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I had always planned to back down in the event that the Allied Kingdom delivered a serious ultimatum. Following through on my intention was more grating than I had expected. It wasn't simply over and done with once I'd knuckled under. I'd have to return home and instruct my subordinates that I had changed my mind and was giving up on intervening in Ildoa. Then I'd have to explain myself to the people.

It's difficult for any politician to explain a sudden change of course. For me, who had attracted a support base of people who were bellicose to the point of insanity by presenting myself as somebody bellicose to the point of insanity, it would be that much harder. Well, at least I would make sure that I went down in history books as a voice for calm and for international cooperation. By trying my best, I might even be able to steer events in a peaceful direction.

Once I'd decided on a course of action, there was no point putting it off. I called for a special session of the Diet as soon as I returned to Berun. A day later, I found myself behind a podium, addressing the nation's legislators. Of course, the speech would also be carried out to the rest of the country over the radio, and would no doubt be reproduced in next morning's newspapers as well. I knew selling the public on my decision would be tough. The worst part was that I was starting to worry that I no longer had my finger on the pulse of popular opinion.

I had been elected on a rather bellicose platform, originally, but I'd always kept my public ire focused on the Treaty of the Triano. Once the more onerous provisions of the treaty had been lifted, I'd assumed that the voting public would refocus on the economy and turn me out in favor of somebody whose tax policy they liked better. At the very least, I'd expected there was some latent feeling of horror over the Great War that would create a groundswell of pacifism within the electorate.

Instead, all of my research had shown me nothing but enthusiastic support for a rematch. To the general public, the problem with the Great War wasn't the senseless waste of human life and productive capital. The problem was that we'd lost.

And that was the general public! I could only imagine how bad it was within the ranks of our party in the Diet. I hadn't paid close attention to the list of candidates Visha had put forward since I had planned on losing the election. The names that I recognized had all been early supporters, die hard warmongers. I couldn't imagine that the rest of them were much different.

All in all, it was easy to see this evening ending with a palace coup leading to a new government that would tear up the agreement of neutrality, invade Ildoa, and dare the Allied Kingdom to do something about it. Well, I'd do my best to keep that from happening.

Worst come to worst, I always had my Type 97 on me these days.

While I'd been musing over the situation, the crowd had gradually begun to quiet down. I didn't rush to begin my speech, instead taking some time to look around.

With our overwhelming majority in the Diet, the Germanian Workers' Party had the ability to do more or less as we pleased with the nation's government. I'd been wary of using that much power haphazardly. Since the election, I'd largely contented myself with modest initiatives. A commission to study farming techniques in America and issue technical recommendations. Expanding and regularizing the deposit insurance law. Formalizing the previously ad hoc infrastructure projects to guarantee physically difficult, poorly paid jobs of last resort to the nation's unemployed.

None of those matters had required me to do anything other than send over a memo. This was the first time that I'd addressed the Diet since the election. It also might be my last, depending on how my party judged my actions. Well, it was time to test the waters.

"I've said before that Benedetto Muzzioli is a dangerous megalomaniac. I stand by those words," I began. "He did not hesitate to turn his country's military against his own people. We can hardly expect him to scruple at any kind of foreign aggression."

I went on in that vein for some time, highlighting the inflammatory statements he had made in the past as well as the bad behavior that was already coming to light from the nascent civil war on our borders. As far as I could tell, the speech seemed to be going over well. Of course, insulting foreigners was practically a plank on the Germanian Workers' Party platform.

"However," I said, then paused. This was the big moment. The crowd, sensing that I was finally coming to the heart of the matter, fell silent.

"However," I repeated, "we must consider the principle of national self-determination. Respecting national sovereignty means we must not interfere with the internal affairs of other countries."

I swept my gaze over the audience. The switch to technical terminology seemed to have left them somewhat cold, but they were at least willing to hear me out. Time to cash in that benefit of the doubt.

"We ourselves have benefited greatly from this principle," I continued. "We would not have accomplished nearly so much over the last few years if other countries felt free to meddle in our affairs."

