Blood and Iron: The Conquests of the Chancellor

December 4, 820 AD

Royal Palace
Timbuktu, Kingdom of the Songhai
11:57 a.m.

Ambassador Schnabel and his chief aide, Military Attache Anton Ziegler, stepped out of the Embassy carriage into the bright desert sunshine of Timbuktu. “It is strange that this may well be the last time we travel here, Anton.”

“Perhaps, Your Excellency,” replied Anton as the two men walked towards the Palace door, guarded as usual by an Songhai impi soldier, who opened the door for the visitors with an impassive expression. The two Germans quickly made their way to the throne room antechamber, where the Palace chamberlain stood at their entrance.

“Welcome, Ambassador Schnabel,” said the chamberlain in perfect German. “I shall inform His Majesty that you are here.” The chamberlain disappeared into the throne room, and returned some thirty seconds later. “His Majesty will see you now, gentlemen.”

The two Germans duly entered the throne room and bowed to the King, as tradition and protocol demanded. “Welcome to my court once again, Ambassador. I shall imitate your no doubt beloved Chancellor Bismarck and get to the point. What brings you here to see me this day?”

“Your Majesty,” replied the Ambassador, “I have grown old and grey in the service of the Empire here in your realm. It has been my sad duty to submit my resignation to my superiors, effective at the end of December.”

“I see. I for one will be sorry to see you go, Ambassador. You have been a voice of reason and wisdom for your Empire.” The King's expression darkened as he continued, “I must ask, however, about your successor.”

“Your Majesty, I do not yet know who my successor will be. We are sending an additional twenty staffers, as part of the annual rotation, who should arrive here in Timbuktu, weather and sandstorms permitting, sometime next week.”

“Then you are not evacuating the Embassy in preparation for a German attack? Your opposite number among the Turks told me only yesterday that they believe this will soon occur.”

Ambassador Schnabel winced at the King's blunt statement. “Despite what rumor and ill-informed people may tell you, Your Majesty, we are not evacuating our Embassy. There will of course be some turnover of staff, as is typical when a new Ambassador takes over.”

“I see. And your aide, the good Military Attache Ziegler, I believe?”

Anton replied, with some reluctance, “Your Majesty, I have been asked to stay on for the moment. I do not yet know whether Ambassador Schnabel's replacement will bring his own man into the post.”

“I hope not. You too have been a loyal servant of the Empire.” The King settled back into his throne. “Is there anything else, then?”

“There is one other matter, Your Majesty,” replied the Ambassador. “I would not wish my last formal meeting with you to be marked with acrimony, but I must protest the recent mistreatment of German religious workers here in the Kingdom. I have heard credible reports that even some of the Missionaries of Charity sisters have been threatened with death and forced to leave the missions in Kiffa and Walata, for example.”

“I must listen to the feelings of my people, Ambassador. Anti-German sentiment is growing rather quickly, as the foreign beliefs of the Germans are cast out in favor of our traditional ways. Naturally, there may be some slight disruptions.”

“Your Majesty, with all respect, Chancellor Bismarck and the German people will not see it in such a light. Such mob actions merely plays into the hands of those who seek needless conflict and violence.”

“The matter is closed, Ambassador. There is nothing I can do about it.” The firm set of the king's jaw convinced Ambassador Schnabel that further discussion was futile. “Again, I thank you and the Military Attache for coming to my court this day. I shall look forward to meeting your replacements in due time.”

“As you wish, Your Majesty.” Both Germans bowed to the king, and then left the throne room. Neither spoke until the carriage was well on the way back to the Embassy. “Anton, I fear the reaction when I make my report to the Foreign Ministry. Any chance we might have had to avert a war may have just ended.”

“Your Excellency, the war will not be our doing.”

“And what of the innocent Embassy staffers, and the twenty more who will arrive next week? Are they merely acceptable losses in the impending war?”

“Not at all, Your Excellency.” Anton lowered his voice, even in the carriage, as he continued, “I received a coded reply to my question about Operation Desert Shield. The new men are not ordinary staffers, but trained infantrymen and soldiers. We will indeed send most of the diplomatic personnel back to Germany, and replace them with soldiers. This should prevent the Turks from warning the Songhai of our intentions.”

“Then the war is inevitable, just as I had feared,” said the Ambassador sadly.

December 26, 820 AD

North American Wilderness
134 klicks SE of Seneca, Iroquois Despotate
Dawn

Iroquois Warleader Soaring Eagle, along with the other nineteen Iroquois braves sent by the Great Chief to do battle with the savage barbarians, turned east to face the rising dawn. He had taken breath to sing the Dawn Chant, composed by Great Chief Cold Bear himself, when Listening Woman interrupted him. “Warleader, what of the German warning that the barbarians are nearby?”

“Keep your place, Listening Woman!” snarled Soaring Eagle. He made a quick gesture, and all twenty braves sang in unison:

Welcome, O ruler of the skies!
Your brightness gives the People light!
Your heat gives the People warmth!

Soaring Eagle alone began the next verse:

We greet you, O ruler of the skies!
The People see by your great light!
The beauty of the world...

Suddenly the forest came alive with the eerie war cries of the savage barbarians, interrupting the Warleader's chant. Listening Woman saw the massed barbarians rushing through the forests, clearing intending to wipe the small Iroquois force off the face of the Earth.

“Go! You must warn the main German camp! We'll hold them off as long as we can!” Listening Woman needed no further urging to run for her life as battle was joined behind her. She paused at a ridge some hundred meters away to look back. A few braves were still fighting, surrounded by a crowd of barbarians. One berserker saw her and pointed to his comrades, who quickly began to run up the hill in pursuit.

Listening Woman turned to run, fearing the worst. She made it halfway down the far slope before she saw the blue pennants of the main German horse rider encampment to the east. Suddenly a new sound filled her ears, and to her joy she saw blue-clad Germans approaching. “The barbarians!” she gasped. “They are attacking us!”

The German leader barked out several guttural phrases, as the horse riders moved left and right through the woods, drawing their strange sticks and adjusting something on them. A few moments later the leader shouted a single word: “FIRE!”

The forest exploded with noise as the horse riders pointed their stick weapons at the onrushing barbarians. The eerie war cries were now mixed with cries of pain as the lead barbarians began to fall to the ground. Listening Woman hesitated for only a moment before she turned and continued her flight back down the hill, grateful to hear the barbarian war cries and the strange booms of the German weapons disappear behind her. She stopped only when she reached the edge of the camp, gasping for breath.

A few moments later, she looked up. Hundreds of horse soldiers were headed north, back the way she had come, presumably to aid their fellow soldiers. How did they know the barbarians were attacking? She watched them ride until a friendly voice behind her spoke. “Listening Woman, I believe?”

She turned to see a short German man, dressed in black instead of the usual blue. “I am Father Kreitzburg. Are you injured, Listening Woman?”

“No, sir. The barbarians...they...”

“I know. General Staupfen told me that the main assault was just west of here. Our sentries told us that a few barbarians were moving to the north. The column you saw was ordered to warn Soaring Eagle and the other Iroquois.”

“They are too late, sir. They must all be..dead now.”

“I am sorry to hear that, Listening Woman.” A German horse rider, with a more elaborate uniform than his fellows, rode up as he finished. “Father, you will be needed in the hospital tent soon.” The rider turned to Listening Woman, with an odd expression upon his features. “We will see to it that you can return in safety back to your people. Tell them that we shall avenge their fallen warriors!”

December 27, 820 AD

Family Quarters, Imperial Palace
Berlin, Germany
6:00 a.m.

“My Chancellor?”

Chancellor Otto von Bismarck opened one eye to see the Palace Chamberlain. “What is it, Rudi?”

“My apologies for waking you at this hour, my Chancellor. Minister von Landscheid is waiting in your office with urgent news.”

