Blood and Iron: The Conquests of the Chancellor

[MTB4884]

October 10, 910 AD

INN Studios
Berlin, Germany
5:15 p.m.

Military Minister Hans von Landscheid squared his shoulders as he walked into the Imperial News Network building, followed by two Imperial Guardsmen. I remember when I used to think newspaper interviews were difficult! An INN functionary was waiting for him. “Welcome, Minister. I am Axel Schmidt. If you will follow me, please?” The little party walked into a small room with a table. Two microphones were on the far end of the table.

“Herr Schmidt, how is this going to work? Where is the microphone for Herr Grunewald?”

“It is quite simple, Minister.” Herr Schmidt pointed to a large speaker overhead, which the Minister had not noticed before. “All you need to do is sit down behind the microphone and wait for the proper questions. We will be able to hear everything, and of course Herr Grunewald can hear your replies once this switch is thrown. This will prevent any further...er..incidents with the stage makeup.”

“And a good thing too. I'd rather serve in combat than go through that again. At least in combat a man has a fighting chance against his enemy.” The Minister paused for a moment. “Let us proceed, then.”

“Of course, Minister. It will be another ten minutes or so before you are on.” The time passed slowly, but finally the familiar bombastic fanfare came over the speaker. “Welcome again to another edition of “Face the Empire!” Tonight we have as our guest Military Minister Hans von Landscheid, coming to you live via radio. Are you there, Minister?”

“I am here, Herr Grunewald,” replied the Minister. It is rather odd to be interviewed by a man whom I cannot see!

“Excellent, Minister,” said the disembodied voice of the radio host. “I was rather hoping that you could tell us a little about the progress in the Turkish War.”

“I must be rather careful in what I say, of course, Herr Grunewald. I can say that our forces are gaining ground against the Turkish enemy on multiple fronts. We have significant advantages in both numbers and firepower of various sorts, and we shall continue the fight for as long as it takes.”

“And what of the continuing activities of the Sultan, Minister? Can you speak of that for our viewers and listeners?”

Hardball, then. “The Sultan no longer has the forces to mount an effective counterattack against us, Herr Grunewald. Instead, he has fled from Samarkand, from Bukhara, and most recently from Kerki as our forces took each of these cities, and many others, in battle.”

“Minister, can you tell us how long it will take to catch the Sultan?”

“Herr Grunewald, the art of warfare is not as precise as a railroad timetable. I think I can safely say, however, that the war is in its final stages. Chancellor Bismarck himself has said on multiple occasions that the war shall continue until the evil Sultan Kassim is either dead or a prisoner awaiting proper German justice. I can also say that the Military Ministry fully supports this goal.”

“I'm sure we all sleep the sounder knowing that our forces are prevailing in the ongoing Turkish War, Minister. We have suffered quite a few casualties, however, and that worries a good many people in the Empire.”

Not this again! “The loss of a single soldier of the Empire is to be regretted, Herr Grunewald. However, we are fighting a dangerous foe, and casualties are inevitable. I should say that we at the Ministry estimate that the Turks have lost well over a hundred divisions as the Empire have taken city after city in battle.”

“A good point, Minister. To change the subject a little, could you perhaps tell our listeners about rumors of further Turkish spies in the Empire?”

“They are but rumors, Herr Grunewald,” was the calm reply. “We have no specific evidence that any Turkish espionage is occurring within the Empire, though we remain vigilant for obvious reasons. Fictional television and radio shows to the contrary, such as those of the great Meister Sondheim, are not necessarily accurate.”

“I see. Finally, Minister, do you think a peaceful resolution to the war is possible?”

“That decision is not in my hands, Herr Grunewald. I can say that there will be peace, but it shall be on the Empire's terms, and not those of the enemy. We will all be safer once the Turkish war machine is destroyed forever.”

“We shall support you in your glorious task, then, Minister. Thank you for coming on the program this evening.”

“My pleasure, Herr Grunewald.” With that the INN staffer flipped the switch, and the audio feed ended abruptly. “You see, Minister, all went exactly as we had expected.”

“I suppose so, Herr Schmidt.” The Minister made certain his microphone was off before he continued, “At least I was not asked when and where our troops will strike next. It always amazes me that I have to tell the media that foolishly releasing such information is useful to the enemy.”

“Herr Grunewald has learned from his earlier mistakes, Minister,” replied Herr Schmidt.

“He is a wise man, then. Until the next interview, then, Herr Schmidt.”

“Until then, Minister.”

 

[MTB4884]

October 12, 920 AD

Chancellor's Study, Imperial Palace
Berlin, Germany
9:00 p.m.

“Good evening, Hans,” said the Chancellor as the Military Minister entered the study. “Helmut and I saw you, or more precisely, heard you on “Face the Empire!” the other night.”

“Just so, my Chancellor,” replied the Military Minister, bowing to his leader as usual as he did so. “There are two matters I must bring to your attention. First, there was another battle with the savage North American barbarians yesterday evening, roughly 300 klicks northwest of the Big River outpost. It appears they were foolish enough to attack a prepared Panther tank division, and the result was disastrous for the barbarians. We have minor damage to a few tanks, but nothing too serious, while some eight to ten enemy divisions were destroyed.”

“How many of these wretched barbarians are there in North America, Hans?”

“My Chancellor, we do not know precisely. Estimates are at least another dozen divisions, scattered in various places on that remote continent. However, barbarians which were dangerous indeed to outnumbered knights or musketmen are no real threat to modern German tanks. Somehow there is a segment of the general public which has gotten into their heads the idea that a man with a spear can defeat a Panther.”

“One would think, Minister,” said Prinz Helmut, “that the swift defeat of the Songhai would convince almost anyone otherwise.”

“Apparently not, Prinz Helmut. You surely noticed that I was asked much the same questions in my last radio interview on Tuesday as in my first abortive television appearance back in February. It seems the good Herr Grunewald is trying to answer the same questions today that he did then.”

Chancellor Bismarck brought the discussion back on track. “An interesting question, Hans, but one which is getting a little far afield. You mentioned two matters of interest to report tonight. What is the second matter?”

“Ah. My Chancellor, we have received a brief report from Agent Tricky, currently stationed in Khiva. He is ready to attempt to infiltrate the Turkish military command. The necessary bribe funds have already been provided to him. All we need now is your approval to proceed.”

The Chancellor stood, with the aid of his new ivory cane, and paced a few steps. “Bribery, you said? Why does our agent need to bribe anyone? Cannot he simply sneak into the relevant office in Khiva and obtain what we require?”

'”The short answer, my Chancellor, is that the nature of the intelligence we seek makes that impossible. Even Meister Vonn, when he worked in Timbuktu on behalf of the Empire, had to bribe a number of Songhai officials to get the information we needed before the Songhai War. One must also remember that the Turks are a far more canny foe than the Songhai were, and much better at protecting their secret information. Even I do not know exactly how Agent Tricky intends to proceed.”

“You trust him that much, Hans?”

“I do, my Chancellor. After all, he is risking his life on the Empire's behalf simply by being in Khiva at all. The Turks will show him no mercy if he is discovered and exposed.”

“We have relatively little to lose in a strategic sense, Father,” pointed out Prinz Helmut. “Knowing the precise number and composition of the remaining Turkish forces will be of immense value to us as we enter the fourth year of conflict.”

“Very well, Hans,” decided the Chancellor. “You will tell the good Agent Tricky to proceed. One question, however, before you go. Will we need to reinforce our troops in North America?”

“Not at this time, my Chancellor,” said the Military Minister. “General Traeger believes we have more than enough forces to defend the expanding rail line. We will of course continue to monitor the situation.”

“Excellent. Thank you for coming in at such a late hour, Hans. Dismissed.”

 

[MTB4884]

November 29, 910 AD

War Department HQ
Khiva, Turkish Sultanate
Late night

It was just beginning to snow in the mountain fortress city of Khiva as Mugawe, alias Agent Tricky, walked up to the main doors of the former warehouse which was now the War Department HQ.

“Halt! Who goes there!” challenged the Janissary guards on duty.

“Do not be concerned, gentlemen,” replied Mugawe in fluent but accented Turkish. “I have a pass, from General Aziz himself.” The guards looked at the document in the dim light of the overhead lantern.

“Pass, then.” said one of the guards, while the other opened the door.

“Thank you, gentlemen. Has anyone else entered tonight?”

“No.” was the laconic reply.

