Blood and Iron: The Conquests of the Chancellor

January 16, 910 AD

Chancellor's Office, Imperial Palace
Berlin, Germany
4:30 p.m.

“All right, Hans,” said the Chancellor. “It appears that the Sultan has escaped us at Kerki. Where do we go from here?”

“We have a plan for precisely this contingency, my Chancellor.” The Military Minister spread out a map of the western Turkish Sultanate over the Chancellor's massive mahogany desk. “Askabad, here, will almost certainly become the new capital for the Sultan. 4th Corps is nearly in position even now to mount an assault. We do not know the precise defenses of the city, but I doubt they can withstand 4th Corps, even if they were not supported by tanks and aircraft. The city was never even properly connected by road to the rest of the Sultanate.”

“So much the better for the Empire, Hans,” replied the Chancellor. “Proceed with the attack on Askabad as you have said.”

“It shall be done, my Chancellor.”

“One question, Minister,” said Prinz Helmut. “What if the Sultan eludes us once again?”

“Sultan Kassim has only a few cities left to retreat to, Prinz Helmut. The city of Khiva, east of Samarkhand, is a distinct possibility. This city is well defended in mountainous terrain, making a direct assault difficult. Ankara, in southeastern Siberia, may be another option. We will need another four to six weeks before we are ready to attack Ankara. There are also a few Turkish outpost cities in the far north, though they will be unreachable for some time due to their isolation and the terrible winter weather at this time of year.”

“I take it, Hans, that your plan is to assault Askabad and Ankara, since they are the most vulnerable to attack, and then proceed against the other cities you spoke of later this year if need be?”

“Just so, my Chancellor,” replied the Military Minister. “I believe I can safely say that the Turkish War is entering its final stages.”

“Excellent, Hans. Now, is there anything else?”

The Minister looked uncomfortable for a moment. “There is one other option which I must bring up. It is quite possible that Crown Prince Rasoul knows where his father might be, or could otherwise help us. Perhaps...”

“I think not, Hans,” replied the Chancellor firmly. “Germany has never violated the laws and customs of war during all my years in office, and I shall not change that policy now.”

“Even if we could shorten the war and save German lives, my Chancellor?” said the Military Minister.

“Even then, Hans. Your colleague Ludwig is quite right about this. We will maintain our honor and integrity as a people, even in wartime.”

“Besides, Minister,” added Prinz Helmut, “there is no guarantee that the Prince knows where his father is now. He may well have been at Kerki, and then fled the city as our troops closed in. We do not have an easy way to confirm any statement the Prince might make in any event.”

“True, Prinz Helmut,” conceded the Military Minister. “It may well be worth attempting to place a proper agent with the Turks if we do not succeed at catching him at Askabad or Ankara.”

“A good idea, Minister,” said Prinz Helmut. He added, with a slight smile, “I do think that it would be better if we did not choose the good Meister Vonn for this task.”

“Oh, Prinz Helmut? Why not?”

“I have good reason to suspect that he may be asking for Prinzessin Elsa's hand in marriage even now. That is why I suggested to Father this morning that Franz handle the new factory dedication.”

“I had no idea that the situation had reached that point, Helmut,” said the Chancellor after a few moment's thought. “Still, I think it is best to leave that matter to Elsa's sound judgment. Hans, thank you for coming in this day. Dismissed.”

January 30, 910 AD

INN Studios
Berlin, Germany
4:30 p.m.

“Welcome, Minister,” said the receptionist at the front desk. “Herr Grunewald is expecting you in the...preparation room. It is the second door on your right.”

“Thank you, madam,” replied the Military Minister politely. He and his two Imperial Guardsmen bodyguards duly walked to the correct door. Inside they saw a small, cramped room, with three chairs in front of a set of mirrors, with bright electric lights all around them. What is this?

The center chair swiveled around, revealing the well-known features of the “Face the Empire” host. “Ah, Minister von Landscheid. It is good to see you. Please, have a seat in one of the makeup chairs.”

“I beg your pardon, Herr Grunewald?” was the cold reply.

The INN host took on a determined expression. “Minister, the Chancellor and the entire Empire depends upon your knowledge and skill as we do battle with the Turks, correct?” The Minister nodded yes. “I too have staff, with unique talents in esoteric fields. It is necessary to use certain..um...artificial enhancements in the new field of television. Otherwise, you will not show up properly on the television cameras, and will look more like a ghost than a man.”

“No one told me about this, Herr Grunewald,” replied the Minister as he reluctantly sat down in the leftmost chair. And I thought a television interview would be easier than a radio one! Two women, with large rubber gloves, came in at an unseen signal and went about their work, daubing all sorts of odd-smelling chemicals on the faces of both the Minister and the INN host. Finally, after what seemed an age, they stood back to admire their handiwork.

“What do you think, Minister?” one of the women said as they rotated the chair around to face the mirror. The Minister stared in shock at his reflection. I look like a clown, reddish nose and all! One of the Guardsmen even smiled a little. “One word, one crack from either of you two and I'll have you court-martialed!”

“I know it looks bad, Minister. Believe me, this process is necessary,” insisted the radio host. “You and I will look perfectly normal under the studio lights to the television cameras.”

“Then, Herr Grunewald, I think there is something seriously wrong with your cameras.” The Minister duly got up and followed his host out the door and down the hall to the television studio itself. He recoiled a second time as he entered the studio. The familiar small, soundproofed room he had expected was gone. A waist high wooden platform stood about four meters away, with two chairs behind it. Three man-sized cameras, each attended by a technician, were in front of the platform. Huge lights mounted in the ceiling gave a harsh, unnatural glow to the scene, making it impossible to see the walls of the studio itself. “Where should the Guardsmen stand?” asked the Minister.

“Back here, behind the cameras,” said a voice from the darkness. “Two minutes!”

“Kurt, Oskar,” gestured the Minister, and the two Guardsmen walked forward past the cameras. The Minister could only see them by squinting against the glare.

“You must not do that, Minister,” explained the host. “I should tell you that the usual rules of “Face the Empire” apply. I would not want you to endanger any of our troops.”

“No fear of that, Herr Grunewald,” replied the Minister. At least one thing about these interviews remains unchanged! The last seconds ticked away, and an unseen group of musicians struck up the catchy opening theme music. “Welcome, everyone, to another live edition of “Face the Empire!” I'm your host, Franz Grunewald, and with me today is Military Minister Hans von Landschied. Thank you for coming this evening, Minister.”

“It is my pleasure, sir.” The Minister could feel the sweat on his brow, presumably from the hot studio lights, as he tried to blink his eyes clear so that he could see the cameras.

“Why is it, Minister, that we have not yet captured the Sultan?”

Hardball, eh? “The evil Sultan has many divisions of troops at his command. I can say, however, that we have chased him from Samarkhand, from Bukhara, and most recently from Kerki. It is the Chancellor's orders that we pursue him to the very ends of the Earth if necessary.”

“I'm sure, Minister, that we all sleep the sounder knowing that the guardians of the Empire are ready and willing to follow our beloved leader's orders. Can you tell us where the Empire will strike next?”

It required little effort for the Minister to put his irritation at his current predicament into his voice. “You expected me to say that the 4th Corps will attack Askarden at dawn tomorrow?” He coughed once, and then continued, “I can say, however, that further military actions will take place. Our forces will continue their lightning war until the Turks are utterly defeated!”

“I see. Perhaps, Minister, you can tell us something of the Turkish spy ring?”

“What spy ring?” was the annoyed reply. “We caught numerous enemy agents, in the very act of attempting to kidnap Lady Notburga, now Lady Lisle, Prinzessin Elsa, and the young Prinzessin Traudl. Only a truly evil man would seek to harm a little girl in such...” The Minister broke off, unable to contain a fresh bout of coughing.

“And now we have to take a short break.” The host gave a quick signal to the center cameraman, and two men rushed on to the stage as the INN musicians played a short cue. “Are you all right, Minister?” asked the one on the right worriedly.