Why does this sort of thing happen at inconvenient hours? “Tell the Minister that I shall be with him in a few minutes, and then wake up Prinz Helmut, and ask him to meet us there as well.” Chancellor Bismarck wearily got dressed, relieved that his wife Eva remained asleep, and went downstairs to his office. Only the usual two Imperial Guardsmen were on duty in the outer office. One opened the inner office door for his leader. The Military Minister, waiting inside, stood and bowed as the Chancellor entered.

“All right, Hans, what happened?”

“Two events of importance, my Chancellor. The first is from the North American expedition. It appears the barbarians were foolish enough to attack entrenched German positions in great numbers. An estimated four to five divisions of berserkers were killed, at a relatively minor cost on our side.” The Minister looked troubled, despite his description of a German victory. “However, it appears that a barbarian division also attacked along the north side, where the Iroquois party was camped. Only one Iroquois woman survived out of some twenty Iroquois braves.”

“I see. What is Ludwig's opinion on this?”

“I am not certain, my Chancellor. He should be on his way to the Palace even now.”

“Very well, then. We shall await...” A knock sounded at the door. “Yes?”

“Father, it is Helmut,” came the voice from the other side. “May I come in?”

“Please.” A few moments later Prinz Helmut entered the office. “Did I miss anything of importance, Father?”

“A diplomatic issue with the Iroquois, son, which we will resolve once the Foreign Minister arrives.” Chancellor Bismarck now turned back to his other visitor. “You mentioned two matters of importance, Hans. What is the second?”

“Ah. Our Panther divisions are moving to their jumping-off positions, my Chancellor, just on our side of the Songhai border. They should be in place by Friday, allowing a full twenty-four hours to stand to and make any last-minute adjustments. Operation Lightning War will be ready by 8:00 a.m. Berlin time on January 2.”

Chancellor Bismarck leaned back in his office chair, and then turned to his faithful Military Minister. “Very well, Hans. We shall proceed with the attack.” Another knock at the door interrupted him, and Prinz Helmut opened the door to find the Foreign Minister there. “My apologies for being a little later, my Chancellor,” he said. “I did not expect a meeting at the Palace quite this early.”

“No apologies are necessary, Ludwig. Thank you for coming at such an hour. An interesting diplomatic situation has arisen with the Iroquois. I will ask Hans to explain.” The Military Minister quickly repeated for his colleague what he had already told the Chancellor.

“My Chancellor, we gain little by attempting to conceal the situation from the Iroquois. I recommend we contact Consul Dorfan, and ask him to meet with the Great Chief and tell him what happened.” The Military Minister nodded in agreement. “It will do no harm, my Chancellor.”

“All right, then. Ludwig, make the necessary arrangements, and let me know how the Iroquois react. Again, thank you both for coming in. Dismissed.” Both Ministers stood and bowed to their Chancellor, and then left the office. Prinz Helmut stood to go as well, but was stopped by his father's raised hand.

“A moment, Helmut. Did you notice what the Military Minister did just now?” Prinz Helmut looked confused for a moment. “I do not understand, Father. He merely reported an incident with the Iroquois, as was his duty.”

“True. However, he could have waited a couple of hours, with no real harm done. Instead, he deliberately came to the Palace early, to ensure that he could present the attack plans against the Songhai without the Foreign Minister around to object.” At his son's look of dawning comprehension, he added, “I do not blame Hans, by the way. It is not uncommon that the shoe is on the other foot, so to speak. As Chancellor, it is important to note how your Ministers choose to tell you what occurred, rather than merely to listen to what they say. Soon, when you replace me as Chancellor, you will learn for yourself what I am talking about.”

“Yes, Father, though I could only succeed you.”

January 2, 830 AD

Imperial Palace
Berlin, Germany
8:35 a.m.

Crown Prince Mansa Ali of the Songhai Kingdom groaned softly as his carriage, one of only two belonging to the Embassy, pulled up with a lurch at the west gates of the Imperial Palace. He was still clutching the formal invitation the Embassy received yesterday. The favour of your attendance at a meeting with Chancellor Otto von Bismarck at precisely 8:00 a.m. Tuesday, January 2 in the Imperial Palace is hereby requested, to discuss issues of import to both the Songhai Kingdom and the Imperial German Empire. There had been no time to contact Timbuktu for instructions, and so he had done the next best thing by contacting Ambassador Tarkaan of the Turks.

The young Prince would never forget the Ambassador's reaction upon seeing the invitation. “Prince Ali, do not be deceived by the gentle language of this. Chancellor Bismarck did not ask you to the Palace for a mere whim. You had best be prepared for the Germans to declare war.” Normally he was a young man of courage, but last night the horrible fear that the Turks were right had taken hold, and he had drunk a full bottle of Hochrotwein vainly looking for the inner strength he needed.

“We are here, O Prince,” said the coachman. Prince Mansa opened the door and stepped outside, into the bright sunshine of the winter day, and walked the few meters to the wrought iron gates. “Guards, I am Prince...”

“We know who you are, Prince Mansa,” interrupted one of the Guardsmen. “You are more than half an hour late. The Chancellor will be displeased.” He then pressed a button, and spoke in a low tone, “Sir, this is the west gate. Prince Mansa finally arrived.”

“Send him to the antechamber. Sender Green is in effect,” came a disembodied voice in reply.

What the @#! is a Sender Green? The Guardsman turned back to his royal guest. “Follow me, please.” The gate was opened, and the two men proceeded into the Palace. The Prince's hangover prevented him from realizing that there were many more guards about than usual. It was not until he reached the throne room antechamber that he finally noticed six guards standing post, instead of the usual two.

The Palace chamberlain stood up as he approached, giving the Songhai Prince a glare. “You are very late, Prince Mansa. The Chancellor is a busy man, and has other duties to attend to.”

“Still, I am here now,” replied the Prince, with an attempt at bluster. “May I speak with your esteemed leader?”

“A moment.” The chamberlain pressed two buttons on his desk, and a third button lit up. “As I thought. Will you follow the Guardsmen upstairs to Prinz Helmut's office?”

“Certainly.” Prince Mansa did his best to hide his fears as two of the Guardsmen led the way, while two more followed behind. He did not see the sadness in the chamberlain's expression as he turned the corner to ascend the stairs. Three more Guardsmen were at the upper landing, and just behind them was Prinz Helmut.

“At least you decided to come to the Palace after all,” said the Prinz sternly. “We are concerned about the treatment of German religious workers in the Kingdom. Ambassador Schnabel's final report is most disturbing.”

“What of it, Prinz Helmut? They are not welcome in the Kingdom any longer. I do not care about such a trivial issue.”

“For us it is not a matter of trivialities, Prince Mansa. The situation between our two nations has deteriorated to a dangerous level without this additional provocation.” Prinz Helmut glared at his Songhai counterpart. “Your impertinent attitude towards vital diplomatic meetings has also been duly noted. Have you even any excuse, besides drunkenness, for your delay in arriving this morning?”

“I do not have to justify myself to you, Prinz Helmut,” shot back Prince Mansa. “Let me speak with your father instead!”

The guards tensed at the Prince's words, and he finally realized that he had gone too far. “I think not, Prince Mansa. Father has other concerns to address. Instead, he asked me to speak with you, assuming you actually deigned to arrive here at the Palace. It has become my grave duty to inform you that your people and mine are now at war.”

“What?” said the Prince as the Guardsmen closed in. “You will regret this! We should have trusted the Turks when they warned us about your father's warlike attitude! They will help us against the German hordes!”

“It is fortunate for you, Prince Mansa, that you are also an accredited Ambassador. Otherwise, I can assure you that your insolence would not go unpunished. Guards, take him away!”

“History will not be so kind to you, Prinz Helmut,” shouted the Prince, despite his hangover as two burly Guardsmen seized his wrists in an iron grip.

