Florentine Palace, Theodosia - April 14th, 1940
The capital of the Hanseatic Empire awakened to one of those perfect spring mornings that reminded its citizens why Theodosia was considered among the world's most beautiful cities. Golden sunlight bathed the medieval monuments and baroque facades lining the broad avenues, while gentle breezes carried the scent of flowering cherry trees through ancient districts where cobblestone streets wound between buildings that had witnessed ten centuries of imperial history, both in times of unity and disintegration.
Throughout the city, citizens enjoyed their weekend leisure with the unhurried contentment of a prosperous society. At the famous von Alba Plaza, fashionable ladies examined the latest European imports in boutiques occupying medieval guild halls, their Gothic windows now displaying Parisian gowns and Italian leather goods. The plaza's outdoor cafés hummed with animated conversation as patrons savored coffee from Hanseatic South American trading posts and pastries crafted according to recipes perfected over generations.
In the Palace Gardens, aristocratic families had spread elaborate picnics beneath ancient oak trees, their children playing among flowerbeds where the empire's signature royal purple tulips bloomed in magnificent profusion. The adjacent Botanical Gardens drew admiring crowds to conservatories housing exotic plants from across the Hanseatic trading network—a living testament to the empire's global reach.
Yet within the magnificent Florentine Palace itself, morning tranquility was disrupted by news casting shadows across the empire's carefully maintained neutrality. The palace, completed in 1663 as a masterwork of architectural synthesis, combined baroque grandeur with renaissance elegance in perfect embodiment of Hanseatic cultural sophistication. Its soaring galleries and elaborate state rooms had hosted centuries of diplomatic negotiations, but few carried the weight of documents arriving this morning.
The telegram from Ambassador Johann von Traba in Berlin lay coiled upon the marble surface of Emperor Konrad II's private study. The message was brief but ominous: "Your Majesty - Germany has occupied Czechoslovakia without resistance. Bohemian territories now under direct German administration, violating assurances to Britain and France. Sources within German Foreign Ministry suggest war inevitable within five months. Recommend immediate mobilization of Ravaran garrison forces."
Emperor Konrad II, at sixty-four, had governed the Hanseatic Empire through tumultuous decades. The Great War, subsequent economic upheavals, the rise of new ideologies across Europe—all had tested his diplomatic skill and political judgment. Lines etched upon his face spoke to decisions affecting nearly three hundred million subjects scattered across two continents.
Holding the telegram, the Emperor's expression remained carefully neutral, though his eyes reflected growing concern. Czechoslovakia's occupation represented more than territorial expansion—it signaled Germany's willingness to discard diplomatic agreements when inconvenient, with profound implications for European stability.
"Summon Chancellor Torres," he instructed the waiting court secretary. "Tell him we have urgent matters to discuss."
The Griffin Throne Room
The Griffin Throne Room represented the very heart of Hanseatic imperial power. The circular chamber, constructed from alternating white and black marble bands imported from Middle Eastern quarries, rose to a magnificent domed ceiling decorated with golden mosaics depicting the empire's founding legends. Eight marble statues of great emperors from various Hanseatic dynasties stood in perimeter alcoves, their carved features seeming to observe each generation's struggles with centuries of accumulated wisdom.
The throne itself, carved from rare Hanseatic jade and inlaid with precious metals forming the imperial griffin, occupied a raised central dais. Around this platform, the black marble floor accommodated chairs for the empire's senior officials, positioned according to centuries of court protocol and political hierarchy.
When Chancellor Torres von Reichsgraf entered, his usually composed demeanor showed visible strain. As the empire's second most powerful official, he had spent his morning reviewing intelligence reports from Hanseatic embassies throughout Europe, painting an increasingly troubling picture.
"Your Majesty," he said, offering the precise bow required by court etiquette before taking his designated seat. "I have reviewed additional reports from our diplomatic missions. The situation appears more serious than Ambassador von Traba initially indicated."
Emperor Konrad gestured toward a crystal decanter filled with vintage Hanseatic apricot wine. "Pour yourself a glass, Chancellor. I suspect we shall need steadying influences for this conversation."
As Torres accepted the refreshment, the Emperor continued with characteristic directness. "What is Germany attempting to accomplish with these provocations? Hitler must understand that Britain and France cannot ignore such blatant treaty violations indefinitely."
"Your Majesty, I believe we are witnessing systematic dismantlement of the post-war settlement," Torres replied, his tone carrying the weight of years analyzing European politics. "Embassy reports suggest German military production has increased over three hundred percent in two years. They are not merely posturing—they are preparing for comprehensive warfare."
The Emperor leaned back, fingers drumming unconsciously against jade armrests. "Wehrmacht expansion is obvious enough, but I'm more concerned with political preparations. This SS organization under Heinrich Himmler operates as a state within the state."
"Precisely, Your Majesty. For every ten Wehrmacht recruits, approximately four join SS formations. They are creating parallel military structures answering directly to party leadership rather than traditional command hierarchies—an organization that will execute party will without question."