This was my most daring bit of rhetoric. Pointing out that all of our advances over the last few years—really, just about everything that I'd accomplished as Chancellor—had rested on the forbearance of other nations was a calculated risk. On the one hand, it was undoubtedly true. If the Allied Kingdom had decided to send in troops to prevent my election, there's nothing the country could have done about it. On the other hand, it was an insult to the national self-image and a departure from the party's usual propaganda that claimed we had risen from the ashes thanks to our own strength and determination. I hoped that the oblique reminder of our nation's weakness would help cool off some of the hotheads in the crowd.

I paused for a moment. In my notes, I'd indicated that at this point I should wait for the boos to die down before continuing. Instead, I received scattered applause.

That was odd. Perhaps the crowd wasn't really paying attention, and was simply applauding out of courtesy.

"In our future endeavors, as well," I said, "we will be placing ever more reliance on the principle that other countries will not violate national sovereignty."

Though Germania had rebounded from its weakest point, and embarrassed the Francois in the process, we'd still be crushed like bugs if the Great War coalition once more joined hands to wage war upon us. What's more, other nations' collective hackles were up after we had reacquired Osterry. Our country would be re-partitioned in a heartbeat if not for the respect others held for our national sovereignty.

The applause was back, and more forceful this time. I ignored it and pressed on.

"I have committed Germania to neutrality in the Ildoan civil war," I said, "with the full expectation that the other nations of the world will reaffirm their commitment to non-interference with internal affairs in general."

The applause had now swelled into a standing ovation. I stood behind the podium, doing my best not to let my confusion show.

Had our party been filled out with reasonable people when I wasn't looking? Had Germanians spontaneously lost their taste for war? I really needed to go back and double check just what kind of campaign promises Visha had been making. It would be tricky to do so without revealing that I hadn't been paying attention at the time, but I could figure something out.

In the mean time, I had a speech to finish. I glanced at my notes. The next major portion of the speech was an extended apology that culminated in an offer to tender my resignation. It seemed I could skip that. In which case, I could leave the whole unpleasant topic of the Ildoan civil war behind and proceed to more pleasant matters.

"Due to the ongoing war, Ildoa will not be able to host the World Cup," I said. "I'm happy to confirm the newspaper reports that Germania has accepted the honor of hosting the event in their place. I'd like to request that the Diet requisition funding for a committee to manage our obligations as hosts."

Naturally, the crowd was more excited by the honor conferred on the country by hosting the World Cup than they were worried about the prospect that we might screw it up. My brief sketch of my plan to get ready in time was met with another enthusiastic round of applause.

It was possible that Visha had just stuffed the Diet with yes-men, while all the capable politicians with their own opinions were working away on the outside to bring me down. In that case, the first indicator of popular discontent would appear when the unhappiness turned into a popular wave that swept me out of office. I'd be a little irritated if such a wave were to occur just after I'd stopped trying to generate it, but there wasn't much that I could do about it. I'd just have to use the time that I had left in office to establish a framework of peaceful relationships with the rest of Europe, and also to make sure that the Francois couldn't trick us into humiliating ourselves with any of their passive-aggressive ploys.

With the speech over, it was time to get down to the nuts and bolts of legislative work. Preparing for the World Cup would require a good healthy chunk of cash. Surprisingly, I was able to secure the approval of the Diet without too much trouble. Perhaps they were simply getting used to spending money we didn't have. Well, that was a little harsh. While our budget last year had been deep in the red thanks to extravagant spending, the growth of the economy had put us on the way to a balanced budget in the near future. The expense of the World Cup was just returning us to the old status quo.

At least I had managed to cut the required number of stadiums in half. One advantage of taking on the event at the last minute was that I pretty much had the football federation over a barrel when it came to negotiating the tournament format. This was only the second World Cup. Having it go off smoothly would go a long way to cementing the tournament as an institution. More importantly, to the politicians pulling the strings, they'd lose their chance to embarrass Germania if they gave us an excuse to pull out of hosting duties that didn't rest on our own lack of capability.

As a result, I had received only token resistance to my proposal that a group stage be played before the elimination rounds began. Four groups of four, with the top two from each group advancing. Compared to the Ildoan plan to go straight to knockout rounds, we only needed to build a new stadium for each group, instead of needing eight for the first round.