“Once again, you are wrong, Prince Mansa,” was the cool reply. “History, as Father has said on other occasions, is written by the victors, not the vanquished.” The Guardsmen dragged the still protesting Prince away, while Prinz Helmut went down the hall to his father's study. The Chancellor was at the desk as the Prinz entered, speaking at the intercom. “That is correct, Hans. Proceed with Operation Lightning War at your discretion.”

January 2, 830 AD

Tobruk checkpoint
Near the German-Songhai border
9:05 a.m.

General Ali, brother of His Majesty King Sunni Ali, surveyed the newly strengthened defenses of the Tobruk checkpoint from a low bluff a klick to the west. Until a year or so ago, there was little here to stop a determined attack. Now, a trench three meters wide and deep, bristling with sharpened stakes, surrounded the checkpoint for two hundred meters in every direction. He had a full regiment of impi soldiers at his command, manning the trench and keeping a close watch on the German frontier a mere three klicks away. Let the Germans come, if they dare! We could stop many of their horse soldiers at need!

Satisfied, he was about to send an aviary message back to Kumbi when he noticed something on the eastern horizon. A cloud of dust was approaching. This is not the usual time of year for sandstorms. He squinted into the rising sun, mentally cursing the lack of a spyglass, to get a better look. His blood ran cold, despite his years of experience, as he realized that the storm was moving rapidly, far too rapidly to be natural.

“It is the Germans! They are coming in force! Alert Kumbi at once!”

His aide hesitated for a moment, staring at the dust cloud. They could now hear, through the clear morning air, an ominous rumbling noise from the east. “MOVE IT!” ordered the General, finally spurring his aide to action. A squad of impi climbed out of the trench, forming a small but sturdy battle square as they and their brothers behind them watched and waited.

Suddenly, the rumbling noise grew louder as the first Germans crested a small rise some hundred meters beyond the trench. General Ali looked in horror at the lead German weapon. It was like nothing he had ever seen before, monstrous, alien, inhuman. It seemed to be made of iron, and was painted in a distinctive blue with white trim, and rolled across the sands with the speed and agility of a horse despite its massive size. A long barrel sat atop the weapon, pointed at the main checkpoint guard station. It started down the slope, as the impi squad shouted their defiance and charged with their spears at the enemy.

Fire flashed from the German weapon along either side, and the war cries of the impi turned to screams of pain and agony. All fell to the desert sands, well short of spear-throwing range, as the German.weapon came on without pause. The barrel atop the weapon shifted slightly, and a huge pillar of flame and smoke came out with a great roar of sound. The main guard post of Tobruk checkpoint disappeared into a cloud of dust, debris, and shattered stone.

More of the huge German weapons appeared, moving rapidly across the desert sands, and wheeled left and right past the checkpoint and its defenses. General Ali could see a last, hopeless charge of his remaining impi forces against the German monsters invading their lands. All were cut down like wheat before a sickle as the General watched in horrified fascination.

How can we stop them?

January 2, 830 AD

German Embassy
Timbuktu, Songhai Kingdom
11:00 a.m.

Military Attache Anton Ziegler looked over the Embassy plans, spread out over his desk. It was his duty to prepare the Embassy for a possible siege by the Songhai. Ambassador Schnabel had left two hours ago to tell the Songhai King of the start of the war, and so far they had heard nothing from him since. The shrill tone of the office intercom interrupted his thoughts. “Yes?”

“Sir, there is a Prince Mugawe, accompanied by a herald, to see you.”

Prince Mugawe is the younger son of the King. Perhaps he is here to try to make a name for himself by negotiating a peaceful surrender of the Embassy, now that war has broken out. The Military Attache scowled as he replied, “Is there any word from the Ambassador?”

“None, sir.”

“All right. Hans, show them in, and have Konrad and Axel standing by. Get all the civilians down to the basement. We could be under Songhai attack at any moment."

“Yes, sir.” Hans left at once, returning a few moments later with the Songhai prince and his herald escort. “Colonel Ziegler, I believe?” asked the Prince in an unctuous tone which set Anton's teeth on edge.

“I am he, Prince Mugawe. What have you done with Ambassador Schnabel?”

“It is the wish of His Royal Highness that the German Embassy be taken without bloodshed. As for the Ambassador, he is unharmed, and he will stay that way, providing that you give us the knowledge of how to work these marvelous radios as the wise King demands.”

“And if we refuse your ridiculous demand?” Anton stood up from his chair and glowered at his shorter opponents.

“Then the impi regiment just outside the gates will find someone here at this Embassy who will comply. Perhaps one of the Missionaries of Charity sisters sheltering here will be more...accommodating to His Majesty. They are of little use to us otherwise, save as an amusement to the troops.”

There was roiling fury in Anton's eyes as he stepped forward and glared at his shorter visitor. “Get lost, you barbarian savage! Get out of my office at once or I will throw you out myself!”

The herald made the mistake of pointing his spear at the enraged German military attache. A solid right hook sent the herald reeling back into the door frame as Anton wrenched the spear away and broke it in half over the side of his desk. “Konrad! Axel!” Prince Mugawe wisely made no move as the two Imperial Guardsmen stationed outside entered the office at the sounds of struggle and quickly seized the dazed herald. “Get these men out of here!”

“You will regret this, Colonel!”

Anton drew his Mauser service pistol and held it to the Prince's left temple. “I will say this just one time. Tell your King that the next Songhai impi who sets foot onto the Embassy grounds uninvited will not leave them alive! That is the only reason why you are still breathing!” Turning to the three Guardsmen, he added, “Get this worthless scum out of my sight this instant!” The Guardsmen quickly hauled the herald out the door and marched him to the Embassy gate, while the Prince left in a more dignified fashion.

The Guardsmen were dismayed to see at least a full regiment of Songhai impi warriors lined up in neat rows, iron tipped, fire-toughened spears at the ready, just outside the Embassy gates. Axel spoke a final word to Prince Mugawe. “Tell your King to consider his next move carefully. We are well defended here, and any assault on the Embassy will cost the lives of many Songhai warriors.” The gate guard opened the gate just enough to permit Prince Mugawe and the herald to leave, and then closed and locked the heavy iron gate.

Will they attack now?

January 2, 830 AD

Throne Room, Topkapi Palace
Samarkand, Turkish Sultanate
8:30 a.m.

The Sultan's page played the usual three note fanfare before he announced, “O great Sultan, Ambassador Mueller from the Imperial German Empire.” That official duly entered the throne room and bowed to his host, as tradition and protocol required. “Ah, Ambassador Mueller,” said the Sultan genially. “I trust you have good news this day?”

“I fear not, Sultan,” replied the Ambassador, a note of sadness in his voice. “It is my painful duty to tell you that relations between the Empire and the Songhai Kingdom has deteriorated beyond easy repair. War has broken out between our peoples. Chancellor Bismarck is scheduled to address the Reichstag and the German people at noon Berlin time, or about thirty minutes from now, but that will be a mere formality.”

The Sultan's good mood vanished abruptly, as did his genial expression. “So, the Chancellor has finally shown his true colors, Ambassador. I have been expecting him to declare war upon the innocent Songhai for the last several years, and now it has finally happened.” He raised his right hand, quelling the Ambassador's reply before he could speak. “Do not bother telling me about the 'provocations of the King' or his ingratitude at the German destruction of the pirate armada off the Songhai coast, Ambassador. I know perfectly well why Chancellor Bismarck is leading his people into war. Now I must consider my response.”

“Sultan, it is also my duty to tell you, on behalf of the Chancellor, that the relations between our two nations are unaffected by the sad rift between ourselves and the Songhai. I have been specifically instructed to tell you that telegraph communications between your Embassy in Timbuktu and the Sultanate will be maintained on our end, as required by diplomatic custom and treaty.”

“So you say,” replied the Sultan ominously. “I am not so naive as to believe such foolishness. I must protest this German aggressive action against the Songhai on behalf of myself and the Turkish people. Still, at least the Chancellor had the decency to have you inform me of his actions.”

