With that, the car rolled to a stop before City Hall.
Norwegian Royal Guards stood rigidly on either side of the stone building, their uniforms immaculate against the winter white, while a red carpet stretched up the steps and disappeared into the hall beyond. Outside the cordon, reporters from every corner of Europe crowded together with caras raised, flashes bursting desperately at every politician, noble, and celebrity who stepped out of a car.
And when the last arrival finally appeared, the Imperial Eagle flying the flag of the Weimar Republic, every lens swung toward it at once.
Everyone understood what this Nobel Peace Prize truly ant.
The reference point for Dawes's selection was Germany. More than that, this ceremony marked Germany's first genuine return to the international political stage since the Ruhr Crisis and the economic collapse. Not in speeches, not in newspaper columns, but in the flesh, before the eyes of Europe.
The rear door opened. A cane touched the ground first.
Mandor, already a familiar face to the press, stepped out beneath a storm of lights.
"Mr. Mandor, I'm from Investor's Daily. Does the establishnt of Dawes Stock an the German economy is about to take off?"
"Mr. Mandor, a question from The Tis. There are reports that you were not the main architect of the economic agreent, and that a young German played a decisive role in the negotiations with several foreign delegations. Is that true?"
The female reporter's words were sharp and direct. Mandor turned toward her and smiled faintly.
"Madam, your information is impressively well inford. Yes, a young man did indeed play a crucial role in this agreent."
Following Mandor's gaze, the reporters imdiately turned toward the second figure stepping from the car.
Jörg.
In an instant, he beca the center of a new flood of flashing lights. Questions ca one after another, almost tripping over themselves.
"Sir, may we have your na?"
"Sir, Mr. Mandor says you made enormous contributions to the agreent. Could you tell us more about your role?"
As he walked forward, Jörg shook his head lightly.
"There is no need to exaggerate it. In truth, I am not as important as Herr Mandor makes sound. This agreent could never have been completed without two people: His Excellency the President and Herr Mandor."
He paused just long enough for the caras to catch the expression on his face.
"I was rely an insignificant participant."
It was an official answer, clean and unassailable, yet everyone present could hear the confidence hidden beneath it.
Before any of them could press him further, the attendants had already opened the doors. Warmth spilled from within, the curtains shut behind them, and the bitter cold was sealed outside. Jörg removed his leather gloves as he entered.
Ahead, a soft piano piece drifted across the hall.
Guests in formal dress, varied in age, nationality, and rank, spoke quietly among themselves, though more than a few glances lingered on the unusually young German in their midst.
Seeing that the final guests had arrived, an attendant hurried over and respectfully guided them toward the front.
Perhaps it had been arranged in advance.
Mandor was placed in the second row.
Jörg, however, was seated at the center of the first row, directly to Dawes's left.
To his right sat a middle aged man with a monocle and the polished bearing of a veteran parliantarian. The man studied him for a mont before turning slightly toward Dawes.
"Mr. Dawes, is this the Jörg you ntioned, the gentleman who made such a substantial contribution to the economic agreent?"
Dawes nodded.
"That's right. Jörg, allow to introduce you. This is Mr. Austen Chamberlain, eldest son of Joseph Chamberlain, and Britain's newly appointed Foreign Secretary this year."
Austen extended his hand at once.
"You are remarkably young to have achieved so much, Mr. Jörg. At your age, I was still an inexperienced opposition mber of Parliant."
Jörg shook his hand politely and, at the sound of the na, briefly searched his mory.
Austen Chamberlain was not the most loudly discussed figure in public life, but his family certainly was. And more specifically, his younger half brother was one of those nas history would never forget.
"Do you have a brother nad Neville Chamberlain?" Jörg asked.
Austen's brows rose slightly. It was clear he had not expected a young German he had only just t to know much about his family.
Still, after a mont's thought, he understood. Neville was Minister of Health, not a figure who dominated headlines like the Foreign Secretary, but not so obscure that he could not be known.
"That's right," Austen said. "It seems you know rather a lot about my family, and about British politics."
"Sowhat," Jörg replied. "But to be frank, I am more interested in your brother Neville. I think highly of several of his political instincts concerning Europe, and his administrative ability is also very impressive."
Austen took it for polite flattery at first.
In his eyes, Jörg and Neville had no real connection at all. One could not truly know a statesman's political instincts from clippings and newspapers alone. Even as praise, it felt a little too generous.
Still, since the complint was indirectly aid at the Chamberlain family, he was happy enough to accept it.
"I'll repeat that to him word for word," Austen said with a chuckle. "Neville will be delighted to hear that a young German speaks so well of him. Though within the Conservative Party, so still say he is too old fashioned and not nearly radical enough."
Jörg lifted the champagne that had just been placed beside him and took a careful sip. The faint acidity rested lightly on the tongue before fading into sothing softer.
"He sounds like good pri ministerial material," he said.
Austen blinked, then laughed outright.
"Radicalism is a double edged sword. Old fashioned n often govern more steadily, and stability is sotis the rarer talent."
Now Austen was certain the young German was joking, and the amusent in his face deepened.
"Jörg, you really must beco friends with Neville soday. Honestly, you are the first person I've ever heard say he might beco Pri Minister. If you ever co to Birmingham, I shall insist he host you personally."
Jörg smiled and inclined his head.
"I could hardly impose in that way, Mr. Austen. I'm only a minor figure in the Weimar governnt. It would be quite inappropriate to trouble both a Foreign Secretary and a Minister of Health on my account."
"You're too modest," Austen replied at once. "Dawes has told quite a lot about you. If a man like you is only a minor figure, then I fear the world has no major figures left."
Then, with the ceremony about to begin, Austen let the pleasantries fall away and steered the conversation toward business.
"To speak frankly, I shall be visiting Germany next year."
Jörg turned his head slightly.
Austen continued, his voice lower now, more serious.
"I believe economic progress can lead to political progress as well. The war inflicted imnse damage on Europe, and on Germany especially. I think the ti has co for those burdens to begin changing."
He glanced toward the stage, then back at Jörg.
"Europe should welco Germany back, and make of itself a peaceful whole once more."
Jörg did not answer imdiately.
Instead, the corners of his mouth curved into a smile that was difficult to interpret, not quite warm, not quite cold.
"I'm afraid I cannot comnt on that in any official capacity, Mr. Austen," he said at last. "But on a personal level, if circumstances allow, I would very much welco seeing you in Germany."
No more was said.
At that exact mont, the piano slowed and ca to a graceful close. The hall quieted. King Haakon VII of Norway, dressed in military uniform, walked toward the podium.
Everyone understood then that the Nobel Peace Prize ceremony was about to begin.
.....
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