The only light came from the white gemstone orbs embedded into the stone ceiling—soft flickers casting long shadows across the war table. A massive map of the kingdom lay stretched across the wood, pinned with markers, red strings, and notes detailing every major front.
Adolf Hitler stood at the head of the table, gloved hands resting on either side of the map. Otto stood near his right shoulder, arms crossed behind his back. Across from them stood Elisabeth Ritter, uniform crisp, braid hanging over one shoulder.
Hitler broke the silence.
"What do you both think… of the name Begonnen?"
The question echoed faintly in the chamber. He didn't elaborate. He didn't need to.
Elisabeth's brow lifted.
"You mean… renaming the city?"
"Yes." Hitler looked up. "The first true stronghold of our people. A name that reflects what it is. The beginning. The spark."
Otto was the first to respond. "I think it fits. It marks the first time in centuries humans took land and kept it. A name to remind them this is where it began."
Elisabeth gave a slow nod. "Simple. Strong. Timeless. I agree."
Hitler's lips curled into a tight smile. "Then it's settled. From this day forward, the capital of our uprising will be called Begonnen."
He tapped the map once with his finger, shifting the discussion immediately.
"Now. To the real matter."
He turned to Elisabeth.
"Today, your mission begins. You are to push west. Everything you request—men, horses, food, firepower—will be granted."
He dragged his finger eastward across the map, toward the red circle marking the City of Dunes.
"We control the East. Nearly all of it. But the cost…" He paused. "Over twenty thousand dead. Eleven thousand of those lost in the Dunes alone. Guerilla tactics. Urban bloodbaths. We bled to take it."
Then he slid his hand across the map—westward—to a dark emblem marking a mountain-flanked city.
"This… is the capital. Lars. Their crown jewel. Their seat of power. The city where their kings, their generals, their bloodlines reside. Although most are dead o they fled"
He looked up sharply.
"Either way, we will erase it from the earth."
Elisabeth raised a hand without hesitation. Hitler stopped.
"Speak."
"Is that why we've avoided using heavy artillery the last five weeks?" she asked. "Most strikes have been mortar-based. Lighter barrages."
Hitler nodded. "Correct. We stockpiled every shell, every cannon, every explosive. We had the labor—but not the time. And not the luxury to waste."
His hand hovered over the capital once more.
"We're preparing the largest artillery strike in history. Three days. Three nights. Non-stop bombardment. Followed by chemical weapons. Choking out whatever survives."
Elisabeth's tone dropped. "That's going to leave rubble. A hellish battlefield."
"Exactly," Hitler said. "Which is why we do not storm the city like fools. I will not throw men into a meat grinder. You will sweep in after the shelling ends. Eliminate anything that moves. Comb the ruins. Kill survivors. Then, take the outlying villages. Resistance will be light—most of their military will be stationed in Lars or already dead."
Elisabeth's voice sharpened. "And the human resistance? The ones still in hiding inside Lars?"
Hitler's eyes narrowed.
"They served their purpose. Most are already dead. The leaders who remain will be quietly eliminated. No more martyrs. No more delays."
She nodded in understanding. "I assume I'll have command of the full artillery stockpile?"
Hitler gestured to Otto. "We will give you seventy-eight percent. Otto?"
Otto adjusted his glasses. "Approximately 2,337 artillery pieces, General Ritter."
Elisabeth nodded slowly. "That's… more than enough. What about ammunition?"
Hitler smiled coldly. "Enough to level the capital twice over. We've prepared this strike for months. You'll have what you need."
Her eyes drifted to the communications board. "And… the systems? Can I use that box Wilhelm used for his strikes?"
Otto huffed, mildly offended. "That box is a radio, General. And it's my invention."
"Yeah, yeah," Elisabeth said with a faint smirk. "But can I use it?"
Hitler nodded. "You'll have a primary set at your field HQ. Limited range. You'll still need messengers for most communication, but your officers will be equipped with smaller units to receive orders. A few can respond—but not all."
"Understood." Elisabeth straightened. "When do I move?"
Hitler didn't hesitate.
"Now."
She blinked. "Now?"
"You leave in twenty minutes," Hitler said. "Thirty thousand riflemen are assembling outside. Supplies are loaded. Horses are prepared. You'll be escorted by engineers and mortar teams. We want you on the move before sundown."
Elisabeth stared at him, caught between surprise and readiness.
Then she bowed her head.
"Yes, mein Führer. I will not fail."
"You won't." Hitler replied coldly. "Because failure means public disgrace and private execution. Victory, however…" He paused. "Victory makes you a name they'll whisper for generations."
She raised her head.
"Then I'll make them whisper."