“Not really,” was the reply. “I feel most unwell.”

“A reaction, then,” said the other man, whom the Minister could barely see. “Let's get him out of here.” The Minister heard the sounds of quick footsteps. “What happened? What's wrong?” asked Oskar, one of the Guardsmen.

“We're not sure,” came an authoritative voice. “I'm a doctor. Now stand back and let me work!”

January 30, 910 AD

Erlich Memorial Hospital
Berlin, Germany
8:00 p.m.

“How is he, Doctor Meier?”

The doctor frowned a bit at his distinguished questioner. “It appears, Prinz Helmut, that the Minister had a severe allergic reaction to the makeup used at the INN studios. Fortunately, this is not the first time we have seen such a case.”

“Will he be all right?”

“I think so. We will keep him here overnight for observation. And, I think you can see him, but you must be brief.”

“I understand, Doctor.” With that the Prinz knocked on the door. A weak voice from within said, “Come in!”

The Minister looked rather surprised when Prinz Helmut walked in. “You gave us quite a scare, Minister,” said the Prinz. “We knew something was very wrong when you did not return on “Face the Empire” after the commercial break. Father would have been here himself but for another bout of bronchitis.”

“I must admit, Prinz Helmut, that I have a new perspective on the Chancellor's health issues after my own experience today.” The Minister took on a grave expression. “I may have made a foolish mistake during the interview. Herr Grunewald asked when the next German attack would take place. I sarcastically replied that 4th Corps would attack at Askarden at dawn tomorrow.”

“So, Minister?”

“So, Prinz Helmut, that is exactly what Marshall von Papen of 4th Corps proposes to do. The telegraph message to that effect arrived a few minutes ago.”

“I would not be concerned, Minister. No one will blame you, particularly given the unique situation you suffered. Father and the rest of the Empire will merely think that this was another brilliant plan of yours to hide our troop movements in plain sight. Besides, as you have told us in Council before, knowing what we are planning and being able to effectively deal with it are two quite different things. Askarden is an isolated city, which is already cut off from the rest of the Sultanate.”

The Prinz considered for a moment. “Actually, it occurs to me that you might technically be eligible for a medal, Minister. You were doing your duty for the Empire when all this happened.”

“I am flattered, Prinz Helmut, but I fear I must decline.” The Minister reached for the water glass at the bedside table, and took a drink before continuing. “I would never hear the end of it when the citation was read out. 'He had a severe allergic reaction to the INN stage makeup.' What would the troops on the front lines, who face injury or death every day, think of that?”

“Perhaps you're right, Minister.” This time it was the Prinz who paused for a moment. “Is there anything you need?”

“Only to get out of here and back to the Ministry where I belong, Prinz Helmut.”

January 31, 910 AD

Erlich Memorial Hospital
Berlin, Germany
2:00 p.m.

A knock sounded at the Military Minister's hospital room door. “Come in!” A moment later his chief deputy Xaver Reikert entered. “Your discharge papers, Minister. I took the liberty of bringing a spare uniform jacket for you.”

“Excellent.” The Minister quickly donned the familiar jacket. “I did not get to wear this at the INN studios. Apparently there was some foolish concern that the various medals I have earned would be too distracting for the cameras. Is there anything else before we get out of this place?”

“One small suggestion, sir. There are a number of wounded here in the hospital. Perhaps, if you were to make a brief visit?”

“Certainly, Xaver.” The two men took the elevator down to the third floor. “This is the burn unit, with the cancer ward just next door.” The Minister in particular was surprised to hear a young child's voice for a moment. “Ten-hut!” said one of the soldiers in the hospital cot as they entered.

“At ease, everyone,” replied the Military Minister, as he noticed a boy of perhaps ten, with his head entirely shaved save for a small spot near his neck. “It seems I am not the only visitor this day.”

“Yes, sir,...I mean Minister!” replied the boy nervously. “I'm Fritz Lehmann. I was just talking with my friends here in the burn ward.”

“The men in the burn ward have unofficially adopted young Fritz here,” explained Xaver. “They have even declared him, unofficially of course, a private in the German Army. Sadly, Fritz has late stage skin cancer, and is undergoing difficult and rather painful experimental treatments here at the Erlich Hospital.”

“Yes, sir, Herr Reikert.” The boy looked nervous for a few moments. “Franz went in for the same treatments yesterday, and he didn't make it out alive! I'm not brave like these men. I'm really scared!”

There was a sudden solemn silence in the burn ward, which was finally broken by the Military Minister. “Fritz, I have served in the Military Ministry for many years now. Anyone who goes into combat who says he is not afraid is either a fool, a liar, or crazy, or quite possibly all three. You too are a soldier, in a different kind of war.”

“I am, sir?” asked Fritz in wonderment.

The Minister thought for a moment. “The doctors here are trying new techniques for fighting cancer. Many will not work out, for any number of sound reasons. Some, however, will work. They will lose many patients, but one day, and soon, they will win the war. Every patient you see in this ward is a casualty of various battles against the Turks, and yet we have eventually taken every enemy city which we have attacked.”

“Yes, sir!” replied Fritz, in a stronger voice.

“Still, if you are to stand into danger, we should see to it that you are properly prepared. Xaver, you said the men have unofficially inducted young Fritz into the Army as a mere private?”

“Yes, Minister.”

“Then we shall have to fix that at once. Private Lehmann, step forward!”

“Yes, sir!” replied the boy, as he did just that.

The Minister carefully removed a small pin from his uniform. “Private Lehmann, in view of your valor and bravery, and by the authority vested in me as Military Minister of the Imperial German Empire, I hereby officially promote you to the rank of 2nd Lieutenant in the Imperial Army. The German Empire salutes you!” With that the Minister attached the pin to the boy's hospital gown, and then gave him a salute.

“Wow, sir!...er...Minister!” exclaimed Fritz.

“A ten year old boy as an officer, Minister?” asked Xaver, disapproval evident in his voice.

“Do any of you men have any objections?” replied the Minister.

“No, Minister!” chorused the other patients.

“Excellent. I believe...” Suddenly a knock sounded at the door, and a telegraph officer came in. “Minister, this just came in for you from the western front.”

“Very well.” The Minister duly signed the form where indicated, and the telegraph officer, after a quick salute, rushed back out of the ward. “Interesting. Lieutenant Lehmann, would you be so good as to read this to the men aloud!”

“Yes, Minister.” The boy took the telegraph form. “Wow! It says: Ask...um...”

“Askarden,” prompted the Minister.

“Um...Askarden south gate breached this morning. City Hall surrounded. Capture expected shortly. Full details to follow. Von Papen, 4th Corps'. That's great, Minister. We won again!”

“Indeed we did, Lieutenant. Now I must go and tell the Chancellor himself the good news.”

“Yes, sir..um...Minister, and thank you!”

You know, I still check here several times a week for updates on your story and it really brightens my day when I find multiple new posts to read up on.
And although you've been spoiling us with more frequent updates lately i can't help but feel some sort of sadness for the inevitable end of your story that seems to be drawing ever closer.

Keep up the good work, for it really is a pleasure to follow this thread

OOS: Thanks, GreyCiv! I've had a little more time in the last month or so in RL, so I've been able to write more. Tomorrow (5/27) will be the 4th anniversary of "Blood and Iron", and I can assure you and all the other readers out in CFC land that the story will indeed continue to a proper conclusion.

Next installment coming right up.

***
March 1, 910 AD

Siberian Wilderness
1 klick south of Ankara, Turkish Sultanate
Dawn

“All tanks are ready, sir.” reported Horst.

General Wilhelm von Stedler smiled grimly at his chief aide. “Then, the order is given! For Bismarck and for Germany! All tanks forward!

A hundred fifty-ton Panther tanks of the 9th Vanadorn did just that, rumbling out of the dense taiga forest some fifty meters away from the wooden palisade surrounding Ankara. The simple gate was no match for a well-aimed 88mm main tank gun round, and within moments the palisade for a hundred meters along either side of the gate had collapsed entirely.

