The imperial palace's observatory chamber was high above Vienna, lined with old-world star charts and a skylight ceiling of enchanted crystal. Normally quiet—tonight, it pulsed with quiet tension.
Hans stood alone at the circular table, fingertips brushing the hilt of his officer's sword, Verdammnis, now more symbolic than deadly. Across from him, arriving without guards, was the Kaiser—calm, collected, his cloak lightly dusted with alpine frost.
The guards had been dismissed. This was to be a private meeting.
For now.
"You're bold to come alone," Hans said first.
"You would respect nothing less," the Kaiser replied, removing his gloves. "And I suspect neither of us could be easily killed… not anymore."
He gestured to a chair. Both men sat.
"You've gathered followers," Hans began. "From Bavaria, from Berlin, from my own border."
"I do not gather," the Kaiser replied with eerie softness. "They remember. That's my gift—memory. I can make them remember who they were. Not just Germans. Imperials."
Hans's eyes narrowed.
"Then you're no savior. You're nostalgia. Weaponized."
The Kaiser leaned forward.
"And you are power. Weaponized.""But… you're also tired. I see it in your dreams."
Hans's breath caught—just briefly. A mental intrusion? A psychic projection? He wasn't sure. But he clenched his jaw.
Before more could be said, the chamber doors burst open—not violently, but with a formal flourish.
Councilors of the Pact of Nations entered, cloaks fluttering, insignias flashing. Not soldiers, but ambassadors and Guildmasters from across the Ehrenfeld-Austrian Empire's vassals and allies:
Shingen Oda, representing the Eastern Awakened Treaty (Japan's Guild Confederation).
Therese van Rooyen, voice of the African Awakeners' Compact.
Admiral Louis Brasseur, Syndicalist France's "observer."
High Monk Zahir, from the Anatolian Awakened Brotherhood (Türkiye's neutral order).
And from within the Empire: Guildmistress Alina, Technocrat Müller, and Colonel Mehmed.
"This meeting is no longer bilateral," Alina announced, ignoring protocol. "You may think this is about monarchs and emperors, but the world has changed. Your conversation affects us all."
The Kaiser stood, unfazed, and gave a slight bow. "Then let all voices be heard."
Hans rose slowly. "This was a private conversation."
Therese of France stepped forward. "Nothing is private when awakeners of this scale meet. You're not just men anymore—you're archetypes."
"Symbols," added High Monk Zahir. "Living gods, some say."
"I never asked for worship," Hans muttered.
"But you accepted the crown," said Admiral Brasseur. "And now you may face a man who brings a second crown—one old, buried, but not forgotten."
The debate began, no longer just between two rulers—but between ideologies:
Should the Kaiser be allowed to form a neutral 'Holy Germanic State'?
Should he be invited into the Pact of Nations—or permanently exiled?
Should Hans tolerate his existence, or strike first?
Eliska arrived late, holding the twins, who peeked at the crowded room. Even they felt the tension.
The room spiraled—until Hans stood atop the dais, holding up his hand.
"Enough."
"He came in peace. So we will listen. But know this…"
Hans turned to the Kaiser.
"We did not rise from apocalypse to fall into old delusions. You may have memories—but I have the future. And I will defend it."
The Kaiser smiled, not with mockery—but with something more… ancient.
"Perhaps," he said softly, "our destinies are not enemies… but mirrors."
The chamber held its breath.
Outside, the snow began again. Quiet. Silent. Waiting.