of the idle engines, she looked up at the darkening sky, then at the shining Moon whose size and brightness commanded her attention, then at the small red light of Mars barely visible behind it. She stretched out her hand skywards, holding up her Palla bobblehead as if letting it take flight into the stars. Once, she had been up there, before being cruelly cast back down to earth before her job was done. Now the people responsible for that were gone, and there was no longer anything stopping her from pursuing her dream.
She was the only one on the tarmac, ignoring the people inside the plane. Tuning out the hum of the idle engines, she looked up at the darkening sky, then at the shining Moon whose size and brightness commanded her attention, then at the small red light of Mars barely visible behind it. She stretched out her hand skywards, holding up her Palla bobblehead as if letting it take flight into the stars. Once, she had been up there, before being cruelly cast back down to earth before her job was done. Now the people responsible for that were gone, and there was no longer anything stopping her from pursuing her dream.
I know that this is a reference to the aforementioned Stellaris part of the story coming up soon in the near future but I also wonder if it is also a reference to the "A Sol of Ends and Beginnings" mini-arc or the greater Annionaverse in general?
When Tania arrived in the town of Bielefeld, she was surprised by its state. While many of the neighboring towns had been devastated during the collapse or by warlords in the current period of post-Jerusalem anarchy, Bielefeld looked perfectly intact, with little damage. If not for the makeshift barricades and wooden palisades set up at the town limits, she could have thought it had been frozen in time since 2029—an average Roman town one could find anywhere back in the day. She didn’t know how it had managed to survive like this for so long. Maybe it was because it had absolutely nothing of value to any would-be conqueror.
Whatever. She didn’t feel like wasting time on a question she didn't know how to answer. She had already taken a big detour coming all the way out here. There was no reason to be here. Well, she did have one, but it wasn’t anything that the settlement had asked of her. She had already cashed in quite a lot of favors to get a plane for her pet project. Then again, the town’s state would make her work a lot easier.
After landing her small plane at Bielefeld’s airstrip and getting her papers processed, she took a bus to the town hall. If this town had miraculously survived the war intact, then its records were probably also intact, which would save her a lot of time.
The bus gradually passed through the suburbs into downtown, and people got on and off on their way to work, paying for their fare with Roman coins. They crowded around her and took their seats, some taking out a book to read. Nobody said a word, aside from some teenagers in the back chatting about the latest gossip. It all felt normal. But to Tania, who had been at war for many years, “normal” was now “abnormal.” She couldn’t process how normal everything was here. Why didn’t they get bombed or attacked or slaughtered by Jerusalem? Why didn’t the warlords who overran every other surrounding town not come after Bielefeld? Why did they pretend there was no war at all? Shouldn’t they suffer like everybody else? No. She shook that thought out of her head. I can’t keep thinking like this. If they survived when nobody else did, that’s something to celebrate. We should help them keep surviving.
“Next stop: Town Hall.” The bus arrived at the town hall. It was an old building, probably from the late Imperial Century judging by its architecture, more reminiscent of a castle than a modern office. After getting off the bus, she entered through the heavy front doors and approached the main desk.
“Excuse me.” She reached into her pocket and took out some dog tags. “I’m looking for the individual on these dog tags.”
The secretary nodded. “Lost family in the war?”
So they weren’t totally ignorant about the war. “A friend. He asked me to deliver his dog tags back to his family.”
“I see. Let me check then…” The secretary typed the information on the dog tags into his computer. “Alright, Max Mustermann…date of birth, May 18, 2017…military identification number…huh?” He suddenly stopped typing and stared at his screen. “Strange. Let me try again.” He typed in a few more keystrokes, then shook his head. “Again?” Same response.
“Is there something wrong?” Tania asked.
“Actually, yes,” the secretary said, “The identification number you provided is valid and associated with someone of that name. From the standpoint of the military database, he’s real.”
“But?” Tania suddenly felt a chill go down her spine.
“We have no records of anybody named Max Mustermann born on May 18, 2017. None at all, with no signs of tampering.”
“Impossible!” Tania said. “Maybe the date of birth is wrong. Perhaps he lied about his age.”
The secretary typed on the computer some more. “I just ran a check for anybody with that name. Nothing in the entire database.”
“That can’t be.” Tania’s memories couldn’t be wrong. She knew she was in that town, where she met that soldier trapped in a hell beyond all comprehension, who had given her his dog tags and asked her to get it to his family. She knew he was real. She wasn’t lying to herself…was she? “Max Mustermann is real.”
“Not according to our records,” the secretary said, “There has never been anybody by that name in our town. Maybe he lied about his name too?”
“No, his name was definitely Max Mustermann, and I know he was from Bielefeld,” Tania said, “Yet you’re telling me he doesn’t exist?”
“That’s what it looks like.”
Tania couldn’t believe what she was hearing. It was unthinkable, incomprehensible, that someone she had seen with ehr own eyes would straight up not exist. The dog tag sitting on the counter before her was proof he had existed, and she knew what she had seen in that town. Yet the evidence on the computer was as equally real. It was a contradiction, a paradox. That chilling feeling going down her spine continued to intensify as she tried to process what she was seeing now…and realizing just how much danger she was in back then.
What really happened back there, and can It happen again?
I know that this is most likely based off of the Bielefeld meme but I also wonder if this is a reference to that one town in Mesopotamia earlier in the Committee arc in were there were Crusaders frozen in place as if by some otherworldly force (i.e. the Worm)?
No, this is a normal development that happens with the progression of the story. It’s still the CAC until 2039, when it becomes the Khorasan Pact. If it was a retcon, I’d just call it that to begin with and let you know in the commentary.
I tried working on a world map a few times last year but gave up because figuring out the state of Europe and North Eimerica was a complete nightmare. At this point I’ll probably just forgo borders and give those continents a “COMPLETE ANARCHY” label for at least the next few decades.
I know that this is a reference to the aforementioned Stellaris part of the story coming up soon in the near future but I also wonder if it is also a reference to the "A Sol of Ends and Beginnings" mini-arc or the greater Annionaverse in general?
I know that this is most likely based off of the Bielefeld meme but I also wonder if this is a reference to that one town in Mesopotamia earlier in the Committee arc in were there were Crusaders frozen in place as if by some otherworldly force (i.e. the Worm)?
but it may or may not have exactly 0 pops in-game (I may have gotten it mixed up with my other 0 pop provinces caused by the unintended population decline)
No, this is a normal development that happens with the progression of the story. It’s still the CAC until 2039, when it becomes the Khorasan Pact. If it was a retcon, I’d just call it that to begin with and let you know in the commentary.
I looked up some other historical names in the process. A shame that I already used Nusantara for "Indonesia" as it could have been applied to the entire region with sufficient in-universe justification. But I'm keeping it as is.
The word "Nusantara" is a mix of nusa ("islands") from Old Javanese and antara ("in between") from Sanskrit. I could translate it into Thai and Malay, since the Thai and Malay states were at the political and geographical center of 20th-21st century Southeast Asia, with influences from all three major powers. That gives me the Thai ระหว่าง (Rah̄ẁāng, "between") and Malay tanah ("land"), or "Tanahrawang." Since this is a compound word from two languages, I don't know how it translates into other languages. Another idea I previously had was that the bloc has Sanskrit, Chinese, and Greek names that are all equally official and used depending on the cultural region, but that might be a bit complicated.
I'll consider it when I finally get to drawing that map.
I tried working on a world map a few times last year but gave up because figuring out the state of Europe and North Eimerica was a complete nightmare. At this point I’ll probably just forgo borders and give those continents a “COMPLETE ANARCHY” label for at least the next few decades.
Fair enough, but I am curios what new states will emerge out of this chaos. I suggested an Anglo-Saxon state in Anatolia and Taurica in PMs, but I doubt the Persians and Yavidains will leave those regions anytime soon, not when Gunduz might a page out of the British and Soviet books (see the 1943 Bengal famine, Holodomor, and Irish Potato famine) and Yavdi and Rusia are in the states they are.
Also going off the above update, I wonder how much of Mesopotamia Tabriz controls, I assume not all of it since that would mean the Persian empire is split in half.
What do mean by that since we definitely saw him in that Mesopotiamia ghost town? If you mean where he came from, I wonder if Max have been pulled from the post Rapture Annionaverse or a parallel Hohenzollernverse?
Anyways, I assume Gunduz doesn't know about the Sampo. Regardless, I imagine the people of Astrakhan wouldn't like it if she let Romans starve to death, especially not Samir and Wilhelmina. Also I wonder where Gunduz' dislike of Orhan comes from? Maybe from the actions of his cabinet, Tabriz allying with Han, and some ingrained casual islamophobia since she's conservative about the monarchy and didn't return stuff stolen by Saltuk.
Fair enough, but I am curios what new states will emerge out of this chaos. I suggested an Anglo-Saxon state in Anatolia and Taurica in PMs, but I doubt the Persians and Yavidains will leave those regions anytime soon, not when Gunduz might a page out of the British and Soviet books (see the 1943 Bengal famine, Holodomor, and Irish Potato famine) and Yavdi and Rusia are in the states they are.
Also going off the above update, I wonder how much of Mesopotamia Tabriz controls, I assume not all of it since that would mean the Persian empire is split in half.
What do mean by that since we definitely saw him in that Mesopotiamia ghost town? If you mean where he came from, I wonder if Max have been pulled from the post Rapture Annionaverse or a parallel Hohenzollernverse?
He could have been a Crusader trapped in a hell of the Worm's making, an alternate universe Crusader, an Annionaverse/Khitanverse/TESB soldier put in Crusader gear by Worm shenanigans, or not even human to begin with.
Anyways, I assume Gunduz doesn't know about the Sampo. Regardless, I imagine the people of Astrakhan wouldn't like it if she let Romans starve to death, especially not Samir and Wilhelmina. Also I wonder where Gunduz' dislike of Orhan comes from? Maybe from the actions of his cabinet, Tabriz allying with Han, and some ingrained casual islamophobia since she's conservative about the monarchy and didn't return stuff stolen by Saltuk.
Gunduz just knows that there's a new Roman settlement in the Astrakhan area that's taking in far more refugees than they reasonably should. There's definitely an emerging rift between her and the Romans, because the Persian government and people won't let her take anything other than the harshest and most hostile stance against the Romans, so she's forced to become an enemy in their eyes. Her dislike of Orhan comes from him carving out a new state in the ashes of the old Reich, which she still privately holds in high regard and then immediately turning hostile against her by siding with China in its final invasion. Sure, I suppose there are also religious tensions involved, since Gunduz and modern Persian society inherited a watered down version of Saltuk's and Furuzan's Islamophobia and the Persian nationalist narrative revolves around a "reconquista" by Zoroastrians against Muslim invaders to restore the glory of the Sassanids. On the other hand, Orhan is also forced by his ministers onto a hardline and pro-China path, so he creates his nationalist narrative as one of opposition against Christianity and Zoroastrianism, a restoration of a true and pure Islam, and avenging the collapse of the caliphates and the larger ummah (by restoring Islam to Persia and the Middle East).