It was not until the lead units rumbled across the wooden barrier that the first organized Turkish resistance began. Suddenly the cries of Sipahi warriors could be heard coming from both flanks as they urged their steeds forward. They were met by bursts of heavy machine gun fire and the whooshing sounds of German flamethrowers. It took perhaps ten minutes before the few surviving Turks retreated towards the center of town.

The Panthers followed at a more sedate pace, low on diesel fuel and wary of sudden guerilla ambushes, even here in this distant frontier town. Most of Ankara's residents, hearing the ominous rumbling sounds of the huge tanks, wisely stayed in their homes and out of immediate danger, allowing the Germans to proceed nearly unimpeded.

By late morning the lead elements of 9th Vanadorn had reached the City Hall. This would have been a large masonry building in most cities of the Sultanate, but here it was merely a small wooden structure, with an open space of grass before it. The vanguard tank simply crashed through the door without even firing its gun.

“We've done it, General! Ankara is ours!” exclaimed Horst, who was monitoring the various radio communications at the German base camp. “What are your orders, sir?”

“First, let's get some scouts to the north. These sneaky Turks may have more Sipahi troops hiding in these woods somewhere.”

“What about an airship from Xanadu, General? Scharnhorst is still scouting the northern battlefront, but Wuhjah may be available.”

The General nodded after a few moments. “A good idea, Horst. See to it at once. We will need to report our success to Berlin, and I want a cavalry division or two to garrison Ankara. There may still be a few partisans for us to deal with.”

“It shall be done, General.”

“Good. Is there any sign of the Sultan himself?”

“Not yet, General. It may well be that he never made it this far.”

“Or he and a few of his loyal followers are still out there, somewhere in the taiga. Let's get those reinforcements here as soon as possible.”

“It shall be done, General.”

I like this story. Keep up the good work!

OOS: Thanks, nokmirt, and thanks to everyone out there in CFC land for being willing and patient enough to stick with the story for the last four years!

Next update coming right up.

***
March 2, 910 AD

Imperial Palace
Berlin, Germany
8:30 a.m.

Prinz Helmut left for his office in a dreadful mood. Dr. Kneibel, the Palace physician, had told him only this morning that his father's chronic bronchitis had worsened into full-blown pneumonia. His heart sank as he saw the look on his chief aide's face. “Yes, Max?”

“Minister von Landsheid is here at the Palace to see the Chancellor, my Prinz. I told him that the Chancellor was unwell at the moment.”

“Very well. Send the Military Minister to my office.” Presently the Military Minister came in. “Good morning, Prinz Helmut. I am pleased to tell you good news this day. The 11th Hamburg Panthers, under General Schmitz, succeeded in making the difficult run to Ankara. They attacked the city yesterday morning, local time, and succeeded in defeating the single Siphai cavalry division which defended the city. However, there is no sign at all of the Sultan or any other high Turkish officials.”

“So that evil Sultan escaped us yet again, Minister.” The Prinz scowled at the news. “However, we should not overlook our valiant troopers or their victories in battle. Will you please send the proper congratulations at once?”

“It shall be done, Prinz Helmut. I should also point out that our casualties were light. We do have a few damaged tanks, but nothing more serious. It will also take our road building crew at least another 12 to 24 months to build a rail line linking Ankara to the rest of the Empire.”

“Excellent, Minister. I will ask you to work with the Domestic Ministry on that point.” The Prinz paused for a few moments. “What about the Sultan?”

“That, Prinz Helmut, is indeed the question. We think the Sultan will set up his new capital at Khiva, here in these mountains.” A map of the area was belatedly spread out over the Prinz's modest desk. “However, there is no guarantee that the Sultan is there. My concern is that taking the city, nestled in the mountains, will be quite difficult and probably very costly. I recommend that we instead proceed against the Sultan's remaining cities in the far north and in eastern Siberia.”

Prinz Helmut was silent for several seconds. What would Father have done? Finally, he said, “I think you are right, Minister. Attacking these cities will further weaken the Sultanate, even if we do not in fact catch the Sultan there. At least, that is what I would have told Father had he been here. How long do you think it will take to capture these cities?”

“Another two or three months at least, Prinz Helmut. None of these isolated cities are linked to the Sultanate by road, let alone rail, and so reaching them with enough forces is a challenge in itself. I am, however, quite confident that we will prevail.”

“Then you are right, Minister. The Turkish War is indeed in its final stages. I suggest that you proceed with the operation against these cities as you have said. I shall explain all this to Father, and no doubt he will agree.”

“I trust you are correct, Prinz Helmut.” The Minister hesitated for a moment. “Max said that the Chancellor is unwell. Is it his bronchitis again?”

“Even worse, Minister. Dr. Kneibel thinks it is probably pneumonia. It may be mid March before Father is back at his desk. I shall tell him of your concern.”

“Thank you, Prinz Helmut.”

April 2, 910 AD

Sultan's Mansion
Khiva, Turkish Sultanate
8:00 p.m.

The official birthday party for the Sultan was already in full swing, though the guest of honor was anything but joyful at the moment. Khiva had become the capital of the Sultanate largely by default, since the remaining half-dozen cities were all small and quite isolated. Even his own son and heir Crown Prince Rasoul was a victim of German aggression, languishing somewhere in the Empire as a prisoner. There must be something I can do to help my people!

It was only when the musicians were taking their prearranged break that he finally had an idea. “Send for General Aziz, and have him meet me in my office. Tell the harem dancers not to begin until I return.” It took a remarkably short time before the page announced, “O mighty Sultan, General Aziz.”

“Have we heard from the Sipahi troops in eastern Siberia?” asked the Sultan bluntly.

“We have, O great Sultan. We have more than fifty divisions of Sipahi warriors headed west, back to our homeland.” The General paused for a moment, even here, before he continued. “We are also working on a contingency plan if the Germans were to discover that you are here. You still have many loyal troops, who will give their very lives if need be. The taiga forests of Siberia are vast indeed. We could conduct a guerilla campaign for years should the need arise.”

“And let the filthy, disgusting Germans extend their despotic rule over us all,” replied the Sultan gloomily. “Still, we must do all we can. Sooner or later even the Chancellor will tire of the war, just as he did during my revered father and grandfather's time.”

“Indeed, O wise Sultan. There are those even now within the Empire who long for a return to the days of peace. We must only hold out long enough before those voices reach such a pitch that the evil Chancellor has no choice but to listen.”

The Sultan nodded in agreement. “Has there been any word of Rasoul?”

“Nothing officially, O patient Sultan. However, the fact that the Germans have still avoided attacking us here in Khiva strongly suggests that the Crown Prince has not revealed his knowledge of your whereabouts. The Germans are a strange people in that respect.”

“How foolish of the evil Chancellor.” The Sultan thought for a moment. “Is there any other good news to be had, anywhere in the Sultanate?”

“Yes, O mighty Sultan. There have been quite a number of refugees, even here in Khiva, who have arrived over the last several months. We have even seen a few former Indian and Sipahi nationals, who have fled German tyranny and now seek your protection.”

“So much the better for us, General. Have the able-bodied put to useful work, building and strengthening the defenses of Khiva.”

“I hear and obey, O prudent Sultan.”

Satisfied, the Sultan turned to the waiting page. “Signal the dancers to begin at once.”

“I hear and obey, O great Sultan,” was the instant response. The page turned to carry out his orders, followed by the Sultan and the chief of the Sultan's armies. Nothing in the latter man's face or stride showed his relief at having made it through another meeting with the Sultan so easily. At least he did not ask what happened to Ankara or the troops east of Edirne!

April 10, 910 AD

North Gate, Imperial Palace
Berlin, Germany
3:45 p.m.

It was a cold, rainy afternoon in Berlin, and so far a boring shift for the Imperial Guardsmen on duty at the North Gate. The usual tourist traffic had been reduced to a mere trickle by the weather, and so the Guardsmen were particularly alert when a tall Songhai man approached. “Pardon me, gentlemen,” he said. “I have an appointment with Agent Vonn at 3:30 this afternoon.”

