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Unfortunately, I couldn't pressure the Allied Kingdom's ambassador into signing a deal on the spot. Taking advantage of a flustered negotiating partner is a con artist's treasured dream for good reason. In matters of international diplomacy, though, sealing agreements took time. The breather given by Mr. Lloyd's request for instruction from his political higher-ups allowed for cooler heads to prevail. Much cooler.

I was surprised when the Allied Kingdom seemed downright uninterested in making a deal. At first I thought they suspected the veracity of our demonstration. That would have been tough to deal with, since the only thing I could think to do to provide completely ironclad proof would be to allow their observer aboard the sub. That was no good. If they got a first hand look at the submarine while it was in operation, it wouldn't take long to figure out that it was more dangerous to its crew members than anybody else. Even worse, a catastrophic failure in the test would no longer be just a tragic loss of face for Germania but also a major diplomatic incident.

It was Elya who informed me that our problems were actually arising from the opposite direction. The Allied Kingdom had swallowed our bait hook, line, and sinker. The Admiralty was raising hell trying to secure more funding for anti-submarine warfare and anti-submarine technology development. Unfortunately, there was an influential faction among them who were vehemently opposed to paying any so-called "danegeld," either out of principled objections or out of the desire to preserve an issue that would inflate their budget.

In the end, the bargain we struck was more modest than I might have hoped, but more generous than I had feared. The Allied Kingdom agreed to exert pressure on the dominion of Kanata and to waive their own rights under the imperial preference system, opening up another foreign market to Germanian merchants. I would have preferred access to Albion itself, but an open door in Kanata was a decent consolation prize.

While they were an ocean away, our foothold in the Unified States made the distance between us and Kanata seem closer than it otherwise might have been. Besides, we were receiving this windfall in exchange for something I would have done anyways. Our part of the agreement required us to limit our navy was to three submarines on active duty and no more than two prototypes to act as testing platforms.

The Admiralty also got the supplemental funding it wanted for anti-submarine technology, apparently on the theory that I might sneak around the agreement. The idea that our rocket submarines might do anything sneakily just showed that the Allied Kingdom didn't have the first clue of the technology we were using. If they wanted to spend their money and efforts chasing ghost submarines across the ocean then I wished them all the best. For my part, I intended to ask the navy some searching questions during the next budget review to determine whether we needed to build any submarines at all.

The Allied Kingdom could be considered to have followed half of my recommendations as to avoiding the worldwide depression. They had left the gold standard, but refused to open up their market to international trade, even under pressure. The Francois, on the other hand, were wholeheartedly rejecting economic good sense.

Pierre-Michel de Lugo had made a triumphant return to politics earlier in the year, securing the Francois Presidency on his platform of "a strong franc and a strong Francois." He had sworn to cling to the gold standard no matter the cost, while also proclaiming that he would ramp up military spending. So far, he was following through on both promises.

I would have liked to fortify our border in order to head off any Frankish adventurism, but unfortunately that was prohibited by treaty. All that I could do was authorize a steady increase in the size of our own army to match the Francois. Much as I would have liked to avoid the arms race altogether, as the larger country with a more stable economy, we should be able to persevere for long enough to protect ourselves.

More alarming news had come from our southern neighbors, and was the cause for today's meeting. I glanced around my small conference room. Only my closest confidantes were gathered for this one. Visha, of course. Foreign Minister Zettour. General Lergen. And Elya, the bearer of bad news. It was up to us to come up with a plan before the coming storm became public knowledge.

Once everyone was seated around the table, I nodded at Elya to begin her briefing.

"This morning, Benedetto Muzzioli met with the king of Ildoa to request that he dissolve their government and install Muzzioli as Prime Minister. The King refused," Elya said. "This afternoon, Muzzioli had another meeting with the king. In the second meeting, he was accompanied by three of Ildoa's most senior generals."