The existence of the group stage also meant that about twice as many games would be played. That meant more ticket sales, and more of a chance that we might break even on the whole thing. It also meant that no team would suffer the fate of traveling all the way to Germania only to head back home after one game.

The other rule change that I had pushed for had to do with the resolution of ties. The Ildoans planned to have any game that was tied after ninety minutes replayed the next day, which seemed to me like the worst thing you could do to the fans who had suffered through an entire game that was effectively wiped off the books. Instead, I insisted that the tournament would use the rules I recalled the World Cup adopting in my previous life: thirty minutes of extra time, followed by a shootout. It might not be the greatest test of overall skill, but it should make for a good show and keep things moving on schedule.

In any event, in addition to its generous budget, the Germanian World Cup Promotional Committee was given a fairly broad remit. The centerpiece of their program, sure to consume the bulk of their funds, was to build four stadiums in four cities spread throughout the country: Berun, Wien, Hambrück, and München. However, the committee was responsible for much more than that. They were charged with ensuring that every visitor to the World Cup, foreign and domestic, had a pleasant and enjoyable experience. Advertising campaigns, tour guides, hotels, transportation, they'd have to keep track of all of it.

I wanted Visha to be put in charge of the committee. She wasn't familiar with sports or experienced with big construction projects, but she was a conscientious, well-organized person. She had, much to my chagrin, done a great job running my re-election campaign, after all. Most importantly, I trusted her, and I could work well with her. While my job duties prevented me from taking the whole project in hand, I did intend to dip my oar in from time to time. With Visha running the show, I didn't have to worry that the project might get derailed by somebody taking offense at my suggestions or by any intimidation brought on by personal attention from the Chancellor.

I expected that the Diet would push for somebody older and more experienced, but they fortunately fell in line and approved Visha for the job. I'd like to think that they recognized her ability, but I figured it didn't hurt that many of them owed their positions to Visha, or that they were aware that she could boot them from their cushy jobs by leaving them off the party list in the next election.

Either way, this would be a good opportunity for her to get a major achievement under her belt. Since the opposition parties were proving completely inept at taking my place, I had started to think that I would need to groom a capable successor if I ever wanted to enjoy a quiet retirement. Visha wasn't an ideal intra-party competitor. She was far too loyal to create a proper schism. Also, my ideal successor would be as peace loving as me. Well, I could only work with what I was given. I could only hope that she would mellow with time.

It might not work out, but that was no reason not to try. If the world kept shooting down my plans for a comfortable retirement, that just meant I needed to make more plans.

ooOoo

Three days later I was seated in my conference room next to Elya. General Lergen and Foreign Minister Zettour sat across from us. A large map of Ildoa took pride of place on the table.

Elya leaned forward and made an unnecessary hand gesture as she activated an illusion spell. A red dot appeared on the map. It was fairly high up on the boot of the Ildoan peninsula, near the western coast.

"Muzzioli has been pushing up the west coast of Ildoa since he secured his hold on Roma," Elya said. "However, I am happy to report that his army has been stopped south of Piasa. Our volunteers played a key role in establishing the defense."

Elya had taken on the responsbility of maintaining a line of communication from our volunteers back to Germania. She had also helped to steer the volunteers in the right direction. It was a relief to see our efforts paying off. The terrain in Ildoa was a pain in the neck for an attacking army. If we could drag things out for long enough then the democratic faction might just be able to stand up an army that could fight Muzzioli on even ground.

"Muzzioli tried to force his way across the Arno further inland, and suffered for it. Our volunteers, together with a timely rain storm, gave his army a bloody nose," Elya said. A line lit up that stretched east to west most of the way across the neck of the peninsula. "For the most part, the Falascans are holding the north bank of the Arno. Muzzioli could try to shift his forces to the east coast, but the Falascans are building fortifications that stretch from the mountain to the sea."

The Arno river blocked off the west half of the Ildoan boot. After that was a mountain range, while the last little bit in the east was relatively open country. If the democratic forces could hold out all the way along that line, it would keep the lion's share of Ildoa's industrial production in their hands.

"We can start planning for a long war, then," I said.

