Published at 9th of October 2026 6:09 am

Chapter 978: A Need for Reform

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Hauptmann Karl-Franz von Zehntner stood ceremonially in his military uniform. The unique hunter-green beret, with the Bordeaux-red flash, and the vaunted symbol of the Jagdkommandos pinned in its center stood in stark contrast to the more subdued feldgrau dress uniform, and the medals spread across its various locations.

In the years following the Second Weltkrieg, the Iron Cross was reconstituted without yearly distinctions for conflicts considered "worthy of its issuance." Instead, it was a standard reward for honor and gallantry in any field where a soldier of the Reichsheer found himself engaging in combat operations.

Though Germany had not officially been at war since 1942 with any nation. Covert operations with special forces and intelligence assets were embedded in every battlefield around the world.

The Jagdkommando-Gruppe 4 "Brandenburg" became infamous for its relentless and ruthless capacity in waging covert warfare across the globe without leaving a single trace of its existence.

Or at least among those who knew of its existence.

It was this particular reason that Karl-Franz had selected to go through some of the most fierce and difficult military training known to man, especially during a time of peace.

Because to him, serving without combat distinction was dishonorable to his heritage. But today was not a day for combat arms. It was a day for ceremony. Retirement, to be specific.

He had been awarded nearly every medal for gallantry, just like his older cousin, Erich. A decade divided them, they had both endured combat operations in multiple theaters and continents.

And while one fought in the war that established the Pax Germanica, the other fought to maintain it.

Karl-Franz had not forgotten the words Erich spoke to him that day in the halls of the Tyrolean Royal Palace.

It was perhaps because of this, as he stood there, a small ceremony of soldiers, officers, generals, and intelligence agents who had worked alongside him or commanded him over the years that Karl-Franz stood before his elder cousin.

By now, Erich wore the stripes of a Generalleutnant. He was an integral part of the Luftstreitkrafte’s chain of command. While Karl-Franz was officially retired from service to pursue ventures in other fields that he believed were equally important to governance and administration.

There was no secret that the two cousins were the most prominent candidates to succeed Bruno when he finally passed away.

And the contention between them was sharper than ever. Even so, despite the grievances they held towards one another and their different perspectives on how to best perform their duties to family and fatherland, for the briefest of moments they stood before one another, saluting with respect.

Not respect for one another as men, and rivals, but instead respect for soldiers who had both performed valiantly in the line of duty.

After the salute was concluded, Erich reached his hand forward and a simple gesture.

"Hauptmann... It has been an honor."

Karl-Franz accepted the gesture of friendship and shook his cousin’s hand, the two men staring one another in the eyes, no contempt, no competition, simple recognition.

"The honor has been mine...."

Then they turned away from one another and did not speak again for the entire gathering. There were no more words needed to be said between the two men. Nor any desire to chatter about the little things.

Karl-Franz stepped out of that room no longer a soldier, but a civilian. And there was one single place where his ambitions lay. Berlin, and von Zehntner Tower, where Erich’s father, Erwin, currently ruled as the head of the family’s conglomerate.

Karl-Franz sighed and shook his head, looking at his watch as he stepped onto the maglev, thinking about all that he had done, all that he had sacrificed. And a single name flashed in his mind as he stared out at the Germany countryside rapidly passing him by.

"I wonder what Claire has been up to all these years...."

---

The situation in France had been mostly peaceful and prosperous since the war officially came to an end.

Resistance movements were cleaned up during the German occupation, and much of what had been destroyed across two world wars and a civil war between them had been rebuilt.

Law and order prevailed, and Versailles once more sat as the seat of French power and decadence.

But Claire, like many who had gone to study in their formative years within the German Reich, found themselves increasingly disgruntled with the way the Court of Versailles handled matters.

She was not the only noble scion dispatched to Germany to receive a proper education by their former enemies.

And those like herself often gathered in social settings far away from the vanity, decadence, and performance of Versailles.

In fact, those who were "German-educated" among France’s aristocratic class were often distinctive for their rather simplistic and utilitarian approach to fashion. Performing actions over language.

Many of their peers who had been raised in the new court often degraded them as more "German than French." A sentiment that Claire and others like her often took pride in.

Today, Claire sat at a cafe, surrounded by others like her. Sons and daughters of France’s new nobility. They did not wear the "rococo-revival" fashion of Versailles. Rather to passerby’s who looked through the windows these weren’t fabled aristocrats, but rather young professionals, gathering for coffee at a lunch break.

Claire sighed and shook her head, gazing out the window, the sharp silhouette of Versailles laid in the distance and it made her sick.

Nearby one of her friends, a Duchess by the name of Nicole, spoke the thoughts they all had, while gently dropping a sugar cube into her porcelain cup of coffee.

"I can’t be the only one thinking it. If we continue like this, it won’t be long before we see a popular uprising. The people see the new aristocratic class and royal family as pets wearing silver collars, their labor going into funding lavish and scandalous parties for a group of people who bend their knee to Berlin."

Claire rolled her eyes and sipped from her glass while another of her friends interjected.

"Are they wrong, though? It’s not necessarily the sentiment of submission to the Reich that stirs the people, it’s the fact that their taxes are going to funding 18th century style gatherings instead of being focused towards administration. Nobody wants another war with Germany, but they don’t want a group of pompous twats arguing boasting about whose great-great-grandfather invented the toilet brush leading the nation either."

Claire finally interrupted the discussion before it could get heated, placing her cup on a saucer, the subtle but noticeable clink drew all their attention. She didn’t look over at her social circle, but her words were most certainly directed towards them.

"There needs to be reform... I think it’s about time I call in an old favor."

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