This information prompted a grimace from the Emperor. "Such arrangements typically indicate preparations for internal suppression as much as external conquest. Most troubling indeed."
Torres nodded gravely. "The broader strategic picture is equally concerning. German diplomatic missions throughout Eastern Europe suddenly request detailed information about transportation networks, industrial facilities, and agricultural production. The pattern suggests comprehensive occupation planning."
"Then we must assume war is inevitable," the Emperor concluded. "The question becomes positioning ourselves without alienating any side."
"Precisely my concern, Your Majesty. While neutrality has served us during peaceful periods, it may prove inadequate when Europe divides into armed camps. Every power will demand we choose sides."
Emperor Konrad rose and moved to a tall window, gazing at peaceful gardens where citizens enjoyed their spring morning, blissfully unaware of the gathering storm. "Our geographic position creates both opportunities and vulnerabilities, Chancellor. Ravara Province controls Mediterranean access, making us valuable to any power. Yet that strategic importance ensures we cannot remain uninvolved indefinitely."
"The British have begun making discrete inquiries," Torres reported. "Ambassador Henderson visited our London embassy last week for what he termed 'informal conversations about mutual interests.' Meanwhile, the French Foreign Ministry has suggested expanded trade agreements that would create economic dependence."
"And the Germans?"
"More characteristically direct. They haven't approached us yet, though their diplomatic messages suggest willingness to negotiate."
The Emperor returned to his throne with a heavy sigh. "So we face the familiar challenge—everyone seeks our friendship while none respect our independence. What of the Soviet situation?"
"Most enigmatic of all, Your Majesty. Stalin appears to negotiate simultaneously with Germany and the Western powers, playing each side against the other while building military capabilities. Our Moscow military attaché reports massive industrial expansion, particularly in weapons manufacturing."
This prompted a sardonic smile from the Emperor. "At least the Soviets are consistent in their duplicity. Better knowing where one stands with acknowledged enemies than trusting false friends."
Their strategic discussion was interrupted when a court secretary approached reluctantly, carrying another telegram clearly containing unwelcome news.
"Your Majesty, an urgent message from Foreign Minister von Hausen in Beijing."
Scanning the document, the Emperor's expression shifted from concern to mild exasperation. "It appears our Chinese military mission has encountered certain... complications."
Torres looked up with immediate interest. "Complications, Your Majesty?"
"The Chinese have requested replacement instructors for our training program. Captains von Reichsgraf and von Witzland proved somewhat less diplomatic than their academic credentials suggested."
The Chancellor's expression tightened with concern. "Your Majesty, I personally recommended both officers based on exceptional Bechaven performance. Their tactical knowledge and technical expertise were outstanding."
"I don't question their military competence, Chancellor. However, academic excellence doesn't automatically translate to cultural sensitivity. The Chinese found their teaching methods... condescending. They are now requesting we send replacements instead."
Torres absorbed this with visible disappointment. "I had hoped their youth and energy would create positive impressions."
"Unfortunately, enthusiasm without wisdom often creates more problems than it solves," the Emperor observed dryly. "However, the situation hasn't become a complete diplomatic disaster. The Chinese have offered both officers what they term a 'cultural education tour", presumably to teach proper respect for Chinese customs and hierarchy."
"That suggests the Chinese wish to maintain good relations despite initial difficulties," Torres noted with obvious relief.
"Indeed. Which brings us to more significant aspects of Minister von Hausen's report. The Chinese Emperor has made substantial proposals regarding military cooperation and commercial concessions."
Torres leaned forward with renewed interest. "What specific arrangements?"
"Exclusive trading rights in Qingdao, Shanghai, and Guangzhou ports. Additionally, territorial concessions providing permanent Hanseatic commercial facilities in China's most strategically valuable locations."
The Chancellor's eyebrows rose considerably. "Your Majesty, such concessions would represent commercial opportunities worth billions of Bezants annually. The Chinese must be desperate to offer such generous terms."
"My assessment precisely. However, they've requested something exceeding Minister von Hausen's authority—a formal military guarantee that the Hanseatic Empire would intervene should Japan launch full-scale invasion."
This revelation prompted a long whistle from Torres. "A military commitment of that magnitude could involve us in Pacific war regardless of European developments. The strategic implications are staggering."
"Yet the commercial opportunities are equally staggering," the Emperor replied. "Control of Chinese ports would provide unprecedented influence over Asian trade networks. I sometimes wonder whether such advantages justify military risks."
Torres stood and began pacing the throne room's length, indicating deep contemplation. "Your Majesty, there's another consideration. The Chinese proposals omitted Hong Kong—surely the region's most strategically valuable port."
A slight smile crossed the Emperor's features. "Astute observation, Chancellor. I suspect the Chinese omitted Hong Kong precisely because they lack authority to negotiate British colonial territories. However, we might approach the British directly about expanded Hong Kong commercial access."
"That could prove more achievable than Chinese guarantees," Torres agreed. "The British have always been pragmatic about commercial arrangements, and they would appreciate Hanseatic naval support in Pacific war with Japan."