It was good news that the expansionist maniac wasn't going to enjoy a quick victory that would let him point his army directly at our borders. On the other hand, that meant that our neighboring country would be going through a drawn out civil war. Not ideal, especially when the Allied Kingdom was taking such a close interest in our actions.

I knew exactly what the Empire would have done in this kind of situation, in a world where the Great War had never occurred. This kind of vulnerability in its neighbors was catnip to the Empire. The higher ups would have announced some sort of nonsense about coming to the defense of the plucky northern Ildoans, the army would have marched south, and the Empire's borders would have expanded by another few hundred kilometers.

Obviously, I wouldn't be pursuing that kind of aggressive course of action. That did leave the question, though, of what exactly we would be doing as the civil war carried on.

"About that," Zettour said. "I've received a few discreet inquiries from Ildoa regarding weapons purchases."

"We only agreed to keep our troops out of Ildoa, not our guns," I said, tapping my fingers on the table as I thought out loud. "Not that I expect that would stop the Allied Kingdom from complaining."

I didn't feel any particular obligation to adhere to the spirit of an agreement that I'd been forced into, but hiding behind technicalities only worked when you were strong enough to ignore anybody who tried to call you on it. I was pretty sure that shipping trainloads of munitions down through the Alps would draw a response from the Allied Kingdom that would more than offset any profit we gained.

Zettour shrugged. "They'll always find something to complain about."

While I respected Zettour's mental acumen, there was no getting around the fact that his mindset was still stuck in the time when the Empire was more than strong enough to ignore anybody who complained while it played fast and loose in the diplomatic arena.

"Also," Zettour added, "the more Ildoans that have our guns, the less our volunteers will stand out."

That, on the other hand, was a good point. Certainly, I'd rather have complaints coming in about arms sales rather than rumors circulating that I was covertly invading Ildoa.

I made a noncommittal noise of agreement. "Is it just guns they're looking to buy?"

"Honestly," he replied, "I think they're willing to buy whatever we'll sell."

That made sense. They had been plunged into war without any time to stockpile weaponry. They could produce what they needed in time, but right now they needed whatever weapons they could get their hands on in order to buy that time.

"Do we really want to popularize automatic weapons?" General Lergen asked.

Naturally, he would want to keep our military secrets secret until we had wrung every last drop of strategic use out of them. I could sympathize. If we were at war, for example, I would have held off on using the StG-38 until we had enough of them to win a big, dramatic battle. We weren't at war, though, and no matter what General Lergen might want us to do, our armies weren't likely to be marching all over Europe any time soon.

"Well," I replied, "we weren't going to keep our primary infantry rifle secret forever."

Elya had recently given me a report on exactly that subject, if memory served. I glanced at her and nodded.

"The Allied Kingdom has already gotten their hands on one of our StG-38s for study," she said. "Their conclusion was that it was over-engineered, under-powered, and inaccurate."

I looked back at General Lergen. "There you go. I don't want to give away our advantages either, but most countries won't adapt until they suffer an embarrassing loss or two. Besides, the cutting edge is always moving forward."

In general, it wasn't wise to get too attached to any one military technology and imagine that it would serve as a permanent trump card. Even if you did keep it secret, other countries were hardly standing still. The only way to stay ahead was to make sure that you were moving forward just as quickly as everybody else. On the other hand, that didn't mean that you should just sell your best weaponry to anybody who asked.

I did want the democrats to win the war, though. And we could use the money. The trick would be to insulate ourselves from any political fallout. I kept drumming my fingers on the table for a moment as I thought things through.

"If they can pay in hard currency, and arrange for a straw purchaser themselves, that should be enough," I said. "If some Asiatic country or other purchases our army surplus and takes delivery in Spalathum, it's not our concern what happens to it after that."

A straw purchase would put up a second layer of protection. First of all, we had never agreed to freeze all weapon sales to Ildoa. Second, even if we had, we could hardly be expected not to sell to anybody in the world. Nor was it reasonable for us to track what happened to every bit of weaponry once it was out of our hands. It should be enough of a polite fiction for diplomatic work.