“Of course, Sultan. Again, please accept my assurances that I and the Embassy stand ready to do all in our power to heal the divisions between the Empire and Sultanate.”

“I trust you will be more successful, Ambassador, that your counterpart was with the Songhai.” The Sultan's blunt statement hung in the air for a few seconds. “Thank you for coming in this day. I have no doubt we shall talk again soon.”

“Until we meet again in peace and friendship, Sultan.” The Ambassador bowed to his host, and then left the throne room, under the watchful eyes of the Sultan's Janissary guards. Once the Ambassador was out of earshot, the Sultan ordered, “Send for the Grand Vizier at once.”

“I hear and obey,” replied an aide, as he raced off to carry out his leader's order. It was only a matter of a few minutes before a page played the usual fanfare, and then announced, “O mighty Sultan, the Grand Vizier.” A mere wave of the Sultan's hand was all it took to clear the throne room of everyone but the Sultan himself and the Grand Vizier.

“It seems, Grand Vizier, that your predictions of the Chancellor's aggression have finally come true. Ambassador Mueller was just here, and informed me that the Chancellor had declared war on the Songhai. My question to you is what we should do about it?”

“O prudent Sultan, it would be well to assure the Songhai Ambassador that we are in sympathy with their fight against the German hordes. Our generals believe the Songhai cannot hold out without our aid and assistance against the German onslaught. It would be prudent, O patient Sultan, to discreetly move troops to the German frontier. We must plan the counterattack well.”

The Sultan still did not look happy. “There is something else which concerns me. When Chancellor Bismarck declared war on the Mahatma twelve years ago, he made arrangements to make a state visit here to Samarkand. Ambassador Mueller said nothing of such a visit now. I fear the Germans know something that we do not. We must do all that we can...” A brief commotion at the doors caught the Sultan's attention.

“What is going on?” called the Sultan in a loud voice. The throne room doors opened, and one of the pages entered and bowed low to his ruler and master. “O great Sultan, an important message from the Emniyet.” He hesitated until the Sultan held out his hand. “Bring it to me.” The very nervous page approached the Sultan and handed him a sealed telegraph message form. The Sultan tore it open as the page withdrew, reading, “WAR BETWEEN IMPERIAL GERMANY AND SONGHAI BEGAN THREE HOURS AGO STOP GERMAN EMBASSY ATTACKED BY SONGHAI IMPI REGIMENT STOP GERMAN FLAG STILL FLYING ON ROOF STOP BELIEVE ATTACK REPELLED STOP.”

“It seems, Grand Vizier, that the Germans also planned their war well. Their Embassy has already survived one Songhai attack. I want you to return to the War Ministry. Find a way to help the Songhai in their fight, but do so discreetly until we are ready to strike a mighty blow against the Empire.”

“I hear and obey, O sagacious Sultan.”

January 3, 830 AD

Family Quarters, Imperial Palace
Berlin, Germany
Early morning

“My Chancellor?”

“Yes,” asked the Chancellor, as he opened one eye.

“I apologize for waking you, my Chancellor. The Military Minister is here with urgent news of the war.”

“That is all right, Rudi. I expect you will have to do this again as the Songhai War rages. Go wake up Helmut, and then tell von Landscheid that we will meet him in my office shortly.”

“As you command, my Chancellor,” replied the chamberlain. Chancellor Bismarck duly got dressed and went downstairs. His son Prinz Helmut was waiting for him at the landing, and the two men went to the office. There were three Guardsmen on duty in the empty outer office, instead of the usual two. All three saluted their leader, and one opened the inner door for him.

“So, Hans, you have news for us?” asked the Chancellor, once all three men had taken their respective seats.

“Indeed, yes, my Chancellor. I am pleased to tell you that our forces in the north, led by the 1st Berlin Panthers, are launching their attack on the city of Taghaza, along the Mediterranean Sea. The attack is being supported by the ironclad GNS Clauswitz. Our latest reports are that the eastern wall was breached late yesterday. I expect news shortly that the city has been taken.”

“That is good news, Hans. Where do we go from here?”

A map was quickly spread out over the Chancellor's desk, and all three pored over it. “My Chancellor, 2nd Anatevka Panthers are tasked with the assault on Sarnah, here, in the northwest. The ironclad GNS Steinberg has moved into position and will begin shelling the city shortly.”

“A moment, Minister,” asked Prinz Helmut. “What about our battlecruiser?”

“Ah.” The Minister pointed to a Songhai city further south along the Atlantic coast. “GNS Bismarck will be sent south to shell Audaghost. It will take our troops some time to reach the city, and the battlecruiser should be able to keep the Songhai occupied on her own in the meantime. To continue, the next phase of Marshall Rommel's plan involves attacking Segou, here. Our tanks are making good time across the desert, and that attack should begin shortly.”

“Excellent, Hans. Is there anything in the war which is not going well?”

“Only in one sector, my Chancellor. It appears that the resistance in Accra is stronger than we had initially estimated. There are at least seven or eight impi divisions guarding the city, instead of the two we had expected. I have taken the liberty of ordering two more Panther divisions to reinforce our assault. That should be sufficient to take the city.”

“Why is Accra so well defended, Hans?”

“That, my Chancellor, is a good question. Sadly, the short answer is that we do not know. My theory is that the six Songhai colonist teams which approached Kor a few years ago were withdrawn to Accra. This would explain the ferocity and numbers of the enemy. If I am right, we may well capture a significant number of workers, who will be most useful in the coming months. Our plan is to upgrade the existing Songhai road network to rail lines, to permit our troops to travel quickly to the advancing battlefront. Overall, we are on schedule.” The intercom chimed as the Minister finished. “Yes?”

“Priority telegram for the Military Minister, my Chancellor.”

“Bring it in, please.” Seconds later a telegraph officer duly brought in the message, and, after saluting his leader, left at once. “My Chancellor,” said the Minister, “this is the confirmation message from Marshall Rommel. He confirms that Taghaza is now in German hands.”

“Excellent. You have done very well so far. One last question, then. What is the situation with the Embassy in Timbuktu?”

“Ah. It appears from the Military Attache's report that the forty Guardsmen in the Embassy repelled an assault yesterday, with only one minor German casualty. They have ample water from the well, though the food supply is lower than I would prefer. They expect to be able to hold out for at least two months under current circumstances. I recommend that we expedite our attack on Segou, so that we can proceed deeper into Songhai territory.”

“Approved, Hans. I will have you return to the Ministry to continue your planning. Proceed at your discretion, and please keep me informed as to our progress.”

“It shall be done, my Chancellor.”

OOS: I'm not yet satisfied with the next installment, but I hope to have that up sometime Friday. I do have some extra things in RL to deal with between now and Easter. Planned installments for the next week include: Stay tuned, everyone!

OOS: Had a little extra time this morning, so...next update coming right up.

***
January 9, 830 AD

Center Force Command Post
2 klicks NE of Segou, Songhai Kingdom
Dawn

“Is everything ready for Plan Karl?” asked Field Marshall Rommel as he took out his binoculars and trained them on the Segou city gates.

“Yes, sir,” replied his adjutant. “We have a tank platoon in the vanguard position. They can engage the gate guards at your order.”

“Then, for Bismarck and for Germany, the order is given! Engage the enemy!” His adjutant nodded and pulled out the field radio. “Vanguard platoon, you may fire when ready!”

Some thousand meters ahead of the watching Marshall, six main guns on six different Panther tanks steadied on target. The dawn stillness was shattered as the tanks opened fire. The first shell knocked the main eastern gate askew, and the next five blasted it into rubble as the startled Songhai defenders climbed atop the city wall.

Marshall Rommel smiled at the sight. “Excellent! Tell our tanks to remain in position, and start working on the guard towers! All other tanks are to stand by!” The Marshall's order was duly given, and visible puffs of smoke and flame, even at this distance, could be seen as the first rounds struck the guard tower. He could just see tiny ant-like figures of Songhai impi moving out of the city towards the German Panther tanks which had just destroyed their city gates.