“I see. Your vigilant service to the Sultanate will be duly noted.” Indeed you have both served the Sultanate well, in a manner of speaking! Mugawe duly went inside and walked to the far end of the warehouse. Taking a key from his pocket, he carefully unlocked the door, noticing that the hinges were freshly oiled. Just as I had asked. Excellent! Inside were rows of file cabinets along the walls, and a single dim oil lantern hanging from the ceiling.

Here we go. Mugawe took a small camera from inside his jacket and opened the first drawer. The third file down was labeled “Sipahi”. He was halfway through his task of photographing each page when he heard a small noise from behind him.

“Then I was right after all. Hands up and turn around!”

Mugawe turned around, still holding the camera, to see a young Turkish man step out from between two of the cabinets. He was holding a leveled revolver pointed at Mugawe. “And who might you be?” asked Mugawe evenly, as his mind raced for a way out.

“A patriot,” replied the other triumphantly. “I knew when the order came to oil the record room door that something was afoot, but I never expected that the man who provided the Sultan with coffee was really a German agent. Now it is I who will gain promotions and favor!”

“You have done well. You only forgot one thing,” replied Mugawe, looking over his enemy's shoulder. “My accomplice.”

“What?” said the Turk, turning his head to look behind him. Mugawe quickly moved the lever to activate the camera flash. An explosion of light filled the room as Mugawe leaped for the gun, knowing this was his only chance. The two men wrestled, knowing death awaited the loser.

Seconds later the two Janissary guards at the gate heard a shout and a shot, and then a second shot a few moments later. “The spy! One of those two men who entered was the German spy!” The guards raced inside and down the hall.

 

[MTB4884]

December 4, 910 AD

Imperial Palace
Berlin, Germany
3:55 p.m.

Prinzessin Traudl von Bismarck always looked forward to her weekly history lessons with Meister Vonn, and today was no exception. Neither her grandfather's illness nor the falling snow dampened her spirits as she walked along the Palace basement corridor. As she approached the proper room she recognized her father's voice. “Minister von Landscheid will be here shortly, and asked to meet with you and I.”

“Did the Minister explain why?”

“Only that it had something to do with the Turks. I fear Traudl's lesson will have to be postponed, under the circumstances.”

Now what? The Prinzessin rushed forward into the room. “Good afternoon, Father, Meister Vonn. I happened to overhear part of your discussion.”

Meister Vonn smiled as Prinz Helmut turned to face his young daughter. “I am sorry, Traudl. The Minister does not make these journeys to the Imperial Palace lightly. We must know what is so important, and why Meister Vonn was asked to be present as well.”

“May I come too, Father? I promise to be quiet and not interfere.”

“The Prinzessin is quite good at that, of course,” said Meister Vonn. “Surely it will do no harm.”

The Prinz thought for a moment, and then pressed the intercom button. “Gunter, please ask the Military Minister to meet us downstairs in the basement schoolroom once he arrives.”

“He just walked into the office, Prinz Helmut. I'll send him down to you at once.” Presently the Military Minister arrived, carrying a large leather valise. Nothing in his expression showed his surprise at seeing the Prinzessin there as well.

“I fear Father is sick with another cold, Minister. What can Meister Vonn and I do for you today?”

“It is a matter of some delicacy, Prinz Helmut,” replied the Military Minister. “We have received a brief radio message from Agent Tricky. He reports that he was able to gain access to certain sensitive Turkish documents, and will begin to transmit their contents shortly.”

“So what is the problem, Minister?”

The Minister sighed. “The problem, Prinz Helmut, is that the message was sent using standard telegraph codes instead of the specific espionage codes which we expected. He did append a single word at the end of the message: Nuremberg.”

“Nuremberg, Minister? What does that mean?”

Again the Minister sighed. “I do not know, Prinz Helmut. I had hoped that would mean something to you or to Meister Vonn.”

“I am sorry, Minister,” replied Meister Vonn. “The word conveys nothing specific to me, and yet must have some meaning, if, that is, the sender is really Agent Tricky. It is possible that this is an attempt at a Turkish deception.” He turned to the Prinzessin. “Well, Prinzessin Traudl, any ideas?”

“Um...not really, Meister Vonn. Nuremberg is only a small city, on the shores of the Black Sea east of the Constantinople metropolis. It has no real strategic importance, and never has, except...”

“Yes?” asked the Prinz.

“Didn't the first Turkish War begin when a Sipahi division attacked Nuremberg?”

“Quite so, Prinzessin Traudl,” replied Meister Vonn. “There had been tensions for some time, and other Turkish troops had entered German territory near Prinz von Persien, but the sudden attack on Nuremberg dispelled any doubt as to the Sultan's true intentions.”

“The other question, gentlemen,” said the Military Minister, “is what, if anything, to reply to Agent Tricky, and how to do so. We provided Agent Tricky with a crude radio receiver some time ago, so that he in turn could show it to the proper Turkish authorities and divert any suspicions on their part as to his real identity and motives.”

“That may have been a mistake, in retrospect,” pointed out Meister Vonn. “The Turks will now be able to monitor Agent Tricky's broadcasts, at least to some extent. Asking him to transmit the information in a particular code might endanger him and his mission.”

“That is my fear as well, Minister,” said the Prinz. “Perhaps we should send the reply message in the same standard telegraph code. I should like a little time to consider the matter. I will ask you to return tomorrow, and give you my answer then.”

“As you wish, Prinz Helmut.”

“All right, then. Thank you for coming in today, Minister. Dismissed.” The Minister quickly took his leave as the Prinz turned to his daughter. “Traudl, you must not tell anyone else about anything you have heard today. You do not want to know what the Turks will do to Agent Tricky should they discover his real mission.”

“Yes, Father. I wish I could have been more helpful.”

“Do not blame yourself, Traudl. One of the problems of leadership is that important decisions must be made without necessarily knowing all that one would wish to know.” He thought for a moment, and turned to Meister Vonn. “I think it may be best, Meister, if we postponed Traudl's lesson for a day. I should like you to carefully consider the matter of Agent Tricky as well.”

“Of course, Prinz Helmut.”

 

[MTB4884]

December 5, 910

Imperial Palace
Berlin, Germany
3:55 p.m.

Prinzessin Traudl von Bismarck rushed down the basement corridor, expecting to see her history tutor in the usual classroom. I do hope Father and the Military Minister can resolve the issue of our agent in Khiva! She knocked on the door, and was startled to hear an unfamiliar voice respond, “Come in, Prinzessin!”

She opened the door, a little cautiously, and saw a short, rotund man with graying hair waiting for her. “Ah, good afternoon. You must be Prinzessin Traudl. I am Professor Karl Waldschmidt, from the University of Munich. Your father and the good Meister Vonn asked me to fill in for him this afternoon, and I was most pleased to oblige.”

The name triggered a chord in the Prinzessin's memory. “Are you the same Professor Waldschmidt who wrote a history of the first Indian War last year?”

“Indeed I am, Prinzessin,” replied the Professor with a smile. “I am nearly finished with my next great work, on the naval history of the Empire. I expect that it should be published sometime next spring. In fact, that is one reason why I am here.”

“Oh?”

“Indeed. You see, I had expected to interview your father concerning a small incident in his youth, here in the Imperial Palace grounds. Sadly, he will be occupied concerning some sort of Imperial security matter.” The Professor paused, noticing the look on the Prinzessin's face. “Is there something wrong, Prinzessin?”

“Well, not exactly, Professor. I had the chance to listen in to a discussion of my father and Meister Vonn about...well, I really cannot say. I had hoped to hear today what they decided.”

“I see. Such curiosity is most useful in a historian, Prinzessin Elsa. Still, security rules do have their place. I could give numerous examples where a security failure led to unfortunate consequences.”

“Such as?” asked the Prinzessin, an impish smile on her face.

“Let me see,” replied the Professor as he lit his pipe. “How about the escape of the Wotan's Spear from the Egyptian harbor at Abydos?”

“But, I thought she broke out on her own?”

“Not quite, Prinzessin Traudl. The crew of the Wotan's Spear had the help of a German patriot, as Captain Lutjens described her. It was she who helped them get out of the Governor's mansion and past the guards there and at the harbor. Otherwise the galley might not have escaped at all, which would have had serious consequences at the time.”

“But, Professor, wouldn't that have started the Egyptian Conquest a few decades early?”

“It probably would have started a war with Egypt, Prinzessin Traudl. However, the military situation was quite different for the Empire at that time. We would have been forced into a two front war, and so would not have had the military successes that we enjoyed in reality. The case of the Wotan's Spear was indeed one of the causes of conflict between the Empire and the Egyptians. Then Military Minister von Clauswitz was able to assemble a huge force of knights, twice what was available at the start of the first Indian War, and that force ultimately succeeded in conquering the Egyptians.”

