Geneva – Coalition Security Council
The table was oval, but the tension was jagged.
At one end sat Ambassador Reiko Fujimoto of Japan, her fingers steepled in silence. Across from her, U.S. Secretary of Strategic Affairs Howard Lamont tapped a dossier labeled Ehrenfeld-Austrian Empire. Türkiye's General-Envoy Baran Özkan reviewed satellite images of Bratislava. Russia, China, the EU, even Britain—their seats were occupied, but none dared speak first.
Until Reiko did.
"Slovakia fell in thirty hours. The Old Guard is being hunted in their own mountain bases. Hans Ehrenfeld isn't just consolidating—he's accelerating."
Lamont frowned.
"And he's doing it without our permission."
"Was permission ever given?" asked Baran Özkan. "The Old Guard attempted to assassinate him in Vienna. Would you sit idle?"
"No," Lamont admitted, "but the pace is… alarming."
China's delegate, Luo Jing, finally spoke:
"We must decide. Is the Ehrenfeldian expansion an internal European resolution— or is it a global threat?"
Silence.
Then the French representative cleared her throat.
"Either way, if we do not act soon, we will be reacting forever."
Vienna – Iron Crown Parliament Chamber
Hans stood before the newly ratified constitution, flanked by Eliska and Engelhardt. His coat was dark again, tailored anew, but not clean of war. The halls of Parliament were lined with guards and officers from the new Empire's command townships.
The cameras broadcasted it live—streamed across every capital.
"To the world watching: we are not building a throne of conquest. We are repairing a world left in ruin."
"The Old Guard broke the balance. The monsters broke our borders. The portals broke our skies. We are rebuilding it—stone by stone, banner by banner."
He looked directly at the lens:
"To any who would interfere—we invite dialogue. But if you come with drones or deception, know this: we will not kneel again."
Ankara – National Defense Headquarters
Türkiye's Defense Ministry was quiet. Too quiet.
Aide reports had just come in: two drones had been shot down near the Carpathians—unknown signature, neither rebel nor imperial.
General Özkan stood alone, eyes narrowed at the tactical map.
"Someone's stirring the water... but it's not Hans."
His assistant hesitated.
"Do we offer him a pact?"
"Not yet. Let's see how long he stays the lion—before becoming the dragon."
Washington D.C. – Langley, CIA Black Room
"He's got over 18 awakened commanders now," the analyst whispered. "Eliska's powers are completely unknown. And he's integrating Czech-Slovak regional command into his intelligence web."
Director Langdon leaned back in his chair.
"And his psychological profile?"
"Still controlled. Still righteous. But—"
"But?"
"He's falling in love. That's when empires crack."
Langdon tapped the screen. A photo of Hans and Eliska in Bratislava, under rain, under cheers.
"Or become immortal."
Unknown Location – Karling's Hidden Command
The fires crackled. A wall-sized map showed imperial flags sweeping eastward.
Albrecht von Karling paced before a line of chained, hooded prisoners—traitors from his own ranks. His generals were silent.
"The world watches him," Karling muttered. "Like a child watching a magician."
One general coughed.
"We have begun preparations in Croatia. If we lose the Adriatic, the rebellion dies."
"Then it won't be Croatia he faces next," Karling replied.
He turned to the hooded prisoners.
"Send them... into Italy. Let's see how Europe reacts to its own fire."
The Letter
In the imperial study at midnight, Hans reads a letter.
It's unsigned. The seal is unfamiliar—an ancient glyph, predating the portals.
"Do not trust the peace. Do not trust the silence. They are more dangerous than any army."
Hans folds it slowly. He looks out over Vienna.
Eliska enters, brushing her fingers across his shoulder.
"The world is holding its breath."
He replies, quietly:
"Then I hope it doesn't choke."