Tyranny of Steel - Chapter 1213: A Polite Conversation About Global Politics

It had been over twenty years since Berengar first put an end to the war with the Japanese Empire, and the brief, but bloody, conflict with the Shiba Shogunate. And during this time, the world had changed in many ways.

However, if there was one part of the world that had remained entirely the same, it was none other than the Ming Dynasty, which had retreated from the international community and had begun a policy of strict isolationism.

It was only two weeks again when Zhu Wudi had passed away. The Ming Emperor was already what many would consider to be elderly prior to the German-Japanese war, but after twenty years, he was now what one would refer to as ancient.

On his deathbed, the Ming Emperor said one thing and one thing along. That he wanted his son Zhu Zhi to continue the empire’s policy of isolationism. To Zhu Zhi who had seen all which the reich had to offer, and on several occasions. He had never quite understood his father’s stern refusal to reopen the borders.

However, since it was his father’s dying wish, Zhu Zhi had intended to honor these words, and continue to uphold the policy of isolation, that had kept the Ming Dynasty from contacting the rest of the world.

Currently, the Crown Prince of the Ming Dynasty was being crowned the new emperor. Many of his subjects had gathered for his coronation to witness the spectacle with their own eyes. For whatever reason though, Zhu Zhi, who had always been considered a man of the people, did not hold the ceremony in the forbidden palace, but amongst the streets of Beijing.

Thus, just when the crown was about to be placed upon his head, a loud and thunderous echo spread across the streets, followed by a horrific scene. Zhu Zhi, the prince who was beloved by the people, stared in disbelief at his chest, which was now bleeding profusely. He had been shot, and not by a simple matchlock.

No, a precision rifle had ended this man’s life, one that was acquired through contact with the outside world. Panic took control of the minds of the citizens who had gathered to watch what was supposed to be a monumental occasion, and perhaps it was, but for all the wrong reasons.

Zhu Zhi was dead, as was his father, and though there were several other members of the Ming Emperor’s dynasty who could fulfill the position, none of them were strong characters, or heroes of the people. Instead, what immediately resulted from the assassination of the Ming Dynasty’s crown prince was a power vacuum, where all sorts of factions had begun vying for control of the isolated Empire.

Some wanted to open up their borders, and modernize their society so that they could compete with their neighbors who had not followed them into isolation, while others wanted to maintain the policy which had been in place for twenty years.

Regardless, the Ming Dynasty was about to become a hotbed for the sale of arms, and many of its neighbors would soon be flooding their guns and munitions into the isolated region to determine what faction was left standing.

Berengar sat in his office, while sharing a drink with his eldest son. The two men preferred a fine vintage of single malt whiskey that had been aged for a perfect twenty-five years, and both of them were thoroughly enjoying the liqgour while discussing some rather important matters of the state.

Hans in particular took a slight sniff of the substance, before swishing it around in his mouth, ensuring that the maximum flavor of the alcohol had spread to all his taste buds, he then swallowed that which had not soaked into his tongue before commenting on the ongoing geo-political situation.

“I give it six months to a year for Altan subdues the other mongol and Turkish hordes. As for Cualcoatl, I give him at most five months before he has incorporated the entirety of the Inca Empire into his domain.

As much as you wanted the war to be a challenge for the boy, I must say the advantage of steel weapons and armor is simply too much for a mere copper age civilization to overcome.

The only real threats that his soldier’s face are from the copper maces, which only a few of the Inca wield.”

Berengar simply sipped on his whiskey before responding to his son’s assessment with a slight nod of approval. After doing so, he responded to the man by questioning his opinion in regards to Africa.

“Have you drafted up your plans for the African partition yet? You brothers will soon come to blows once more if something permanent, which is agreeable to all sides, is not established.”

Hans simply scoffed in regards to his father’s question. If push came to shove, he would just deploy the Wehrmacht, which had grown absurdly more powerful over the past twenty years. And he was quick to voice his sentiment.