“I never thought of that, Professor.”

“Indeed,” said the Professor, taking a puff on his pipe. “That is why even a historian, or a Prinzessin for that matter, must be careful to observe the proper security rules. Otherwise...” Whatever else the Professor might have said was lost as a knock came at the door. “Come in!”

The Prinzessin in particular was surprised as her father and Meister Vonn entered. “I trust, Traudl, that you and the good Professor Waldschmidt have had an interesting conversation?”

“Oh yes, Father. Um...can you tell me anything about the meeting you were in?”

“I fear not, Traudl. Still, I promised an interview with the good Professor Waldschmidt, and I shall let you stay for that.” He smiled at his daughter as he continued, “Even a young boy can change the course of history without intending or expecting to do so, given the right circumstances.”

“Quite so, Prinz Helmut,” said Professor Waldschmidt. “I should like to hear, in your own words, how you managed to give then Minister von Clauswitz the idea for what eventually became a fully ironclad warship.”

“It was rather silly, really. You see, Professor, I had taken a few discarded pie tins...”

 

[MTB4884]

December 24, 910 AD

Chancellor's Office, Imperial Palace
Berlin, Germany
5:00 p.m.

Once again the intercom rang on the Chancellor's massive mahogany desk. “Yes?”

“It is I, Father,” said Prinz Helmut. “Traudl and I were hoping you were finished with your work for the day. It is, after all, Christmas Eve.”

“So it is, Helmut.” The Chancellor sighed for a moment. “All right. The rest can wait until Monday. I shall be right out.” A few moments later the Chancellor, followed by the two Imperial Guardsmen standing post, left the office. “And how is my young granddaughter today?”

“Fine, Grandfather,” replied Prinzessin Traudl. “I'm really looking forward to the Christmas party tonight! We spent most of the day hanging all the ornaments and decorations!” She did not notice the chief clerk approach until he politely coughed once. “Your pardon, my Chancellor. Minister von Landscheid just called and requested a brief meeting with you and Prinz Helmut.”

“Did he say why, Gunter?”

“No, my Chancellor.”

“Very well, then. Tell the good Minister to come to my study once he arrives at the Palace.”

“May I come too, Grandfather?” asked the Prinzessin. “I promise I'll be very quiet and stay out of the way!”

“Not this time, my dear,” said the Chancellor. “I was expecting him, along with the rest of the War Council, to attend the staff party at six. Perhaps you can ask him about it yourself then, assuming that it is not a top secret matter.”

“Yes, Grandfather,” was the downcast reply.

“All right, Traudl. Your father and I will join you at the party shortly.”

"Yes, Grandfather." The young Prinzessin rushed upstairs, followed by the Chancellor and his son at a more sedate pace. It took only ten minutes before the Military Minister arrived.

“Ah, Hans. You have something to report about the war, I suppose?”

“Actually no, my Chancellor,” replied the Military Minister, bowing to his leader as he did so. “We have just received a report from Audaghost, in northwestern Africa. We have confirmed that a large number of barbarians are loose on one of the offshore islands. Our reconnaissance aircraft estimates their strength at some six to eight beserker divisions.”

“That's terrible, Hans! We cannot allow barbarians in such numbers to remain unchallenged!”

“A question if I may, Minister,” put in Prinz Helmut. “Why is it that these barbarians have remained undetected until now?”

“It is in part due to the rebuilding of Audaghost after the Songhai War, Prinz Helmut. We think the presence of the pirate armada prevented the Songhai from taking the islands and colonizing them. Their former island colony was hundreds of klicks to the south. The good news is that they do not appear to have any vessels available to them.”

“The more important issue, Hans,” said the Chancellor, “is how to get rid of these vile barbarians. Any ideas?”

“We are working on a plan to do just that even now, my Chancellor. We may wish to transport troops to the island. Unfortunately the nearest capital ship is the galleon GNS Johann von Bismarck, stationed in the English Channel. We shall have a plan in place by the time of the regular War Council meeting at the first of the year.”

“What about bombers, Minister?” suggested the Prinz. “Our very successes in the Turkish War means that many of our bomber wings could be used against this new threat.”

“A distinct possibility, Prinz Helmut. This would have the advantage of defeating the barbarians more quickly. We are working to determine how best to use our available air assets.”

“I have no doubt that you will succeed, Hans. Proceed with the planning as you have said. I suppose we should head downstairs and see how the preparations for the party are going.” The Chancellor thought for a moment. “We should keep this information confidential for the time being, until we have developed a plan to defeat the barbarians.”

“It shall be done, my Chancellor.”

 

[MTB4884]

January 2, 920 AD

War Council Meeting Room, Imperial Palace
Berlin, Germany
10:00 a.m.

Chancellor Otto von Bismarck called the meeting of the War Council to order. “Hans, I suppose you have yet another lengthy report to make concerning the war?”

“Yes, my Chancellor,” replied the Military Minister. “Lights, please?” A slide was projected onto a screen along the south wall as the lights went out. “The Sultan has but three cities left to him. One, Antalya, is estimated to have some 30,000 inhabitants, and so is more likely to be a refuge to the Sultan than Kiffa, here to the southwest. Both cities have Panther tank divisions within striking distance, and both will be attacked shortly. Next slide, please?”

A detailed list of divisions was projected onto the screen. “What you are seeing, my Chancellor and fellow Ministers, is the Turkish ORBAT, or Order of Battle. This information comes from a high-level operative, codenamed Agent Tricky, who is even now in Khiva, the last capital of the Sultanate. We think, but are not certain, that the Sultan is there as well.”

“One question, Hans,” said the Chancellor. “What stops us from simply attacking Khiva now, and only proceeding against the other, lesser cities you mentioned if we do not catch the Sultan?”

“Three reasons, my Chancellor. First, Khiva is in a superb tactical position in mountainous terrain, and so will be harder to attack than the other Turkish cities. However, isolating Khiva from the outside world is much easier, and that in fact is what we are attempting even now. Second, the loss of Antalya and Kiffa to the Sultanate will deprive the enemy of vital bases and desperately needed income. This may be a crucial point if the evil Sultan eludes us once again. Finally, there is still some lingering uncertainty that our agent is still...er...free and has not been corrupted by the Turks.”

“Very well, Hans. Proceed, then, as you have said, unless there is some objection?” No one spoke, and so the Chancellor continued, “Is there anything else to report concerning the war itself?”

“Two minor points, my Chancellor. First, the ORBAT indicates that the Sultan has only one team of colonists active at this time. We have intelligence reports that these colonists are somewhere in the northern Ural mountains. A Panther division and a mechanized infantry division are in the general area with orders to find them. The loss of these colonists to the Sultanate will make it nearly impossible for the Sultan to attempt to build any other cities. Last slide, please?”

A new slide was duly projected on the screen, showing a set of islands off the North African coast. “My Chancellor, we believed until recently that these islands were essentially uninhabited. We have now determined that the equivalent of five or six divisions of barbarians are loose on the main island, here. We have a total of five bomber wings, based in Hamburg and Vienna, which were originally scheduled to be transferred to Xanadu to aid in the war effort. Instead, I recommend that these bombers be tasked to destroy these barbarians in the Azores.”

“But, Hans, I thought we needed these bombers for the war effort?”

“Many of them have indeed been used, my Chancellor, against various enemy troops loose in the western Siberian forests. However, our very successes mean that most of the remaining potential Turkish targets are now out of range of both Hamburg and Vienna. That is why I recommend that they be used against the barbarians instead.”

“I see, Hans. Are there any objections?” None were forthcoming, and so the Chancellor said, “Then proceed with the bombing campaign as you have said. Is there anything else?”

“Not at this time, my Chancellor.”

“Very well, then. Lights!” Everyone blinked for a few seconds as the room lights returned to normal. “I think we should hear from the Domestic Minister now. Axel?”

The Domestic Minister duly took the podium. “My Chancellor, there are two matters which I should report upon. First, our colonists in North America are approaching the site of the former Iroquois city of Seneca. The tentative plan is to dedicate a new city upon its ruins within the next few months. I believe Prinz Helmut is scheduled to travel there to handle the proper formalities.” The Prinz nodded in agreement, though he said nothing.

“Second, my Chancellor, we are now beginning the fourth year of the Turkish War. We have had a few incidents, even riots, in some of the former Turkish cities, but overall the citizens of the Empire support the war by a large margin. I should of course say that support for the war will eventually deteriorate over time.”