The straw purchaser would take a cut of our profits in exchange for bearing the brunt of the Allied Kingdom's annoyance, but it should be worth it, in the end.

"Very well," Zettour replied. "I'll take care of the paperwork."

"Ah, also, we're rolling out upgraded airplanes and tanks soon, yes?" I said, receiving a nod from Zettour in confirmation. "Go ahead and treat anything that will be replaced within a year as surplus available for sale."

The brand new models of tanks and aircraft were still enduring their teething pains and wouldn't be seeing service any time soon. The incremental upgrades, though, were going smoothly. In the case of the planes, the limiting factor was actually the number of new engines rather than the airframes, so selling off the old planes wouldn't hurt us one bit. For the tanks, we could in theory have gotten more use out of the older frames by turning them to other purposes. You could never really have too many tracked platforms, in the General Staff's opinion. The Ildoans needed them much more than we did, though, and the cash from the sale should help our efforts to continually modernize our army.

Zettour nodded in agreement. Looking around the table, it didn't seem that there were any other outstanding issues.

"That should be all for now," I said, drawing the meeting to a close. "We'll meet again as events warrant."

Zettour and Lergen left after a bit more small talk. I tidied up the papers from the meeting as they stepped out. Elya lingered behind, closing the door behind them. She turned back and sauntered over, stopping just outside my personal space.

"You know, if Muzzioli is so troublesome, we could take a more direct hand in removing the problem," Elya said.

I gave her a searching look. Assassination wasn't exactly a standard tool in international diplomacy. If she was bothered by my scrutiny, she didn't show it, as she favored me with a smile and a wink.

"You're sure?"

"Well, there's always a little uncertainty with that kind of thing," Elya replied, shrugging. "Success or failure, though, it wouldn't come back to us."

I seriously considered taking her up on it. It was tempting, to think that the whole war could be nipped in the bud. A moment's thought, though, showed the flaw in the plan.

"No, it's not worth the trouble. Now that Muzzioli has opened Pandora's box, killing him won't bring an end to the war," I said. "Honestly, he might be more valuable to the cause as a martyr than a leader."

The last thing I wanted to do was to put it out there that killing national leaders was on the table. Especially when I topped the list of foreign leaders that people most wanted to drop dead. I might be safe enough with a computation orb in my hand, but I still had to sleep.

"All right, all right," Elya said, pouting.

I patted her on the shoulder. "Maybe next time."

Perhaps it was my imagination, but she seemed to have an extra spring in her step as she walked out. I sighed. Keeping my subordinates in line was a full time job by itself.

I didn't have much time to sit around feeling sorry for myself, though. I had barely straightened up my notes and prepared a clean sheet of paper when I heard a knock on the door. I got up and opened the door to reveal Visha and a middle aged man whose most distinguishing feature was a pair of Coke bottle glasses.

"Good to see you," I said. "Thank you for coming. Please, sit, sit."

I ushered the two of them over to the conference table. Visha ordinarily would have attended our earlier meeting, but she had thrown herself wholeheartedly into the preparations for the World Cup. As expected, when given a task, she took it seriously. I was pleasantly surprised that she had already gotten the project to the point that it could use my input.

I smiled at the two of them. "So, our stadiums?"

"We've bought the land," Visha said. "Workers are getting the foundation ready."

"Good, good," I said. That was quick work. She'd been scouting out the land since I'd first called ahead with the news that we'd been awarded the bid, but still, getting the funding through the government and out to the landowners so quickly was impressive.

"Mr. Brodhun says he can build all four stadiums in time," Visha said.

"Six months is a luxury," he boasted. "I could build them all in three if I had to."

Well, you didn't get to the top of any industry by being a shrinking violet. Still, I hoped he had some basis for his confidence. If he was biting off more than he could chew, it wouldn't just be his reputation that suffered.

"Oh? Are they based off a stadium you built before?" I asked.

"I've never built a stadium before."

He said it in such a matter of fact tone that it took me a moment to process what he had said. I felt the throbbing pain behind my temples that I usually associated with a conversation with Dr. Schugel. I looked to Visha for an explanation.

"None of the firms that have direct experience were willing to commit to our deadline," Visha said.

