Europe's Goddamn Geopolitics

"Your Majesty, this is the schedule for the Versailles Conference convened by the Allies, along with the terms they have proposed."

The next day, Rommel handed His Majesty Eitel a clearly written document, his tone brimming with indignation.

This was an official document submitted by the Allied ambassador, so everything looked properly formal.

But when Eitel took the document and read its contents, his brows knitted tightly, and his hand abruptly clenched around the paper.

Beyond the conference schedule at the top were the terms of the armistice, from territorial concessions to war reparations. Every provision was laid out clearly, identical to the Treaty of Versailles from his previous life.

Reading the sanctimonious words on the page, Eitel curled his lips into a cold sneer.

"They're all thousand-year-old foxes. Who are they trying to fool with their Strange Tales from a Chinese Studio?"

With that, Eitel raised the paper, tore it in half down the middle, and tossed it into the wastebasket beside him.

"Your Majesty, the Allied diplomatic envoy is still here. He said he would like to meet you in person so he can better explain the armistice arrangements."

A dangerous gleam flashed through Rommel's eyes as he leaned closer to His Majesty Eitel. "Your Majesty, shall we give them a show of force?"

As he spoke, Rommel drew a finger across his throat. Watching his gesture, Eitel shook his head. "Even when two countries are at war, their envoys are not to be killed."

"Let him come in and see me."

After giving his instructions, Eitel leaned back in his chair and folded his arms across his chest.

Seeing this, Rommel could only withdraw.

Before long, a diplomatic envoy with an arrogant expression and two long, slender strands of mustache walked in.

Upon seeing His Majesty Eitel, the envoy made a show of offering him a formal British salute, his eyes filled with contempt.

"Esteemed German Emperor, I bring you greetings on behalf of His Majesty the British Emperor."

"As it happens, His Majesty the British Emperor is also your uncle. For the sake of your acquaintance, our emperor has granted you the right to negotiate peace."

"I trust you have read the document I submitted earlier. What are your thoughts?"

The diplomat's words were full of honorifics, but his face showed not the slightest respect.

At the diplomat's words, Rommel abruptly drew the pistol at his waist and aimed it at him.

Unexpectedly, even with the muzzle pointed at his head, the man's face showed no trace of panic.

He merely pulled out the chair beside Eitel's desk and sat down, perfectly composed.

"Oh, sir, your emperor has yet to speak, yet you have taken it upon yourself to point a gun at me. Is this how His Majesty the German Emperor treats his guests?"

"Of course, I am not saying you have done anything wrong. I merely hope you will consider carefully what you stand to gain if this war continues."

"Germany's defeat is already a foregone conclusion. Eight million Allied troops stand just beyond your borders. If anything should happen to me, it would mean these negotiations had broken down. At that point, the situation would be difficult to resolve. Think of your subjects, Your Majesty."

The diplomat's words were backed by reason and evidence, leaving Rommel caught between advancing and retreating for a moment. He could only look indignantly toward His Majesty Eitel.

Eitel leaned forward, braced both hands on the desktop, and looked at the arrogant diplomat.

"You seem certain we will accept such terms, sir."

Hearing Eitel's words, the diplomat smiled and casually shifted his position in the chair.

"Is that not the case? There is no denying that your soldiers and generals are skilled at fighting."

"And you are indeed a capable man, having quelled the domestic turmoil as quickly as possible and put the country's production back on track. But I believe there is something you should understand."

"Your enemies now are several of the most powerful countries in the world. Our Royal Fleet has already blockaded the seas. How long will your domestic food reserves feed you?"

Having finished, the diplomat closed his eyes and offered no further response. His manner made Eitel laugh in anger.

"My apologies, Mr. Diplomat, but that may be the funniest joke I have heard all year."

"Would you please repeat that?"

As he said this, killing intent spread through Eitel's voice. As an emperor who had been on the battlefield, he had truly killed people.

At Eitel's words, the diplomat's heart instantly skipped a beat.

Why were his attitude and tone so different from what those people had said? Facing Eitel's killing intent head-on, the diplomat immediately broke out in a cold sweat across his back.

The reason he had dared to act so arrogantly was that he had previously spoken with the leader of that political party within Germany, and both sides agreed that, under the current circumstances,

the German Emperor could only accept these terms. On the other hand, when he had discussed these terms with the French diplomat and other officials,

they had all believed such terms could eliminate any possibility of Germany starting another war.

But now, looking at the German Emperor, whose attitude was written all over his face, the diplomat suddenly began to panic.

"Your Majesty, actually, if you are dissatisfied with these terms, we can discuss them further at the conference."

"Our Queen Victoria is your great-great-grandmother, and His Majesty the British Emperor is your uncle. I believe that if we can sit down and talk properly, everything is negotiable."

"Besides, these terms were all drafted by French officials. They have nothing to do with me."

The diplomat no longer spoke in his leisurely tone, but hurried through his words as though trying to prove something to Eitel.

"Heh, this damned European geopolitics. Even relations eight pole-lengths apart somehow manage to connect."

"You are right. His Majesty the British Emperor is indeed my uncle. But what does that have to do with them drafting such insulting terms?"

"Stop bringing up ancient history. We both know that, with matters having reached this point, there is no room left."

Eitel stood and leaned forward. "Listen carefully, Mr. Diplomat. This time, you came to discuss this matter with me."

"Next time, I want His Majesty the British Emperor to come and speak to me in person."

"As for that bullshit peace document of yours, it is over there."

As he spoke, Eitel motioned for the diplomat to look at the wastebasket beside him. The remains of the document lay silently at the bottom.

Seeing the state of the document, the diplomat's face instantly went pale.

"Your Majesty, but..."

The diplomat wanted to say more, but Eitel cut him off. He looked at the diplomat before him, whose face had now lost every trace of color.

Eitel said, enunciating every word, "If you bring the same insulting terms next time, you can go right back where you came from."

"I will never agree to such humiliating terms, and neither will the people of Germany."

"If these are all the terms you have to offer, then we will fight to the bitter end."

"When that time comes, we shall see who gives out first."