“Axel, how much more time do we have to continue the war?”

“I cannot say precisely, my Chancellor. I would estimate that we can maintain popular support for the Turkish War for at least the rest of your term as Chancellor, and very likely well beyond that.”

“Excellent. I hope we do not have to put that theory to the test, however.” The Chancellor smiled for a moment. “Is there anything else before we adjourn?” No one spoke, and so the Chancellor continued, “Meeting adjourned.” Everyone stood as usual as the Chancellor walked out of the meeting room.

 

[MTB4884]

January 16, 920 AD

Ural Mountain Wilderness
200 klicks NNW of Occupied Aksu
Dawn

“All clear, sir. No signs of pursuit.”

“Thank Allah for that, Mehmet.” Karim Bey, the colonist leader, took another look through his field glasses. It was a beautiful clear winter morning, though that was not uppermost in his mind at the moment. They were on a low hill, with the great Ural Mountains looming along the horizon just to their north and west. To the south and east were the beginnings of the northern taiga forest, which spanned in a nearly unbroken line all the way to the Pacific coast thousands of klicks to the east. “The Germans have troops in the mountains, no doubt searching for us. We must try to evade them long enough to set up a new outpost for the Sultanate.”

“But how, sir? Those accursed German flying machines destroyed the Sipahi cavalry protecting us. Even if we managed to hide long enough to build a city, the first barbarian division that we encountered could kill us all.”

“We must try something, Mehmet. That is why I ordered last summer that we head south, out of the mountains, instead of continuing north. At least now the Germans will have to waste time and manpower chasing us, instead of attacking other, more important targets.”

“And we don't have to try to endure the winter in the freezing mountains,” said Mehmet. He began to examine the horizon once more with his own set of field glasses. “Wait a moment, sir. Is that what I think it is, bearing 135?”

The colonist leader looked down the correct line of bearing. He could see a silver glint, high in the air, which was not a bird or a cloud. “It's a German airship! Douse all the campfires and get everyone as well hidden as possible!” Mehmet rushed down the hill without another word to do just that, while the colonist leader took what cover he could in the bushes, keeping a wary eye on the aerial enemy as they gradually drew closer. It was not until the airship was nearly overhead that the colonist leader could hear a new set of engine sounds, coming from the forests to the south.

Now what? He trained his field glasses on the proper spot, trying to move slowly so as not to be seen by the spies aboard the airship. A large blue shape was just coming into view, followed by two others. Panther tanks! He held still, hoping that the short bushes would be enough to conceal him. Sadly, the lead tank continued forward, crushing the undergrowth under its heavy treads. Will they stop?

“Attention! Attention!” boomed out a deep male voice from the tank in Turkish. “We know that you are here, on this hill. Surrender now and you will live. Resist the German Empire and all of you will die.”

The colonist leader took his white handkerchief from his overcoat pocket and stood up, doing his best to ignore the huge gun of the Panther tank as it rotated towards him with an ominous scraping noise of metal on metal. “Can you hear me?” he said in his native Turkish.

“Identify yourself!” was the curt reply.

“I am Karim Bey, the leader of this colonist team. We...will surrender, then.”

“Excellent,” came the unseen voice from the tank. “You have made the right choice this day. You will spend the rest of the war alive and well in a German Stalag instead of lying dead in this wilderness."

"What about my people?" asked the colonist leader.

"They are POW's now. They will be taken south to Aksu, and the able-bodied will be put to work in the service of the Empire." Karim Bey could see other German tanks climbing the hill while his people were being gathered together at gunpoint. "Tell your people not to do anything foolish. Our patience and forbearance has limits."

"I will tell them." was the sad reply.

 

[MTB4884]

January 22, 920 AD

Commandant's Office, Stalag 1
22 klicks SW of Leipzig, Germany
9:00 a.m.

The intercom rang on the Commandant's desk. “Yes?”

“The Ambassador and Prince Rasoul are here, sir.” replied the clerk.

“Excellent, Hermann. Send them in, and send the second prisoner in when I ring.”

“At once, sir.” A few seconds later the former Turkish Ambassador Tarkan and Prince Rasoul duly entered the office. Nothing in either prisoner's expression revealed their feelings at seeing both Foreign Minister Offenbach and Prinz Helmut von Bismarck in the Commandant's office as well. “Good morning, Prince Rasoul. As you have no doubt suspected, you have been asked to cooperate with another interview, unofficially of course.”

“I suppose, Commandant, it will do no harm, so long as the rules of prisoner treatment are not broken. Please proceed.”

“Excellent.” The Commandant gestured to Prinz Helmut, who looked to his Turkish counterpart for a moment before he spoke. “A small issue has arisen concerning reports of a Turkish colonist team in the northern Ural Mountains. The weather conditions in that desolate wilderness are not at all pleasant, especially now in the depths of winter. I thought perhaps you would be willing to help us...”

“You want me to help you catch our colonists, Prinz Helmut! I will not do such a thing, even if I knew where they were!” interrupted the Prince angrily. “You know better than that!”

“I was not going to ask you to help us find them, Prince Rasoul,” was the cool reply. “You see, we already found them. The former colony leader is here at Stalag 1 even now.” The Prinz nodded to the Commandant, who pressed the intercom button without a word. A few moments later another prisoner, under the watchful eyes of Sgt. Krupp, was marched into the office. The new arrival stared with unconcealed shock at the other prisoners.

“Perhaps some introductions are in order, Herr Bey,” said the Prinz. “I see that you recognize the good Crown Prince Rasoul Timur-Lenk, the heir to the Sultanate. His companion is Ambassador Tarkan, former Ambassador to Germany. Gentlemen, this is Herr Karim Bey, who less than a week ago led the Turkish colonist team I spoke of earlier until his capture by our forces.”

“Then let us get to the point, Prinz Helmut,” replied his Turkish counterpart. “What is the purpose of bringing this man here today?”

“It is simple, Prince Rasoul. You are exempt from formal interrogation given your privileged status. On the other hand, Herr Bey and the other captured colonists are not so fortunate. Normally we would ask quite a few questions of them concerning their recent whereabouts and whether there are any other teams in the wilderness.”

“And you want me to save Commandant Waud the trouble,” replied Prince Rasoul. “Let this innocent man go free, and I'll tell you what you want to know.”

“You cannot be serious!” interrupted the Ambassador. “This is an outrageous attempt to circumvent the requirements of your own laws, Prinz Helmut!”

“If I might explain, gentlemen. It was merely my intention, Prince Rasoul, that you write another letter to your father, confirming that the good Herr Bey and his colonists are now in German custody. I recognize that I cannot ask you for any current military information under the circumstances.”

“But...but...” spluttered Karim Bey.

“Wait a moment, Prinz Helmut. Are you saying that you will...er...interrogate Herr Bey and his men for information about other colonists?” The Turkish Prince looked quite distressed at the prospect.

“We require that information, Prince Rasoul. How it is obtained is not particularly important, so long as the rules and proper conduct of warfare are correctly observed.”

“There aren't any other colonists!” insisted Karim Bey. “You would torture us for nothing?”

“He speaks the truth, Prinz Helmut,” said Prince Rasoul. “You have nothing to gain by torturing these innocent colonists.”

The Prinz looked carefully at his counterpart for a few moments, and then leaned back in his chair. “Very well, then. Commandant Waud, you will release Herr Bey from custody immediately.”

“It shall be done, Prinz Helmut. Sgt. Krupp, unlock this man's handcuffs and escort him to Lt. Grunstein's office so that the proper paperwork can be completed.”

“At once, Commandant!” was the instant reply. Moments later the sergeant deftly unlocked the handcuffs as ordered. “If you will follow me, Herr Bey?” The former prisoner duly followed the sergeant outside, a dazed expression on his face.

“Prince Rasoul, I will also ask you to send another letter to your father confirming that the colonist team is in German custody, as I said before. You are welcome to mention the matter of the good Herr Bey as well.”

“All right, Prinz Helmut. I will write the letter you wish." After a brief silence, the Prince continued, "I suppose I should congratulate you. You succeeded in getting the information you wanted, without actually breaking the arcane rules of your Empire. I shall remember this for the next time.”

“I would expect nothing less from you, Prince Rasoul.” How little he realizes what I am actually up to!

 

[MTB4884]

January 25, 920 AD

Chancellor's Study, Imperial Palace
Berlin, Germany
8:00 p.m.