I knew they would fall for my trap! “Ambush units, stand by! Vanguard tanks, get ready to retreat to defensive perimeter!” Marshall Rommel smiled grimly as his orders were relayed to the line units. Thousands of Songhai impi were now pouring out through the destroyed city gates, seeking vengeance upon the German monsters threatening their city. The Marshall waited two minutes before giving his next order. “Now! Send the fighting retreat signal!”

The enemy was now close enough to the lead Panthers for their forward flamethrowers to be effective. A few impi went down, simply spurring their comrades to even greater fury as the massive tanks began to retreat, keeping pace with the running impi. It did not take long before the smoke was too thick for Marshall Rommel to see through with binoculars.

Now! “All ambush tanks, fire at will!” Forty Panther tanks now joined the fray, sweeping their heavy machine guns into the two impi divisions with terrible effect. The Songhai could scarcely see at all through the smoke and dust, while the thermal sights in the tanks told the German gunners all they needed to know. A few impi had not yet reached the Marshall's trap, and, finally realizing what the Germans had planned, retreated toward Segou as their comrades were slaughtered behind them. Within five minutes, most of the impi defenders of Segou were dead or dying on the desert sands.

“Send the vanguard forward again!” A few minutes later the first Panther crunched its way through the rubble of the eastern gate to enter Segou. The civilians stared in horror and disbelief as the massive tanks rumbled through the narrow streets. They were followed by a truck with a loudspeaker, which broadcast, on a repeating tape in the Songhai language: “Attention! The city of Segou has been captured by the Imperial German Army! The city is under martial law effective immediately. Any armed resister will be killed on sight! Stay in your homes and listen for further instructions!”

January 21, 830 AD

Throne Room, Royal Palace
Timbuktu, Songhai Kingdom
11:00 a.m.

How can we stop the Germans!

The same question had been going through King Sunni Ali III”s mind for nearly three weeks now, and yet he was no closer to a practical solution. “Your Majesty?” The King turned around at his chamberlain's words. “The Foreign and Military Advisors are here as you commanded, Your Majesty.”

“Send them in.” A few seconds later both nervous Advisors entered and bowed low before their leader. “Gentlemen,” said the King, “I want the truth, however bad it may be. Tell me what the enemy is up to.”

“The Germans must have planned this for years, Your Majesty.” The Military Advisor pointed to a large map of the Kingdom on the south wall. “Taghaza has fallen to German attack, and aviary reports tell us that Sarnah has sighted the Germans as well. Segou, here in the central desert, has also been captured. Finally, Accra has been taken after a fierce battle, together with six of our colonist teams which were stationed there.”

“So that is why the evil Chancellor chose not to allow our colonists passage through his territory. He must have wished to prevent us from expanding the Kingdom!”

“It is very likely, Your Majesty, that you are correct. As I said, the Germans have been planning this for a very long time.”

“So what do we do? How do we stop them from overruning us all?”

“All is not lost, Your Majesty. Our reports from Accra indicate that the Germans were surprised by the numbers of our impi defenders in the city. The initial German attack was driven off, and they were forced to concentrate their efforts on the city.”

“What good does that do us, Minister? The Germans still took the city.”

“They did, Your Majesty, but at a higher cost in time and manpower than they expected. We recommend accordingly that all available troops be recalled here to the capital. We shall make our stand here.”

“Then so it shall be, Minister. Do whatever you must to defend Timbuktu.”

“I hear and obey, Your Majesty.”

“What about the German Embassy?” The King pointed out the window to the north, where a small blue and white flag, the very symbol of the enemy, was still flying in the distance over an otherwise ordinary looking building.

“Your Majesty, we have surrounded the Embassy complex. The first attack was poorly led, which resulted in failure. Instead, we can simply prevent the Germans in the Embassy from escaping, and eventually starve them out. They are also sheltering a number of civilians and religious workers, which will use up more of their remaining food and water supplies.”

“Then you will maintain the siege. At least we shall have that victory!” King Sunni Ali now turned to his Foreign Advisor. “So what are the Turks doing as the Germans attack our innocent people?”

“Your Majesty, I have spoken with Ambassador Adir. He reports that he is still in contact with the Sultanate, through the strange 'telegraph' machines.”

“So why have the Germans not interrupted these communications?”

“It is not so simple for them, Your Majesty. Yes, they could stop the Embassy 'telegraph', but this would breach diplomatic protocols, and further enrage the Turks. Even the evil Chancellor has some limits on his power. The good news is that we can speak with Ambassador Adir at any time, and seek the Sultan's help in fighting the Germans.”

“Can the Germans read these messages?” asked the King.

“Ambassador Adir assures me that the 'telegraph' messages are secure. He did warn us that the Germans may know our diplomatic codes, from the aviary pigeons their soldiers shot down during the closing days of the last Indian War.”

“Then send for the Turkish Ambassador at once. I want both of you here when he arrives. We must persuade the Turks to help our people!”

“We hear and obey, Your Majesty.”

January 22, 830 AD

North Force Field HQ
2 klicks NE of Sarnah, Songhai Kingdom
Dawn

“I do not understand, General. What is it we are waiting for?”

Marshall Hermann von Kolke, commanding North Force, smiled grimly at his aide. “I think our naval support has finally arrived, Xaver.” He pointed out to sea, where a huge grey bulk was dimly visible in the early morning light. “Sarnah is not going anywhere. We shall gratefully permit our comrades aboard Bismarck to shell the enemy barracks first.”

“But...we can take the city ourselves! We only await your order to attack!”

“Not yet, Xaver. The more impi killed by Bismarck, the fewer left for us to deal with. I will not risk my men and tanks needlessly.” A chirp from the field radio Xaver carried interrupted him. “Yes?”

“GNS Bismarck reports she is ready, sir.”

“Excellent. Tell her to proceed, and give my personal regards to Admiral Heinz.”

“As you command, Marshall.” The orders were duly relayed, as the tankers watched to see what would happen. They did not have to wait very long. Flashes of smoke and flame appeared next to the battlecruiser, to be followed a few seconds later by plumes of debris as the shells landed in the enemy Songhai city. The relentless, unstoppable naval barrage lasted two hours.

“Now! For Bismarck and for Germany! Send all tanks forward!”

The Panthers of North Force rolled forward towards the city. Perhaps a third of the Songhai impi defenders had escaped Bismarck's bombardment, and so resistance was light as the lead tanks approached the city gate. A single tank shell was all that was needed to smash the city gates open. Inside the Gerrmans found a few milling civilians, most of whom quickly bolted back inside their homes at the sight of the massive tanks as they rumbled through the narrow streets of Sarnah. This was duly reported back to Marshall von Kotke, who ordered, “Proceed to the City Hall!”

A strange sight awaited the tank column as they approached the City Hall. A lone German woman, dressed in the habit of the Missionaries of Charity, stood some twenty meters before the main doors, as the lead tank ground to a halt. Some hundred impi warriors, holding their traditional iron-tipped, fire-toughened spears, were visible, watching from the roof and windows of the City Hall.

“Identify yourself!” boomed the loudspeaker aboard the lead tank in German.

“I am Sister Ursula, of the Missionaries of Charity. I have been asked to negotiate a proper surrender of the city of Sarnah.”

An ominous silence fell as everyone waited for the reply. A few seconds passed, and then a minute, before the loudspeaker came to life once more. “This is Marshall Hermann von Kotke, commander of North Force. The city of Sarnah has been conquered by the Imperial German Army. You will lay down your weapons and evacuate the City Hall at once.”

“And if the Songhai governor refuses your order?”

“This is not a matter for debate, Sister Ursula,” boomed the Marshall's reply. “Tell the governor that I will give him ten minutes to comply, or I will order the City Hall destroyed.” A scraping noise could be heard as the main gun of the lead tank swiveled to point at the City Hall doors, while Sister Ursula walked back to the City Hall and spoke to someone concealed on the other side.