“And you are?” was the curt reply.

“Just tell him that Mugawe is here, if you please.” This would have been easier if I had been allowed to meet Agent Vonn in the Abwehr headquarters!

“One moment.” The leftmost Guardsmen went into a small hut, and checked a list of visitors. “Who did you say you were again?”

“Mugawe, sir.”

“All right.” The Guardsmen pressed a button, and the reinforced gates began to smoothly slide open. “Horst here will escort you.”

“Thank you very much, sir.” Presently the two men made their way into the Imperial Palace itself, and down a staircase to the basement. “The second door on the left. Agent Vonn is expecting you.”

“Thank you, Guardsman...er...Horst.” Mugawe opened the door as instructed, and instantly recognized the smiling face of Agent Vonn.. “Welcome, Agent Tricky. Thank you for coming.”

“Yes, sir.”

“You are no doubt wondering what is going on. We have a difficult and dangerous mission available, which requires the skills of a trained agent.” Agent Vonn pointed to a large map of what until recently were the eastern provinces of the Sultanate. “Our plan is to infiltrate an agent here, in the current Turkish capital of Khiva. We have a few low-level operatives in the Sultanate, but a more advanced secret agent is now required. You served the Empire well at Aksu and at Delhi, and so we thought of you.”

“I am glad to serve, sir. May I ask a question or two first? Why did you wish to meet here in the Imperial Palace instead of the Abwehr?”

“Two reasons, Agent Tricky. First, I am officially retired from the Abwehr. It is quite possible that someone would notice if I were to appear there and meet outside individuals or agents. Second, this is a most dangerous mission. The Turks may well be most ruthless if you are caught. It would never do to put anyone else in jeopardy.”

It took only a moment before Agent Tricky nodded in agreement. “I understand, sir. I gladly accept this mission.”

Again Agent Vonn smiled. “I knew you would not fail the Empire in this difficult hour.” He took a small envelope from his pocket. “Your identity papers, all cleverly forged, of course. We were even able to use the proper original stamps from Tashkent and Bukhara which were recovered after these cities fell, together with the correct paper. You will in theory be an unskilled laborer with the Turkish telegraph service, fleeing to Khiva ahead of the advancing German forces.”

“I understand, sir. Will there be anything else?”

“Yes. You will contact us using Procedure Johann once you are in position. It will probably be necessary to bribe several Turkish officials to gain access to the documents we need. We will give you all the support we can from our end.”

“Yes, sir. I will do my best.”

“I know you will, Agent Tricky. Godspeed, then. The German Empire salutes you.” Suddenly there was a knock at the door. Agent Vonn had his hand halfway to his jacket pocket before he relaxed. “It seems the good Prinzessin Traudl is a little early today. No matter. Will you get the door, please?”

“Certainly, sir.” Agent Tricky duly opened the door to find a young girl of ten or so looking up at him. “Who are you, sir?”

“Do not be concerned, Prinzessin. I had to attend to a small matter. You are, after all, a few minutes early.”

“Yes, Meister Vonn.” The Prinzessin looked carefully at her history tutor once his earlier visitor had left. “Are you certain that he is not an Abwehr agent, Meister Vonn?”

“What makes you say that, Prinzessin?” asked her tutor, concealing his wariness as best he could.

“There is something in his stride, Meister Vonn. I have noticed the same sort of thing with the Imperial Guardsmen who serve here in the Imperial Palace.”

“You have an eye for such things, Prinzessin. I think you would have made a fine spy yourself one day under different circumstances. Still, it is high time we took a look at historical matters.”

“Yes, Meister Vonn,” was the careful reply. Then that man was a spy after all! Meister Vonn would have denied it had he been a simple merchant or tradesman!

April 21, 910 AD

Chancellor's Office, Imperial Palace
Berlin, Germany
11:30 a.m.

“Father, did the Military Minister say why he wished to speak with you?”

“He did not, Helmut,” replied the Chancellor. “Hopefully it is another victory in the war. We shall hear about it soon enough.” The intercom rang on the Chancellor's massive mahogany desk as he finished. “Yes?”

“Minister von Landscheid to see you, my Chancellor.”

“Send him in, Gunter.” A few seconds later the Military Minister duly entered and bowed to his leader as usual. “Good morning, my Chancellor. We have just received good news from the eastern front. If you will permit me?” A map was duly spread out on the desk. “You will of course recall that the Turks had quite a few units spread out in the forests between Ankara and Xanadu. I am pleased to tell you that most have been destroyed, by a combination of air power and Panther tanks. The Turks have only a few light spearman divisions left in the area.”

“Spearman divisions, Hans?”

“Just so, my Chancellor. The Sultan has been reduced to fielding what units he has against us. I spoke with Ludwig earlier this morning, who confirms that the Turks no longer have the funds to upgrade their obsolete troops at present. I should say, however, that the Sultan still has quite a few Sipahi divisions left in eastern Siberia, who are doubtless headed west to engage our forces. AS Wuhjah has confirmed the presence of at least two such divisions north of Ankara.”

“I see. How shall we proceed, Hans?”

“First, my Chancellor, I recommend that we begin an assault on Adana, here to the south of Xanadu. The city is only a few years old, with little direct importance at present. Its capture will secure our flank from any Turkish counterattack and delay Turkish reinforcements. The 14th Anatevka Panther division can be there by the end of the month.”

“Excellent, Hans. Proceed with the attack on Adana.”

“It shall be done, my Chancellor. I recommend that we send Wuhjah south to aid in the attack on Adana. The enemy Sipahi troops will take a year at least to get within striking range of Ankara, and so they are not as high a priority at present.”

“I agree. Is there anything else to report?”

“One other matter, my Chancellor. Our forces are ready for the assault on the northern Turkish outpost of Aydin, here.” A second map was displayed on the desk. “I have given our field commanders free rein to proceed at their discretion. It is likely that the Turkish opposition there has been reduced to the obsolete musket units which originally defended the city.”

“We must be doing something right, Minister,” put in Prinz Helmut, “if the Turks are reduced to using musketmen to defend against our attack.”

“Just so, Prinz Helmut. I should add that a musket unit has no real chance to defeat our most advanced....” Suddenly the intercom rang again. “Yes?”

“Two priority telegrams for the Military Minister, my Chancellor.”

“Interesting, Gunter. Send them in.” A few moments later a uniformed telegraph officer entered, and, after bowing to his leader, handed the sealed telegrams to the Military Minister. “Thank you,” said the Minister as he duly signed the receipt. “Shall I open them now, my Chancellor?”

“Certainly, Hans.” There was a brief silence while the Military Minister opened the first telegram. “This is good news indeed, my Chancellor. It appears that our forces have indeed overrun Aydin, with only trivial losses to our mechanized infantry units. There is, however, no sign of the Sultan or any other high Turkish officials.”

“We have heard that phrase a good deal lately, Hans,“ mused the Chancellor. “Still, it is only a matter of time before we catch up to the evil Sultan. What of the second telegram?”

The Minister's face grew sad for a moment before he regained his usual control. “My Chancellor, the second telegram reports the death of Lt. Franz Lehmann in Erlich Hospital from cancer earlier today. I knew the young boy personally, since I myself promoted him to the rank of 2nd Lieutenant some two months ago. He...was only ten.”

“Hans, how precisely can a ten year old boy earn the rank of Lieutenant?”

“That, my Chancellor, will take a little time to explain.”

May 5, 910 AD

Hut #1, Stalag 1
22 klicks SW of Leipzig, Germany
Dawn

It was a bright, clear morning as Stalag 1's public address system came to life. “Attention! Attention! All prisoners will report for morning inspection!” The twenty Turkish prisoners of Hut #1, most of whom were once important officials in the Sultanate, were soon standing outside in neat rows. Sgt. Krupp, as he had done every morning for two and half years, quickly accounted for each prisoner. “There will be one special order this morning. Ambassador Tarkaan, you and Foreign Advisor Atak will report to the Commandant's office at once!”

