"If we keep fighting among ourselves, it is the German Nation that will suffer in the end. If it is only to prolong a miserable existence, then I do not wish to become a sinner against the nation."
Although the others present did not state their positions outright, the flickering in their eyes made it clear that none of them was willing to carry out this plan.
In this age of nations, especially in a region like Europe where nations stood thick as trees in a forest, it was impossible for them to possess no national pride whatsoever.
The charge of being a sinner against the nation was far too grave. They might flee to the United States, but that stain could never be washed away—and they would become targets for assassination by nationalists.
Nineteenth-century nationalists were not merely all talk. Royal families and political leaders in every country could become assassination targets. The greatest assassin organizations in history were precisely these nationalists.
Yet Bismarck smiled.
"Minister Roon. You are right. If we cannot change anything, we might as well become Austrians."
At Bismarck's wild words, Prince of Grapeshot's face went green, then red. He truly wanted to strangle this madman to death.
However, because of the rumors surrounding Bismarck—such as his twenty-seven duels—even in Prussia's martial military, such a record was considered utterly insane.
Thus, Prince of Grapeshot decided it would be better not to provoke someone like him.
The great figures gathered here could spout nonsense as they pleased, but Werner von Siemens was merely a former artillery second lieutenant. He did not want to get inexplicably dragged into some dreadful affair before he had even made his fortune.
"Mind your words, mind your words."
Bismarck simply continued as though he had heard nothing.
"The great powers cannot