Baltasbokštas/Białowieska, on the former Roman-Rusian border - September 6
The final treaty ending the war was about to be signed. Han Xianyu ccouldn’t resist picking the most ironic spot—a certain small hunting lodge in an old-growth forest on the old border. The Baltasbokštas Forest was known as the last place in Europe where wild European bison still lived, protected from hunting by the Lithuanian monarchy as populations elsewhere were hunted and poached to extinction. In human history, this particular lodge used to be frequented by the Lithuanian monarchs and high-ranking nobles until World War I, when Rusia and then the UVR took over the area and assigned it to a constituent volost, geared towards military purposes. During World War II, an Angeloi commander used this lodge as his base of operations, and in the following battles that established the UVR’s domination over much of Central and Eastern Europe, it was largely destroyed and left abandoned, then further demolished to expand a nearby military base. What was left was used as a secondary residence by a Party official. After World War III, it was again left abandoned, with only the bare minimum of maintenance done by local park rangers. But this hunting lodge, despite its neglect, still took on an outsize importance in the histories of the surrounding countries.
After all, this was where the treaties ending World War III and dissolving the UVR took place.
“…we are just moments away from history in the making…”
“…expected to arrive shortly…”
“…an end to the greatest conflict of our times…”
“…struggle that has changed the course of our future…”
“…destiny of all humanity is to be shaped here, once again…”
Soldiers from the Chinese Empire, the Caliphate of Tabriz, and the Japanese National Republic (as neutral observers) stood at the doorways and along the hall. Chinese flags were hung everywhere they possibly could. A few spots were left over for Tabrizi flags, as well those of assorted other countries that had aligned with China in the weeks since the first ceasefire. China and its allies would be dictating the peace talks, while other countries—notably Japan, Ryukyu, Nsorala, Abyssinia, Mali, India, Persia, and the Roman settlement—sent observers. It was expected that China would recognize all territorial changes by every surviving country and the independence of many breakaway regimes with sufficient legitimacy and stability, as long they recognized China’s own territorial gains. Although Princess Wilhelmina had been asked to attend in order to sign the treaty, she had no power to dictate anything. All she could do was sign the end of a country she never got a chance to lead.
Wilhelmina currently sat at a long table in the main hall, surrounded by Chinese flags. A thick stack of papers sat before her, stamped with the seals of the emperor of China—a man who had been dead for weeks now—and Jerusalem’s Holy Regency—clearly intended as an insult to her, since they could have easily found an old pre-2030 seal. She had spent much of her time in the settlement reading the whole document, although she had no say in its provisions. Jerusalem had went and collapsed due to a combination of internal conflicts and outside invasions. Everybody who could have possibly represented Jerusalem had gotten themselves killed and escaped justice that way, aside from a few who were rumored to have escaped to Japan, which refused to extradite them. That meant they had left Wilhelmina to foot the bill for their mess. Well, it could have been worse. She had chosen to do this if it meant keeping Izinchi, Julian, and Gebhard as clean as they could be.
The doors swung open. Two men entered the room and sat at the table. Wilhelmina instantly recognized both of them. One was very obviously Han Xianyu. Even before she saw his face, she could tell it was him from very arrogant walk, his puffed-out chest, and his smugly raised chin. The other was Caliph Orhan of Tabriz, the first of China’s postwar allies and thus giving special treatment over all other Chinese allies. By comparison, he looked more professional and subdued, though that was probably because he couldn’t act in a way that would make Han look bad.
“Morning, ex-princess.” Han flashed his empty popstar smile at her casually leaned back in his chair. “Glad you could make it.”
He was about half an hour late.
“Not like I had a choice,” Wilhelmina replied.
“True, you don’t,” Han said, “You have no right to complain, though. You caused all this. Billions are dead because of you.”
Wilhelmina didn’t let it get to her head. She maintained her calmness, remembering all of the lessons she learned from Olga, Sophie, Gunduz, Jayasimha, and the others. “Regardless, let us put a final end to this war and move on with our lives.”
“You’re no fun,” Han said, “Can’t you at least grovel and beg for mercy?”
“Why should I? While I am signing this treaty, I’m not Jerusalem. Never was, never will be.”
“Then why are you even signing it?” Han loudly stood up, causing murmurs from the observers.
“Because it’s necessary to stop this unnecessary bloodshed and return peace to the world. Even if I do have my personal misgivings about it.”
“You’re very lucky I didn’t include a provision to have you executed for crimes against humanity.”
“You can do that, but you’d only be putting an innocent old woman to death for crimes committed by other people. Not only that, a victim of those crimes too. Do you want that on your conscience?”
“All I want is for the rogue Roman regime to be dismantled and brought to justice. If it means executing you, then so be it.”
“If I must be martyred for the sake of peace, then go ahead. My friends will pick up after I’m gone.” That was right. She wasn’t alone anymore. Even if she did die, she was confident the others could continue her work. That was why they had a Roman settlement, right? They should really come up with a name for it.
Orhan dutifully slid the treaty documents closer to Wilhelmina. “If you have no other objections, Princess Wilhelmina, then sign. Formally end this war and do some good for once in your life.”
“Good?” Wilhelmina laughed. “From how you speak, you’d think I was the one on Jerusalem’s empty throne, not my uncle or his puppetmasters. No, I was always the forgotten child. The geeky daughter of the beloved Elisabeth Alexandra who tragically lost her parents and thus her place in the imperial succession. A woman who could only look on as Elias Anhorn and his cronies gradually took over the Reich, turned it into Jerusalem, and then burned the entire world to the ground in a fit of greed and jealousy. A woman who tried to step up and change things, only to be betrayed by her own allies in Persia and locked away to watch her people suffer again and again. I’ve always tried to do good, but I never could, because nobody would let me. It sounds like an excuse, and I’d understand if you don’t believe me, but take a look at the facts, if you’re still interested in them.”
“Are you trying to absolve the brutal Jerusalem dictatorship?” Orhan demanded.
“Not at all. I’m pointing out that I’ve tried time and again to fight against it and preserve as much of the old Reich as I could, but I was never powerful enough. Opportunists pushed me aside to push their own agendas, then blamed me for ‘not doing enough’ or ‘being part of the problem. That’s why you’re there and I’m here. Oh well.” She shook her head with a hint of melancholy. “I tried, Izinchi and Gebhard tried, Julian tried, Olga tried, and we all failed. Now there’s no going back. The future has no room for the Reich.”
“So you finally acknowledge it.” Han’s empty smile radiated even more smugness. “The Reich was always a failed experiment, doomed to collapse, whereas China is the only country suitable for ruling the world.”
“When did I ever say that?” Wilhelmina replied. “All I said was that the Reich can’t return. I’ve said nothing about China, but if you want to go that way, I strongly suggest you don’t overdose on your own smugness.”
“And why would I do that?”
“Just because the Reich fell does not prove China is superior and will endure,” Wilhelmina said, “It was only two hundred years ago that the rivalry began.”
“And now it’s ended.”
“When Sassanid Persia fell to the first caliphate, it didn’t mean the end of the Roman-Persian wars—it merely took on a new form for the next four hundred years. When the Song-Liao rivalry ended, the Liao were merely replaced by the Jin, and when that rivalry ended, the Jin were in turn replaced by the Mongols. If you want China to continue into the future, you’d do best to remember what happens when victors get complacent.”
Han dismissively waved his hand, hitting Orhan’s face in the process. The caliph said nothing, and Han didn’t notice. “Don’t worry. I know my history, of course. I should, because I write it! Now sign the treaty, ex-princess. I took time out of my busy schedule to end this war, not listen to the pointless monologue of a loser. History’s written by winners, of course.”
“Even if that’s true, there’s no guarantee you’ll always be the winner.” Wilhelmina quickly signed the treaty and slid it to Han’s side. “This war may be over, but consider this a friendly warning from someone who represents but never got to lead a country that as of five seconds ago no longer exists. If you keep going down your current path, eventually China will end up just like the Reich and UVR. Who knows? Maybe you’ll be the next world leader to sit in this chair. And I wonder who will be sitting in your chair when that happens?”
Astrakhan - October 20
Gustav Johansen tapped his fingers patiently. The prison around him was quiet, aside from the occasional sound of clanging steel doors and things shuffling across the concrete floor. He actually welcomed the quietness and boredom. Isfahan was a literal nightmare with guards randomly coming every few hours, even in the middle of the night, to wake him up for sudden interrogation. And that was after he had willingly turned himself in to stop Josh and the rest of his squad. It had been five months since then, and the fair trial he had been promised never happened. The Persians locked him away and threw away the key. At least until the Roman settlement got up and running. Once enough of a society had formed, they had apparently asked for custody of Gustav and other Jerusalemite prisoners from April 2. Shiraz was more than happy to stop spending money on prisoners like him, so he found himself in Astrakhan before he knew it.
But what now?
Did anybody remember what he had done on April 2? Did anybody care enough to plead his case? No, all Gustav wanted now was that fair trial. He didn’t care if he got a death sentence—that was probably the only way he could atone for everything he did. But he wouldn’t get that atonement if he was stuck here. Was it fair that he was still here, trapped in legal limbo, while Josh apparently got to go free? Admittedly, Gustav heard that Josh had lost his memory after a botched surgery to remove his Panopticon, so they couldn’t really put him on trial for something he didn’t remember. I guess we ended up the same after all, huh? Neither of us can properly pay for our crimes. Still, he didn’t know why Wilhelmina did what she did.
There was a loud knock on the door, interrupting Gustav’s contemplation. A “Huh?” slipped out of his mouth. That set everything in motion.
“Yep, that’s him,” came a reply. Seconds later, the door swung open. A middle-aged woman in combat fatigues, sporting an assault rifle, walked in.
“Who are you? What’s going on?” Gustav asked.
The woman stepped forward. “You don’t recognize me?”
“No, why would I?”
The woman sighed. “Has been too long. Maybe you’ll recognize a name: Kurt Moreau?”
Kurt? Although Gustav had fought alongside him for many years, before he was cruelly murdered for not going along with Jerusalem’s madness, he had almost completely forgotten his name. Some friend he was. “You know Kurt?”
“Of course. He’s my brother.”
“…Ruby?” The memories slowly came back to Gustav. He recalled Kurt showing photos of his family a few times during deployments in Mexico and East Africa. But the woman in the photos wasn’t as grizzled, weathered, and scarred as the woman before him. “Ruby Moreau?”
Ruby nodded. “That’s right.”