“Why?” asked Advisor Atak challengingly. “We have done nothing wrong?”

“Perhaps, Omar, we will find out what is going on if we comply with the Commandant's order,” replied Ambassador Tarkaan. The two prisoners duly followed the sergeant to the office. They were surprised to see only the camp Commandant, sitting behind his desk as usual.

“Welcome, gentlemen,” said Commandant Waud. “We have received a rather unusual request for an official interview of former Foreign Advisor Atak. Normally, of course, such an interview would not be possible given your status. However, I am assured that you will not be questioned about anything pertaining to the ongoing war or about any current Turkish military secrets. I insisted that the Ambassador be here to verify our good will in the matter.”

I shall believe that when pigs fly, Commandant! Aloud the Ambassador replied, “An interesting situation indeed, Commandant Waud. You may proceed, so long as the rules regarding the proper treatment of prisoners are not violated.”

“Excellent.” The Commandant pressed a button on his desk. “Prinzessin Traudl, would you come in, please?” Seconds later two burly Guardsmen duly entered the office, followed by the ten year old Prinzessin. There was a silence while the Prinzessin studied the two Turks. “Um...which of you is Advisor Atak?”

“I am, little Prinzessin,” replied Advisor Atak, a note of contempt in his voice. “If this is about the alleged plot to have you and your mother kidnapped, you can forget it! I know nothing about it, and I would not tell you even if I had planned and organized it myself!”

“Oh no, Advisor Atak,” replied the Prinzessin. “I am not allowed to ask you anything about the kidnapping plot. Instead, I wished to know your version of an incident which occurred during the Songhai War.”

“What incident might that be, little Prinzessin?”

Here we go! “You were once Consul Atak, serving the Sultan in the Songhai Kingdom. We know that then King Sunni Ali III attempted to sail to Conakry under false pretenses, flying a Turkish flag aboard his dhow in an effort to keep our battlecruiser from firing on him. Was it your idea for the Songhai to do this?”

The Advisor stared incredulously at his young interrogator for a few moments. “Do you actually think I will tell you, little Prinzessin? Surely this is some sort of evil German trick! Why would the real Prinzessin Traudl care about such a minor historical footnote!” He turned to Commandant Waud. “Was this your idea, to try to get me to incriminate myself by using this...this girl as your stooge! You can tell your superiors that their evil plan will not work!”

“Prinzessin Traudl has told you the truth, Advisor Atak, whatever you may think of her or her motives. It seems obvious that further questioning will be futile.” The Commandant pressed a button on his desk. “That will be all, then, Ambassador, Advisor.” Sgt. Krupp came into the office a moment later. “Sgt. Krupp, will you escort these prisoners back to their hut?”

“At once, Commandant!” The two Turks were marched out of the office without another word, while the Prinzessin looked on with a stunned expression. “But...but...”

“Permit me to observe, Prinzessin, that what happened here today was not your fault. There is a good reason why Advisor Atak will remain in German custody for the time being. He does not trust us any more than we trust him.”

“But...he is the only man still alive who can tell us the truth! Now we will never know for sure what really happened at Conakry!”

“Your error, Prinzessin, was assuming that the Advisor would act as a reasonable and honest man would. He did not believe that you were interested in the historical record. I have had the chance to observe Advisor Atak here at Stalag 1 for quite some time. He attempted to deceive us as to his identity when he was first taken prisoner, and so I see no reason to doubt that he was the inspiration behind the attempted Songhai deception at Conakry.”

“I suppose you and Meister Vonn are right. He told me that my plan would not work.” The Prinzessin sat glumly for a few moments. “Still, I appreciate your help in this matter, Commandant.”

“My pleasure, Prinzessin Traudl.”

May 5, 910 AD

Grand Central Station
Berlin, Germany
4:30 p.m.

Prinzessin Traudl von Bismarck was in a somber mood as the Leipzig Express pulled into the station. How can I explain to Father and Meister Vonn that I failed! It took a good deal of effort for her to respond to a knock on the door. “Yes?”

“We are here, Prinzessin,” said Jurgen, one of her two Imperial Guardsmen bodyguards. “Your father is waiting for you in the terminal.”

“Very well.” She picked up her small valise and headed into the corridor. Her first-class suite was next to one of the main doors, and a uniformed porter had already placed a small portable step, allowing her to easily cross onto the main platform. The electric train engine made an eerie humming noise, even at rest at the station, as she walked towards the main terminal building. She forced a small smile as she saw her father coming to meet her.

“Welcome home, my dear,” said Prinz Helmut. “I am sorry to hear that your historical mission did not succeed.”

“Yes, Father. I don't know why the Advisor disliked me so.”

“That, Traudl, was not your fault. I do have some good news for you today, particularly given your valiant effort. We shall make a small detour before we return home to the Imperial Palace.”

“Oh? Where are we going, Father?”

“You will see,” replied the Prinz with a smile as a silver Daimler-Benz drove up. “We will meet your mother there, in fact.” What on earth is Father up to? Father and daughter climbed into the car, and they were quickly off. The Prinzessin gave a small gasp as they turned into the underground garage of Krogir und Klopf. “We aren't going to be bait for another Turkish spy ring trap, are we?”

Prinz Helmut laughed at this. “Not at all, my dear. You see, I had occasion to speak with the good Herr Krogir earlier this afternoon. He told me that the store business has improved considerably since the...er...incident with the spy ring last fall. In any event, to make a long story short, he has offered to present you, your mother, and now Lady Lisle with a fur coat of your choice. Besides, it appears that you may need to do some more shopping for a wedding outfit, now that Elsa is getting married in July.”

“That's wonderful, Father!”

“I still do not quite see why you and and your mother could not simply wear the same dresses which you wore for Franz's wedding,” said the Prinz. “At least I will probably be able to get away with wearing the same morning coat for both occasions.”

“Really, Father,” replied the Prinzessin. “We cannot simply wear the same outfits. It is just not done. Why, the fashion editors of the Empire would never let us forget it for the rest of our days if we did something so foolish!”

The Prinz's expression clouded for a moment. “Such as the editors of the “Young Ladies” magazine? You will forgive me if I do not consider their opinions particularly worthy of notice.” The staff car lurched as they turned into the Krogir und Knopf parking garage. “Still, I have been able to leave such fashion matters to your mother for many years now. Today will be no exception.”

“Yes, Father.”

“Besides, Traudl, I doubt very much that Advisor Atak or Crown Prince Rasoul will have the opportunity to do any shopping anytime soon.” The car came to a gentle stop, and father and daughter quickly climbed out. “I believe the fur department is still on the third floor. At least we do not have to worry about any untoward incidents with Turkish spies today.”

“I'm very glad of that, Father!” exclaimed the Prinzessin. “Once was quite enough!”

May 6, 910 AD

12th Anatevka Panthers
1 klick north of Adana, Turkish Sultanate
Dawn

General Alberich Schneider, 12th Anatevka Panthers, looked through the command tank's viewfinder. Just to the south, across a relatively flat plain, was the enemy city of Adana. They will expect us to come from the west, where the new rail line is! His mood was broken by the arrival of his chief aide Gunther. “Sir, we have heard from AS Wuhjah. They had some engine trouble, and cannot arrive for another thirty minutes or so. Shall we delay the attack!”

“No. The enemy has only a wooden palisade for protection. We can smash through that on our own.” He turned to the radioman, standing by a few paces behind. “Send to all units: For Bismarck and for Germany! All tanks forward! Attack pattern Alberich!”

Nearly a hundred Panthers of the 12th Anatevka did just that, rolling along towards the wooden palisade surrounding the city. The lead units opened fire at three hundred meters. Barriers which would have been nearly impassable to cavalry troopers proved useless against 88mm tank guns. General Schneider could see the smoke from his command tank.

“Excellent! Tell our tanks to advance into the city!”

