Published at 26th of December 2025 7:32 am

Chapter 798: Supreme Excellence

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The fire crackled low in the marble hearth of the study, casting a warm amber halo across the carved lions at its base.

Outside, winter gnawed at the gardens, the branches stiff with frost. But inside, all was quiet save for the ticking of a Prussian clock and the soft scrape of chess pieces across the board between two men.

Kaiser Wilhelm II leaned forward, a thick winter greatcoat draped over his knees, eyes narrowed at the arrangement before him.

Bruno sat opposite, posture relaxed, fingers steepled, expression unreadable as ever. The lamp above them threw his profile into sharp relief, calm, deliberate, forged from steel and certainty.

A servant approached with a tray of tea, but Wilhelm waved him off gently.

"No interruptions," the Kaiser murmured. "Not tonight."

He waited until the door closed before turning back to Bruno, lowering his voice.

"You’ve heard the news, of course. America... is coming apart."

Bruno did not smile. He simply moved his knight, a soft clack on the wooden board.

"I have."

Wilhelm studied him. "Remarkable, isn’t it? They presented themselves as an unbreakable republic, an empire in all but name. And now... five states defy Washington openly, and more will follow."

He moved a bishop, clearing a diagonal lane with a satisfied hum.

"When you first warned me this would happen," Wilhelm said, "I confess I doubted. I thought American patriotic fervor would bind them tighter under hardship, not tear them apart."

Bruno’s eyes flickered with faint amusement.

" American patriotism is not unity, Your Majesty. It is a performance. And when the curtain falls, the actors scatter."

Wilhelm let the words settle as he leaned back. The war in the Mediterranean was finished. The Pacific lay shattered, North Africa burned, the Philippines had fallen, And now the United States, once the supposed colossus, was fracturing beneath the weight of its own illusions.

"The Russians ask when the war will end," Wilhelm sighed. "So do the Italians, the Greeks, the Hungarians... all the little powers joined under our banner. The world waits for my word.... But I suspect it is truly your word they seek."

Bruno never looked up from the board.

"This war ends," he said softly, "when the United States accepts that the world has changed."

Before Wilhelm could respond, the door cracked open slightly.

"Your Majesty?"

Generaloberst Walter Heitz stepped inside, stiff with cold, breath misting. "My apologies for the intrusion. A brief update from the Admiralty, our current flotillas report full readiness. Additional shipyards in Hamburg and Kiel have doubled output."

He shot Bruno a cautious glance.

"And... our intelligence reports panic among their American counterparts. They believe we may attempt a landing on their Eastern Seaboard by summer. Especially now that the nation seems to be on the brink of civil war."

Wilhelm arched a brow toward Bruno.

Bruno answered before the Kaiser could ask, his tone cool, controlled:

"Good. Let them believe it."

Heitz stiffened. "Then the misinformation campaign continues as planned?"

"Yes," Bruno replied. "But do nothing more. Fear thrives best when it is allowed to ferment on its own."

Wilhelm waved Heitz away. The general bowed sharply and withdrew.

When the door shut, the Kaiser shook his head in wonder.

"You command them even without commanding them."

Bruno finally lifted his eyes.

"This war ends," he repeated, "only when the United States accepts reality."

Wilhelm tapped a finger on the table. "And how do you intend to make them accept it?"

Bruno leaned forward.

"I will gather the largest staging force the world has ever seen... and park it on America’s front doorstep."

Wilhelm froze.

Bruno continued, voice calm, level, terrifyingly certain:

"By the end of spring, Guantanamo Bay will be obliterate, and Cuba will serve as our forward bastion. From there, we will loom over the American coastline like a storm cloud."

The Kaiser blinked.

"I thought you said you wouldn’t invade?"

"No," Bruno said immediately. "I stand by my word. We will never set foot on the American mainland."

"But..."

"We don’t need to." Bruno slid his rook across the center of the board, placing it beside the Kaiser’s remaining knight. A quiet, symbolic kill.

"We only need to make them believe we intend to."

Wilhelm stared. "Explain."

Bruno interlaced his fingers.

"Americans unite only under two conditions: when struck directly, or when victory is assured."

He gestured to the frost gathering on the tall windows.

"That is why I have never attacked their soil. If we did, the Union would snap back together like a steel trap."

His gaze hardened.