“I’m so sorry, Ruby.” Gustav looked down in shame. “I let them kill your brother just like that. Not only that, I completely forgot about him since then…I might as well have killed him myself.” He stared at the cracks in the concrete floor, gritting his teeth and letting tears flow. “If you are here to avenge him in place of his long dead killers, then go ahead. It’s what I deserve.”
“What do you mean?” Ruby looked confused. “Why would I?”
“Don’t you want closure?” Gustav said. “His killers are dead. Jerusalem is gone. They’ve escaped justice for good. So I’m your best bet at putting Kurt’s soul to rest.”
“What are you talking about?” Ruby said. “You’re making a lot of assumptions here.”
“I mean, you did barge into my prison cell with a loaded gun. If we were in Jerusalem, I’d already be burning in hell.”
“Stop looking at the floor and shut up.”
“Huh?”
“Cala-te!” Ruby slapped Gustav hard across the cheek.
The older man let out a cry of pained surprise. “What was that for?!”
“I’m not here to listen to your self-deprecation and assumptions of guilt,” Ruby said, “I’m here because there’s something you can still do to atone for your crimes.”
That got Gustav’s attention. “There is?”
“You assume that you can’t find the justice you seek because Jerusalem and its architects are dead. You think everybody who was responsible for that hell is gone. I say you’re wrong. There’s still a way to get justice.”
“How?”
“Not every Jerusalemite died, and not every Jerusalemite seeks repentance like you,” Ruby said, “There are still many roaming the wastelands of the world, preying on the innocent and helpless. They might not even be Jerusalemites but still share their evil spirit. You can still bring them to justice in Kurt’s name.”
That sounded very appealing. But then again, Gustav was getting old. If not for the Crusaders, he would have been out of the military for many years at this point. Could he return to the battlefield?
“I get it, you’re pretty old,” Ruby said.
“Way to put it bluntly.”
“But then again, so am I,” Ruby said, “Me and Billy and a lot of us. But we still find ways to contribute to the cause, and from what I hear, Leyla might help solve that issue soon.”
“Who are you working with?” Gustav asked. “You’re making it sound like this isn’t just you.”
“Oh, it isn’t just me,” Ruby said, “It’s a collaborative effort by the Liberation Legion. We have plans to go all over the world, taking out would-be tyrants and other oppressors of the people wherever we find them. And I think you’d be a great member.”
“The Liberation Legion, huh?” He remembered that name from history classes long ago. It was some elite military unit with a storied past going back to at least the Maximist Wars. Had Ruby’s group appropriated the name? “Sounds interesting.”
“The decision to join is ultimately yours, Gustav,” Ruby said, “We won’t force you. That is one rule of our organization—all who join must do so of their own accord.”
Gustav hesitated for a moment as he weighed his options. Should he continue waiting in this cell, waiting for a trial that might never come? Waiting for a death sentence if it did come? Waiting for Wilhelmina to remember him and make up his mind? Would he get his closure that way? Would that be sufficient atonement? And would that make up for all of the suffering he caused? What would Kurt think about that fate? Actually, was that what Kurt would have wanted? No, probably not. Maybe there was some merit in following Ruby. Sure, he might be getting old, but here Ruby had presented an opportunity he wouldn’t get again. He could stop others from suffering as he, Kurt, and their victims did. He could stop another Jerusalem from rising. That was how he would get justice for Kurt.
“Yes. I’ll join the Liberation Legion.”
---
Leyla set down a suitcase on the table. Samir, Gulichi, Billy, Igre, and Börte crowded around it.
“This was quite difficult to obtain,” Leyla said.
“Surely it couldn’t have been more difficult than swiping something from a laboratory or one of those ruins you mentioned?” Gulichi said.
“That’s what I thought at first,” Leyla said, “But somehow, the security was ridiculously tough. The ruins were sealed off. Thea had guards posted at the labs. And every time I approached the labs, she appeared to meet me. It was as if she knew I was coming. Ended up having to go to one of those spires that came out of the grounds. Security was less tight there. But somehow Thea noticed, despite not being in the area, so this is all we’re going to get.”
“Guess we’re not getting invites, then,” Billy said.
“Not that we would have time to attend,” Igre said.
“Can we see what’s inside?” Samir asked.
Leyla opened the suitcase. Inside was what appeared to be a pile of silver dust. All five of them stared at the pile for a few quiet seconds.
“…that’s it?” Gulichi finally said. “That’s what Thea was so paranoid about?”
“I mean, this thing is the reason why the settlement is expanding as rapidly as it has,” Leyla said, “You wouldn’t believe your eyes. It looks nothing like it did last month. I fear what it’ll look like by the end of the year.”
“Yet they still don’t have a name for it,” Börte said, “Must be quite indecisive despite all that rapid progress being made.”
“So how do we make use of this stuff?” Gulichi said.
“We’ll have to do some experimentation,” Leyla said, “But from what I’ve seen, we shouldn’t have to worry too much about malfunctions. The original designers seemed to have included a lot of safety measures in case something breaks. We should be fine to use them.”
“Use them how?” Börte said.
“I guess we’ll have to find out,” Leyla said.
Igre nodded. “If this will help the mission, I’m all for it.”
“It definitely will, once we get the hang of it,” Leyla said, “I have a feeling that this is going to change everything. Our work will be made much easier if we can harness even a fraction of the power that I saw being used for construction.”
“Glad to hear it,” Billy said, “Those would-be tyrants are already quivering in their boots.”
“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Igre said, “Before we think ten steps ahead, let’s plan out the first and second steps.”
“Right, right. We should focus on making this stuff work. Maybe I can use it for my exosuit or the Kamenuku we still have.”
“Good place to start,” Samir said, “After that, we should start picking out targets.”
“Why not start with the settlement?” Igre suggested. “I’m really concerned with how things are proceeding there. Lots of potential for a tyrant to emerge. This technology falling into their hands…I worry a lot about what they could do with it.”
“I say we wait and see,” Samir said, “We don’t know for sure if a tyrant will appear in the settlement. We should not profile people and anticipate crimes before they happen. Only when they start showing traits of tyranny and oppression should we act.”
“Yeah, I guess that’s fair.”
“Though let’s keep an eye on them. Thea’s been acting strange the last few weeks, ever since she stumbled across those ruins.”
“And that princess…” Börte said. “Our new recruit did say that something was off about her and that we should be wary of her future development.”
“‘Beware…her…’” Samir recalled. “I’ll make a note.”
“In the meantime, let’s turn our attention to the wastelands and the surviving nations, like Persia,” Börte said, “There will be no shortage of opportunistic and ambitious tyrants seeking new victims to enslave and oppress.”
We’ll have plenty of targets there,” Gulichi said.
“But we shouldn’t get complacent or overconfident,” Igre said, “The other thing we want to achieve is getting our name out there. We can’t do that if we neutralize our targets the wrong way. And we should publish the first volume of Samir’s recollections soon.”
“I need some more time to edit and add one last thing,” Samir said, “Can’t just end it abruptly.”
“But I can’t wait!” Gulichi said. “The entire world must know the name of the Liberation Legion, defenders of freedom and champions of the helpless everywhere!”
“You sound like the hero of some old superhero cartoon,” Leyla said.
“I do not! Do you really think we get Saturday morning cartoons in the middle of nowhere?”
“That is entirely possible.”
“Hey, Billy! Back me up here!”
“Sorry, Gulichi, but even we got Saturday morning cartoons in a town like Perpignan in the 1970s.”
“Samir!”
Samir ignored Gulichi’s pleas and stared at the gleaming blade of the black scimitar. He had been arrying it with him at all times ever since he killed Otso Bielke with it. A few flecks of dried blood from that assassination were still present. He had decided to keep it slightly dirty, so as to remind himself of the lives it took and his sworn duty. Still, the blade was still shiny enough to reflect his face behind the blood, as if it was his own head that was covered in it. Yet another reminder of the bloodstained path he and his allies had chosen, one they would walk to the very end, wherever that would be.
I’ll cut down anybody who stands in our way, if they stand against the cause of freedom, even if they were once our allies. This I swear as Samir Tetchu, a Liberator.
---
This was supposed to be the last chapter in the batch, but the next segment got too big and took on a very different tone, so I split it off into its own chapter.
I switched Belavezha over to using the Polish name and a Lithuanian one I came up with that is somewhat backed up in the Lithuanian version of the relevant Wikipedia pages. Much of the older lore surrounding this place has been updated to reflect the new UVR/Rusia rework.
Cala-te - Occitan for “shut up” according to Google Translate.
A couple typos here, as I'm pretty sure "his mind" is supposed to be "her mind" if it’s referring to Wilhelmina and not Gustav. Other than that I don't see any other issues. Great call back to "Belavezha", nice to see things go full circle there. Now I’m wondering if the next story or gameplay chapter will be called the “history of the beginning” or something. Surprised to see Gustav become a Jerusalemite hunter here.
The annexation of Merv was a high priority for these fascists due to its spiritual significance. During the Cold War, the post-fascist government still maintained claims on Merv because of the discovery of natural gas in the area.
The next few decades see the Seljuks gradually making gains against the Ghaznavids, though the major ones are Yunus’ conquests of Khiva, Merv, and Balkh and pledges of fealty from the lords of the Fergana Valley.
I wonder how important Merv would be to the rise of fascism and WW2, since I've recently learned about Fiume/Carnaro, and in old lore you had India and Persia demand the return of Persian territoryDanzig style? This new research makes me consider shooting down some of these retcons below below for the most part and having the escalation to war happen in a similar manner to old lore, safe for the unstable big Ghaznavid Empire after Samarkand to remain. Any ideas?
Turkestan was more of the Poland in that it was the first to be attacked in World War II, while the "Paksthana" (most likely will be deleted as explained below) was the "1938 Austria." I thinkI'll change it so that initially Turkestan has Afghanistan and the "Paksthana" parts, but it soon enters a civil war between Turks, Afghans, Indians, and equalists which draws in all of its neighbors. But then that would mean I have to get the Reich involved in the war some other way. Maybe I'll just have the Angeloi rebel first, then the rest of the Axis come to support the Angeloi.
Surely the Turkestani would see the level of foreign involvement as the OTL Spanish Civil War? Regardless, how about having the Turkestani civil war be like the Chinese civil war in that it breaks out before the Rasas rise to power, then India annexing land, Crimea and Manchuria style, and propping up Rasa sympathizers is what forces the other factions to form a united front, then a full scale invasion is what kicks WW2. I could see the Angeloi fighting the loyalists for a while and getting help from the “Axis” (or whatever name we go with) could help with reworking the defections to make more sense narrative wise tho.
A couple typos here, as I'm pretty sure "his mind" is supposed to be "her mind" if its referring to Wilhelmina and not Gustav. Other than that I don't see any other issues. Great call back to "Belavezha", nice to see things go full circle there. Surprised to see Gustav become a Jerusalemite hunter here.