Then everything changed. A single spear flew down from the window just above, catching the German nun in the throat. She fell to the ground and lay still. A moment passed while both sides realized what had just happened, broken by the thunderous roar of the lead Panther as its main gun opened fire on the City Hall.

January 23, 830 AD

Throne Room, Royal Palace
Timbuktu, Songhai Kingdom
Noon

“Your Majesty, Ambassador Adir and his aide from the Turkish Sultanate have arrived.”

“Send them in.” The King stood as his visitors entered and bowed politely to him in the Turkish fashion, noticing as they did so that one carried a box with a cloth cover atop it. “Welcome, gentlemen. I shall imitate the evil German Chancellor and come to the point. We stand in great need of the Sultan's help in this dark hour, as you know well. What is his reply?”

“Your Majesty, the prudent Sultan realizes that he cannot start a war with the Germans on his own initiative at this time. However, he can help his Songhai friends in their time of need.” He gestured to his aide, rather to the King's surprise. “The august Sultan's scientists, Your Majesty, have studied this new German weapon, which they call a 'Panther'. It is dangerous and powerful, but not quite invulnerable. We think we have discovered its weakness.”

“Oh? What is this weakness?”

Ambassador Adir nodded, and his aide removed the cloth from the box he was carrying, revealing a small, carefully crafted iron object. King Sunni Ali recognized it a moment later from the descriptions he had received as a detailed model of the German Panther. “Your Majesty, these Panthers are heavily armored along the top and sides. Spears and arrows will do no harm to them, and even a blow from a war elephant will cause but superficial damage. However...”

“Yes?” asked the King eagerly.

“Here, along the bottom of the tank, where the wheels are. This is the most vulnerable point of the Panther.”

“I do not understand.” said the King.

“You will surely recall, Your Majesty, the chariot races which were once common in the old Egyptian Republic, and which still take place here in your capital every year. What happens if one of the spokes of a chariot wheel breaks?”

“The chariot crashes at once! Do you mean to say...”

“Just so, Your Majesty. An ordinary spear, thrust between these wheels with enough force, will stop the German Panther quite literally in its tracks. The difficulty is that you must get close enough to the Panther to hit your target.”

“Let my loyal impi worry about that.” The King paused for a moment. “This is not the declaration of war against the Germans which I had wished, but your help in fighting the Germans will not go unnoticed by the Songhai people.”

“We too, Your Majesty, have fought the Germans,” said the Ambassador. “My own father was killed in battle when Lop Nor fell during the German War. I can assure you that the Sultan has no more love for them than you do. We will continue to examine the German weapons and tactics, and shall give you all the technical help we can.”

“That, Ambassador, will be most welcome. You have already given me hope in this dark hour of war and conflict. I fear your Sultan was right when he said that the Germans will not stop until they have conquered all the world.”

February 1, 830 AD

INN Studios
Berlin, Germany
9:57 a.m.

“Three minutes!” warned a producer.

The host of “Face the Empire” turned to his guest. “I suppose I should state a few ground rules before the show begins. I will not identify you by name, at the Military Ministry's specific request. I will ask you a number of questions. You must avoid any...er...colorful language in your replies. Finally, I do not want you to reveal any classified information on-air. I am a loyal servant of the Empire, and I have no wish to endanger your fellow soldiers. Any questions?”

“No, sir!”

“Excellent.” The last seconds ticked away, and a red light appeared over the door. “Welcome, everyone, to another edition of 'Face the Empire!' I'm your host, Franz Ostwald, and with me this morning, as part of our “Fighting Men” series, is a soldier whom we will call Specialist 290. Thank you again for coming, sir.”

“Certainly, Herr Ostwald.”

“First of all, can you tell us a little of your work for the Empire, Specialist 290?”

“Certainly, sir. I am a Panther tank gunner.” The host waited a second or two, but no other information was forthcoming. “I see,” said the host. “And can you tell our listeners why you are here in Berlin instead of at the battlefront?”

“The tank I was in had a slight accident, sir, and I was unlucky enough to break my right leg.” The guest shifted position, pointing to his cast, and then realized that none of the radio listeners could see him. “The doctors say it will be another month before I can rejoin my unit.”

“I'm sure we're all pleased to hear that you will make a proper recovery, Specialist 290. Can you tell us something of why you and your men fight?”

“We are servants of the Chancellor and the Empire, Herr Ostwald. We fight for our nation and our people in this time of war.” There was a quiet dignity in the soldier's words which surprised the radio host.

“What of your own military service, Specialist 290?”

“I can say that I and my division were at Segou when it fell to the Empire.” Again the host waited for more, and quickly spoke up after a brief pause. “Then you have killed some of the enemy?”

“Yes.” was the laconic reply.

“I see. Specialist 290, you are perhaps the best qualified man I have yet spoken with to address another issue. You surely know of the incident with Sister Ursula at Sarnah. What would you have done in that case had you been there?”

“I would have opened fire on the City Hall, just as my comrades did,” was the blunt reply. “Those Songhai butchers murdered an innocent nun before their very eyes! What man could see such a crime and not be outraged?”

“But to destroy the City Hall, with dozens of people in it?”

“Those evil Songhai slime at Sarnah got what they deserved, Herr Ostwald. We shall continue the fight until every last one of the Songhai cities is conquered by the Empire.”

February 2, 830 AD

Family Quarters, Imperial Palace
Berlin, Germany
7:50 a.m.

“So, Hans,” said the Chancellor genially, “I hear that the racing season will begin soon.”

“Yes, Father,” replied Prinz Hans. “War Admiral has been in strict training all winter. He nearly won the Chancellor's Cup last year, and I hope that this year he will succeed!” A discreet knock at the door interrupted him. “Yes?”

“Your pardon, my Chancellor,” reported the Palace chamberlain, bowing to his leader as he did so. “The Domestic and Military Ministers are here to see you concerning the war.”

“Very well. Tell them that Helmut and I will meet them in my office shortly.” The Chancellor and his son duly went downstairs to the office, where one of the Imperial Guardsmen on duty opened the inner office door. Both Ministers stood and bowed as the Chancellor entered.

“All right, gentlemen. What brings you here to the Palace so early? Are the people complaining about the war already?”

“Not at all, my Chancellor,” replied the Domestic Minister. “In fact, public approval of the war has actually increased in most cities of the Empire. The Sarnah Incident has inflamed the German people to a level we have not seen since the early days of the last Indian War.”

“It is a great pity that it took the death of an innocent nun to rally the German people in such a way, Axel. Still, I suppose this is better than being forced to seek a premature peace.” The Chancellor turned to the Military Minister. “How will this affect the war, Hans?”

“Improving popular support for the war can only aid the overall war effort, my Chancellor. I am also pleased to report that I received word just before I left for the Palace from Marshall von Rommel. German Panther tanks have smashed the Songhai defenses at Kidal, just to the northwest of the enemy capital of Timbuktu.” A map was belatedly spread out over the Chancellor's massive mahogany desk, showing the latest German victory.

“So where do we go from here, Hans?”

“My Chancellor, it appears that the Songhai are withdrawing as many impi troops to defend the capital as they can. So much the better for us. I propose, subject of course to your approval, that we send Center Force south along this road to attack Timbuktu. I will warn you that we estimated some twelve divisions were based at the enemy capital. It may well require a lengthy siege to take the city.”

“A moment, Minister,” put in Prinz Helmut. “How are we able to move our troops so quickly through enemy territory?”

“Prinz Helmut, I was quite serious when I referred to our battle plan as a 'lightning war.' Our Panther tanks are fast, particularly over relatively flat desert terrain. We also have, thanks to Axel's able assistance, numerous worker brigades who are rapidly extending the rail lines westward into conquered territory. Segou and Taghaza are already connected by rail to the rest of the Empire, and Kidal will soon follow. We can thus use captured enemy cities as bases, to quickly advance our own forces and to counter enemy defenses.”