“I can hardly wait to hear the Minister's plan, Grandfather!” said Prinz Franz, grandson of the Chancellor and eldest son of the heir apparent Prinz Helmut.

“The good Foreign Minister will arrive soon enough, my dear Franz,” replied the Chancellor genially as the intercom rang on the desk. “Yes?”

“Minister von Offenbach has arrived, my Chancellor.”

“Excellent. Do send him in.” Moments later the Foreign Minister duly limped into the study and bowed to his leader. “All right, Ludwig. I trust you and Helmut have some sort of brilliant plan to tell me about?”

“Yes, my Chancellor. I should say that most of the credit belongs to Prinz Helmut. We were successful in persuading Crown Prince Rasoul to confirm that the last Turkish colonist team has fallen to the Empire, and even the Prince acknowledged that this was done without technically violating the laws and customs of war. I might also add that this also verifies the information that our Agent Tricky has previously provided on the subject.”

“Now that is indeed good news, Ludwig. A pity that Hans was delayed on his inspection tour, and so could not be here tonight. What do you suggest we do now?”

The Foreign Minister looked a little nervous for a moment. “Our original plan was for me to travel to Khiva, and speak with my new opposite number among the Turks, with a view to negotiating a prisoner exchange of some of the colonists in our custody for the release of the two German radar officers taken prisoner a year and a half ago. However...”

“Yes?” prompted the Chancellor.

“There may be an opportunity, my Chancellor, to do even more than that. What if I were to attempt to negotiate an end of the very war itself?”

“Is such a thing truly possible, Ludwig?” asked the Chancellor in surprise.

“We can but try, my Chancellor. There is of course no guarantee of success.”

“So I would imagine, Ludwig.” The Chancellor turned to his grandson. “Well, Franz, a little test for when you take my place in due time. What should we do?”

The young Prinz thought for a few moments. “Grandfather, if Minister von Offenbach believes it is possible, I say we should at least give it a try.”

“And what of our military victories in the Turkish War, Franz?” asked Prinz Helmut with some asperity. “Are we to simply throw away our military advantages to seek peace now, while the evil Sultan and his lands are being overrun even as we speak? Besides, what makes you think the Sultan would even consider agreeing to peace terms that might be acceptable to the German people?”

“My point, Prinz Helmut,” replied the Foreign Minister, “is that we can obtain much, if not all, that we wish by a treaty without further loss of life. We cannot say the same if the war continues.”

“That is true to a point, Minister,” conceded the Prinz. “Still, I cannot see that it is in our interest to allow the Sultan to plot and scheme against us when we have a chance to crush his forces permanently. Besides, Father has publicly stated that the war will continue until the Sultan is either dead or in German custody. For him to break his word now would be unthinkable.”

“I agree with Helmut, particularly with his latter point,” decided the Chancellor. “I suppose, however, that there is no real harm in seeing if the Sultan will even entertain the idea of peace. You may proceed, so long as it is understood that no binding peace agreement shall be made without my specific written approval.”

“It shall be done, my Chancellor. I shall leave then for Khiva tonight.”

“Of course, Ludwig. I appreciate your valiant efforts, and those of Helmut of course. Godspeed and have a safe journey.”

“Thank you, my Chancellor.” The Foreign Minister bowed again to his leader and took his leave. The ensuring silence was broken by Prinz Franz. “Father, Grandfather, did I do wrong by agreeing with the Foreign Minister?”

“Not at all, Franz,” replied Prinz Helmut. “The Foreign Minister may be a trifle optimistic, shall we say, but that does not mean he is entirely wrong. A prudent Chancellor listens to the counsel of his advisors, even if he ultimately disagrees with them. Otherwise he runs a great risk of not making the correct decision. Even worse, he runs the risk of having his advisors tell him only what they think he wishes to hear, to the great detriment of the Empire.”

“Exactly, Helmut,” said the Chancellor. “That is why I am confident that the Empire will be in good hands when you take my place.”

“Thank you, Father,” replied Prinz Helmut. “I shall do my best to live up to your example as Chancellor."

 

[MTB4884]

February 2, 920 AD

Sultan's Mansion
Khiva, Turkish Sultanate
Late night

Sultan Kassim Timur-Lenk was an uneasy man as he tossed and turned in his bed. Two of his last remaining concubines had plied their skills for him earlier that night, but even that did not soothe him for long. It seemed an age before sleep finally took him.

“Kassim!” said a surprisingly familiar voice. The Sultan looked up at an astonishing sight. All about him were thick white clouds, and striding towards him, walking on the very clouds as though they were actually solid, was the image of his grandfather Alhazred. He looked as he had done when he had posed for his formal portrait in the Sultanate Museum decades earlier.

“O mighty Grandfather? This is impossible!”

“Not so, Kassim. I am indeed your grandfather, though I cannot explain fully, for time is short. The Sultanate is in great danger even now.”

“I know, O wise Grandfather. Those accursed Germans are overrunning us all. I have been forced to flee for my life twice in the last three years. They will soon attack us here at Khiva.”

“It is worse than that, Kassim. You have another enemy, one which is cloaked and deadly. I made a terrible mistake as Sultan in declaring war on the Germans many years ago, and I am paying for that even now. You know as well as I that the Sultanate is on the verge of complete ruin. There is but one chance for your survival and that of the Sultanate. You must swallow your pride and make peace at once with the Chancellor.”

Sultan Kassim was astonished at this. “You mean surrender to the evil Germans and their horrible tanks and flyers! Never! Not while I live, Grandfather!”

“You have a chance for peace now, Kassim, which will not last long. Chancellor Otto's days are dwindling rapidly, and his son Helmut has even less regard for our people than his father. To prove my words, know that news will come to you of your own son Rasoul in the morning.” Sultan Kassim noticed a new sound, one which was growing louder and louder as the image of his grandfather grew faint and merged with the clouds. “O great Sultan, your coffee?”

Sultan Kassim opened his eyes to see one of his servants standing at the foot of the bed, holding a silver tray with a single small cup of steaming coffee. The dim light of the winter dawn shone through his bedroom window. It must have been a dream, of course. “Have General Aziz report to me immediately,” he ordered as he took the cup.

“I hear and obey,” was the servant's instant reply. A knock sounded at the door even as the servant turned to carry out his orders. “Come in!” Another aide duly entered and bowed low to his lord and master. “O mighty Sultan, General Aziz is just outside.”

What did those accursed Germans do now! Aloud the Sultan merely said, “Send him in.” A few moments later General Aziz duly entered. “O wise Sultan, there is news, for your august ears alone." It took only a gesture before the Sultan and his chief military advisor were alone.

“Well, General?”

“O patient Sultan, the Germans have sent a two-man team to parley with us. I have just spoken with them. It appears that Foreign Minister von Offenbach is here at the German siege lines, and wishes a personal meeting to negotiate for the release of the two German radar officers in our custody.”

“You will tell him to get....a moment. Is there any word of Rasoul?”

“Yes, O prudent Sultan. It seems the Minister has another letter from the Crown Prince, written from Stalag 1 where he has been imprisoned by...” The General broke off at the look on his leader's face. “What shall I tell the Foreign Minister?”

“Tell him that, for Rasoul's sake, I will deign to meet with him.”

Any doubts in the General's mind were well hidden. “I hear and obey, O great Sultan.”

 

[MTB4884]

February 2, 920 AD

Sultan's Mansion
Khiva, Turkish Sultanate
11:00 a.m.

“O mighty Sultan, General Aziz is just outside.”

Sultan Kassim turned at the words of his page. “Then send him in.” Moments later the General entered and bowed low to his lord and master. “O great Sultan, the German Foreign Minister has arrived, and is waiting downstairs. The security precautions you ordered were taken.”

“How I dread what I must do. It is only for Rasoul's sake that I agreed to meet with the Germans at all.” The Sultan sighed. “Let us be on our way.” The Sultan, followed by General Aziz, walked downstairs to his office. The elderly German emissary stood, with the aid of his cane, as the Sultan entered. “Good morning, Sultan,” he said in impeccable Turkish. “I appreciate your willingness to discuss these matters in person.”

“You have a proposal, Minister von Offenbach, for a prisoner exchange?”

“I do, Sultan.” The Minister slowly took an envelope from his tunic, under the watchful eyes of the Sultan and four Janissary guards. “This was written by Crown Prince Rasoul. He will confirm that the last of your colonist teams in the Ural Mountains was recently taken prisoner.”

“And you want me to give up the German radar officers we captured in return for their release?”