I wonder how important Merv would be to the rise of fascism and WW2, since I've recently learned about Fiume/Carnaro, and in old lore you had India and Persia demand the return of Persian territoryDanzig style? This new research makes me consider shooting down some of these retcons below below for the most part and having the escalation to war happen in a similar manner to old lore, safe for the unstable big Ghaznavid Empire after Samarkand to remain. Any ideas?
Also, the next chapter is done, but I’ll hold off on posting it so more people can comment on this one first. In the meantime, I found a way to reconcile at least the Armenian Apostolic Church with the Eastern Orthodox Church. Unfortunately, that’s one of the few Oriental Orthodox and Church of the East churches I can bring into the Imperial Orthodox fold. The Copts would probably keep their separate church, the Ethiopians maintain their own church for political reasons, and maybe the Assyrians and some Church of the East churches in Roman or Indian territory enter into communion with Constantinople while those in the rest of Asia and North Eimerica don’t.
since Gunduz and modern Persian society inherited a watered down version of Saltuk's and Furuzan's Islamophobia and the Persian nationalist narrative revolves around a "reconquista" by Zoroastrians against Muslim invaders to restore the glory of the Sassanids.
The final treaty ending the war was about to be signed. Han Xianyu ccouldn’t resist picking the most ironic spot—a certain small hunting lodge in an old-growth forest on the old border. The Baltasbokštas Forest was known as the last place in Europe where wild European bison still lived, protected from hunting by the Lithuanian monarchy as populations elsewhere were hunted and poached to extinction. In human history, this particular lodge used to be frequented by the Lithuanian monarchs and high-ranking nobles until World War I, when Rusia and then the UVR took over the area and assigned it to a constituent volost, geared towards military purposes. During World War II, an Angeloi commander used this lodge as his base of operations, and in the following battles that established the UVR’s domination over much of Central and Eastern Europe, it was largely destroyed and left abandoned, then further demolished to expand a nearby military base. What was left was used as a secondary residence by a Party official. After World War III, it was again left abandoned, with only the bare minimum of maintenance done by local park rangers. But this hunting lodge, despite its neglect, still took on an outsize importance in the histories of the surrounding countries.
Since the loge in the Baltasbokstas Forest became residence by party officials under the UVR I wonder if it is TTL's version of Foros in Crimea which had the vacation home of many Soviet leaders?
“Oh, it isn’t just me,” Ruby said, “It’s a collaborative effort by the Liberation Legion. We have plans to go all over the world, taking out would-be tyrants and other oppressors of the people wherever we find them. And I think you’d be a great member.”
Since the loge in the Baltasbokstas Forest became residence by party officials under the UVR I wonder if it is TTL's version of Foros in Crimea which had the vacation home of many Soviet leaders?
No, this is in line with the Chinese practice of a dynasty granting the survivors of the previous dynasty noble titles and a small fief to rule over. But I did consider having Catherine being either a Jin or Liao princess or concubine who temporarily usurped power for herself in the same style as Wu Zetian due to the massive territorial gains by the Mexica against the Song under her predecessor, before the Song reasserted power after her death. I'll have to think more about it.
Since most countries in TTL have been politically frozen since the 13th century, why not have Catherine's dynasty stay in power after Mexica conquests discredit the previous dynasty, like what happened with the Goryeo-Joseon transition in real life? Also the idea of keeping or bringing back the Fusang, Abyssinian, and Southeast Asian republics after WW3 is floating around in my mind. As for the Song prince that stayed in China, maybe his descendants ended up in Persia or the Reich and married into the royal families after the Mongol Invasions and Zheng He's expeditions, tho if we go with my Catherine suggestion, perhaps the Ming would prop up his line in Fusang after deposing Catharine's line. So opposition to Chinese colonial rule would be split between natives, equalists, paulluists, democratic-republicans, old Fusang Song, and Catherine's line among other groups.
Anyways, here's some PM thread lore for the convenience of readers here.
Inquisitors would probably be clergy who went through a specialized curriculum, not necessarily in a dedicated school but definitely with close oversight from higher in the hierarchy. I could see the regional branches developing from parishes/bishoprics in one area pooling together their resources and Inquisitors to form a faction within the larger organization, then developing their own schools to further train them. As the Reich triumphs over the supernatural in the late medieval and early modern era (marked by the end of werewolves and vampires as a large and unified demographic, the Apocalypse being averted, and mundaneness being enforced over all areas with Inquisition presence), these schools turn back to theological pursuits and competitions among each other, with studies of magic becoming focused on theory or sports. I suppose that some of them could remain tied to secular universities into the modern era, especially those with their roots in Church schools. There could also be non-Christian Inquisitors and their schools, though they can’t officially use the name because they aren’t Christian. Maybe the few remaining madrasas that the Reich allows covertly train Inquisitors to defend the remaining Roman Muslims (though I imagine their numbers will remain small as I don’t think Islam looks too kindly on sorcery, but then again neither does Christianity), and the restored Sanhedrin in Judea funds its own Inquisitor schools (which could be the in-game Zealots) as a failsafe in case the Christian Inquisition turns on the Jews.
About the secular universities, they’d get their start via funding from either the Church, the monarchy, or local nobility. Hikma would remain sponsored by the Abbasids in name but directly by the throne, being the last remnant of their former empire, while the Al-Nizamiyya of Baghdad was also endowed by Nizam al-Mulk and both the Roman and Persian monarchies as a sign of goodwill. Meanwhile, schools in southern England are endowed by the Archbishop of Canterbury, but the schools in the Cinque Ports, especially Normandy, are fought over between him and French bishops. Of course, schools patronized by one patriarch become aligned with that patriarch, leading to rival academic blocs supporting either Rome or Constantinople. This also applies to schools founded outside the Reich by non-Chacedonian churches, like Abyssinian schools endowed by the Ethiopian church or Church of the East schools in India patronized by sympathetic Paramaras alongside the Buddhist universities.
The Pandidakterion has the most prestige out of all of the Roman schools as the oldest one, being there before all the others (5th century), and thus assumes a role as “first among equals” much like the Patriarch of Constantinople. Naturally, I bet Hikma would try to claim a co-equal status with the Pandidakterion since it dates from the 8th century and would be second oldest, leading to a fierce but cordial academic rivalry that ironically mirrors the Rome vs Constantinople religious struggle. I suppose the restored Law School of Berytus and the Rhetorical School of Gaza would also try to claim co-equal status if not primacy despite having no continuity with their pre-Islamic namesakes and most of their faculty and campuses remaining in Constantinople.
Not sure about specialized schools for psionics or mech pilots yet, though maybe something like Asticassia (Gundam Witch From Mercury) would be there for mech pilots, especially wealthier ones. There could also be something like the Battle and Command Schools from Ender’s Game, where they teach combat in three dimensions and zero gravity (though I haven’t followed the series in years so this is based on the first book).
“Hey, is this thing on?” Magnus was fiddling with the settings for an ancient camcorder from probably thirty years ago. He hadn’t used camcorders since at least as long. But smartphone cameras ate up valuable battery life and memory space way faster. They were still in the middle of setting up the settlement’s electrical grid, so energy conservation was the name of the game. Which meant relearning things from his childhood. “Uh…color and sound check. There’s a red light. Does that mean it’s on? Yeah, I think so. Man, Alexandra’s gonna kill me if this isn’t recording…”
There was a knock on the door. Magnus walked over, but it had already opened. “Too slow!” Alexandra stepped inside. Underneath that tattered history-witnessing trench coat that only she could wear today without being disrespectful, she wore a semi-formal blue dress, a hand-me-down from Alex’s mother. It looked good on her, Magnus admitted. Not too flashy, but not too plain either. Perfect for many occasions.
“You got that camcorder working?” Alexandra asked.
“I…think?” Magnus replied.
“Give me that.” Alexandra took the camcorder and turned it over a couple times. “Yep, that’s it. We’re good to go. Come on in, Thea!”
Thea entered the room. Much like Alexandra’s dress code, the white dress and veil she donned today were also not too flashy or plain—the right mix of appropriate and pragmatic. She was still talking on a phone with one hand and typing something on another phone in her other hand.
“I want security beefed up around the spires,” she said, “I need human personnel to supplement the drones I’ve already stationed there. I’d like Blocks 40 through 60 to be dedicated almost exclusively for educational and research facilities. Prioritize construction on housing in Blocks 14, 39, and 63, since they’re falling short of the benchmarks. Increase nanomachine and materials production in the ruins by 5% to accommodate this. We need that housing ASAP for all of the refugees that will be arriving here—”
“Thea!” Angelica ran in after her. She wore a classy business suit, albeit one a little beaten up. “Please put down the phones!”
“I have a responsibility to make this settlement a success and keep it that way,” Thea said, “You should let me do my work.”
“Even today?!” Angelica said. “Zut alors, We arranged your schedule solely so it’ll be your and Alex’s big day, but you still had to find work to give yourself?!”
“Need to make up for lost time. So much lost time, and time that is yet to come…”
“Mince!”
“You’re not really making any sense,” Magnus noted.
“She’s been like this for a while, Magnus,” Alexandra said, “You’ll get used to it.”
Thea turned to Magnus next, though it was more that she was scanning the room and he happened to be part of that. “I like what you and Joey have done with the place.”
“Eh, it was mostly Joey,” Magnus said, “I only relayed your suggestions to him.”
Joey, originally from a certain town in Normandy that no longer existed, was their chief architect. They’d found him in Astrakhan after Otso Bielke was defeated, and he offered to help draw up city plans for the new Roman settlement, almost free of charge. This building was one of the first to be completed—an interfaith chapel, located in what would become the city center.
“But man, you’re really turning into a workaholic,” Magnus said, “Anybody tell you that today’s your day off?”
“Gee, I never heard that from anybody today, I wonder what could you could possibly be talking about?” Thea laughed back.
Tania ran in through the door, followed by Clara and Sylvia. The blonde-haired sniper wore her Nordenlander Navy dress uniform and admiral’s pips, while Clara and Sylvia wore matching bridesmaids’ dresses.
“Took you long enough to get to where you’re supposed to go,” Tania said, “You were this close to being late.”
“I was sending a message to the president of Nsorala regarding our soybean-vaccine trade agreement. The longer we wait about that, the more people die in North Eimerica. I’m also finalizing the contracts for manufacturing Ryukyu’s next generation technology, since their industrial base is blown to hell and all—”
“Lay off the politics for now, please,” Clara said, “This is your big day. Do you really want to spend it talking about treaties and construction plans?”
“And since when were you this involved in politics?” Angelica said.
“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Thea replied, “Would you rather I be confined to a hospital bed like this past summer?”
“Come on, it’s your big day! And we’re going in circles!” Angelica facepalmed.
Sylvia laughed nervously, most of this going over her head. “I’m just happy we made it here.”