“What about the Songhai navy, Hans?” asked the Chancellor.

“Our information, my Chancellor, is that the Songhai have no large capital ships available at the moment. The fall of Taghaza and Sarnah will make it that much harder for them to field a proper navy. However, even if they were to build a galley or two, our battlecruiser GNS Bismarck, supported by the ironclads Clauswitz and Steinberg, will keep them from menacing Imperial waters. Bismarck has already been ordered south, and should be in position to blockade the port of Audaghost by early summer. We predict that the King will set up his capital there once Timbuktu is taken.”

“Excellent, Hans. You have done very well so far. One last question before you go. What is the situation with the German Embassy siege?”

“We are in radio contact with them, my Chancellor. The Songhai have surrounded the complex, but as yet have made no further attempts to take the Embassy by force. The food situation, however, is getting dangerously low. It will be a race against time to get enough Panthers to Timbuktu before starvation forces the Embassy to surrender.”

“Then we must get troops to Timbuktu as soon as possible. We must not allow the Embassy staffers to fall into Songhai hands! Proceed with the invasion and tank assault as you have said.”

“It shall be done, my Chancellor. I have one other suggestion to make as well. The Songhai troop withdrawal has caused an unexpected benefit.” The Minister pointed to the eastern border of the Kingdom. “Walata, here, and Douala are now relatively undefended. We could send Panthers to attack both cities at short notice, further weakening the enemy at a critical moment. Once both cities and the capital are in our hands, the Kingdom will be reduced to a narrow belt of land along the African west coast to the Equator and a few isolated jungle outposts.”

“Excellent, Hans. You may proceed against both Walata and Douala at your discretion, then.”

“It shall be done, my Chancellor.”

“Very well, then, gentlemen. Thank you both for coming in so early today. Dismissed.” Both Ministers stood, and, after bowing to their leader once again, left the office. Prinz Helmut stayed in his chair at his father's gesture. “Helmut, I had intended to send you to Constantinople, to formally christen our second battlecruiser. Instead, I think you will be more useful working with the Military Ministry. We must, as I told the Minister, save the Embassy staff from the Songhai.”

“True, Father. We must also protect the innocent nuns and other religious workers who have sought shelter there as well.”

“Exactly.” The Chancellor paused for a moment. “I neglected to ask the Minister about another matter. What happened to our spy contacts in the Kingdom?”

“We are not certain, Father. None sought asylum in the Embassy. It is possible that they are in the Turkish Embassy, but are unable under current circumstances to confirm their presence. It is also possible that they remain in place.”

“Very well. I suppose we should return upstairs now.”

“Yes, Father. Perhaps Elsa would like to christen our new warship. She did christen GNS Bismarck a few years ago.”

“A good idea, Helmut.” The Chancellor pressed the intercom button. “Gunter, tell the kitchen staff to send up two fresh breakfasts to the family dining room.”

“As you command, my Chancellor,” was the instant reply.

February 8, 830 AD

Braun & Voss Shipyard
Constantinople, Germany
10:35 a.m.

Prinzessin Elsa von Bismarck looked out at the assembled crowd. A light rain was falling, though that did not seem to dampen the spirits of the mayor as he gave his speech. The Prinzessin concealed her thoughts as she sat impassively in the reviewing stand, awaiting her cue. Which name should I choose? Her father, the Chancellor, had left the final decision of the name of the Empire's newest battlecruiser to her, though he had given her a list of possibilities. One, Greyciv, was particularly obscure to her, and the comments merely said that it had been added to honor someone who had aided the Empire, but whose given name was secret.

Another name, and the one she most preferred, was that of her late husband Gerhardt, though it did not appear on the actual list. What would Father say if I name the warship after him? Will he approve? She was still thinking about the matter when the mayor finally gave the Prinzessin her cue. “And now, I shall ask Prinzessin Elsa to step forward!”

The Prinzessin duly stepped forward, and was handed a bottle of Hochrotwein. Looking up at the towering, cliff-like bow of the massive warship, she swung the bottle as she said “I christen thee...” The bottle made a slight ting noise as it struck the steel hull, but did not break. Oh no, not again!

“Your pardon, Prinzessin,” whispered one of the men on the platform, as he took out a pocketknife. It took him but a moment to put a deep scratch in the bottle. “Thank you,” whispered the Prinzessin as she swung the bottle against the prow. This time the bottle broke in half as she said, “I christen three GNS Greyciv!” Fortunately, the mayor continued his speech as planned, allowing the Prinzessin to make her way to her carriage, where an Imperial Guardsman opened the door for her.

She was very surprised to see the Foreign Minister inside. “Minister? What are you doing here?”

“An unusual diplomatic situation has arisen, Prinzessin Elsa. Ambassador Tarkaan of the Turks has asked to meet with you and I at the Constantinople consulate before we return to Berlin. I suspect that he has a proposal, on behalf of the Sultan, to make at this time.”

“But why here?” asked the Prinzessin in confusion.

“I cannot say for certain, Prinzessin Elsa. Fortunately, since it was the Ambassador who requested the meeting, all you need do is listen, and tell the Ambassador that we will consult with the Chancellor upon our return to Berlin and get back to him once he has made his decision.” The Minister gave a signal to the waiting coachman, who quickly got the carriage underway.

The Prinzessin was surprised once again when they arrived at the Turkish consulate. The carriage door was opened from the outside, revealing two Turks waiting for her. “Prinzessin Elsa, I presume?” asked the elder. “I am Ambassador Tarkaan. Perhaps we could discuss a matter of importance on the way to the train station?” Prinzessin Elsa looked to the Foreign Minister, who nodded yes.

“As you wish, Ambassador.” The Turkish Ambassador climbed aboard, leaving his aide behind, and once again the coachman started them off.

“I suppose you are wondering why I am here. The august Sultan has come up with a most interesting suggestion. Unfortunately, it arrived at the Embassy an hour after your train had left, and so I had to come here in person.”

Something is wrong here. “And what is this suggestion, Ambassador?” asked the Prinzessin.

“The Sultan grieves at the hostilities between your Empire and the Songhai Kingdom. He has also been informed of the siege of the German Embassy in Timbuktu. He has graciously instructed me to offer Turkish assistance in that matter. Specifically, he suggests that the Turkish Embassy in Timbuktu offer sanctuary to the German civilians and soldiers in the Embassy. The Songhai have already agreed in principle to permit safe passage between the Embassies.”

“That is an interesting proposal indeed, Ambassador. I shall gladly tell Father all about it upon my return to Berlin in three days time.”

“Perhaps, Prinzessin, you could use one of these marvelous radios to contact him once we arrive at the train station,” urged the Ambassador. “I am told that the food supply in the German Embassy is nearly gone. Every hour you delay may cause needless suffering for your besieged countrymen.”

The Foreign Minister spoke for the first time. “We shall arrange to contact Berlin at once, Ambassador Tarkaan. Perhaps, in the interests of a speedier resolution, we could ask Ambassador Mueller in Samarkand to relay our answer to the august Sultan, so that we need not wait until you can return to Berlin yourself.”

A brief flicker of surprise passed over the Turkish Ambassador's features, though he recovered quickly. “A splendid idea, Minister. I knew it would be worthwhile to have you here.” The carriage lurched for a moment as they approached the train station and came to a stop. “I believe we have arrived. Thank you both, on behalf of the Sultan, for your kind attention this day.” The Ambassador nodded to both of his hosts before unlatching the carriage door and stepping outside.

“So what now, Minister?”

“Now we go to the main office, Prinzessin Elsa. We have already set up a radio link with the Palace, and so we can report the Turkish proposal quite quickly.” He rapped on the door, and the carriage began to move slowly around the station building.

“Do you think we should agree, Minister?”