“Our most powerful rival on the world stage is operating entirely via the use of water and horse power. They lack any electricity or the means to properly manufacture their own arms and armor. We have sold the limits of our stockpiles for semi-automatic rifles, which, if tested in battle, are nothing compared to the small arms of our current soldiers.

We need only deploy a single carrier wing of our F-18s, and the enemy will be forced to surrender. Nothing came to harm the German Army in this word, and certainly not our Navy or Air Force. If my brothers decide that the land in resources in that god forsaken continent is worth more than their bond as brothers, then I will remind them of who their true master is.<novelsnext></novelsnext>

So you need not concern yourself with these matters, father. I have everything under control, and I assure you that the partition of Africa is coming along slowly but surely. After all, you can’t rush these things. As you know as well as I….”

Berengar slightly nodded his head in agreement with his son’s assessment once more. Hans was as shrewd as his mother, and intelligent as his father, or perhaps even more so than the both of them. By now he had been declared the Crown Prince and was proven to be a ruler who was even better at the game than his father.

Thus, Berengar truly had nothing to complain about when it came to his son eventually succeeding him. But there was one more serious international matter which he wanted to speak about, which he was quick to give voice to.

“Imperial Intelligence suggests that the assassination of the new Ming Emperor was done by a faction of radical globalists. They no longer wish to be isolated from the international markets, and had even been studying abroad in political theory here in the Reich.

It will not be long before your brothers began peddling their arms to every single warlord in the Ming Dynasty who wants to be emperor. How will you proceed?”

Hans narrowed his eyes. There were multiple pathways which the Ming Dynasty could follow as a result of the recent assassination, and the one that best suited the Reich’s global goals was the most difficult to obtain. Thus, he said something that slightly surprised his father.

“Allow the war to take its natural course, and in the end, we will support the isolationists, who will no doubt be backing some other son of Zhu Wudi. No doubt a puppet, but still a legitimate contender to the throne.

ραпdα- n૦νe|`c,0m The last thing we need is for a legitimate monarch to be deposed by foreign interests. The Ming has decided they wish to withdraw from the world, and who are we to force their hand?

My brothers will naturally each want a piece of the pie, and I will deny them all until they starve on their own ambition.

For the time being, we watch and wait until we can arm and supply the loyalists and isolationists with weapons, and supplies in a way that does not suggest we have even taken a side.

Have I answered all your questions adequately, father?”

Berengar nodded his head and finished the rest of the whiskey, before asking one last question, but only after complimenting his son for passing his tests.

“You have proven yourself to be a very wise, and capable ruler, and soon enough the throne will be yours. But I have a bit of a curveball for you, one I do not believe you have ever thought about.

What will you do with eastern Europe and Siberia?”

There was a slight tremble in Hans’ hands, and for a second, Berengar thought he had seen a flash of anger in the man’s eyes, which he had never seen in all of his years as a father.

But in the next moment, this wrath vanished and was replaced with a confident and calm smile on Hans’ face, before the man revealed his plans for the regions previously mentioned.

“I will annex it all for the Reich, of course. The Slavs have had their time. I will invade their lands and conquer their homes. I will Germanize them until the Slavic race is a long forgotten footnote of history. Siberia is ripe with natural resources, and it would be foolish to leave them in the hands of a foreign power. Especially one as unpredictable as the remaining Slavic Kingdoms. After all, I have yet to fully repay them for what happened to Veronika all those years ago.”

Berengar simply chuckled as he came to an understanding about what his son was referring to before shaking his head in disbelief.

“Hans, I have never known a man to hold a grudge with greater ferocity than myself. Until now, that is. Do what you wish with the Slavs. They, like everything else in the world, are yours for the taking. You have answered all of my questions, I suppose the time will come soon enough for me to retire, and for you to assume the throne, and when you do, I look forward to watching how you prove yourself to be greater than your father.

The word Hans von Kufstein will surely be remembered throughout history, just as your mother and I have always hoped for you…”