Leaving the women to their work and having nothing else to add to their argument, Magnus quietly slipped out of the room. He made his way to one of the waiting rooms in the rear of the chapel. There, several men in suits had gathered around Alex. He wore a dark purple tuxedo that both looked a little too big for him and from the wrong millennium.
“Uh, nice suit?” Magnus said.
Alex looked up. “Thanks.”
“Where’d you get it?” It wasn’t out of the ordinary to see people wearing old suits today. They had no time, money, or tailors to make new suits at the moment.
“A gift from my grandfather,” Alex said, “He and my aunts made it today.”
“Oh, them?” Magnus was surprised. “I thought you said you couldn’t reach them. Clara said they disappeared after evacuating from Heligoland to Oslo.”
“It really is a miracle, huh?” Alex grinned. “My family’s still alive, despite it all.” The smile quickly went away. “Now if only my parents could have made it too…”
“I…I’m sorry.” Josh sat in the corner, looking down in shame. “It’s all my fault…”
“Damn right it—no, no,” Alex held himself back, “As much as you are still the same in body, you don’t remember what you did. You can’t apologize for something this ‘you’ didn’t do. Damn, I don’t know how to say that.”
Magnus didn’t quite know why Alex chose Josh as one of his groomsmen, after everything that Josh had done and what they literally just said to each other. True, Josh had lost his memory, so from his point of view he was a different “self” from that monster, but it was hard for others, who only saw a single physical individual the whole time with no interruptions, to come to that same conclusion. Perhaps Alex had come to terms with it, but he hadn’t fully accepted it yet.
“This is all new to me, and I wasn’t expecting any of this, but I’ll try my best to learn,” Alex said, “I won’t let the past control my present and future. We’ve had enough hatred and spite and cynicism to last us several generations. It might rub me the wrong way now, but someone’s got to break the cycle and move on. Might as well be me, right?”
“I suppose so,” Magnus said, “But even so, I still don’t know why he’s here.”
“All part of breaking the cycle, right?” Alex said. “I remember when he used to hang out with me and Manfred, before he went off the deep end. He was a different boy back then. That proves it wasn’t his destiny to become the broken man we knew him as.”
“Is that possible, though?” Magnus said. “Nothing’s ever truly forgotten.”
“That’s right, but we can at least give him new context and a new foundation,” Alex said, “If he does remember what he did, the things we’ve shown him may give him a different outlook on his past.”
“That’s not a given, though. What if he completely reverts to how he was earlier this year?”
Alex’s face darkened. “Do you need to ask? We’ll figure it out.”
“Yeah, I hear you.” Magnus shared a knowing nod and looked at Josh, who was still in the corner of his own volition. He decided to lighten the mood again. “So…you excited for today or what?”
“I suppose I’ve been waiting for this day for a while now,” Alex said, “We first talked about it when we were still in Persia, but we didn’t expect things to go the way they did. And now I’m…”
Magnus noticed Alex’s hands were shaking. “You’re nervous.”
“Am not.”
“Yes, you are!”
“The hell I am!”
“Come on, chill out!” Magnus patted Alex on the back with a hearty chuckle. “Even I didn’t shake this much when it was my and Alexandra’s day.”
“Did you two even have a ceremony?”
“A day’s a day, no matter what. You can’t help but look forward with hope and worry. Take it from someone slightly ahead of you on this path.”
“It’s not just that,” Alex said, “It’s about Thea. You ever think she’s…changed since we got here?”
“Man, you shouldn’t be saying this kind of stuff on a day like this,” Magnus replied, “Especially since we’re on camera.”
Alex ignored the camera and kept talking. “How was it, being married to the one who led the betharium project? Someone whose star kept shining brighter and brighter, leaving you always playing catch-up?”
“Way to put me on the spot, Alex.” Magnus shook his head and sighed, racking his brain to find the proper words to commit to posterity. “Look, I love Alexandra because she’s Alexandra, no matter how many accomplishments she racks up. That’s just who she is. She isn’t any different because she’s suddenly the one who discovers a new element. It’s no slight against me or you. I mean, you developed a working reactor design, I worked on the supporting equipment that confirmed the results, and Thea miniaturized it. We all contributed in our own way.”
Was he still being eaten up by that long-ago incident with those internet trolls insisting Alexandra’s achivements were those of Magnus and Alex? Of course, he didn’t agree with those trolls, but maybe seeing Thea do everything she did with the settlement, while he just watched, evoked those painful old memories. Did he feel inadequate? Outdated? Dead weight?
“You're not dead weight, Alex. Just as we all contributed in our own way to the betharium project, you contributed in your own way to everything. Even if Thea’s doing so much right now…you’re right there by her side, always. She’ll be needing you, just as much as you need her. Isn’t that what it means to be married?”
“I…you’re right, Magnus.” Alex nodded furiously, as if to shake the doubt out of his head. “Thanks for that. I’ll keep doing my best, as always. There’s much I can do in my own right.”
“That’s the spirit!” Magnus checked his watch. “Oh, it’s almost time. I’m going to step out now and greet our guests. You gonna be okay?”
“Yes, I’ll be fine,” Alex said.
Magnus left the waiting room. With some time before the ceremony began, he decided to go check on the guests in the reception area. Most of the guests had arrived by now. There were many familiar faces in attendance—people who had been with him ever since their arrival in Persia. Back then, he would never have thought that people like Princess Wilhelmina or Senator—now Chancellor—Ochimeca would be on a first-name basis with him.
Speaking of whom, there was Izinchi at that table over there, along with a few other familiar faces—Gebhard, and Julian. Izinchi and Julian wore suits, while Gebhard wore a Roman dress uniform. All were a bit tattered and dusty, but still dignified in a way.
“Ah, Chancellor,” Magnus said, “Nice to see you.”
“Quenamicatzintli,” Izinchi said.
“Morning, Magnus,” Gebhard said.
“Hey,” Julian said. “How’s it going?”
“It’s…going, I guess,” Magnus replied, “Glad you all could make it.”
“Aye,we wouldnae have missed it fer the world,” Izinchi said.
“We need something to lift our spirits and look forward to,” Gebhard said.
Julian casually sipped a glass of wine, even though it was early in the morning. “Scheduling a wedding on the same day you formally inaugurate the settlement is certainly an efficient use of time, even though I wouldn’t have done that.”
“That was Thea’s plan, not mine,” Magnus replied.
“Regardless, that plan has now focused the eyes of the world on this little corner of the steppe, waiting to see what happens next,” Julian said, “You’ll have an uphill battle ahead of you to prove you still have a place in the world.”
“We all know that,” Magnus said, “Jerusalem utterly destroyed the Reich, and nobody believes in the idea of Romanitas anymore. We need to show the rest of the world that not only do Romans still exist after Jerusalem, but our ideals are still relevant. I hope we can count on your support, Julian.”
Julian gave off his best impression of an evil cackle. “Just who the hell do you think I am? I’m still deputy erzkanzler.”
“Huh, I would’ve thought Kresge would be there.”
“Kresge’s enjoying a nice long retirement,” Izinchi said, “Handed in his resignation letter to me three days ago. Said something along the lines of ‘I’ve had enough craziness fer two lifetimes, so I’m nae about ta gae beck tae politics.’ Honestly, I dinnae blame him.”
“So is he showing up to the wedding?” Gebhard asked.
“He’ll make it,” Magnus said, “He wouldn’t miss it. After all, he did help out Alexandra many times over the years.”
It was no exaggeration to say that without Kresge’s help on a certain X-Division case forty years ago, Alexandra—and by extension the rest of them—wouldn’t be here today. “The girl must live.” Never did figure out the real meaning of that phrase, but I suppose she had to live to get us here.
“Well, I hope you enjoy the ceremony.” After saying his goodbyes, he headed for the next table, where Frederica, Sigmund, August, and Irina sat.
“Hey,” Magnus said, “Nice to see you.”
“Thank you for looking after my daughter.” Irina beamed with a dignified air only someone her age could pull off.
“You should be thanking Angelica for that,” Magnus said, “I just offered her employment.”
“Honestly, I never expected I’d be sitting next to a dynatos and the sister of the Rusian chancellor,” Frederica said.
“You give me too much credit,” Irina said, “Olga was merely my sister.”
“I’m no dynatos anymore,” August said, “Just a humble doctor descended from one. I don’t even have the money to put me in that tax bracket. Not that there’s a dynatos tax bracket or a Schweinfurt familiy at this point.”
“Both will be back soon enough. You know what they say about death and taxes.”
“Can you put in a good word with Thea when she gets around to it?”
“Pretty sure that’s blatant corruption.” Irina crossed her arms. “Honestly, kids these days…my sister would never tolerate this.”
“Kidding.” August lightly laughed. “Why would I do the same thing Theodor did? Not that I’m going to make enough income to benefit from that anytime soon.”
“You could try investing in an industry,” Frederica said, “Hint: space travel.”
“August, ignore my wife,” Sigmund said, “She thinks we’re returning to the Moon in ten years. No, you’re better off investing in medical science. I mean, take a look!”
He stood up and flexed his legs. “Look at what those nanomachines are capable of! This is what we can do now!”
Frederica rolled her eyes. “Sigmund, please. We won’t be going anywhere in space if we keep putting it off! That’s exactly what happened in the 2020s. ‘We need to focus on local matters before turning to space’, and then it never ends! All of the research we put into space exploration will have applications towards daily life on the ground too. Like those medical nanomachines that restored your legs.”
“But can we afford it?” Sigmund said.
“Of course it’ll be expensive, but the long-term gains will be worth the investment, I’m sure of it.”
“I’d rather not bankrupt our little settlement before its economy is even functioning…”
“Sigmund, there’s no reward without risk!”
“When did you get so gung-ho about this?”
“Jerusalem’s no longer around to hold me back, so I’m gonna FLY!” Frederica pumped her fists.
“Quiet down, Frederica, you’re making people stare!” August insisted.
“Please calm down…” Irina tried in vain to end the debate.
While the four of them continued bickering, Magnus decided to sneak away before they could drag him back in. It was about time, too. Checking his watch, he found he had ten minutes before the ceremony began. He set down the camcorder near the altar, positioning it to have a clear view, and then returned to the groomsmens’ waiting room.
Well, then. I suppose that’s enough talking for a while. Let’s face our future now.
---
(X-BT3 - Xenoblade X)
---
The ceremony went off without a hitch. Beautiful organ music echoed through the chapel, which Joey had designed to be the most acoustically optimized it could be. Thea walked down the aisle, escorted by Kresge in place of her father or any family members, as Theodor was currently rotting away in the settlement’s newly built prison. Alex stood at the altar, beaming with pride. Somewhere in the crowd, Walter Humboldt cried tears of joy and had to be physically muffled by Anna and Annie before his rambling could interrupt the ceremony.