“We are prepared, Sultan, to release at least some of the colonists for that purpose.”

“Some?” echoed the Sultan. “And what of my son? I want Rasoul returned at once!”

“I would like nothing better than to do just that, Sultan. Unfortunately, those are not my instructions from my government.” The Minister paused for a moment. “There may be a way to have Rasoul set free, however.”

“I am listening,” was the stony reply.

“I asked for and received permission from the Chancellor himself to begin the delicate process of peace negotiations to end the terrible war our peoples are engaged in.”

“Really?” replied the Sultan. “I have been told that the Chancellor has publicly stated that the war will continue, and I quote, 'until the evil Sultan is dead'. Did you actually believe I am suicidally stupid enough to agree to such terms? How could I possibly trust such a ruler?”

“Chancellor Bismarck did indeed say that, Sultan. However, he also added an option, 'or until the Sultan is in German custody to face appropriate justice'. As to the Chancellor's trustworthiness, I would observe that several of your own current and former officials were at one time or another held prisoner by the Empire. Their release unharmed, for good and sufficient cause, is quite literal proof both of German sincerity and German seriousness.”

“Do not talk to me of 'German seriousness'!” replied the Sultan ominously. After a few tense moments he continued, “What precisely is the German proposal?”

“My instructions at this time are simply to see if peace negotiations are even possible, Sultan. I speculate that any peace agreement would require great sacrifice on your part. The cost in lives alone, on both sides, make the attempt worthwhile in my view.”

“My father would have thrown you out of the office without hesitation. Still, for Rasoul's sake, I shall at least consider a German peace proposal. You shall be returned to the German lines as you came, so that you can convey the news to your people. We shall speak again in three days time.”

My God, it might actually work! “I shall gladly do so,” replied the Minister. Neither he nor the Sultan noticed the brief look on General Aziz's face at this.

“Until then, Minister.” The Sultan and his guards left the office without another word, while General Aziz produced a blindfold. “I am sorry to have to do this, Minister von Offenbach. We cannot allow you to describe the precise defenses of Khiva.”

“A regrettable necessity of the war, I suppose,” replied the Minister as the blindfold was put into place. “I have always been a man of peace. I doubt I could tell my people anything useful about the defenses of Khiva even if I were so inclined.”

“We must protect the Sultan at all costs, Minister.” And that is why you will never reach the German lines alive!

 

[MTB4884]

February 2, 920 AD

Chancellor's Office, Imperial Palace
Berlin, Germany
9:00 a.m.

The Chancellor sighed when the intercom rang as he was sitting down at his desk in he office. “Yes?”

“My Chancellor, Minister von Landscheid is here to see you. He says it is most urgent.”

It usually is. “Very well, Gunter,” said the Chancellor aloud. “Send him in.” A few moments later the Military Minister entered the office and bowed to his leader as usual. “My Chancellor, I have strange news to relate this morning. It appears there was some sort of...incident...at Khiva this morning. The Foreign Minister has not yet returned from his prisoner exchange negotiations. However, we have received a request, by radio no less, that you speak with Sultan Kassim over the radio about, quote, 'matters of interest to both Imperial Germany and the glorious Turkish Sultanate'.

“Interesting. I suppose I owe it to Ludwig to at least make the effort. A pity that he is not here to assist in the translation.”

“That will not be needed, at least on our end, my Chancellor. The Stone of Translation will handle that issue quite nicely. We are not certain how fluent the Sultan is in German, but doubtless he still has a few minions who can translate for him at need.”

“All right, then.” The Chancellor pressed the intercom button. “Gunter, find Prinz Franz, and tell him to meet me at the Radio Room at once.”

“It shall be done, my Chancellor,” was the immediate reply.

“It is a pity that Helmut is away aboard AS Scharnhorst at the moment for the new North American city dedication,” mused the Chancellor as he slowly stood up. “I think this will be a most unusual conversation with the Sultan.” Presently the Chancellor and the Military Minister arrived at the Radio Room. Prinz Franz was already there, and handed the Chancellor a small microphone as he walked in. “Everything is ready on this end, Grandfather.”

“Then let us proceed.” He paused for a moment to catch his breath, and then spoke into the microphone. “This is Chancellor Otto von Bismarck. It is my understanding that Sultan Kassim has something he wishes to say to me.” There was a tense silence, broken only by the static hiss of the main speakers overhead, until a new voice spoke, in slightly accented German. “The august and benevolent Sultan Kassim, rightful ruler of all the Turks, is here. I, Mugawe, have the honor of translating his words of wisdom.”

“What do you want?” was the Chancellor's gruff reply.

“The august Sultan received your Foreign Minister, one Ludwig von Offenbach, earlier today. He spoke of a possible prisoner exchange for the innocent life of the heir apparent, Crown Prince Rasoul Timur-Lenk. He was on his way back to the German lines when a most distressing event occurred. It is my profound regret to inform you that he accidentally fell off the city wall as he was being lowered down.”

Everyone in the Radio Room looked to the Chancellor for his reply. “An accident, Sultan? Is Ludwig all right?”

“I am desolated to say that the Foreign Minister was killed in the accident, O distant Chancellor. The Sultan swears on the life of his son that it was not a deliberate act.”

“And you expect me to believe this pack of lies from the Sultan?” demanded the Chancellor. “The German people will demand justice for the death of the innocent Foreign Minister. I will require much more than the word of the Sultan in this matter.”

Another tense silence followed, until Mugawe's voice came back on. “It is my pleasure, O distant Chancellor, to tell you that the benevolent Sultan, to demonstrate his innocence in this unfortunate matter, shall order the immediate release of the two German radar officers in his custody.”

“That is a good first step, Sultan. Normally I would require that all those all those who were involved in the Foreign Minister's death be delivered to us to face German justice. Instead, I shall await the return of the two officers you mention, and speak with my advisors, and give you my formal reply at noon Berlin time tomorrow. Berlin, out.” The Chancellor nodded to his grandson, who instantly broke the radio link. “We're clear, Grandfather,” he confirmed.

“Surely, my Chancellor, you do not believe the vile Sultan?” said the Military Minister. “The German people will never trust him again after what he has done!”

“There is something afoot here, Hans, though I am not certain what. Why would the Sultan release our radar officers if he had chosen to have Ludwig deliberately killed? Why even kill him at all? He could have simply denied him entry into his citadel if that had been his intention.” The Chancellor then turned to his grandson. “Any ideas, Franz?”

“Just one, Grandfather. There was something odd about the speech of the Sultan's translator. It almost sounded...but that is surely impossible.”

“What is so impossible, Franz?” insisted the Chancellor.

“Well, Grandfather, it almost sounded as if this 'Mugawe' had a Songhai accent.”

The Military Minister paled for a few moments. “God in Heaven! Prinz Franz is quite right! I think I know who this Mugawe is!” He turned to the chief radio technician. “Kurt, do we have a recording of this conversation?”

“Of course, Minister,” replied Kurt. “It should be ready at any time.”

“Excellent. My Chancellor, with your permission, I would like to take the recording to Meister Vonn. If what I think is true, we can conclusively identify the Sultan's translator, and more.”

“Then proceed, Hans. For my part, I must carefully consider an appropriate response to the Sultan. Please send a radio message to Prinz Helmut, and tell him what has occurred. I should like to have his opinion as well.”

“It shall be done, my Chancellor.”

 

[MTB4884]

February 3, 920 AD

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

“All right, Hans. What is the latest news from Khiva?”

The Military Minister took a breath. “My Chancellor, we have confirmed that both of the radar officers were released unharmed by the Turks late yesterday, local time. It appears that neither man was tortured, fortunately, despite the threats of the Turks over the last two years. Our siege forces have also received, under flag of parley, the dead body of...Ludwig. The battlefield surgeons have not found evidence of any gunshot or stab wounds. The radio links are in place and ready for the call to the Sultan, in 30 minutes time.”

“So the Sultan has kept his word about our prisoners. I did not expect that.” The Chancellor paused for a moment. “That, however, does not mean that he is innocent in the death of the Foreign Minister. Now the question is what to do on our end. Franz?”

The young Prinz looked very nervous. “Grandfather, I do not trust the Turks or the Sultan farther than I could throw a Panther tank. I cannot believe the Sultan is completely innocent under the circumstances. I think we should keep Prince Rasoul in our custody at Stalag 1.”

“A prudent approach, Franz. And you, Hans?”

“I agree with Prinz Franz, my Chancellor. We do not have positive proof of his guilt in Ludwig's death, however. I think we should launch an immediate assault on Khiva and bring the Sultan back to Berlin either dead or in chains, as you yourself have promised the German people publicly on several occasions.”