“I am not certain, Prinzessin Elsa. I should like a little time to consider. The Turks have not been particularly trustworthy of late, and so I doubt this offer is being made solely from altruistic motives. Your father is likely to be even more suspicious.” He paused for a moment. “At least we will be able to relay our reply to the Sultan through Ambassador Mueller. Ambassador Tarkaan is an able man, though one must never forget that his loyalty is with the Sultan, not the Empire.”

I am going to bomb cities

OOS: GreyCIV: Yep, your namesake vessel in "Blood and Iron" will be used in the service of the Empire. I have taken the liberty of putting a number of authors in the CFC forums in the story in various capacities.

Planned installments over the next week include: Stay tuned, everyone!

Ed: Looks like this was my 1000th post, which I didn't realize until I was about to upload the next installment.

February 10, 830 AD

German Embassy
Timbuktu, Kingdom of the Songhai
10:05 a.m.

Anton Ziegler, Military Attache and current acting Ambassador, was a nervous man at the moment. He had been ordered to permit a joint Songhai/Turkish diplomatic team to enter the Embassy compound at precisely 10:00 a.m., and then “await developments.” Supposedly the Turks had some sort of plan to end the Embassy siege.

There were three difficulties with the plan from Anton's point of view. First, he had served in the Turkish War, and did not trust the Turks on general principles. The second was the fact that there was no sign of the diplomatic team, though the Songhai still surrounded the Embassy complex, in numbers far too great for his limited force to blast their way to freedom. Finally, during the very transmission of his orders, something had broken in the radio receiver, and without the necessary parts, repairs were impossible.

Anton pressed the intercom button, which connected his office with the chapel, where Groscheiner Johann Zulsdorf, senior cleric in the Embassy, was saying Mass. He had just begun his homily. “It is one thing to be true and faithful when everything is going well. That, however, is not what we are led by Our Lord Himself to expect. Indeed, it is only when we are truly challenged that we see what we truly believe. There is an old proverb that it is always darkest before the dawn. It is in this very dark hour which we all face at this very moment that we shall see..” A knock at the door broke Anton's concentration. “Come in!”

Siegfried, Anton's orderly, came in and saluted Anton. “Sir, the north gate detail reports a Songhai herald with a truce flag is outside the gate.”

“That must be the peace negotiators we heard about. At least they are finally here. Send them in, and tell the guards to be alert. This could be a trick, by either the Songhai or the Turks. Knock twice on the door if the guards spot anything out of the ordinary.”

“Yes, sir.” The orderly left, and returned a long minute later with Ambassador Adir and a tall Songhai man, with general's stars on his tunic, whom Anton did not recognize. “Ah, the good acting Ambassador Ziegler, I believe? This is General Ali.”

“What do you want?” asked Anton bluntly.

“I am here on the orders of the august Sultan, my dear Ambassador Ziegler. He wishes to end the siege of the German Embassy without bloodshed.”

“And just how does he propose to do that?”

“We know that you are running out of food supplies, Ambassador Ziegler. The Songhai could simply starve you into submission, given sufficient time. You have no way to escape on your own.” Anton said nothing as the Turkish Ambassador continued, “And so, the wise Sultan has devised a plan. He proposes that you, the Embassy staff, and the religious workers and civilians sheltering here will be interned at the Turkish Embassy for the duration of the war. The Songhai have already agreed to permit safe passage for you, in return for leaving the Embassy intact and unharmed.”

“What of the radios, Ambassador Adir? We shall not permit them to fall into Songhai hands, or, for that matter, into the hands of the Sultan. There are also of course vital coding and cypher machines and documents which I shall not allow to be captured.”

“Ambassador Zielger, you misunderstand me.” The Ambassador's tone sharpened as he continued, “You see, in my judgment, you have no other alternative save death. There is no rescue coming for you. I offer you your only chance to live...” He broke off as he looked out the window behind Anton. A great shadow had fallen over the Embassy grounds. “What is that?”

Two knocks sounded on the office door before Anton could reply. “Come in!” he said, with a rapidly growing hope. Siegfried duly entered the office. “Sir, you won't believe this, but there is a huge zeppelin approaching!” Everyone looked through the window at a strange sight indeed. A massive cylindrical shape some two hundred meters long, glinting silver in the morning sunlight, now hovered over the Embassy complex.

“I think, Ambassador Adir,” said Anton as he confidently leaned back in his office chair, “our rescue has indeed arrived. The Empire takes care of its servants.”

March 1, 830 AD

Desert Road
4 klicks NE of Timbuktu, Songhai Kingdom
Dawn

“There!”

Major Oskar Konig looked out through the Panther tank's viewfinder. Sure enough, the enemy capital of Timbuktu was just visible along the horizon in the early morning light. He quickly thumbed the encrypted radio transmitter. “All tanks, this is Blue Leader. Move off the road as briefed, and spread out. Remember men, we are the eyes of Center Force, not the teeth.” He watched through the viewfinder to confirm that the other four tanks in his platoon were following his orders.

“Franz, let's move out to the south. I want to see whether the Songhai are trying to dig any traps for our tanks at their eastern gate.”

“Aye, sir.” The driver smoothly swung to the south as ordered, bringing the Panther behind a few sand dunes as the Major continued to look for anything out of the ordinary. His feeling of unease grew as they crept along, with their diesel engines barely idling. The dunes looked...different somehow, but the Major could not put his finger on it. A dark shape appeared for a moment, nothing more, over a dune to the west.

Uh oh! Suddenly the Major's worst fears were confirmed. At least a full regiment of Songhai impi climbed over the dune as he watched. “Sir! Enemy to the south and east!”

They're trying to surround us! “Combat reverse! Get us out of here!” The driver pulled the proper levers without a word, locking the right hand side treads in place while leaving the left side free. Gears whined in protest as the fifty-ton Panther tank pivoted, heading back the way they had come.

“Full speed!” ordered Major Konig, as the treads spat sand for a moment before gaining traction. The impi howled, knowing that their trap had been detected and racing to catch up with them. More impi solders appeared before them, trying to cut off their escape. They held their spears menacingly as the Major thumbed the transmitter again. “Blue Leader to all tanks! It's an ambush! Return to Checkpoint Franz!”

“Are you all right, sir?” squawked the radio in reply.

“Never mind about me! Just get the @#$ out of here!” By now the enemy was within machine gun range, and twin streams of fire shot out from the front of the Panther. Impi warriors cried out and fell to the desert sands, as the driver instinctively slowed down.

“Don't stop, you idiot!” said the Major, slamming his foot down painfully on the throttle. Moments later the first Songhai spears slammed into the Panther's hull, followed by a horrible, sickening crunching noise as a few unfortunate impi fell beneath the treads. The Panther slewed violently to the right with a metallic scream from the left hand side drive wheels and came to a bruising halt in a cloud of dust.

“What the @#! happened!”

“They jammed the drive wheels, sir!”

The Major said something particularly vile as he picked up the radio. “This is Blue Leader. Come in, please, over.” Only warbling static greeted him in reply, save scrabbling noises as the impi outside clambered onto the Panther. A few more thumps sounded as impi spears struck the tank hull.

“This is Blue Leader of Center Force. Can anyone read me?” Only the booming banging noises from the Songhai impi outside answered him, as the enemy tried to force their way through the steel. A few seconds later, a loud staccato rapping noise was heard, followed by screams of pain. The low rumble of a diesel engine could be heard for a moment, and then an ominous silence. A long minute later three long raps sounded at the upper hatch, follwed by two quick taps, and then three more long raps.

“Should we, sir?” asked the driver, pointing to the hatch release.

“I think so,” replied Major Konig. The driver pulled the handle downwards and carefully turned the hatch release counterclockwise. All aboard were relieved to see the face of Lt. Batdorf looking down at them. “Are you all right, sir?”

“Yes, Lieutenant, thanks to you.” Major Konig smiled for a moment. "Just this once, I am very glad you disobeyed a direct order."