Their conversation was developing promising strategic possibilities when another consideration occurred to the Emperor. "There's one additional element, Chancellor. Minister von Hausen reports that the Chinese Emperor privately requested asylum guarantees for his children should the empire fall to Japanese conquest."
"Asylum guarantees?"
"Sanctuary in Hanseatic territories, with full honors appropriate to their royal status. Such arrangements are traditional imperial courtesy expressions, with minimal cost compared to potential commercial benefits."
Torres nodded approvingly. "Easily manageable, Your Majesty. The Hanseatic Empire has provided royal refuge throughout history. The precedents are well-established."
"Then we're agreed on that point. The question remains how to respond to military requests without compromising European neutrality."
"We should observe how the situation unfolds, Your Majesty. I suggest waiting to see what changes before taking major decisions. I wouldn't want to agitate any side presently," Chancellor Torres said, sipping his apricot wine.
"Agreed, Chancellor. I don't want hasty decisions based on Hitler's actions. I just hope nobody forces my hand." The Emperor gazed through the throne room window at his people in the gardens—families enjoying themselves with children, all harboring dreams and wishes, unaware of the brewing storm. German annexation of Czechoslovakia hadn't even made global news yet. He sighed, hoping no one would force his hand.
The von Reichsgraf Estate, Theodosia - Evening
That evening, Chancellor Torres sat in his private study within the von Reichsgraf estate. The room carried the scent of mahogany from bookshelves and furniture speaking to the house's refined tastes. He reviewed daily reports and correspondence while sipping chamomile tea. His full head of hair, graying at the sides, made him instantly recognizable. Like all von Reichsgrafs, he was renowned for good looks—a handsome man who enjoyed painting, music, philosophy, and strategic thinking, hallmarks of his house. At forty-seven, Chancellor Torres was by all accounts intelligent and honorable. He had been head of the house when he became Imperial Chancellor ten years ago—the youngest in Hanseatic history.
As he examined letters under table light, a servant entered. "Master Torres, please have your dinner. Miss Bertha worries you might overwork yourself."
"Leave it on the table, Ludwig. I need more time to get through this."
"Yes, Master," Ludwig said, placing the silver tray on a nearby table before departing.
Minutes later, an elderly man of about sixty-six entered. Despite his obvious age, his physicality suggested good health. This was Hugo von Reichsgraf, who had served in the Imperial Army as Chief of General Staff and Field Marshal for over forty-five years. Now retired, he understood the mental and physical strain of managing state affairs, yet felt his eldest son was exceeding duty's requirements.
"Torres," Hugo began slowly, hands behind his back. "My son, are you alright? You haven't eaten since this morning. Did you eat at the palace?"
"Yes, father," Torres replied, gaze still fixed on the table.
"I know when something isn't right. Tell me, has something happened?" Hugo pressed, hoping his son might share whatever troubled him.
"No father, I assure you it's fine. There has been a diplomatic incident requiring attention."
"It's about Kylian, isn't it?" Hugo asked, his tone becoming more serious.
Torres slowly set down his letter and looked toward his father. "Yes father, it's a disaster. Kylian and his friend Witzland have offended the Chinese court. I don't know what to tell him anymore. I recommended him and Witzland to the emperor personally, and it seems they haven't lived up to our family name." Torres sighed heavily.
"Torres, they are young. Your brother is already doing well. He's captain of the Emperor's personal guards at twenty-two—unparalleled in our house's history. I understand the weight of our family name, but everyone makes mistakes." Hugo sat on a couch beside the fireplace.
"It's no small mistake, father. They offended the Chinese court. It can't get much worse."
Hugo chuckled softly. "Your brother, condescending? Have you ever seen him behave that way? He was raised properly by you and me. He learned everything from us. Instead of writing him a pressuring letter, we should tell him to be more aware. He's in a foreign culture, after all. I've never been to China and can only imagine how Far Eastern traditions differ from ours. It's an entirely different worldview."
"You're right, father. I only want him to represent Hansa and the house of von Reichsgraf positively. I recommended him personally because I believe in his abilities."
"Does Ernst von Witzland know about this?" Hugo asked.
"Yes, father. I sent a letter to Duke Ernst today. I doubt he'll be pleased with the contents."
"Of course," Hugo said simply.
Hugo rose. "Torres, I've made many mistakes in my life too, and trust me, my mistakes were far worse than what Kylian did today. Don't be too hard on your brother. We both know he's trying his best to honor our family name. Trust in him, let him learn independently. I suggest you not give Ambassador von Hausen any recommendations or letters for Kylian."
"Understood, father."
Hugo left the room, leaving Torres alone with his thoughts. Torres looked up at the wall displaying portraits of von Reichsgraf family members—all had contributed something to Hansa. All had, in one capacity or another, played parts in the Hanseatic Empire's successes. The report of Hanseatic officers being condescending toward Chinese counterparts shocked Torres. At heart, Torres was a pragmatist who wanted things to proceed properly. He merely wanted Kylian to understand the stakes of the von Reichsgraf name.