Benedetto Muzzioli was a real piece of work. He had first come to prominence shortly after the end of the Great War, arguing that Ildoa should have been given a bigger slice of the Empire's land in the Treaty of Triano. His unapologetic expansionism and authoritarian style were enough to secure him around ten percent of the vote. For a long time, he had held a spot in Ildoa's parliament with no real power. Then the recession began.

Muzzioli took advantage of the economic turmoil, blaming Ildoa's problems on the politicians who had allegedly betrayed them at Triano. He also made explicit appeals for the need for somebody to take a firm hand to straighten out Ildoa's domestic situation and pursue a blatantly expansionist foreign policy. That had been enough to propel him to around thirty percent of the vote.

While alarming, he still wasn't able to take any official power. Then he started building ties with the military establishment. Whether they were alarmed by the social unrest caused by the recession or simply agreed with his policies, I couldn't say. Either way, now that he had a line on military power, he was looking to take control of Ildoa and then start carving pieces out of Germania. The whole situation was bad news for the peace and prosperity of Europe.

"He's taking over, then?" Zettour asked.

"He'll try. Luigi Falasca won't just lie down and accept the strong-arming of the king," Elya said. "Around a third of the army should side with the elected government."

By my math, that meant that Muzzioli's forces would enjoy a two to one advantage over the legitimate Prime Minister. That's not to mention the fact that Muzzioli had been building up his own private army of black-shirted fanatics for years. While the bulk of the population probably preferred the democratic government, it took time to translate that sort of support into military might.

"Civil war," Lergen said.

"Exactly," I said. "With chaos descending on our southern neighbor, we can't sit idle."

Standing by and watching a dictator with designs on our land take over a neighboring country would be foolish. Ideally, the democratic government of Ildoa would triumph on its own. I'd long since learned, though, that leaving important matters up to chance was foolish. In order to thwart Being X's machinations, I would have to make my own luck through rational planning.

"Invading and pacifying Ildoa would be a major undertaking," General Lergen said. "It would require over half of the forces we usually earmark to protect against Francois aggression."

I knew General Lergen had been frustrated when I neglected his plans for an invasion of the Republic of Francois. It was obviously still bothering him, considering how quickly he had leaped to suggest we invade Ildoa with overwhelming force. Even absent any diplomatic considerations, though, that seemed like an over-commitment of our military.

"That many?" Zettour asked. "The industrial heartland is just over the border. Surely we could save on troops if we minimize our commitment further south."

I felt that I should probably shut down this tangent, since it wasn't really relevant to my plans. I was curious, though, what General Lergen had to say, so I remained silent.

"In order to avoid getting bogged down in trench warfare, our doctrine calls for an overwhelming force of infantry, armor, and air strikes," Lergen replied. "Once such a force is attained, the extent of the conquest makes little difference. If we skimp on the invasion force, it could be the Great War all over again."

As expected from General Lergen, his military ideas were years ahead of their time. While it was a hassle to have to keep an eye on him and make sure he didn't launch any freelance invasions, I thought it was worth the effort to have such a competent subordinate on my team.

"If we're intervening in a civil war," Visha asked, "wouldn't we be working with friendly troops?"

While Visha had brought up a valid point, we needed to focus on the matter at hand. This sort of discussion was probably the result of my inner circle being made up of competent military veterans. In the future, I might need to broaden my staff. For now, I decided to step in directly and bring us back to the main topic. I brought an open hand down on the table, briefly silencing the room.

"This isn't the time for second guessing. General Lergen has worked closely with the General Staff to develop this plan. If he says he needs half the army, then I will give him half the army," I said. "I'm sure the plan has a satisfactory proviso for defense against the Francois."

I gave General Lergen an apologetic smile. I felt bad for getting his hopes up.

"However, I don't believe a military response is appropriate. At least not yet," I continued. I turned to face Zettour. "What's the likely diplomatic reaction to an Ildoan Civil War?"

"The Francois would support Muzzioli," Zettour said, "if only to spite us."