Well, that raised a gigantic red flag. Fortunately, during the war I'd gotten used to ignoring that kind of thing and plunging on ahead. At least I wasn't getting shot at this time.

Considering that the World Cup was set to begin in just a shade under seven months, it wasn't too surprising that the more reputable firms were staying away. So we were stuck with somebody eccentric. I hoped he at least had some ability to back up his big talk.

"What makes you so confident?" I asked.

"I've built warehouses, factories, apartment blocks, all through the country. On time and under budget," he said. "Those other firms are cowards, stuck in the past. I'm building the future!"

At least he had experience with something. I suppose on some level big buildings were all similar to each other.

"The future?"

"Pre-cast concrete. You let it set in the factory under controlled conditions, then ship the pieces to the job site. All the workers have to do is put it together like a big jigsaw puzzle. Everything's down to a science," he said. "For four stadiums, I just have to expand the factory and build each piece four times."

I didn't know much about construction, but it at least sounded plausible.

"You have a blueprint, then?" I asked. My role in this process, besides acting as a general troubleshooter, was to make sure that we were presenting the right sort of image to the world. Not that I didn't trust Visha's common sense, but I feared she could be lead astray by an enthusiastic Germanian engineer.

He responded by pulling a roll of paper from his satchel. A moment's effort had it laid flat on the table. I cocked my head and studied the picture for a moment.

"This is just a big staircase," I said.

Indeed, the sketch before me depicted a broad staircase made up of many shallow steps. I wasn't sure exactly how it connected to the stadium project. Perhaps it was the entrance stairway? I tried to keep an open mind.

"It's a viewing terrace!" he protested.

"There are no seats," I observed.

If this was meant to allow fans to watch the game, presumably they would want a place to sit. I'd only ever attended about one baseball game every year at the Tokyo Dome as a result of our Vice President's enthusiasm for team building exercises, but I at least knew that much.

"Real fans prefer to stand," he said.

So he wanted to turn the entire place into standing room only tickets? I supposed it wasn't impossible. The structure of the big stairway made sense, in that case. You'd even be able to pack more people in if they were standing instead of sitting. Although, it did seem a little unsafe to have a mob of people on their feet during an exciting competition.

"Could you add a safety rail between each step and the next?" I asked.

"I suppose," he said. Perhaps it was an unfair comparison, but I was reminded of Dr. Schugel's expression every time he was forced to add a safety feature.

Also, the safety rail would be one of those jigsaw puzzle pieces that could be built off site and slotted into place. In which case, it shouldn't be a problem to add another feature to them.

"And could the safety rail be built with pieces of metal that fold down to give a place to sit?" I asked. "Just in case."

"Fine," he said. He still looked a little disgruntled, but not enough to contradict the Chancellor.

Well, we wouldn't be forcing everybody to stand throughout the World Cup. That was one problem avoided. Now, on to the next.

"What's the overall layout?" I asked.

He pulled out another sheet of paper. This one showed four rectangles, independent grandstands, arranged around a playing field. To be perfectly honest, it looked more like the seating around a high school field than a proper stadium.

"We'll need to enclose the corners," I said, picking up a pen and adding lines to the drawing so as to make entire stadium a clean rectangle. "The wall should be the same height all around."

"We can do that," he said. "Although it will make the schedule a little tighter."

So our stadiums would at least look like stadiums. The crowds would have a place to sit. I tapped my chin in thought, trying to remember what else I had seen at the ballpark. The world probably wasn't ready for keg-carrying beer girls, but there should be a market for beer and sausages.

"Also, where are the concession stands?"

He and Visha both gave me blank looks. I chuckled and shook my head.

"Taking the customer's money doesn't end once they buy their ticket, you know," I said. "Well, that gives us something to put in the corners. Two or three platforms for food and drink sales. And restrooms."

He nodded. It appeared we were still within his ability to finish on time.

I took another moment in thought. The annual company trip had usually involved beer and cracker jacks, which we now had covered. I had also once been able to watch a game from the company's luxury box after the Vice President had taken a shine to me. Of course, that was it.

"It also needs luxury boxes," I said. We didn't want the whole world to come visit and see us as some sort of rubes who didn't know how to treat VIP guests properly.

