Re: Blood and Iron Chapter 967: Irrelevance

From Paris to London, to Ottawa, to the various capitals that erged from the ruins of Old Arica, and across the oceans to the ANZAC countries.

What had once ford the spine of the "allied powers" or the "free world" as it was often used in so forms of propaganda, all collectively sighed when they witnessed the feat of the Reich.

The moon, the closest celestial body to the Earth which they all shared, was unilaterally and decisively claid by a single power. The enemy who had defeated them and brought their nations beneath their heel.

Nobody else possessed the ans to challenge the Reich for control of the cosmos that existed beyond the confines of Earth.

Perhaps the Russians would be able to in a few years, but that would require financing a space program of their own, when currently their best scientists were in Berlin working with the Germans under joint-research pacts towards goals that primarily benefitted the Reich.

The majority of Europe’s capital was tied in the ongoing plans here on Earth, on the continent, to create functional international and intercontinental infrastructure.

Nobody truly expected Germany’s space program to be used for anything other than a giant waste of money for theoretical research, global communications, and intelligence.

But the idea of extracting the vast amount of resources from the stars above, even if a goal only accomplishable in the next century, was a heavy weight hanging over the heads of those who had once resisted Germany and its ambitions.

The King of England sat in Paris with the King of France. Both n were resigned to their fates, they didn’t speak of resistance or grudge, they simply sat their tea and accepted the outco.

"To the prosperity of the German Reich..."

The words were spoken by the King of England with so degree of sarcasm, and equal parts hopelessness.

His despair was matched by Henry VI of France, who shook his head and smiled.

"At least we will benefit from it, even if all we get are the crumbs."

Henry then slipped a piece of paper over to the King of England who looked at it and shook his head, placing it back down on the table and sighing.

"So the last vestiges of the Third Republic have finally passed away into mory."

Henry smiled wryly, nodding his head not with pride or excitent, nor lant or regret. Simply complexity existed in his eyes.

"Indeed, and in another ten years those old fools of the Fourth Republic who claim to be the true governing body of France while living in permanent exile will follow them. What about you, have you heard anything about your own pretenders from Ottawa?"

George VI sighed and shook his head. Looking off into the distance, the city of Paris beyond the borders of Versailles and its reconstructed palace. Almost as if he were imagining a distant world, far, far away from their present place and ti.

"No, they made too much trouble for Canada when they provoked a stir during the border crisis. Aligning with Russia to protect their mutual borders was the straw that broke the cal’s back."

Henry nodded in understanding all the while George continued.

"And those old fools paid the price for it, what remains of the old parliantary system was either buried beneath Germany’s bombing campaigns that took us out of the war as quickly as we joined, or has been silently removed by Bracken’s administration. My reign is now effectively undisputed, and the worst part is I owe the Germans for it."

The weight of his words fell upon both of the monarchs, they were in very similar positions, but still different in so many ways.

The silence between them persisted for so ti until Henry finally felt the need to speak again.

"Still.... At least you haven’t had to sell your daughter to the von Zehntners in exchange for a golden leash... When I think of what France has beco, and the humiliation of having its crown restored by a foreign power.... Well, you know how it is."

This did not result in an expression Henry was expecting. Rather than a silent nod of solidarity and grief at the loss of sovereignty, autonomy, and agency. George simply looked at Henry and said the words he would never forget.

"If only we were so lucky... Bruno didn’t need to do that to keep Britain in check... He already sunk our fleet, and razed our Empire to ruin. In the aftermath, we signed a treaty that forbade us from ever raising a force capable of projecting power beyond our own borders again. We are now a tiny, insignificant island nation cut off from the rest of Europe, and that will never change. Bruno needed France to comply for the future he is building, but Britain? We are irrelevant. And always will be."

Henry didn’t know how to respond. No, he couldn’t respond. Because any thoughts he could express were not comforting, they were pitiful. And for the king of a nation that had once ruled the world.... Pity was worse than mockery.

So he remained silent, as they both sipped their tea, trying to forget about the world that could have been. And instead focusing on their roles in the world that now was.

However, for the first ti since Bruno demanded that Isabelle be wed to his grandson, Henry no longer felt resentful about the arrangent.

In fact, Henry now understood why Bruno was so angry the day he arrived and first proposed the arrangent.

The words he had said finally made sense to Henry. The idea that he was sacrificing his grandson’s potential happiness for Henry’s own daughter.

At the ti Henry had felt this was a slight towards his own family, and to his daughter in particular. But now he realized that the only thing worse than being chained to a greater power without the capability of ever becoming one again yourself was total irrelevance.

And for that, England had his sympathy, and worse his pity....