The world had begun to change in many ways, so subtle, so not so much. Germany and Russia weren't rely recovering from the Great War — they were stepping into a new economic and industrial golden age. But the rest of the world hadn't been so fortunate.
The warti losses of the two Imperial Powers had been significantly milder than most, and the postwar fallout had been mitigated by Bruno's long-laid plans, engineered years in advance.
With heavy family ties to dominant political coalitions, partial or full control over major industrial sectors and lands, and ownership of a private bank—one quietly consolidated through a series of background purges—Bruno effectively controlled Germany's money supply. The nation was now poised to expand its prosperity.
Under Bruno's direction, the Reich's economic model began slowly shifting toward the greatest success story of his past life: Singapore. Key reforms from that model, now adapted to Germany's imperial character, included:
Partial or full governnt ownership in industries critical to public welfare
Low taxes to stimulate private innovation
A federal investnt fund, directing tax revenues into national ventures rather than draining them into bureaucracy
Tightly managed social safety nets: generous to those in need, ruthless to abusers
And most critically: robust anti-corruption statutes, enforced with sweeping authority
These reforms had begun under the veil of ergency warti asures in 1914, later justified through national security rhetoric aid at rooting out Marxist insurgents. By 1919, they had beco normalized — a quiet revolution in German governance, fueled by pragmatism and executed with precision.
Russia followed in step, influenced not just by results, but by the Tsar's personal trust in Bruno's strategic vision. The Eastern Bloc of the Central Powers had beco a vanguard of modern statecraft. But not all of the Central Powers were so blessed.
Austria-Hungary, for instance, had famously collapsed within a year of victory. Fragile to begin with, the Dual Monarchy disintegrated under the weight of economic recession, a surge in drug addiction among demobilized soldiers, widespread ntal health crises, and unchecked nationalism among ethnic minorities — all compounded by the controversial annexation of Serbia.
Austria was salvaged and folded into the German Empire. But the Balkans were left in chaos. Nations like Greece and Bulgaria imdiately shored up their borders and ford regional pacts, wary of the ideological and literal fires spreading from the west.
Greece, in particular erged stronger than ever. Having joined the Central Powers out of sheer opportunism, the Greeks had entered the war only after Belgrade was gassed into extinction — a tactical, if cynical, move that was rewarded with vast territorial gains.
Bulgaria, by contrast, had hoped to side with Germany and Austria-Hungary, but was already locked in a territorial dispute with Greece due to lingering tension from the Balkan Wars. This forced them into the camp of the Allied Powers — a strategic blunder that led to their swift defeat.
Bruno's treatnt of Bulgaria, however, was remarkably fair. Despite territorial concessions to Greece, Bulgaria was spared punitive devastation. Revanchist sentints were quickly extinguished when it beca clear that Greece's new territorial footprint was not just for glory — but for the strategic containnt of chaos beyond the Bosporus. Bulgaria, too, benefited from that shield.
Now, five years later, in the resplendent city of Constantinople—reborn as the capital of the Kingdom of Greece—two kings t in the Hagia Sophia's shadow.
The bad blood between them from just a few years ago had faded into sothing almost humorous in retrospect. The world had moved on. Empires had crumbled. And now, King Constantine I of Greece and Tsar Ferdinand I of Bulgaria sat across from one another over tea, both wearing the look of n weathered by history.
Ferdinand, always the dramatist, raised his cup and smirked. A hint of humor flashing in his eyes as he took a sip from the gilded goblet in his hand.
"I must say, Constantine… when you invited to this ancient city, I thought for sure you were going to follow in the footsteps of Emperor Basil II. But I see I was mistaken—unless, of course, poison is your weapon of choice. In which case, I drink happily to my death."
The words, once enough to spark a duel, now drew only a dry laugh from Constantine, who shook his head and responded in kind.
"They say poison is a woman's weapon. If that is the case, then it is a bit unsuited towards my uses, no? Frankly, I've always preferred steel and gunpowder. Like the sort we're using right now to hold back chaos on our western borders. You heard about the latest... incident in Belgrade, yes?"
They both knew better than to say too much. Belgrade had been resettled quickly after the war, and while it now flew the flag of a new king, the stability was tenuous. But that wasn't why they were here.
Both n fell into silence. They had co to discuss the real threat now gathering at their doorstep. Ferdinand set down his cup and got to the point.
"I should tell you—I've been in talks with the King of Romania. He's not thrilled with Hungary's claims over Transylvania. The way Bruno settled the matter has left a bad taste in his mouth, and despite the treaty they both signed, border tensions grow worse by the day.
Of course, so long as Bruno still draws breath, Hungary will not move without a nod from Berlin. And to be clear—I wish no harm upon him. He treated us fairly, even as his enemies. But perhaps it's ti we begin to think about… our own future.
The Central Powers are gone. Russia and Germany move forward without us. The Allies lie in ruins. That ans it falls to us, Constantine. Neighbors. Kings. We must think economically. Militarily. Strategically.
The question is: do we align with Hungary or Romania?"
There was a long pause. Constantine didn't give an answer — only a smile that held decades of war, loss, and buried ambition.
"Now that… is the question of a lifeti."
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