Location: Human-Controlled Territory – Command Hall, Begonnen
A cold wind slipped through the cracks in the stone windowpanes, whispering through the high rafters like a ghost. The room was quiet, lit only by the faint orange glow of lanterns that danced over maps and scattered reports. Smoke from a nearby hearth curled lazily toward the ceiling.
Seris moved swiftly, her boots echoing softly across the flagstone floor. She unrolled several documents on the table before the Führer. The parchment crackled under her gloved fingers.
"Everything has been progressing flawlessly, mein Führer," she said, brushing dust from the corner of a weather-worn map. "Our armies have pushed through the western highlands. The south has submitted entirely. There's no more organized resistance."
She slid a folded sheet forward. "Morale is high among both the military and the civilians. Celebrations have broken out in the farmlands. Even our youngest soldiers report dreams of victory."
Hitler remained silent. His chair creaked as he slowly leaned forward, eyes locked on the table. He glanced up, his voice flat and cold.
"How many dead?"
The question cut through the room like a blade.
Seris hesitated. Her fingers curled slightly. She looked down, whispering numbers to herself.
"Approximately thirty-four thousand… across all fronts. That includes civilians caught in the crossfire and winter starvation."
Hitler nodded once.
"Not much."
He rose from his chair, moving with calm precision. His coat rustled softly as he crossed to a long wooden shelf behind him and withdrew a large scroll. Unrolling it onto the table, he smoothed it flat with both hands.
A large black X had been drawn deep in the northern forests, just west of a frozen river.
"I want to move the capital," Hitler said plainly. "The engineers already surveyed the area. The land is stable, defensible, elevated. Ideal for stone and steel foundations. And most importantly—untouched by noble filth."
Seris leaned closer, eyes narrowing. "It's colder than Lars. And covered in dense forest. The terrain's brutal. Frozen half the year. We'll need thousands to clear it."
"That's the point," Hitler replied. "It will not be built on the bones of the old world. It will rise from the earth itself—pure. Shaped by our hands. Not inherited. Not compromised."
He tapped the map again.
"From this place, our empire will breathe. Every road will lead here. Every command will echo from its halls."
Seris crossed her arms, her voice quiet, almost unsure.
"I… never asked, Mein Führer, but—what will we name it? The capital. And our nation?"
He didn't speak right away. Instead, he slowly turned toward the window, gazing out at the gray skies and the black tree line beyond.
Then he answered.
"Our capital… will be called New Berlin."
The name lingered in the air like smoke.
Seris blinked. The sound of it felt foreign, yet permanent. As if it had always existed—waiting to be spoken.
"And the nation?" she asked.
Hitler turned fully to face her now. His hand rested on the edge of the map, knuckles tight.
"It will be called the German Reich."
She felt the words settle deep in her spine.
"All men under our banner," he continued, "will no longer be peasants, wanderers, or nameless cattle. They will be Germans. Citizens of the Reich. Unified. Disciplined. Unbreakable."
"And those who resist?"
"They will be forgotten."
He stepped closer, voice quiet but commanding.
"This is not just conquest, Seris. It's rebirth. The death of chaos. The dawn of order. The world will remember what we build here."
He gestured toward the marked forest on the map.
"New Berlin will not be a city. It will be a monument. A symbol of what man can become when forged in blood and flame. No towers of gold. No marble. Just iron, stone, and fire."
Seris looked down at the scroll, then back at him.
"I'll alert the engineers. Begin clearing the forest. And send the announcement to all major territories."
Hitler gave a small nod.
"Make sure they understand. This isn't a relocation." His voice dropped to a whisper. "It's a resurrection."
He stepped away into the shadow of the room, the lanternlight flickering across the hard lines of his face.
"And history," he murmured, "will begin again."