Once again the vanguard Panthers rolled forward towards the now burning palisade. They faced only scattered rifle fire at first from the Turkish guerillas defending Adana. The first signs of trouble began less than a hundred meters from the now destroyed main gate. Suddenly one of the lead tanks stopped, as if it's treads were hung up on something. Two more of the Panthers followed suit.

“It's the Dragons's Teeth, sir!” reported Gunther. “Our tanks are taking too much rifle fire for our engineers to get them free easily!”

General Schneider swore under his breath. I should have known it was too easy! “Tell our engineers to stand by, and order our tanks to spread out! Those $#! tank traps can't be everywhere! I want a row of Panthers behind the vanguard, firing machine guns only! That will give our men the cover fire they need! ”

“Sir!” interrupted the radioman. “It's the Wuhjah! She's requesting instructions!”

“Finally! Tell her to mount a high strafing run!”

A silver dot was already visible to the east, and quickly grew into a massive cigar-shaped airship. Her enormous shadow darkened the sky as she swept over the command tank, bearing down on the enemy city from the east. General Schneider could see faint flashes of light as the airship's forward machine guns pivoted and opened fire from a thousand meters. Those Turkish guerillas will be caught in the crossfire!

“We've got a lane cleared, General!” reported Gunther.

“Excellent! Send all available tanks forward!”

Panther after Panther rolled forward, past a few of their stuck fellows, firing their own machine guns as they advanced. They crashed through the now burning palisade as Wuhjah, her strafing run complete, soared back into the morning skies once again. The city side of the palisade was now strewn with dead and dying Turkish guerillas.

Another Turkish city was about to fall to the might of the Empire.

June 12, 910 AD

Keizer Track
Berlin, Germany
1:15 p.m.

“My Chancellor, Ministers von Folich, von Landscheid, and von Offenbach are here to see you.”

Chancellor Otto von Bismarck smiled at the lead Guardsman. “Excellent, Jurgen.” He turned to the two waiters standing against the far wall of the private box. “If you will give us a few minutes, gentlemen. We shall ring if we require anything.” Both waiters naturally saluted their leader and left, followed almost immediately by the three Ministers, who bowed to their leader as usual. “You wished to see us before the 2:00 race, my Chancellor?”

“Yes, Hans. I wished to hear the latest news from the Turkish War.”

“The situation has not changed appreciably in the last week, my Chancellor.. A Panther division is headed toward the isolated Turish outpost of Izmit, well to the northeast of Aksu. I might also add that AS Scharnhorst has surveyed the area and seen no sign of the antitank defenses we encountered at Adana a month ago. We still have not yet heard from our operative in Khiva, codenamed Agent Tricky. The good news is that we have no indication that he has been discovered by the enemy. It is likely that his situation makes it difficult to contact us.”

“Ah. One other question, then. When would we need to spend the marks to enable this Agent Tricky to properly infiltrate the enemy?”

“It will be at least another few months, my Chancellor. I should perhaps point out that we will not lose much by the delay, since it will take our forces some time to consolidate their gains in any event. I have taken the liberty of sending a mechanized infantry unit to relieve the cavalry defenders of the Gobi radar station which was attacked by the Turks last summer, and so I would be most surprised if the Turks are foolish enough to try again now.”

“Very well.” The Chancellor now turned his attention to the Domestic Minister. “Axel, is there any further news to report?”

“Nothing of any real importance at present, my Chancellor. There is of course some unrest in the occupied Turkish cities, but I am not that concerned for the time being.”

“Excellent.” The Chancellor looked to his third visitor. “Ludwig, I have heard that you are considering retirement at the end of the year. I do trust that I can persuade you to remain at your post for the rest of my term, or until the end of the Turkish War. After all, I believe that you are younger than I by some twelve years.”

“That is very kind of you, my Chancellor. My health is not what it once was, of course. I shall bow to your gracious wishes.”

“Thank you, Ludwig. I am most pleased to hear that. Now, gentlemen, is there anything else before the rest of my family arrives in a few minutes?”

“I had one question, if I may, my Chancellor,” said the Domestic Minister. “I was told that Prinz Hans's entry in the race was scratched two days ago due to an injured fetlock. Does he have another horse which will run instead?”

“No, Axel. Prinz Hans is here because his...er...friend, a Miss Katarine Berg, has a horse in the race. It seems that Lady Lisle has followed the Chancellor's Cup races for quite some time, and so it was not difficult to persuade the rest of my family to watch the race in person once more.” The Chancellor paused for a moment. “I trust all three of you can stay for the race?”

“Of course, my Chancellor,” replied the Domestic Minister, as his colleagues nodded in agreement.

“Excellent. Jurgen, would you send the waiters back in, please?”

June 20, 910 AD

Sultan's Mansion
Khiva, Turkish Sultanate
10:00 a.m.

Sultan Kassim Timur-Lenk walked downstairs in a dreadful mood. The Germans had not attacked his citadel at Khiva in force yet, but even he knew that it was only a matter of time. Worse still, the last of the coffee had run out the day before. He could sense the nervousness and despair in his closest advisors even as they bowed to him upon his entrance in the meeting room.

“Gentlemen, let us come to the point. Our situation is grave, and becomes more so every day. We must hold out here in Khiva long enough for our Sipahi warriors in the east to rescue us all.” He turned to General Aziz, his chief military advisor. “What is the latest news from the front?”

The good General was the only man at the table to seem at all hopeful. “The situation is much as it was a month ago, O mighty Sultan. However, there is one important piece of good news for all of us. He is here even now to explain himself. With your permission?”

“Proceed, General Aziz.”

“Thank you, O great Sultan. Send in Mugawe.”

What kind of a name is that? The Sultan's unspoken question was answered when a Songhai man walked in, carrying a small box, and bowed low to him. “Thank you, O gracious Sultan, for allowing this humble servant of the Sultanate to speak to you. I have brought a gift from your adoring people.” Mugawe put the box on the table and pulled the top free with a flourish. “This contains five kilograms of the finest German coffee.”

The Sultan smiled for perhaps the first time in several weeks. “How wonderful...er...Mugawe! How ever did you manage such a feat?”

“Once, not so long ago, I was a telegraph operator in Bukhara. I recalled several interesting telegrams concerning coffee shipments. One such detailed a cache, hidden in the basement of an otherwise ordinary warehouse here in Khiva. To make a long story short, O magnificent Sultan, I was able to travel thither and retrieve the coffee, so that it could be brought to you instead of being wasted on the black market.”

“You have done rightly, Mugawe, and shall be richly rewarded for your actions.”

Mugawe smiled. It is a pity that I do not have my Mauser 9mm pistol to shoot you with, O evil Sultan! “There is more, O patient Sultan. I have learned of another cache, some twenty-five klicks from Khiva. It is reputed to contain fifty kilos of coffee. I could travel thither this very night, with your gracious permission, and bring it back here for you. I would need but two or three strong men to help me.”

“Now that is the best news I have heard in a very long time!” Only the acting Foreign Advisor seemed at all dubious, though he said nothing. “General, you will give this man whatever help he may need.”

“I hear and obey, O wise Sultan.”

“You see, gentlemen! Our cause is not yet lost after all! Meeting adjourned!” The Sultan stood up, fairly beamed at his assembled aides, and left the meeting room. Mugawe stood by the door, looking a little nervous under the watchful eyes of the two Janissary guards. A few moments later the Domestic Advisor came over, followed by General Aziz. “Mugawe, is it?”

“Yes, sir.”

“A question, then. How is it that you have become such a valued servant of the Sultanate?”

“That, sir, is easily answered. I was there at Kukiya, at the close of the German War. It was then Consul Atak who helped me escape the enemy and flee to the Sultanate. Most of my family was not so fortunate.” An angry tone came into his voice as Mugawe continued, “I barely escaped the Germans yet again at Bukhara. I will not simply become their slave as they conquer all the world!”

“Do not be so concerned, my dear fellow,” said General Aziz. “We checked out Mugawe's background most thoroughly. All is as he has said. I think the good Advisor Atak would be pleased that his noble rescue effort ten years ago has borne such fruit.”