Wilhelmina officiated the ceremony, in place of a priest. A priest didn’t really make sense. Not only was Alex Jewish and Thea an agnostic, but Christian priests, no matter the denomination, evoked bad memories of Jerusalem, and that wouldn’t go away for a long time. In their place, Wilhelmina volunteered to use the last of her imperial authority to officiate. Alex and Thea had originally planned for Tania to do so, since she was an admiral, but Tania ultimately deferred to Wilhelmina, in the name of making a statement.
Alex and Thea went through the usual pledging of vows to each other, though the exact wording was different from what Wilhelmina remembered from her own wedding. It didn’t matter—what was important was the intent and the statement being made. As they did so, three kids made their way down the aisle.
“Come on, Ricky, you’re holding me up!” Ilyana fussed.
“Am not!” Friedrich replied.
“Yes you are!” Shirin countered.
“You too?!”
Friedrich stood on the left, Ilyana on the right, and Shirin at the rear. To Alex and Thea they presented a pillow, on which sat two iron wedding rings. While they were made of simple iron, they had been forged from scraps of the Impala, the frames of the dismantled betharium fusion reactors, broken parts of the exosuit Thea used to wear, and loose fragments from the subterranean ruins.
“Do you, Dorothea Tesla, take Alexander Humboldt-Franken as your lawfully wedded husband?” Wilhelmina asked.
“I do,” Thea said, and Alex placed a ring on her finger.
“Do you, Alexander Humboldt-Franken, take Dorothea Tesla as your lawfully wedded wife?”
“Your Majesty, as a reminder, it’s Thea,” Alex said, “Nothing more, nothing less. But yes, I do. No matter how she calls herself.”
Thea put the other ring on his finger.
“Alright, then,” Wilhelmina said, “In my capacity as Kaiserin of the Romans, here and now, I declare you husband and wife. You may now kiss the bride.”
Alex and Thea kissed, to cheers and applause. The organ’s music again echoed through the chapel as the newlyweds walked down the aisle, hand in hand.
I remember when I used to be like that… Wilhelmina reflected. I hope their married life was as joyful as mine…but not cut as short as mine.
“And now it’s time for the bouquet toss!” Thea declared.
That was tantamount to a declaration of war. All unmarried women immediately began stampeding towards the exit, forcing a lot of very confused men to jump out of the way before they were trampled in their excitement. Curious, Wilhelmina left the podium and quiet exited the chapel once the place had cleared up. A large crowd had formed around Alex and Thea, who stood on the steps with their backs to the women impatiently waving their hands and pushing each other aside to get a better position. There were many women she recognized among them.
“The moment of truth!” Angelica said. “Come on, throw it here!”
“No, throw it here!” Tania said. “I need to shut up my mother’s nagging!”
“There’s aye a slip atween cup an lip, Tania,” Izinchi said, “Hey, Thea! I’ll give you a tax cut!”
“OH COME ON!” Frederica wasn’t part of the group, for obvious reasons, but she chimed in. “It’s corruption when I joke about it, but it’s okay if it’s the chancellor?!”
“Aye, right!”
“IS THAT A YES OR NO?!”
The tired men were not used to such ferocity and enthusiasm from the women, so they just watched in confusion and amusement.
“I guess some things never change, nuclear apocalypse or not,” Gebhard said, “I remember when my wife did this at our wedding all those decades ago. Oh, to be young again…”
“Mom always told me an outright fistfight happened when she did it,” Wilhelmina said.
“Ha! I remember watching that on TV,” Gebhard said, “It was a bit entertaining watching all those noblewomen, socialites, politicians, and corporate heiresses tear each other apart over a bouquet.”
“Well, who wouldn’t want to be blessed by the Crown Princess herself?”
“Equalists, I’m sure,” Irina said.
“But seriously…” Sigmund covered his ears to blot out Izinchi’s relentless verbal assault of incomprehensible Scottish insults. “Some of these ladies look—and sound—more bloodthirsty than the goddamn Crusaders we fought.”
“Seriously, everyone’s really getting into it,” Alexandra muttered.
“Damn right we are!” Binar said that to Wilhelmina and immediately walked off. “Hey, Ludolf, stop dawdling and get over here! Check the wind and find me a good spot!”
“On it!” Ludolf said, taking out a computer that would be better used for a sniper’s calculations than a freaking bridal bouquet toss.
“MUAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA, YOU UTTER FOOLS!” Julian cackled, making a villainous pose straight out of a certain old mecha series. “I, JULIAN ANNIONA, HAVE ALREADY CALCULATED THE OPTIMAL SPOT WITH THE CURRENT PARAMETERS! VICTORY IS ALL MINE!”
“…Julian, remind me again what you have between your legs?” Magnus said.
“Hey, Julian! Help your running mate!” Izinchi countered.
“I’m on it!” Julian took it in stride. “Recalculating now! All tasks at hand have been cleared. Your victory is assured, Chancellor!”
“Hey, Annie!” Anna dragged her quiet older sister towards the crowd. “We might as well try it!”
“I have no plans to marry,” Annie deadpanned.
“Come on, don’t be a spoilsport!”
“You have no plans either.”
“Hey, it’s never too late to change them, right? Even if we’re way past our prime.”
“Regardless, don’t expect me to do anything other than stand there.”
“At least try to catch it, will you?!”
“Maybe.”
Once all of them gathered, Thea readied herself.
“Huh, it’s really hard to throw something behind you with this veil in the way…” she observed. “Well, that just makes it all the more exciting, I suppose. Don’t be upset if you don’t get it! One, two…THREE!”
Before Wilhelmina knew it, the bouquet was in the air, and seconds later, it was gone. Meanwhile, the crowd had devolved into a mess of tangled and flailing limbs and high-pitched screams.
“WHERE IS IT?!”
“GIVE IT TO ME!”
“WHERE DID YOU THROW IT?!”
“I WANT IT!”
“IS IT OVER THERE?!”
“JULIAN, YOUR CALCULATIONS ARE RUBBISH!” Izinchi shook a fist.
“WE SHOULD’VE JUST EATEN SOME CRAB PIZZA!” Angelica shouted.
“WHAT IS WITH YOU AND CRAB PIZZA?!”
“Crab pizza, you say?” Anna mentioned. “Nobody here makes it though…”
“Well, they should!” Angelica replied.
“My mother's gonna give me an earful about how I’m doomed to eternal spinsterdom, is he?” Tania muttered sadly.
“No comment,” Irina said.
“I suppose there’s always next time,” Binar said, “I’m in no rush.”
After what felt like an eternity of the most brutal hand-to-hand combat Wilhelmina had seen, the battle died down as everybody realized that nobody had the bouquet. Coming to their senses, they stared at each other’s empty hands with confusion.
“So, uh…” Angelica finally said. “Who actually has the bouquet?”
“Not me,” Binar said.
“Unfortunately not me,” Tania said, “Please don’t tell my brother.”
“Would be kind of awkward if the aunts of the groom got the bouquet, right?” Anna said. “Kind of glad that didn’t happen.”
“I didn’t even want to participate,” Annie deadpanned again.
“Least I dinnae have tae make good on that tax cut,” Izinchi said.
“Wait a minute…” Thea said. “None of you caught it?”
“Sure looks that way,” Angelica said.
“I swear I threw it in your direction, unless the wind suddenly shifted.”
“No, I definitely saw it falling towards us,” Tania said, “And I don’t see it on the ground, which means that—oh.”
“What do you mean—zut alors!” Angelica added.
“No wonder we didn’t see it,” Binar said.
“We were all too bloody tall!” Izinchi said.
Everybody looked down. Ilyana clutched the bouquet tightly and curled up into a ball.
“Ummmmmmmm…did I do something wrong?”
At that moment, everybody’s bloodlust immediately disappeared.
“Ach, nae at all!” Izinchi said. “It’s within yer ken, aye?”
“Yes, Ms. Ochimeca?” Ilyana said.
“Aw, man!” Shirin complained, stomping her feet. “I wanted it!”
“Too bad!” Regaining her confidence, Ilyana puffed out her chest and proudly held up the bouquet. “I won! In your face, everyone!”
“Bested by a child, huh?” Angelica said. “Didn’t see that one coming.”
“Oh, Mat Zemlya, why have you forsaken me?” Tania said. “I don’t want my mother to keep nagging at ms, for ten years at least!”
“Oh, it’s going to be much longer than ten years, at this rate,” Irina said.
“Uh…congratulations, young lady!” Binar patted Ilyana on the head. “I’m sure you’ll have a wonderful future ahead of you!”
“G-G-Girl?!” Shirin tried to hide her own reddening cheeks.
“Yes, I’m just dying to know that too,” Annie continued to deadpan, “Not literally, of course.”
Ilyana was rooted to the ground, frozen like a deer in headlights.
“You okay, Ilyana?” Shirin asked. “Come on, let’s go back to Friedrich and—”
“WHAT DOES HE HAVE ANYTHING TO DO WITH THIS?!” Ilyana shouted, her embarrassment overwritten by anger. “IT’S NOT LIKE I CARE WHAT HE THINKS ABOUT—”
She cut herself off as she made eye contact with Friedrich, who had similarly reddened. The women quickly noticed and snickered to themselves.
“We wish you the best of luck, Ilyana!”
“AAAAAAIIIIIIIIIIIIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!”
Wilhelmina couldn’t help but laugh. “You know, I think that bouquet ended up right where it was supposed to go. I can’t remember the last time we had such a fun time.”
“That must have been so long ago,” Gebhard said, “Before the war, before the Red Christmas and the Bloody Tuesday, before Elias Anhorn, before the Sentinel scandal happened…”
The ex-princess, who had finally embraced that title as a matter of fact, instead of as an insult, smiled to the old general and everybody else around her.
“What a perfect way to end off this wedding ceremony,” she said, “The perfect way to mark an end to this long and dark night. For once, we can look to the future with hope and excitement, just as we used to.”
Now the rest of the crowd had tuned in to Wilhelmina’s improvised speech. She didn’t realize it until she was already in the middle of it. Yet she didn’t falter. Maybe the her of nine years ago might have stammered and stepped away, but not the her of today. She had grown so much since then, met so many people, learned so many things, and become a new person. She had come so far since she was that naive princess. Now she knew what her duty was, and she knew how to do it.
“I’m not a princess,” indeed, she thought, looking at Enonon tied to her waist. Her still functional left hand rested on its hilt, as if to channel the legacy of all of her ancestors who once wielded it. And then…
“You’ve done well,” Sophie said, “It appears my work here is done.”
“Where will you go?” Wilhelmina said.
“Not far, really. You can always call upon me whenever you need someone to chat with.
---
“By the way, Alex.” Just as Diana had foreseen, Wilhelmina drew the crowd’s attention away from her and Alex. This was her chance. She took out Diana’s notebook.