“Another logical approach. All right, Helmut. What do you think?”

The static-filled voice of the Prinz came over the speakers. “Father, both Franz and Minister von Landscheid raise very good points. The only real question to me is whether we should begin an immediate attack on Khiva or proceed with the late von Offenbach's suggestion of attempting to negotiate a peace treaty.”

There was a silence as everyone waited for the Chancellor's decision. “I suppose it is worth trying to attempt to negotiate a peaceful end to the war. Ludwig would have wanted that. Rest assured, however, that our terms will be stiff indeed. The Sultan has much to answer for, not least the death of my friend and advisor.”

“I wish you every success, Father. AS Scharnhorst, out.” The static hiss from the speakers ended abruptly as the radio signal faded. “My Chancellor,” asked the Military Minister, “may I be so bold as to ask what terms of peace you intend to demand from the Sultan?”

The Chancellor smiled for the first time as he stood up, with the help of his ivory cane. “I gave that matter much thought last night. We will demand that both Kiffa and Anatalya be ceded to the Empire, and the Sultan himself to surrender to our forces to face German justice. We shall graciously permit Khiva to be governed by Prince Rasoul in his evil father's stead.”

“Will the Sultan agree to those terms, Grandfather?” asked the Prinz.

“We shall find out in a few minutes, Franz. Now, is there anything else?”

The Military Minister looked crestfallen for a moment. “I nearly forgot one other point, my Chancellor. We have confirmed that Mugawe, the Turkish translator on yesterday's call, is also our own Agent Tricky. We cannot yet explain how he managed to get so high in the Sultan's confidence as to be permitted to serve as translator.”

“Interesting. I hope one day to hear the full story from Agent Tricky's own lips. Still, our own course of action is clear. Let us go to the Radio Room.” The three men duly made their way to the Radio Room, and waited as best they could until the clock struck noon and all was ready. “This is Chancellor Otto von Bismarck. Are you receiving me?”

“The august Sultan is here, O distant Chancellor,” replied the voice of Mugawe.

“Good. The question has arisen on our end as to whether the Sultan wishes to entertain a possible peace treaty. The late Foreign Minister's instructions were to make such an inquiry.”

Only static answered the Chancellor for a few seconds. “O distant Chancellor, the late Minister did indeed speak of this to the great Sultan. It is the express will and command of the august Sultan that any such peace treaty can only be achieved if German forces withdraw from Samarkand and Bukhara.”

“Really?” The Chancellor's face settled into a grim line. “Then let your evil master try to retake them if he wants them so badly.”

Again static was the only reply for a few moments. “Then, O distant Chancellor, it is by the express will and command of the august Sultan that this conference is over.” With that the signal faded into a solid wall of white noise. Prinz Franz pressed the proper controls after a few seconds. “We are clear, Grandfather.”

“Indeed we are, Franz, in more ways than one.” The Chancellor turned to his Military Minister. “Hans, you will proceed with military operations against both Kifa and Anatalya. I want both cities in German hands before Khiva is assaulted. The evil Sultan will not escape us again.”

“As you command, my Chancellor.”

 

[MTB4884]

February 6, 920 AD

German Outpost, North America
220 klicks NNW of New Heidelburg, Germany
Noon

Prinz Helmut was thoroughly bored at the moment, though nothing in his face or appearance showed it. Protocol required that the city governor give a lengthy speech, and that was precisely what he was doing. It seemed an age before the Prinz finally heard his cue. “And now, it is my great pleasure to introduce our final speaker today, Prinz Helmut von Bismarck.” Polite applause greeted the Prinz as he stood up and walked the few steps to the podium.

“Welcome, everyone, to the dedication of this, the newest city of Imperial Germany! I do not propose to detain you long today, as you have undoubtedly heard enough of speeches for the moment.” A polite titter of laughter from the crowd greeted the Prinz at this. “Instead, I shall recount a little of the history of this region.”

“Once, but a few short years ago, this very spot was the center of what ultimately became the Iroquois nation. It was also a hotbed of barbarian activity and conflict, with more than twenty divisions of primitive troops between here and New Heidelburg along the Atlantic coast. My father wisely decided, after the disaster at New Lahore on the other side of the world, that the Empire could not afford to permit barbarians to gather in such numbers and power unchecked.”

“We expected that we would not be alone in our fight. The then Iroquois leader, one Great Chief Cold Bear, offered the aid of his own warriors in our battle against the savage barbarians, in return for assisting the Empire in obtaining furs. And so we raised an assault force of nine cavalry divisions from our colonies and possessions in Central and South America to set sail from Tikal and begin the long sea journey to do battle with the barbarians and found what is now New Heidelburg in this new and untouched wilderness.”

“We soon discovered, however, that the promised aid of the Iroquois amounted to a mere twenty warriors, instead of a militarily useful force. This pathetic band was unsurprisingly destroyed by a barbarian attack, with but a single survivor. Fortunately, we had the manpower and weapons to utterly destroy the barbarian threat between here and New Heidelburg forever!” A cheer came from the listening crowd at this.

“So what did Cold Bear do when the news reached him of the German victory? Did he congratulate us? Did he give us the promised access to the local furs of these virgin forests? No! He thought he could profit from our struggle and sacrifice with no cost to his people! He thought that the distant Chancellor would not fight for what was now rightfully ours, and so he deservedly met the same fate as the deceitful Queen Cleopatra and the vile Mahatma Gandhi!” This time the cheer was far louder and more heartfelt.

“Today our fellow Germans across the sea are fighting against an even more ruthless and evil enemy! I can assure you all that we are prevailing in the second and last great Turkish War against Sultan Kassim and his horrible spies and minions, and we shall continue the fight until the Empire wins through to absolute victory!” Once more a cheer sounded from the listening colonists.

“Now it is my great honor and privilege to be able to dedicate this city, which those present here today have spent months building and preparing. This newest city will become a shining light, firmly establishing the presence of the Empire here in the New World as we have done to such effect in the Old. My only regret is that my father could not be here today to give this speech in my place.”

“And so, I formally dedicate this city after one who has aided the Empire, even though his true name is shrouded in myth and secrecy. The Empire shall know this city as...Blaze Injun!”

 

[MTB4884]

March 1, 920 AD

Grand Ballroom, Imperial Palace
Berlin, Germany
9:15 p.m.

Chancellor Otto von Bismarck looked out from the upper balcony to the numerous dancers on the ballroom floor below. Kapelmeister Schneider and the Palace orchestra had just begun the familiar strains of the famous “Blue Danube Waltz.” Elsa's ball seems to be working admirably! The Daughters of the Imperial Conquests, upon the suggestion of Prinzessin Elsa, had set up a formal ball for 100 young widows of the ongoing Turkish War in the Imperial Palace itself. Similar balls were going on in many of the major cities of the Empire.

A polite cough from behind him interrupted his reverie. “Your pardon, my Chancellor. Minister von Landschied is here and would like a word with you and Prinz Helmut.”

“Very well, Rudi. Please find Helmut, and then ask the Military Minister to meet us in my study upstairs.”

“As you wish, my Chancellor.” The Palace chamberlain hurried off on his errand, while the Chancellor, leaning on his ivory cane, followed much more slowly. Presently he arrived at his study, where the Military Minister The Military Minister bowed politely to his leader “My Chancellor, I have news on two different fronts. First, Panther tanks under Marshall von Kotke overran the few guerrilla defenders of Kifa a few hours ago. However, it appears that the Turks set fire to the armory, and the resulting blaze is now raging out of control. The good Marshall reports that the isolated city will need to be completely rebuilt.”

“I suppose this sort of thing can happen in a modern war, Hans. I shall not hold you or Marshall von Kotke responsible for the loss of the city. Send the proper congratulations to the good Marshall at once.” The Chancellor paused for a moment. “You mentioned two matters, I believe?”

“Yes, my Chancellor. The second matter involves the barbarian hordes in the Azores. Our bomber wings have completed numerous sorties against them, with devastating results for the enemy. We believe the barbarian presence there has been reduced to one or two divisions at most.”

“Now that is good news for us, Hans. What shall we do with these bomber wings now? Shall we send them against Khiva?”

“That is of course possible, my Chancellor. However, I think we are better off sending what bomber wings we can to Tikal, to support our forces in North America. The immediate barbarian threat against the expanding rail lines has been dealt with, but there remain numerous divisions loose in that untamed wilderness.”