I doubt he would share that sentiment if he knew that I am actually Agent Tricky of the Abwehr! “That is most kind of you, O great General.”

Ed. This update references an in-story incident described in posts #419 and 420.

June 25, 910 AD

Imperial Palace
Berlin, Germany
3:15 p.m.

Prinzessin Traudl looked aghast at her history tutor. “You mean the Indians really tried to assassinate Great-Grandfather as well as the Turkish Crown Prince, Meister Vonn? That's terrible!”

“Indeed, Prinzessin. Most of what we do know about this deplorable incident comes from General Tell and Chancellor Konrad. You must remember that we were at war with the Indians at the time. We think the intention was to assassinate the Turkish Crown Prince as well, and blame this vile action on General Tell. The Turks might well have come into the war on the Indian side had the Mahatma's plan succeeded.”

“Thank God the Mahatma failed, Meister Vonn. I still don't understand how the Crown Prince escaped death at their hands.”

“In part by luck, Prinzessin. General Tell was a very astute man. He and Chancellor Konrad got close enough to the Indian raiding party to encounter and attack one of their sentries. This disrupted the Indian plan, causing them to attempt to flee. Sultan Alhazred himself later told Chancellor Otto that none of the Indian raiders survived.”

“And Grandfather believed the evil Sultan?”

Meister Vonn paused for a few moments. “He had no reason to doubt the Sultan's word at the time. This all happened more than forty years ago, well before the first Turkish War broke out. I rather wonder...” Suddenly there was a knock at the door. “Come in!”

A telegraph officer duly came in. “Your pardon, Meister Vonn. This just came in for you from...the east.”

Finally! Agent Tricky's report! “Thank you very much,” said Meister Vonn as he signed the receipt form. “That will be all.” The telegraph officer saluted him and left as quickly as he had arrived.

“What does it say, Meister Vonn?” asked the Prinzessin.

“I fear, Prinzessin, that I cannot tell even you.” He thought for a moment. “Oddly enough, there is one man still alive who may be able to tell us more about this Indian raiding party. How would you like to go to Stalag 1 again and ask him?”

“You mean...Advisor Atak?”

“No, no, Prinzessin. I was referring to Crown Prince Rasoul. He was surely told all about the assassination attempt. I should say that he may not be disposed to assist us.”

“Oh.” The Prinzessin considered the matter briefly. “It is worth a try, Meister. After all, the worst he can do is say no. We are then no worse off than we were before.”

“Excellent. I will have a word with your father, then. I think that I myself will accompany you this time.” Meister Vonn smiled as he continued, “I will even be dressed in the uniform of an ordinary Imperial Guardsman. I doubt very much that the Crown Prince will give me a second glance.”

“That's a great idea, Meister Vonn! No wonder you were once a great spy!”

“Once, Prinzessin?” he replied with a smile. “I should like to think that I still am. Besides, there are two other prisoners at Stalag 1 whom I should like to have a word with.” This will also give me a chance to help out Agent Tricky!

July 27, 910 AD

Commandant's Office, Stalag 1
22 klicks SW of Leipzig, Germany
10:00 a.m.

“Send in the Ambassador and the Prince.” ordered Commandant Waud.

“Yes, sir.” A few moments later the two Turks entered the office, closely watched by two of the camp guards. “Good morning, Prince Rasoul. We here at Stalag 1 have been asked to accommodate a specific interview.” The Commandant raised his hand to forestall any objection. “Normally, of course, such a thing would be quite out of the question. However, I have been assured that you will not be asked about any current military matters or anything pertaining to the current war. Ambassador Tarkaan will be here as a witness. We may even be disposed to be more generous with our rations of Turkish Delight, assuming you cooperate.”

'Very well, Commandant Waud,” replied the Ambassador. “You may proceed.”

“As you wish.” The Commandant pressed the intercom button. “Prinzessin Traudl, would you come in, please?” A few seconds later the young Prinzessin, accompanied by two Imperial Guardsmen, entered the office. “Good morning, Crown Prince Rasoul. I wanted to ask you about an incident which occurred near Almaty some forty years ago. Indian agents attacked the Sultanate barge, and nearly killed your grandfather. We would like to know something of the Turkish investigation of the matter.”

The Crown Prince considered for a few moments. “That is an interesting question indeed, young Prinzessin. Why is it that you are so concerned about something which happened before either of us were born? I can see no real benefit to a discussion today.”

“It is a matter of history, Crown Prince Rasoul. My own great-grandfather was there, as was my great-uncle. Great-Uncle Wilhelm was actually given a medal by Sultan Alhazred for his actions. Turks and Germans once worked together to defeat the evil Mahatma's plans then, and later allied against him to destroy the Indian Republic forever.”

“You know your basic history well, at least from the German side, Prinzessin...er...Tradle.”

“Traudl, O patient Prince,” said Ambassador Tarkaan.

Prince Rasoul acknowledged the correction with a nod. “In any case, Prinzessin Traudl, there is more to the story. I cannot see that it will do any harm to speak of it now. My people looked into the matter most thoroughly, given the circumstances. Only one of the Indian operatives survived, and then only relatively briefly. He revealed, under torture, that the original plan was to assassinate retired Chancellor Konrad, and blame his death upon the innocent Turks.”

“What? That's horrible, Crown Prince!” exclaimed the Prinzessin.

“Indeed,” replied the Prince gravely. “The Indians were quite surprised when the attack was made, only to learn that Chancellor Konrad and his aide were safely out of reach in the Caspian Sea. Then Crown Prince Seljuk remembered hearing an argument in Hindi before he was wounded.”

“So what did the Sultan do about it?”

“That, Prinzessin, is the rub of the matter. He decided to suspend shipments of furs to India, and used the disease outbreak in the fur-bearing lands as a cover. What really surprised him was the swift end of the second Indo-German war.”

“I don't understand, Crown Prince Rasoul,” replied the Prinzessin. “What has the end of the second Indian War got to do with it?”

“Everything, Prinzessin Traudl. You see, Sultan Alhazred confidently expected the war to last several years longer than it actually did, given that the Chancellor's own father was nearly assassinated. Instead, the war lasted barely another year. There were some in the Emniyet who believed that was not a coincidence, and that there was something else going on behind the scenes. Sultan Alhazred himself was ultimately persuaded that war with the Empire was necessary.”

“But...none of that was true! Grandfather decided to end the war because of internal issues within the Empire. We had no intention of attacking the Sultanate!”

“It is a pity, Prinzessin, that you were not there forty years ago to advise Sultan Alhazred of that fact,” replied the Prince dryly. “In any case, that is one reason why I told you all this.”

“One reason, Crown Prince Rasoul?”

“Yes. The other is due to the poor reception you had from the good Advisor Atak. I fear he did not believe you when you were last here at Stalag 1. I wanted you to know that not all Turks are as inhospitable as he.”

“It is good of you to say that, Crown Prince Rasoul," replied the Prinzessin. "This is why I want to be a historian when I grow up. The Turkish Wars might never have happened had there been a little more trust between our peoples.”

“I wish you success, Prinzessin Traudl. My regret is that we could not have met under better circumstances.” The Prince turned to the camp Commandant. “I do have one request. You originally offered to increase our rations of Turkish Delight. I think instead we may need a few more blankets and warm clothing.”

“Now, in midsummer?” replied the Commandant.

“Some of the longer-serving prisoners have told me about the winter we had last year. As I said, Turkish Delight is not so useful as a good fur and a warm blanket when the snow falls.”

“Very well,” agreed Commandant Waud. “I will work out the details with Ambassador Tarkaan. We appreciate your efforts today. That will be all, then.”

“My pleasure, Commandant.” He turned back to his interrogator. “Until we meet again, Prinzessin Traudl.”