“Thea, I thought I told you we’re not doing work today,” Alex said with a sigh, “Did you forget?”
Thea had been extremely workaholic ever since her legs were healed and construction began on the Roman settlement. It had gotten to the point where Alex and the others were getting concerned for her mental wellbeing. But the medical diagnosis from the nanomachines—which she had managed to wirelessly connect to her computer, a major breakthrough in harnessing this ancient technology for modern uses—told her she was perfectly fine. Unless the ancients also had little idea how to diagnose mental health issues, in which case she should probably speak with one of the therapists who recently arrived. After all, this settlement was supposed to preserve humanity’s knowledge against the oncoming darkness, so why not use it?
Preserve humanity’s knowledge against the coming darkness… Yes, at first glance that meant preserving it in the face of global societal collapse and the hegemony of authoritarian China and technofascist Japan, but Diana’s notes suggested there was another “darkness” aside from them. A reason which required Joey to draw up the city plans in a certain way. But that was something to handle another day. She was getting sidetracked again.
“No, this isn’t work, I promise,” Thea said, “Your mother insisted on waiting until now.”
“This again?” Alex raised an eyebrow. “What did she say this time?”
“See for yourself.” Thea handed the book to him.
“‘My dear son’—” Alex gasped. He looked at Thea. “Is this what I think it is?”
Thea smiled. “It is.”
Alex waved over Walter, Annie, Anna, Angelica, Tania, and Irina. “Hey, this concerns you too.”
“What’s this about?” Angelica said.
“That book…” Annie said.
“Looks like this day’s not done with its surprises yet,” Anna said.
“Interesting,” Irina said.
Walter noticed one of the signatures at the bottom of the page. “So my careless son was nice enough to leave a parting gift, did he?”
Alex turned back to the book and began reading.
“My dear son,” Diana said, “I am writing to you from the evening of December 31, 2029. Tomorrow, I will be killed in what will become known as Bloody Tuesday, yet despite that knowledge, I will be powerless to avoid my fate. I regret that I won’t be there for you or Thea in the coming years. I regret that I won’t be able to do something about Jerusalem, despite being one of those who brought down Sentinel. And while this pales in comparison to the duties I will never be able to carry out, I regret that I won’t be there at your wedding today. Fate is fickle indeed. Yet the same knowledge that cursed me isn’t absolute. The very fact that you are reading these words proves that. While it may look like the future is set in stone, in truth you can write in the margins. You can plan around what isn’t written. So I’ve done that to be present with you today, if not in person then in words and spirit. And not only that…”
“Hey,” Anders said, “It’s me, Anders. Been a long time, Alex. Di tells me you’ve grown into quite the spitting image of me since I last saw you. Unfortunately, I can’t see you myself, but I’ll take Di’s word for it. Anyways, I can’t believe my little boy’s getting married already. Though I suppose it’s also a long time coming—all the way back to that basketball way back when, but you guys also ran out the clock! You two were dating for a while, and your mom and I were wondering when you’d finally propose.”
“Anders!” Diana said.
“I kid, I kid. Listen, Alex. The ten years between my now and your now must have been hard. Now you’ve reached the end of the tunnel and emerged from the darkness. But don’t get complacent, like I did. Don’t believe it’s all over, even if you think you’re doing good. Someone once told me that the road to hell is paved with good intentions, and you’re living in the hell my good intentions created 24 years ago—14 years ago from my point of view. It seems that every time someone declares the end of history, history always shows it has something more to give. I’d know that better than anyone.
But don't let yourselves be discouraged. You’ve done a lot of good. Most importantly, you’ve survived this long. You made it out of the tunnel. There is much that’s still to come, I’m sure. Di won’t tell me all the details, but I won’t press it. There’s a time and place for everything, I suppose. But I have faith that you’ll make it through whatever the future throws at you, as long as you and Thea have each other. So please look out for each other, will you?”
“Of course, Dad,” Alex said.
“I promise,” Thea said.
“Annie, Anna, Dad—I’m so glad. Keep on going, will you? I won’t be there with you, but I know there’s plenty of life left in you three. Keep on living, for my sake.”
“Anders, you fool…” Walter wiped away tears with the sleeve of his tuxedo. “Why did you wait until now to call me that?”
“Why didn’t you say this when you were alive?” Anna said.
“He always was the cryptic one,” Annie said.
“Pot, meet kettle.”
Alex continued reading.
“My daughter Alexandra, and my protege Angelica…” Angela said. “I want to say you two have grown much since we last saw each other, but I can’t see you. I’m sure you have, though.”
“Mom?!” Alexandra said.
“Agent Hansen?” Angelica said.
“I don’t have all the details about why I’m not with you, but I’m sure I went down making sure you were safe. I’m so sorry I couldn’t be with you after that. I know the times must be rough. But just as Anders said, what’s important is you survived, and you’re here now. Alexandra, I hope you haven’t stopped your research. I know how much it means to you, and your work will pave the way for many things to come. It may take time for the results to appear, but believe in yourself and your work. Eventually, the world will change, thanks to your efforts. I’ll be looking down from Heaven to see what world that will be. Remember, Alexandra: you must live.”
“Of course, Mom,” Alexandra said.
“Angelica, don’t be disheartened by the setbacks you faced over the last ten years. You’ve now overcome them, and although there will be more in the future, I am sure you will overcome them just as you did the previous ones. Go forward, Angelica, and carry the spirit of our fallen comrades. You and Clara are the last of the Athanatoi and X-Division. Our legacy is yours now.”
“I will, ma’am.” Angelica weakly but proudly saluted, holding back tears.
Alex continued reading.
“Tania, my niece,” Olga said, “And Irina, my sister. Thanks for hanging in there. Honestly, I don’t know what’s happening. Di called me up late at night and asked me to write a congratulatory message over the phone. I don’t have all the details, but I’ll try my best. I know I wasn’t the best sister or aunt. Valentin trained me as an assassin my whole life, so I never knew how to…live. At least until we left the UVR. But I know I should’ve spent more time with you, Irina, since you’re my dear sister. You’re the reason I did everything I did. I wish I could be there to say this in person, Irina, but if you’re reading this, that probably means I can’t be there to say this in person. I don’t know how many times we’ve met between my dictating this and you reading it, but know that I tried to find time in my schedule.”
“You…did try?” Irina said. “I know we talked over the phone, but you could never visit in person. You always were too busy…”
“I’m sorry, once again. I should’ve tried harder. And if I can’t be there to say this in person, then I’m probably dead. So sorry for leaving you sooner than I expected. But knowing me, I probably went down in a blaze of glory, protecting those I cared about. So if that’s the case, then I’ve got no regrets, because it means I ensured your survival. Please keep living, will you? I’d hate to see you arrive in Nyavka not long after me.”
“Of course, Olga,” Irina said.
“Tania, promise me you’ll look after your mother, will you? I know you made admiral at a remarkably young age—reminds me of myself. Which means you’re just as workaholic as me. Please take the time to step away and help your mother, will you?”
“Of course,” Tania said, “Like I always do.”
“Di just said something about you sounding like your grandmother. But if anything, you probably sound like me. Also, no matter what your mother says, don’t regret your career choice. You’ve done good where you are. Good thing I’m dictating this message in advance, because I don’t have to listen to your rebuttal, Irina! Haha!”
“Hey!” Irina said. “Not fair, Olga!”
“Well, that seems like all the time Di will give me,” Olga said, “I’ll let you get back to your lives. I hope you all live out the rest of your lives in peace and happiness. It’s the least I can hope for.”
“May you always have the truth in your grasp,” Anders said.
“We’ll always be watching over you,” Angela said.
“Make us proud,” Diana said.
Everybody smiled. They gave their answer resolutely and in unison.
“We will!”
---
Around the same time, Wilhelmina reached a pause in her address. Noticing that Alex and Thea and their closest friends and relatives had finished reading from that book, she walked over.
“Congratulations, you two,” Wilhelmina said, “Just as I symbolize the end of the old world, you two symbolize the beginning of a new one. May the world you create for your children be one of peace, love, and, most of all, hope.”
“We’ll try, Princess Wilhelmina,” Thea said.
“Please, it’s just Wilhelmina now.”
“Thank you so much for everything,” Alex said.
“Though our young settlement, barely three months old, remains beset on all sides by chaos and anarchy and will remain so for many years to come, I hope to all higher powers, as well as to my own faith in the people around me—” Wilhelmina made eye contact with everybody in attendance, making sure to include all those who had supported her on her journey and in turn she supported on their own. “—that your family weathers it all and grows up resilient and hopeful, just as Rome and its ideas endured in past eras despite it all.”
“We’ll do our best,” Thea said.
“Rome may have died, but its ideas live on,” Wilhelmina continued, “The Reich is gone, but the people live on, and as long as we remember the ideas that we cherished growing up, Rome will live on in our hearts. People may think we’re monstrous religious fanatics, or nationalist terrorists, or idiots pining for an imagined glory day, but they simply don’t understand who we still are. We are those who believe in a country where all are given a fair shot at life, regardless of their origins, and treated the same way. While the Reich may never have fully lived up to those ideals, there were many individuals who have. It is those individuals, from Saint Gunhilda down to Alex and Thea before me, who leave their mark on history, pushing it in a better direction. Let’s continue to nurture such talent and in doing so keep alive the dream of Rome, the dream that Friedrich the Great started and Saint Gunhilda brought to greater heights. Here, on the steppes, part of the Reich lives on after its death, not because we preserved its institutions, but because we are still Romans! And that is a legacy that will last another thousand years!”
Wilhelmina drew Enonon and thrust it into the sky, letting the morning sunlight reflect off its blade.
“Long live our city of Romanitas! Long live the Roman Republic of Saint Gunhilda!”
---
As the crowd cheered, nobody noticed a man and woman quietly watching in the distance, from the top of a half-built skyscraper still covered in rippling lines of nanomachines.
“She really has grown into a capable leader,” Wilhelm observed.
“Unfortunately, she never got a chance to be Kaiserin,” Sarah replied, “If not for her mother’s tragic death at Sentinel’s hands, perhaps the Reich could have avoided all this.”
“That’s in the past now,” Wilhelm said, “She did the best with what she could, and preserved as much of her people as possible. Just like he used to.”
“You’re not disappointed?” Sarah said. “All that work we put in a thousand years ago has now gone up in flames.”
Wilhelm nodded. “That’s true, yes. The empire of the Hohenzollerns is gone, and I imagine the Cult will be making its move soon. So there is still much to be done. Even with all the chaos we’ve witness and the hardship that is yet to come…” He didn’t like looking into his own future, but he had to make an exception just this once. What he saw extremely concerned him. Even so… “There’s much to be proud of. There’s much to look forward to.”
“Like?”
