Location: War Room – City Hall, Begonnen
Hitler's voice broke through the low rumble of conversation.
"I want all demi-human civilians rounded up and relocated to camps."
The room froze.
Maps stopped shifting. Pens paused mid-stroke. Boots stopped tapping against stone.
Leon blinked. "Camps?"
Hitler's tone remained neutral. "Our engineers have already begun construction outside the eastern ridge and north of the riverbend. Three sites are operational within the week."
A commander across the table scoffed under his breath. "It's not feasible—not with only sixty thousand troops. We'd have to comb through every town, every village. We'd be stretched thin."
Another officer added, "There are still isolated zones in the marshlands, in the peaks—"
"That's why we're recruiting everyone," Hitler interrupted, calmly. "Every man, woman, and teenager capable of marching. We already have over seventy-five thousand volunteers."
He tapped the surface of the table. "And the number grows by the hour."
Seris nodded, sliding a paper forward. "Most towns saw a 300% surge in enlistment the moment they saw the battle recordings."
"Recordings?" Wilhelm asked, glancing up.
"Virella," Otto answered. "She conjures massive illusions in the sky. Moving images. The people see our battles as if they were there. Our victories. Our blood. Our flags."
Hitler leaned forward. "A city sees its liberation... in the sky above its ruins. A boy sees his father's execution avenged in flames over the town square. They don't just read about the war now. They witness it."
Bruno shifted in his seat, arms crossed.
"I've seen Virella lately…" he muttered. "And she doesn't look like someone winning a war."
All eyes turned.
"She's on the edge of collapse. Those sky illusions—the ones that hang over entire towns? That's high-tier conjuration. Stuff meant for entire teams of elite mages."
He exhaled through his nose.
"She's doing it alone."
Bruno looked directly at Hitler. "She's coughing blood. Her hands shake after every projection. The only reason she's still upright is the crystal reserves... and she's burning through them faster than we can mine."
An officer beside him nodded grimly. "We've lost two dig teams to cave-ins already."
Another muttered, "She collapsed after the last march. They say her heartbeat nearly stopped."
Wilhelm said nothing, but his fingers clenched slightly on the edge of the table.
Hitler stared for a long moment.
Then: "She will be fine."
The certainty in his voice didn't waver.
"The effects are temporary. Once the capital is secured, she will rest longer than any of us. I'll see to it myself."
Bruno frowned. "And if she collapses before then?"
"She won't."
Silence fell again.
Hitler turned now toward Wilhelm.
"Now, about pensions." His tone shifted, almost conversational. "You requested retirement once the valley and the major cities were secured."
Wilhelm leaned back. "I did."
"So. Will you take it?"
Wilhelm looked to the side, then down at the map. His eyes traced the eastern ridges and the unfinished roads near the river.
"I'll rest once the capital is complete," he said. "And once we've sealed the southern passes. After that... I'll consider it."
Bruno let out a short laugh. "You're not retiring. You're just changing uniforms."
A younger officer chimed in, "Maybe we'll bury you standing up—hat on, sword in hand."
Wilhelm grunted. "I'll haunt whoever forgets to shine my boots."
Hitler allowed a small smirk.
"Very well. Then your pension will wait. But your name will be carved into the gates of New Berlin, Wilhelm. You've earned that much."
He stepped back toward the map wall, voice returning to command.
"Otto, oversee the crystal mining and new camp construction. Bruno, you'll coordinate the relocation units. Seris, continue monitoring Virella—if she falters, I want to know before the crystals do."
He looked to the group.
"This is the foundation of our new order. Not just rifles and flags... but control."
And then, softly—
"History is watching."