His thoughts matched mine exactly. If the Francois could have their way we'd be surrounded by hostile neighbors, just as we'd been before the Great War.

"The Albish public wouldn't care much one way or the other," Elya said. "It's hard to say what their government will do."

"If I know anything about the Allied Kingdom," Zettour said, "it's that they're happy to stick their nose in any time something upsets the status quo."

That also matched my own observations. Somehow the Allied Kingdom believed it was fair to consider their business to be personal and private while also weighing in on everybody else's business. Chaos in a major maritime power like Ildoa wasn't something they would let slide. Even more so, I doubted they would be happy with the rise of a warmonger to command a nation in the heart of Europe.

"So General Lergen's plan of presenting them with a fait accompli just might work," I said. I should have known that he wouldn't have suggested an invasion without thinking it through. "On balance, though, I don't think it's worth the risk."

It was probably another hazard of my all-veteran group of advisers that they unanimously saw our neighbor's weakness as an opportunity for invasion. In fairness, though, that had also been the attitude of the Empire's diplomatic corps going back to before Preussia could even have been considered an empire. Still, a unilateral invasion, even if just to restore a democratically elected government, was far too provocative.

"We've been assertive in protecting ourselves, as is only right," I continued. "A matter like this is peripheral to our vital interests, though. Instead of grabbing at every scrap of land we can take, we should instead show that we can be reasonable partners in the peaceful resolution of disputes."

Working with other countries would burnish our reputation and help ease some of the tension that still lingered from the Empire's expansion. It would also be nice to have foreign troops around to soak up some of the casualties from intervening in Ildoa. If we assembled a sufficiently strong coalition, Muzzioli might even give himself up without a fight in exchange for lenient treatment. Even if guys like him always seemed to fight it out to the bitter end, at some point he should recognize that he's facing a lost cause.

I turned back to address Zettour. "Reach out to your counterparts in the major powers. We won't cross the border into Ildoa until we've organized an international peacekeeping force for the restoration of democracy."

He blinked, then nodded. As long as I kept delivering a clear message of pacifism from the top down, even an old war hound like Zettour would work towards the cause of world peace.

Unfortunately, putting together an international coalition proved to be more challenging than I had expected. After foreign nations had proven so eager to invade the Empire, I thought they would leap at the chance to join in an easier and more justifiable intervention. Expecting altruism to drive great power politics was far too optimistic, but it wasn't as if the Great War had been driven by any kind of rational calculation of self-interest.

I probably should have known that I couldn't expect that kind of irrationality to work in my favor.

The Francois replied with a widely circulated note expressing support for Muzzioli and their hope that he would soon settle "the current rebellion" and pacify Ildoa. Irritating, but not too surprising. What caught me wrong-footed was the attitude of the first diplomat to meet with me in person.

"You want the Unified States to go to war and ship American boys across the ocean," Mr. Johnson asked, "to die for the cause of... Ildoan political stability?"

Even if I didn't like his tone, I did appreciate that the American ambassador had agreed to meet with me so promptly. The battle lines were still being drawn in Ildoa. The major bloodshed hadn't yet begun.

"I want your help to stop Muzzioli," I said. "Making sense of Ildoan politics is beyond all of us."

It wasn't the most inspiring rallying cry, but given his personality I was going to wind up fighting Muzzioli now or fighting him later. I'd much rather come down on him before he even had the full resources of one country behind him, let alone the allies he could scrounge up for his anti-Germanian crusade.

"The man's an ass," Mr. Johnson allowed, "but neither the constitution nor the people of the Unified States have taken on the mission of ridding the world of jackass politicians."

That was pretty much that. Mr. Johnson, and through him the Unified States of America, washed his hands of the Ildoan civil war, leaving it for the countries of Europe to muddle through.

I was surprised, then irritated with myself for being surprised. While the insight derived from my previous life had often served me well, thoughtless reliance on those memories wouldn't do me any good. The future Unified States might take on the self-appointed role of world policeman, but I should have remembered that the present Unified States didn't much care about things that happened an ocean away.