Wilhelm gestured to the construction going on around him. The newly christened city of Romanitas was still in its infancy, but buildings were going up at a speed which astonished him. And the kinds of buildings prioritized also amazed him. Sure, they were on the frame of a skyscraper, but he saw plenty of schools, hospitals, libraries, research centers, and park facilities as well. He could tell a lot about a society from what its cities prioritized, and what he saw here had a lot of potential.
“The Roman Republic of Saint Gunhilda…I like the sound of that,” he said. “Even though its people have been through so much hardship in such a short period of time, even though they’ve been turned away and shunned by everyone else, they still persist. They still hold fast to their values of fairness and equality for all. They still want to share those values with the rest of the world. We would do well to watch over it. It’ll have many enemies in its early years, and even after that, there will always be those fearful of it. Let’s make sure it finds its footing, for it could very well be a new Reich for the current era of humanity.”
“So what you’re saying is…you want to do it all over again?” Sarah said.
Wilhelm nodded. “Of course. I’m not about to give up now, not when It is still out there and threatening this world. The Reich may have fallen, but we can just try again. No, with the Cult about to emerge from the shadows, we have an obligation to try again and keep trying. I will not let 1453 repeat itself. I will not let Constantine’s sacrifice be in vain. I will not let the dream of Friedrich, Heinrich, and Ida die here.”
He turned to Sarah. “And I would be honored if you were at my side again, like before.”
“Sure thing,” Sarah replied.
“Yeah, I figured you wouldn’t—wait, you said yes?!”
“I can’t leave you to handle it all by yourself again.” Sarah crossed her arms. “I swear, your original plan got derailed so many times because you went off on your own, and I had to save your sorry behind every time!”
“Well, excuse me, princess!” Wilhelm shot back. “That was Friedrich’s fault! You know how he was early on, remember?”
“Yes, because I was with Ida that time! That poor girl…”
“Well, she wasn’t so poor in the end, was she?”
Sarah sighed. “Regardless, I’m going to be there again. You can’t watch over this new society and take on the Cult on your own, can you?”
“Yeah, you can’t!” Raphael suddenly appeared.
“Raphael?” Wilhelm said. “What are you doing here?”
“Did you seriously think you could sneak off to attend today’s event without me finding out?” Then Raphael noticed Sarah. “Or were you hoping to score a date?”
“IT’S NOT A DATE!” Wilhelm and Sarah said in unison, then stared at each other with confused and red faces.
“Spoken like a true married couple!” Raphael said. “No wonder you chose hosts who were married to each other!”
“Don’t worry, you two.” Uriel also appeared. “We’re cheering for you, just as we cheered for those humans you were watching.”
“Okay, what in Father’s name are you doing here, Uriel?!” Wilhelm said. “Why are you all here ruining the moment?!”
“We wanted to pitch in," Uriel said, “You’re going to need all the help you can get, right? Well, how about two archangels helping out?”
“I know we didn’t start off on the best of terms—” Raphael began.
“That’s putting it lightly, Kaiser-killer,” Wilhelm cut in, “Still mad about that.”
“—but we have a more important enemy now. The Cult’s returning. Think of this as my atonement for all of my shenanigans.”
“And I was off doing my own thing until a hundred years ago, so this will be a better application of my skills than whatever I was doing before,” Uriel said.
“Come on, Wilhelm,” Sarah said, “We all need to work together now. Isn’t that what you’ve always been preaching?”
That’s right. That was what he always pushed for since over a thousand years ago. Even though he didn’t always live up to that principle, that was still at the core of who he was. He had always believed that cooperation was better than going it alone and imparted that belief down to Friedrich, who in turn enshrined it in posterity for a thousand years. Those people celebrating at the chapel before him still embodied that idea now, long after Friedrich was gone. Yet he hadn’t done much about it in Heaven itself, among his own kind. That should change.
“Yes, you’re right,” Wilhelm said, “Welcome to the team.”
“Alright!” Raphael said. “Those cultists will rue the day they crossed us, those who started and stopped the Apocalypse!”
“For the record, you started it, and I stopped it.”
“Let’s not split hairs, boys,” Sarah said, “We’ve got a lot of work ahead of us.”
Wilhelm nodded. “Our old project may have ended, but a new one’s just begun.”
---
This is the last of the conclusion chapters I planned to wrap up the Jerusalem arc. I don’t know what I’ll do after this. The gameplay chapter is up next of course, but it is barely organized and a mess of notes from at least three different story plans. I need to both significantly restructure everything in the story from this point on, which was closely tied to the scrapped story ideas I had in the old gameplay sessions, and begin the planning stages of DE. There’s also my vacation next month, so I probably won’t post major updates until June at the earliest, unless I finally get around to updating the map.
I shifted to a more comedic and upbeat tone with this chapter to reflect the “hope returns” theme. After over four years of bleak and depressing chapters, some of them with graphic violence warnings, it’s time we had something to laugh at. On that note, I might finally get around to doing the lore summaries for pop culture media as discussed before, since the tone’s returned to normal.
I wasn’t intending on bringing back the other Humboldts after I dropped them off in Oslo, but this is supposed to be an arc finale and sendoff to the current cast of characters, and the X-Division descendants deserved to get closure after making it through the last ten years. Decided to make Annie a more deadpan character like Evangelion’s Rei to set her apart from Anna. If I remembered Irina earlier, I would have put her in the previous chapter leaving Iceland with Clara and Sylvia. Tania has a brother, whom I may have name-dropped in a chapter long ago, but I forgot the name, so I won’t name him unless he appears in person.
I now refer to the Slavic underworld with the Ukrainian Нявка (nyavka).
In my original plan while playing the gameplay sessions, Alex was supposed to have been sent on the run, much like his father, for committing a crime of some kind. Probably murder, though I didn’t think of any details. He would have been constantly chased by the restored Roman government as a fugitive for at least the next 20-30 years. Thea, Alexandra, and Magnus weren’t part of the story at that point, so he ends up as a reclusive mad scientist hiding in the deserts of Arabia.
In line with my policy of switching away from real figures to original characters, I’m starting to apply this to Anne Frank. Haven’t decided on a given name yet, since I’ve already given Anna and Annie to the Humboldt sisters, but her surname will be Franken, since I realized “Frank” is a perfectly acceptable surname in German already and I’ve already done too many Germanizations of Frank to Franz.
I suppose I’ll start using “Scottish” and “Scotland” now, since in the new lore those names would still be in common usage despite the legal use of “Caledonia.”
Don’t take the ten years number too literally. That was an AOT meme reference.
I wasn’t planning on using that music choice here, but I decided it fits with this chapter. I’ll save the vocals version for when I can make the lyrics relevant to the actual story. I’m planning on using a lot more Xenoblade X music in the future, as has been the plan since before Xenoblade X Definitive Edition released.
The Diana segment is completely original, but as I continued writing it I got some inspiration from Violet Evergarden.
Since most countries in TTL have been politically frozen since the 13th century, why not have Catherine's dynasty stay in power after Mexica conquests discredit the previous dynasty, like what happened with the Goryeo-Joseon transition in real life?
As for the Song prince that stayed in China, maybe his descendants ended up in Persia or the Reich and married into the royal families after the Mongol Invasions and Zheng He's expeditions, tho if we go with my Catherine suggestion, perhaps the Ming would prop up his line in Fusang after deposing Catharine's line. So opposition to Chinese colonial rule would be split between natives, equalists, paulluists, democratic-republicans, old Fusang Song, and Catherine's line among other groups.
I suppose so, though I do like the five color flag idea we came up with so it would be a shame to give that up. Maybe that could be the independence movement's flag.
Anyways, City of Romanitas and Roman Republic of Saint Gunhilda huh? I assume both will be referred to as Romanitas City and the Roman Republic (or the (Saint) Gunhilda Republic if you want to differentiate it from the classical republic) for short in the future. As for Anne's rename, you could go with Annelies/Anneliese. Nice to see a happy and wholesome update after how bleak the Jerusalem arc was.
I suppose so, though I do like the five color flag idea we came up with so it would be a shame to give that up. Maybe that could be the independence movement's flag.
Anyways, City of Romanitas and Roman Republic of Saint Gunhilda huh? I assume both will be referred to as Romanitas City and the Roman Republic (or the (Saint) Gunhilda Republic if you want to differentiate it from the classical republic) for short in the future. As for Anne's rename, you could go with Annelies/Anneliese. Nice to see a happy and wholesome update after how bleak the Jerusalem arc was.
I feel like just calling the city as Romanitas, or Romanitasstadt if I have to. A name I was using in my notes until recently was “Nowy Kujawy,” but that was before I realized Kujuwy wasn’t a single city and decided to keep the old one around. For the nation, I’ll call it Saint Gunhilda or Saint Gunhilda Republic. That also used to be “(Roman) Republic of Nowy Kujawy,” but I like the new one better.
Yeah, it can be the flag of the independence movement.
I feel like just calling the city as Romanitas, or Romanitasstadt if I have to. A name I was using in my notes until recently was “Nowy Kujawy,” but that was before I realized Kujuwy wasn’t a single city and decided to keep the old one around. For the nation, I’ll call it Saint Gunhilda or Saint Gunhilda Republic. That also used to be “(Roman) Republic of Nowy Kujawy,” but I like the new one better.
So both flags would be used by modern Fusang? Or would be the case that the pre independence regime used the tricolor and the post independence one used the five color one?
Ironic how the new nation seems to follow San Magnolia’s naming scheme. Let’s hope this new country doesn’t end up like Persia. Also would the initials be SGR or RRSG? For further simplicity, you could have the country be casually referred to as just “Gunhilda”. I’m assuming the people are still Romans and not “Gunhildans”
Also since you mentioned Valentin, I’m assuming you’ll keep his given name the same at least. For his surname, you could slightly adjust to be “Varennikenko”, going off PM discussions where we replaced the “ov” with “enko” in Rusian last names.
So both flags would be used by modern Fusang? Or would be the case that the pre independence regime used the tricolor and the post independence one used the five color one?
Ironic how the new nation seems to follow San Magnolia’s naming scheme. Let’s hope this new country doesn’t end up like Persia. Also would the initials be SGR or RRSG? For further simplicity, you could have the country be casually referred to as just “Gunhilda”. I’m assuming the people are still Romans and not “Gunhildans”
shhhh, nothing to see here, just your average republic named after a saint
The initials would probably just be SG or RSG. “Roman” is just a modifier, not the main part of the name. So instead of it being a new Rome, it’s a Saint Gunhilda with Roman roots. Because I doubt the rest of the world will permit a true Roman restoration. While they call themselves Romans, they’d probably be called Gunhildans by everyone else and slowly adopt that name as the generation that knew the Reich dies out.
Also since you mentioned Valentin, I’m assuming you’ll keep his given name the same at least. For his surname, you could slightly adjust to be “Varennikenko”, going off PM discussions where we replaced the “ov” with “enko” in Rusian last names.