"Like an opera box?" Visha asked.

"Something like that," I said. "Here, we'll cut off the back section of the stands along one of the long sides of the field. Behind it, we build a high rise building that reaches the top level of the stadium. The section below the stands in front can be a souvenir shop. The section above will be a row or two of luxury suites."

I drew on the blueprints as I spoke, doing my best to turn my thoughts into a reasonable visual depiction of what I wanted.

"Adding something like that will push the schedule to the breaking point," Mr. Brodhun warned me.

"What if we added some aerial mages to the labor pool?" I asked. "The guys from the 203rd should have some time free."

Although the veterans of the 203rd would play an important role in getting the training battalions off the ground, for now they were just acting as glorified student advisers on the mage academy campus. It would do them some good to put in some honest physical labor.

"The 203rd? I couldn't-"

"Of course you can," I interrupted, waving a hand dismissively. "If they give you any trouble, Visha and I will whip them into shape."

Really, I doubted I would ever need to intervene. Once they were told this was a project that had to do with our national pride, their fanatical patriotism should kick in and keep them enthusiastic about the job.

"In that case, with your changes," he said, "I can get everything done in time for the World Cup."

"Excellent!" I said, clapping my hands together. "Oh, I almost forgot: what will these stadiums look like?"

"What do you mean?" he asked.

I ignored the sinking feeling in my stomach and kept a pleasant smile on my face. "I mean, they won't just be giant concrete boxes, right?"

"Concrete walls have a certain functional beauty that many people find quite appealing," he said. "Adding unnecessary decoration would be inefficient.

I sighed.

"Just plan for a decorative outer facade. Specify the size and weight," I said. "We'll find somebody else to actually make them pretty."

The stadium was largely going to be made up of concrete formed in molds. There was no reason that the molds necessarily had to be ugly and purely functional. Rather than try to browbeat an artistic sense into Mr. Brodhun, though, I was probably better off finding some local artists who were willing to work in concrete.

"Yes, Chancellor," he said. I got the sense that he didn't completely agree with me. He was willing to do what I told him to, though, which was good enough for me.

"Good," I said. "You should probably get to work."

He nodded, then collected the papers with my markings on them and saw himself out. Visha stayed put.

"These stadiums, with your changes," she began, until I waved her down.

I didn't blame her for coming to me with a purely functional design. The most important thing was to make sure that we had a spot for the games to take place, after all. I knew that my changes were only band-aids that barely brought the proposed stadiums up to the level of something a professional team might use.

Though I had vowed to spite the Francois and build world class facilities for the World Cup, the timetable wasn't something that I could bend to my wishes. If all we had time to build was something adequate and not embarrassing, well, at least we wouldn't be embarrassed in front of the whole world.

"Yes, yes, I know," I said. "We'll have to set aside some time soon to survey the local architecture."

Even if the buildings were simple and functional, we might get some mileage out of making them look nice. It would also help distinguish the stadiums from each other if they matched up to the architecture near where they were being built. I certainly wouldn't mind getting a chance to stretch my legs and take in the existing architecture of Germania's big cities.

"We could grab some food, too, while we're at it," I continued. "Next Tuesday in Wien, maybe?"

While Germanian cuisine left a lot to be desired, some of the local regions had decent food. I was happy to seize any chance to change up my diet.

Visha flushed with excitement at the thought of Wien's delicacies.

"Yes! It's a, ah, plan."

I smiled.

"Don't forget, the stadiums are only part of the job," I said. "You need to make sure everybody who visits walks away impressed with Germania."

She nodded, although a bit of discomfort had taken the place of her earlier excitement.

"I know," she said. "It feels a little strange. Like putting on a big play, but with real people."

Visha was naturally an honest and straightforward person. I could see that she would have some trouble adapting to the concept of marketing. Fortunately, I was there to help her along.

"Think of it like putting on makeup before a date," I said. "We just need to put our best foot forward as a country."

Even if our country was poor, even our stadiums weren't up to par, visitors could still have a good time. If we could keep them supplied with enough beer, we might even get a positive story or two in the foreign press.