The present day world's busybody would be represented by Mr. Lloyd in my afternoon meeting. He was, sadly, not delivering good news either.

"I'm afraid we cannot endorse an intervention into Ildoan internal affairs at this time," he said, just after exchanging greetings.

"Internal affairs?" I asked. "It's war. Or it will be soon."

What was shaping up in Ildoa wasn't just an election going the wrong way. It was the seizure of power by a dictator. The coming civil war looked to be ugly enough, but it would hardly be the end of the fighting if Muzzioli won.

"Yes, well," Mr. Lloyd said, "we still think it best that such unpleasantness should remain a strictly Ildoan matter."

That annoying note from the Francois had complicated everything. Instead of simply assembling a force to smack down Muzzioli, anybody planning to intervene in Ildoa had to worry that the Francois might act. I didn't think that they would–their military was in no shape to carry out an invasion–but not everybody shared my view.

After another few days of banging my head against the wall of diplomatic indifference, I took a break from my efforts to drop by General Lergen's office. He greeted me politely, not showing any resentment over having his plans thwarted by my pacifism. It really was nice, having such a competent professional overseeing the military.

"I came here to apologize," I said.

It was important to remain open-minded and acknowledge mistakes that you've made. I could be as stubborn as anybody when I was convinced that I was in the right, but I tried not to let that turn into outright pig-headedness when I was wrong.

"Whatever for?" he asked. It didn't sound like he was just trying to twist the knife. Rather, it seemed he truly didn't feel I had done anything meriting an apology. Well, he'd always been a little soft on me, even back when we were both in the army.

"I dismissed your idea for an invasion out of hand," I said. "Now, it's clear that nobody else in Europe cares enough about Ildoa to mobilize their armies. We could be marching through Roma right now, restoring the democratically elected government, if I'd let you have your way."

By this point, the battle lines in Ildoa had been drawn. Muzzioli's faction controlled the south of the country as well as the capital, while Falasca held the northern, industrialized, area. In the long run control of the north would provide a great advantage, but with the disparity in troops the war might not last long enough for that to matter.

I still preferred peaceful solutions. Now, though, I'd been reminded that my peace-loving nature could be a flaw that others could take advantage of in some circumstances.

He coughed. "There's no need to dwell on what happened in the past. Let's just focus on what we can do in the future."

As expected of a consummate professional. Even though I had thought he would probably let me off the hook, I still felt relieved that he truly didn't seem to bear any grudge against me.

"Well said," I said. "Speaking of future plans, what's the status of the special light infantry battalion?"

Weiss had managed to find quite a few military-aged C-class mages. Training them on the basic magic that was within their capabilities hadn't taken long. Many of them had chosen to go on to join the air force, pursuing the dream of flight that had been denied when they failed to make the cutoff for aerial mages. We'd been left with about a hundred men who were interested in infantry combat. In order to get the most out of them, they had been made the nucleus of a small battalion of highly trained light infantry, capable of operating independently in all terrain, under all circumstances.

"They are on a training rotation in the Alps," Lergen replied. "They could be ready for deployment within twenty-four hours."

"How fortuitous," I said, smiling. "I want you to canvass the men and see how many of them are interested in volunteering to fight for Ildoan democracy."

I wouldn't order soldiers to cross the border into Ildoa in the face of international hostility. But I could hardly be blamed if small groups of skilled soldiers decided to jump in and help out. Well, I could be blamed. But with a small enough force, I could seek refuge in the realm of plausible deniability.

"Volunteers?" he asked.

Of course, it was a bit much to expect anybody to walk over the border and fight a war on their own, no matter how well trained.

"We'll provide logistical support, naturally. As a fellow democracy, it's the least we can do," I said. "More to the point, I'm worried that Falasca needs a shot in the arm to keep his position from collapsing. All my diplomatic efforts would be pointless if Muzzioli takes over while we're still talking."