“Until then, Crown Prince.” The two Turks quickly left the office, followed by the two camp guards. The brief silence was broken by Commandant Waud. “Send in Meister Vonn, please.” Moments later Meister Vonn entered, wearing the uniform of an ordinary Imperial Guardsmen. “I trust your questions were answered, Prinzessin?”

“Sort of, Meister Vonn. It did not go at all as I had expected.”

“I am not surprised, Prinzessin. For my part, I can say that I learned what I wanted to know from the interviews I conducted. I suppose we should return to Leipzig now.”

“Yes, Meister Vonn.”

“One small point, if I may, Prinzessin Traudl,” said the Commandant. “Prince Rasoul may be a charming young man, but you must remember that he is a prisoner here in Stalag 1 for a good reason. His loyalty is to the Sultanate, not the Empire.”

The Prinzessin nodded in agreement. “I understand, Commandant Waud. Thank you for all your help today.”

“It is my pleasure, Prinzessin Traudl.”

July 19, 910 AD

Imperial Palace Ballroom
Berlin, Germany
3:00 p.m.

So far so good mused the Chancellor as Kapelmeister Schneider cued the orchestra to begin the first wedding march. The wedding of his daughter Elsa to Anton Ziegler, once the chief German spy with the Songhai Kingdom, had gone perfectly. Groscheiner Johann Zulsdorf had performed the actual ceremony, at the specific request of the groom.

“Is there something wrong, Father?” came a voice from just behind him.

“Not wrong, exactly, Helmut,” replied the Chancellor. “I was rather expecting the Military Minister to ask for an urgent meeting concerning the war.”

“I suppose, Father, that is a sign that we are winning the Turkish War. Besides, Elsa needs you here today. Even a Chancellor must tend to his family upon occasion.”

“True, Helmut. You are indeed learning the subtleties of the Chancellorship well. The Empire will be in good hands when you take my place in five years time.”

“I could only succeed you, Father. You have taken the Empire from a leading power to but one short step away from total global domination. Minister von Landscheid is quite certain that the war is in its final stages. We have not even seen any real Turkish counterattacks since the raid last year.”

“Then you spoke with Hans earlier today?”

“Of course, Father. I wanted to know if he intended to brief you about the war. His precise reply was, 'I think not, Prinz Helmut. The good Meister Vonn asked me to be here, since he spent many years working with the Abwehr on behalf of the Empire.'”

“So much the better for all of us,” replied the Chancellor, as the familiar stains of the “Blue Danube Waltz” came to an end. “Perhaps we might have a word with Elsa. We will not get much of a chance for quite some time.”

“Of course, Father.” The two men made their way to the other side of the hall, where Prinzessin Elsa saw her father and older brother coming. “Oh Father, everything has been so wonderful! I'm so happy now!”

“I am most pleased, Elsa. So it was once with me decades ago, when I married your mother. Even Gerhardt would be pleased if he could see you today.”

“Are you certain, Father?” asked the Prinzessin.

“Quite so. You have richly deserved this second chance at happiness, and for that matter, so has Anton. Young Traudl has told us many stories of his exploits, both as a spy and later as a true espionage master. You have made a most suitable choice.”

“Thank you, Father. At least now he will never have to worry about risking his life on any dangerous secret missions again.” The Prinzessin broke off at the expression on her brother's face. “Is something wrong, Helmut?”

“Not wrong, exactly, Elsa. I just saw Minister von Landscheid speaking with Anton. He gave him some sort of envelope. I thought for a moment it was some sort of message.”

“More likely it is merely a wedding gift, Helmut.” said the Chancellor. “We should not jump to conclusions. Now, Elsa, you mustn't neglect the reception line.”

“Certainly, Father,” replied the Prinzessin. She quickly joined her new husband at the receiving line, and both were soon chatting away with the wedding guests. “Father, perhaps I could have a quick word with Minister von Landscheid. I would feel better if I knew what he was up to.”

“A good idea, Helmut. Proceed, then.” The Prinz did just that, catching up with the Military Minister as he joined the end of the buffet line. “Ah, Prinz Helmut,” said the Minister. “I believe the wedding and the reception is going quite well.”

“Yes, Minister. I happened to notice you giving an envelope to Anton. Is there something going on which Father and I should know?”

The Minister's expression changed for a moment. “Yes, but not here. I had intended to brief you both on Monday.” He glanced over to his leader, who was watching them both closely. “Perhaps we could speak outside briefly?”

“Certainly, Minister.” The two men walked into the corridor, and in a few moments the Chancellor himself followed. “All right, Hans,” asked the Chancellor. “What is going on?”

“It involves Agent Tricky, my Chancellor. The first part of his mission to infiltrate Khiva has been successful. He requests that we attempt to get a radio to him, so that he can communicate freely with us here in Berlin. The good Meister Vonn, who was once Agent Tricky's superior officer in the Abwehr, has continued that role in his current mission, in order to minimize the damage should he be caught.”

“Approved, Hans,” said the Chancellor after a moment's thought. “Proceed as you think best. We had better return to the ballroom before someone notices we are missing.”

“Of course, my Chancellor.”

August 17, 910 AD

War Department, Sultan's Mansion
Khiva, Turkish Sultanate
8:55 a.m.

At least we have coffee now mused General Aziz as he looked over his desk in his cramped converted office. He was in the difficult position of trying to find a way to stop the German invaders of the Sultanate, just as his late father had done. Enemy troops had been sighted in the passes north and east of Khiva, and General Aziz had no doubt that it was but a matter of time before the Germans were able to mount a proper siege of the city in preparation for a full-scale assault.

Everything that could reasonably be done to defend the city was being done. Every able-bodied man would soon be conscripted into the Turkish defenders manning the walls. The armory had been opened, and thousands of modern rifles had been distributed to the defenders. There was even a division of Sipahi cavalry available which had fortunately escaped the German dragnet.

And yet that may not be enough. The General's dark thoughts were interrupted by a knock on his door. “Yes, Karim?”

“The Songhai to see you, sir.” replied his aide.

“Then send him in.” Moments later Mugawe stepped into the office, carrying a large sack, and bowed to the General. “Good morning, O wise General. I have news, both good and bad, to tell this day.”

“I see. Let's begin with the good news, Mugawe.”

“As you wish, O great General. I was able in my travels last night to find another, smaller cache of coffee.” Mugawe partially unwrapped the sack, revealing a small metal box. “This is another four kilos, for the august Sultan and his loyal servants, of course.”

“Of course,” replied the General, eying the box eagerly. “This is indeed good news.”

“Yes, O patient General. There is, however, a serious matter to tell you of.” Mugawe placed the sack on the corner of the desk, revealing a second box, which contained an odd-looking assortment of electrical items.

“What on earth is that, Mugawe?”

Mugawe's expression turned grave. “I think it is a fairly primitive radio, O mighty General. It was near the cache, as if it had been placed there deliberately.” The wall clock began to chime the hour as Mugawe pressed a switch on one side of the device. A hissing noise could be heard for a few seconds. Suddenly a dull male voice, speaking German, came out of the speaker. “One, three, fourteen, at nine.” The voice faded as quickly as it came, leaving the same low hissing noise.

“What does this mean, Mugawe?”

“O wise General, I believe this is some sort of German code. This radio was obviously intended for a German agent, ready to betray us all!”

General Aziz quickly threw the sack back onto the radio. “I fear you are correct, Mugawe. You will tell no one of this! I only regret that I cannot reward your loyalty as it truly deserves.”

Surely Agent Vonn in Berlin will take care of that, O evil General! Aloud Mugawe merely bowed politely to his host. “The Sultan took me in when the Germans came to destroy my native people. My loyalty is to him alone.”

“Excellent. There is one other matter, one that I am reluctant to discuss even here.” General Aziz lowered his voice as he continued, “It is possible that the situation in Khiva will become quite untenable for the Sultan. If so, it will be my painful duty to see that he escapes safely. Your hard won knowledge of the mountains may be vital in this effort. I want you thinking of the best route to take, particularly at night.”

Then Agent Vonn's plan will work after all! “I hear and obey, O prudent General.”