“Then so it shall be, Hans. Make certain, however, that the remaining Azores barbarians are defeated before we send the bomber wings across the ocean.”

“As you command, my Chancellor.”

“A question, if I may, Minister,” put in Prinz Helmut. “What of the Turkish city of Antalya? When will they be attacked?”

“Ah. Antalya will be attacked within the next few days. I should add that we have reason to believe that there are Turkish Sipahi cavalry troops in the vicinity attempting to reinforce their defenses. Our advance troops report that there is a late winter storm in the area which is slowing our progress. I expect that the attack will begin once the weather clears.”

“Excellent. Perhaps you and Helmut would care to accompany me as I give the glad tidings of our victory at Kifa to the ballroom guests?"

"We should be delighted, my Chancellor."

 

[Blaze Injun]

Hey,

I am humbled and honored.


Blaze Injun

PS I hope it is ok that I linked your story in my Sig. I have had it for about 3 weeks now.

 

[MTB4884]

OOS: Glad you liked the name of the Empire's latest city, Blaze Injun. I've taken the liberty of putting quite a few posters in the forums into the story in various capacities. I appreciate you putting a link to "Blood and Iron" in your signature too!

I'm working on a number of updates for the next week. Planned updates include:

Spoiler :

a city attack, a birthday party, and a prisoner interview.

Stay tuned, everyone!

 

[MTB4884]

March 6, 920 AD

Siberian Wilderness
1 klicks west of Antalya, Turkish Sultanate
Dawn

General Karl Schlieffen, 5th Vanadorn Panthers, looked down the hill through his binoculars. The palisade of the enemy city of Antalya was just visible in the valley below. Hmm...no sign of tank traps, or any other activity. What are those Turks up to?

“General?” came the voice of his chief aide Dieter. “The tanks are ready. We only await your order to attack.”

“Then the order is given, Dieter. Send the radio signals to all tanks. For Bismarck and for Germany! All tanks forward!”

Dozens of Panther tanks did just that, rolling down the hill through the snow-covered underbrush towards the city. They burst into a cleared area some hundred meters away from a wood and stone palisade, instead of a proper city wall. It took but a single volley of 88mm tank gun fire to smash the gates into rubble. General Schlieffen watched with great satisfaction as the vanguard Panthers approached the city.

“General! Our Panthers report only light fire. We think the defenders are only using muskets!”

“Muskets?' repeated the General aloud. “They are not using rifles? Perhaps, Dieter, we have done more damage to the Turkish supply lines than we had expected. Tell the Panthers to proceed using Plan Karl, and let me know once the lead units reach the City Hall.”

“Yes, sir!”

The invading tanks quickly split into two main groups. One headed into the center of the city, meeting only scattered fire from the poorly armed musketmen defenders as they fell back from their positions at the palisade. The other headed for the main armory on the north side of the city.

It took only twenty minutes before the lead Panthers of the City Hall group reached the vicinity of their objective. The City Hall of Antalya was a relatively small two-story stone building, instead of the bustling complex found in most other cities of the Sultanate. Two of the Panthers were equipped with loudspeakers, and within two minutes a voice, in slightly broken Turkish, boomed out. “Attention! Attention! This General Schlieffen! Your city has been taken by the Empire German! You will surrender the City Hall at once or else destruction will come!”

A single Turkish man walked outside, after a few tense moments, and shouted, in his native tongue, “You have not won this day, General! If I cannot have Antalya, then no one can! NOW!” He pointed towards the roof, where a jet of dark black smoke belched forth, followed almost at once by flames from several upstairs windows.

The report to General Schlieffen from the City Hall was followed almost immediately by a second message from Colonel Mohen, commanding the armory force. “General! Those #$! Turks set fire to the armory!”

Berlin will not like this! “Attention all units!” ordered General Schlieffen. “Pull back from the armory and the City Hall. Prepare to engage Plan Franz!”

 

[MTB4884]

March 6, 920 AD

Imperial Theatre
Berlin, Germany
10:00 p.m.

“My congratulations, Bruno,” said the Chancellor as he and his family boarded their Daimler limousine for the trip back to the Imperial Palace. “It seems you have quite a gift for the organ.”

“Thank you, Grandfather. I'm just glad that I'll get to keep up my musical studies, since Franz will be around to rule the Empire as Chancellor one day.”

“One very distant day, I think,” replied the Chancellor with a smile.

“I am certainly in no hurry for that day, Grandfather,” said Prinz Franz, a little nervously. “I am not nearly ready for the responsibility of the Chancellorship.”

“Not now, perhaps, Franz. I have no doubt that one day you will make a fine Chancellor.” The family limousine, together with the usual lead and chase cars, soon arrived at the north gate of the Palace, and their driver spoke briefly with the Guardsmen just before the wrought-iron gates swung open. “Your pardon, my Chancellor,” said the driver over the intercom. “Ministers von Gessler and von Landschied are waiting for you in your study.”

“Did something happen, Grandfather?' asked Prinzessin Traudl. “Is it something to do with the Turks again?”

“I suppose I shall find out soon enough, Traudl. Klaus, go ahead and pull up at the entrance as usual. Helmut, Franz, you will accompany me to meet the Ministers. At least they did not interrupt the concert this time.” Presently the Chancellor, along with his son and grandson, duly walked into the study. Both Ministers stood and bowed as usual.

“My Chancellor,” began the Military Minister, “there is important news from the front. Panthers from the 5th Vanadorn smashed their way into Antalya early this morning, local time. The good news is that the city was only lightly defended by musketmen. What's left of the city is now under German control.”

“What's left of the city, Hans?”

“Er, yes, my Chancellor. General Schlieffen reports that the Turks deliberately destroyed both the City Hall and the armory, in an attempt to destroy the city rather than permit it to fall into our hands. Fortunately we were prepared for this contingency. Several mechanized infantry carriers accompanied the armor force, and were able to create firebreaks by knocking down buildings in the appropriate locations. The city was badly damaged, but not destroyed, in the fighting.”

“Very well, Hans. So where do we go from here?”

“The good news is that the Sultan now has only one city, Khiva, under his control. 4th Corps is in position for the attack, and 1st and 3rd Corps can be there shortly. We also have two Panther divisions ready to reinforce the assault. However, we do not have any bomber wings readily available. It will take months before we can effectively bomb the city in an aerial attack.”

“Should we wait to attack Khiva, then, Hans?”

The Military Minister took on a determined expression. “I think not, my Chancellor. I would prefer to launch an immediate attack. The Sultan is already reeling, and we must finish the job. Our capture of Khiva would almost certainly end the war and the Turkish threat permanently.”

“Sultan Kassim would have been better off had he accepted our terms for peace.” The Chancellor stood up, with the aid of his cane, and paced a few steps. “I will need a little time to consider the situation, Hans. I will ask you to return tomorrow evening for my decision.” He turned to his other guest. “Minister von Gessler, you are here for a good reason, no doubt.”

“Yes, um, my Chancellor.” The new Foreign Minister seemed quite nervous. “I am very concerned about the news from Antalya. The morale of the Turks has not diminished at all, so far as we can tell. Indeed, they seemed more determined than ever to fight to the death.”

“That is hardly your fault, Minister,” replied the Chancellor grimly. “Since the evil Sultan wants to fight us in a lost cause, I will grant him his wish. The only real issue for me is when the battle should take place.” He paused for a moment, and then added, “Any questions, Helmut?”

“One question, Father, for the Military Minister. What were our casualties at Antalya?”

“Very light, Prinz Helmut. Muskets are not at all effective against our Panther tanks. We actually have more damaged tanks as a result of the firefighting efforts of General Schlieffen than from the battle itself.”

“Excellent,” said the Chancellor. “Gentlemen, thank you both for coming to the Palace at such a late hour. Dismissed.” Both Ministers naturally bowed to their leader and left at once.

“Grandfather, may I ask a somewhat personal question?” The Chancellor nodded to his grandson. “Why is it that you addressed the Military Minister by his Christian name but not the Foreign Minister?”

The Chancellor smiled, a little ruefully. “A reasonable question, Franz. You see, I have forgotten the Christian name of the Foreign Minister. It would have been most embarrassing to say, 'What is your name?' at such a time.”

“It is Ernst, Father,” put in Prinz Helmut.

“Ah. I shall try to remember that for next time. For now, I want both of you to think about the tactical situation that the Military Minister described, and consider what we should do about the proposed attack on Khiva. I will expect your recommendations by 8:00 tomorrow night.”

“Of course, Father.”