Lergen nodded and I left with a spring in my step. At least that was one disaster averted. I figured at least half of the battalion would volunteer, considering how war crazy soldiers could be. Falasca might not be excited about bolstering his forces with foreign troops, but at this point he should be willing to take any help he could get. Under competent direction making good use of the defensive terrain, the conquest of northern Ildoa would be neither quick nor easy.

ooOoo

It was clear that talking through letters and diplomats wasn't going to get me anywhere. I instead bent my efforts over the next few weeks towards arranging a meeting between heads of state. If I could meet with my peers and cut through the layers of bureaucracy between us, at least there was a chance I could convince them of the need for action.

It took some doing, but I managed to negotiate a three party conference to be held in Amstreldam, the capital of Lothiern, in the last week of November. Attending would be Nigel Cambry, the Prime Minister of the Allied Kingdom, as well as Pierre-Michel de Lugo. Every other relevant nation had simply washed their hands of Ildoa entirely. To be honest, I was starting to think that the best I could hope for was to get Albion's blessing for my own intervention in Ildoa, rather than any kind of real international cooperation.

Still, even that much would be fine. With friendly troops ushering us past the formidable natural barrier of the Alps, our army wouldn't have too much difficulty crushing the would-be dictator's forces. I wouldn't be thrilled about the loss of life, but the cost in human resources would be much lighter than if we had to fight our way down the entire length of the country.

I boarded the train to Amstreldam filled with such optimistic thoughts. The diplomatic team accompanying me on the journey briefed me on the two men I was about to meet. I knew de Lugo, of course, both from the war and from keeping a wary eye on the Francois Republic. Chambry was new to me, though. He had only recently risen to the office of Prime Minister at the ripe old age of 68, taking the position after the previous Prime Minister had resigned. As he hadn't taken a leading role in the election campaign, it was hard to say exactly what his foreign policy would be. He had spent the last few years pushing for increased military spending, though, so I didn't expect him to be a shrinking violet.

Soon enough I would be meeting the man in person. We arrived in Amstreldam with all due ceremony before proceeding to the luxurious hotel where the conference was to take place.

The three of us left the various aides and functionaries in the front halls, making our way to the sequestered set of rooms where we could hold a private conversation. Despite the chill of impending winter in the air, the day was nice enough that we proceeded by mutual agreement to the back gardens.

Eventually, the pleasant small talk began to wind down. I decided to broach the matter at hand.

"Muzzioli is a menace," I said. "He must be stopped."

"He's the rightfully appointed prime minister of Ildoa," de Lugo replied.

Between his imposing greatcoat and bristling mustache, the man looked fresh off a military campaign. Or a recruiting poster. I could see why he remained a popular figure in his home country, even as the left wing fretted publicly about his authoritarian tendencies.

"That was the result of blatant coercion," I replied.

"Was it?" he asked. "How can you be so sure?"

I was pretty sure that de Lugo was simply looking to create some ambiguity in order to provide some moral justification for his obstructive behavior. Or to needle me personally. The situation in Ildoa was obvious, and he was savvy enough to know what was going on.

"He's using the military to oppress his own people," I said.

De Lugo shrugged. "A natural fate for rebels."

I thought it was a bit much to refer to the elected government as though they were rebellious criminals. Before I could say anything, though, Chambry jumped in.

"Are you sure it's appropriate to stand in judgment of your neighbor?" he asked.

Of course, the basis of modern diplomacy is that states shouldn't meddle in the internal affairs of other sovereign states. Not that they don't, but that they shouldn't. Still, though, there had to be limits.

"I think it is when they've descended into civil war!" I said.

From there the conversation simply went in circles. President de Lugo was adamant in his claim that Muzzioli was the rightful leader of Ildoa, while Chambry wouldn't budge on his policy of non-interference. For my part, I couldn't believe that they were so complacent about open war taking place in Europe, war that was the prelude to the rise of an expansionist dictator.

