Year: 930 IV — Month: OctoberLocation: The Führer's Balcony, Upper Tier of New Berlin
The wind moved softly over the high walls of the capital.
From the edge of the white concrete balcony, the city below stretched wide — pale buildings stacked in perfect angles, long straight roads cutting between them like blades. Marble and limestone shimmered in the cold morning light, casting no shadow. New Berlin had no spires. No domes. Only clean lines and pale strength.
Adolf Hitler stood alone, water glass in hand, his coat still buttoned from the early air.
He leaned forward against the concrete railing, eyes scanning the city. From this height, even the largest buildings looked like bones arranged on white cloth. He could see out to the edge of the valley — and beyond that, the faint gray of distant mountains.
But it was the scar at the center that drew the eye.
A massive pit, dug so deep it disappeared from view even from this height. Concrete pillars, thick as towers, rose from the mud — unfinished and naked. Cranes moved slowly around the perimeter. The sound of hammers echoed even now.
The Volkshalle. Or at least, what little existed of it.
Behind him — a knock.
Then, the click of the balcony door opening.
He didn't turn.
"Enter," he said simply.
Seris stepped forward. Her uniform coat was pressed, her boots silent against the concrete. Her hair — once kept tight in a braided bun — now fell in wild but professional curls, bouncing softly with each step.
She bowed lightly. "Good morning, mein Führer."
Hitler nodded, still watching the city.
"Do you have the reports I requested?"
"Yes, mein Führer." She moved to the outdoor coffee table and gently placed a leather-bound folder on its surface. "Military updates. Foreign responses. Oil. Engineering."
He stepped back from the railing and set down his half-empty glass.
"Sit with me," he said.
She nodded and took the seat across from him.
They sat in silence for a moment, staring at the vast pale sprawl beneath them. The morning haze was starting to lift, revealing construction cranes, marching columns, and plumes of steam from the new forges.
Seris' eyes lingered on the pit at the center.
Over 200,000 square meters. And hole deeper than any quarry. Thousands of workers. Nearly three years of excavation — and still, the Volkshalle hadn't risen a meter above ground.
She spoke without thinking. "It doesn't look real."
Hitler answered without looking at her.
"It is not a building. It is a message."
She turned.
He was still watching the sky.
Then: "The Volkshalle won't be finished in our time."
"No, mein Führer. Not likely," she said. "Seventy years, if uninterrupted. And that's being generous. We lack the machines. The dome design is still theoretical. Even our best engineers call it a prayer."
Hitler gave a faint nod.
"I see. Then let it begin with blood and patience."
He opened the folder.
"Now. The others."
Seris adjusted her seat. "We have confirmed oil deposits beneath the coastal plateau. Extraction has already begun. A refinery is being built at the docks."
"And the steam engine?"
Seris's tone dimmed.
"Unstable. Pressure ratios are unpredictable. Six engineers died last week. One explosion tore through the blast housing and took off a man's legs. The rest won't even enter the testing bay."
Hitler raised a brow.
"Fear is natural," he said. "Cowardice is not. Find me someone who isn't afraid to die in a boiler room. Reward them."
She nodded.
"And our arms? Army size? Diplomats?"
Seris smiled slightly. "Better news there."
She flipped the last page and slid it toward him.
Population: 4,607,000Active Soldiers: 467,000Rifles in Storage: 57,000Artillery Units: 10,300Heavy Artillery: 7,800
"We now have the third-largest army in the region," she added. "Still behind Valinor and Thearom, but closing the gap."
Hitler leaned back.
"Good. Schedule meetings with all visiting diplomats. One at a time. I want my schedule full for the next four days."
She stood. "Yes, mein Führer."
"No meetings today."
She bowed. "Understood."
She turned, boots clicking faintly on the white concrete as she stepped back inside.
The door clicked shut behind her.
Hitler remained seated.
He lifted the final page of the report again, read the numbers one more time.
Then he stood and walked slowly to the edge of the balcony.
His gloved hands rested on the smooth concrete edge. His eyes scanned the city—the white rooftops, the marching lines, the smoke, the pit, the cranes, the future.
And far beyond, the distant snow-tipped peaks that once marked the end of human ambition.
No more.
Not now.
Not ever again.