"But if they suffer catastrophic losses abroad... if their armies vanish by the millions... if their people rage at their own government, yet their homeland remains untouched, unity dissolves. Anger turns inward, not outward."

Silence filled the room, broken only by the pop and hiss of burning logs.

"And now," Wilhelm whispered, "with defeat on every front, with states seceding... you mean to push them further."

"Yes... I want fear."

He moved a pawn.

"Not of invasion, but of the possibility of invasion."

Bruno’s voice sharpened, razor precise:

"When we assemble a million men in Cuba... when our fleets sit off the Gulf Coast... when our carriers drift within reach of their ports... every American will ask the same question:

’Is today the day they come?’"

A shiver ran through the Kaiser.

"And while they wait for an invasion that will never come," Bruno said, "they will tear each other apart. Governors will blame generals. States will blame Washington. Militias will blame each other."

"And we..." Wilhelm murmured, "...will simply watch."

Bruno nodded.

"And intervene only when profitable."

The Kaiser looked at him with growing awe.

"Bruno... this is ruthless."

"It is humane," Bruno replied. "Invading their mainland would cost the lives millions. Perhaps even tens of millions... Letting their republic collapse under the weight of its own contradictions will cost far less. Especially the lives of our own sons...."

Wilhelm’s gaze drifted back to the chessboard.

"You believe they will think we intend to cross the Atlantic?"

"They already do," Bruno said. "You heard Heitz, the American newspapers scream it. Their politicians whisper it, their generals lose sleep over it, and many of their people dream of it."

He leaned forward.

"Fear is the purest motivator, Your Majesty. It is more potent than bombs or armies. And America is drowning in it. When survival is on the line, you would be surprised how quickly people throw away the veneer of civility. And the United States is nothing but a two-dollar harlot draped in finery...."

Wilhelm slowly nodded.

"And what," he asked, "will be the signal that the war is truly over?"

Bruno placed his final piece... checkmate.

"When the United States dissolves into bickering nations... when its fleet rots... when its people no longer trust their government or each other... then they will beg for peace."

Wilhelm sagged, breath unsteady.

"Germany has won," he whispered.

Bruno rose from his chair.

"To fight and conquer in all your battles is not supreme excellence..." he murmured, quoting Sun Tzu.

"Supreme excellence consists in breaking the enemy’s resistance without fighting."

Wilhelm stood, joints stiff but spirit brightening.

"Well done, my boy."

Bruno bowed, eyes gleaming like tempered steel.

"You honor me, Your Majesty."

Wilhelm extended a hand.

"Rise... Reichsmarschall."

Bruno rose and clasped the Kaiser’s hand firmly.

Wilhelm turned toward the window overlooking Berlin’s glowing skyline.

"Then let this be the end of it... Let us begin the final stage."

Bruno’s answer was quiet, resolute.

"It has already begun."

---

Outside the study, as he walked down the long marble corridor alone, Bruno allowed himself a rare moment of stillness.

The war was ending, not with the thunder of guns, but with the quiet collapse of a continent that had run out of illusions.

And in the hush that followed, Bruno’s mind moved far beyond Cuba, far beyond America’s unraveling.

He was already thinking about the world that came after.

A world finally free of the cycle he had spent a lifetime trying to prevent. The fate of the world he had once endured and hated.

He paused before a tall window, its frost-rimmed glass reflecting Berlin’s lights like stars caught in ice.

In his mind, he saw a different century unfolding:

Not a Germany patrolling the world, but a Germany indifferent to it. Not an empire stretched thin, but an empire rooted deep.

Not legions scattered across far-flung colonies, but research domes, laboratories, and orbital frames gleaming above the Earth.

A century defined not by conquest, but by ascension.

He envisioned engines that could slip the bounds of atmosphere. A moon dotted with German outposts, quiet, austere, efficient. Orbital eyes that watched the Earth not to dominate it, but to deter threats long before they matured.

He envisioned energy grids spanning continents, and cities run by computation rather than corruption.

A population no longer bled dry by war, but lifted by prosperity and purpose. He saw children who would grow up not learning how to fight, but learning how to build.

He placed a hand against the cold glass, watching the breath of the metropolis below him, a living engine of industry and intellect, finally free from the burden of proving itself to lesser powers.

Then he turned from the window, the cold forgotten, already charting the next century in his mind.

Bruno continued down the hall, steps steady, the ember of a new world glowing quietly behind his eyes.

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