We took a break for food. It was enough time for tempers to cool, but it didn't seem that any of us were open to persuasion. When talks resumed, I decided to state my intentions directly.

"Germania alone could bring the civil war to a quick end and restore democracy in Ildoa," I said.

The other nations didn't need to contribute. If they would simply agree to stay out of my way, I could solve the problem for all of us.

"By the same token, the Republic of Francois could easily bring the Ildoan rebels to heel," de Lugo said.

A contrarian to the end. I would have said that he was sticking to his absurd position in order to secure some sort of valuable concession, but all of my attempts earlier to sound him out on such things had come up empty.

"The last thing any of us want to see is for this to turn into a second Great War," Chambry said. "The Ildoans will have to sort things out for themselves."

It still irritated me that he could make such a proposal and pretend it wasn't simply an acquiescence to Muzzioli's ascension.

"Once Muzzioli secures his rule," I said. "he'll start seeking out foreign conquests."

"We'll deal with that problem when it comes," Chambry said. "Until then, the Allied Kingdom will regard any violation of Ildoan sovereignty as an act of war."

That settled things. It was simply unthinkable to risk war with the Allied Kingdom, no matter how obnoxious it would be to face down a hostile Ildoa in the future. I tried to push back, but Chambry had laid down his marker and wouldn't be moved. In the end, there was nothing I could do but back down.

As Chambry left to announce the results of our meeting, I sank down onto a nearby bench with a sigh. The bench overlooked a stand of trees that had a certain stark beauty with their leaves shed for the year, but the only thing I could see in front of me was years of trouble on my southern border.

I was drawn out of my thoughts as de Lugo stepped to within conversational distance. "Chancellor."

"What?" I asked, snappish. The last thing I needed was to watch his victory dance.

"Are you truly so upset?" he asked. "Ildoan armies could never force their way past your southern border."

I'd lost my fair share of competitions in my life. While losing itself was irritating, the worst part of the experience was when the victor would take the time afterward to try to make me feel better about myself.

"Legadonia could never hope to take on the Empire," I said. "An idiot doesn't need to have a good plan in order to plunge the world into war."

The whole reason I had stuck around as Chancellor was so that I could steer my country away from war. This had been my first big chance to nip an obvious danger in the bud, and I had failed. It was enough to make me think about tendering my resignation. Assuming I didn't get thrown out on my ear after I came back to Berun with egg on my face.

"Perhaps Muzzioli will moderate his positions once he feels the responsibility of leadership," he said. "It has happened before."

I rolled my eyes at that. If he started going on about some ancient bit of Francois history purporting to show that Muzzioli might not be so bad, I was just going to walk away. Perhaps sensing my frustration, he cleared his throat.

"In any event, there is another issue to discuss," he said. "With the prospect of an extended civil war, Ildoa will not be able to host the World Cup."

I wasn't sure why he was bothering to tell me this. "Is the federation hosting another conference to solicit bids?"

"They've elected to award the right to host the tournament to Germania," he said. "It seems the other applicants retracted their bids before the final award was made, while Germania's was simply set aside. The announcement should be in the newspapers today or tomorrow."

I stared at him for a moment. The international football federation was dominated by the Francois. I couldn't imagine why they'd go out of their way to do me a favor. It didn't take long for the penny to drop.

"The tournament is barely more than half a year away!"

"If hosting the tournament would be inconvenient, simply let the federation know," he said. "I'm sure they could make alternative arrangements."

I narrowed my eyes. A diplomatic victory wasn't enough for this bastard. He wanted me to publicly humiliate my country by admitting we were too poor to host an international football tournament. Say one thing about the Francois, say they know how to twist the knife.

"Oh, that won't be necessary," I said. "I'm sure we can scrape something together."

I'd figure out some way to deal with Ildoa in the future. In the mean time, I was going to put on the best damn football tournament the world had ever seen, and I was going to rub it in this smug bastard's face at every opportunity.