Joseph Wirth Cabinet (3): The War Crimes Trial
I paused for a moment. The building before me was quieter than I'd expected. The Foreign Ministry, a holdover from the imperial era. It looked worn on the outside, devoid of any grandeur, but that didn't change the fact that a single word exchanged within could alter the fate of the nation.
I stared at the door briefly before stepping inside without a word.
The air shifted the instant I opened it. Unlike the Reichstag, which was a chaotic swirl of noise and emotion, this place was oppressively silent—and all the sharper for it.
As I walked down the corridor, I felt a few gazes upon me. Eyes checking for an unfamiliar face, or confirming one they already knew.
“...He was originally slated for the Italian ambassadorship, but His Excellency the President judged that his experience as a court chamberlain made him better suited to assist the State Secretary.”
A staffer approached and spoke to me. Caught off guard by the disjointed explanation, I blinked and tilted my head.
“Who are you talking about?”
“Oh, ah, sorry. I got ahead of myself.... I mean the new counselor assigned to assist the State Secretary. Things are a bit of a mess right now with the assignments....”
The staffer stammered through his explanation, and I raised both hands to calm him.
“It's fine. Take your time.”
“Yes, well, as I was saying, the new counselor has a background as a court chamberlain. His name is....”
He belatedly put on his glasses, which were hanging from his collar, and flipped open his papers again.
“Kon—Konstantin... Ah, Konstantin von Neurath.”
Neurath...? The moment the staffer said the name, the sounds around me blurred. When the haze cleared, all I could see was the man fumbling with his documents.
Had I misheard? I asked again.
“...Pardon? Who?”
“Konstantin von Neurath. Ah, do you know him by any chance?”
My eyes widened at the name, but I couldn't muster a response to the staffer.
I couldn't not know 'Neurath.'
“Ah, no, I don't.”
But that's what I told him. Ignoring my reaction, the staffer pressed on.
“Until last year, he was consul in Copenhagen for Denmark. Before the Great War, he served as deputy ambassador in London... and also as counselor at the Istanbul embassy.”
Konstantin von Neurath. Right now, just one more ordinary diplomat. But in the future, the man who shaped the early foreign policy of the Nazi regime. Withdrawal from the League of Nations, the Anglo-German Naval Agreement, the remilitarization of the Rhineland. The diplomatic moves that laid the groundwork for Nazi Germany all passed through his hands.
So they assigned me a veteran, huh....
From Ebert's perspective, with key negotiations looming and no guarantee I'd even show up properly as minister, it made sense to pair me with a seasoned diplomat. The silver lining was that he was still a pure diplomat for now—relatively moderate, at that.
“Got it. Thanks.”
I sent the staffer on his way. It was my first day in the Foreign Ministry, and already I felt like I'd stepped in the wrong place.
“You've likely heard my name already, but I'm Counselor von Neurath. Starting today, I will assist Your Highness... er, State Secretary, in your duties.”
Neurath bowed his head slightly as he spoke, still not quite used to dropping the “Highness.” He had a milder demeanor than I'd imagined. A neatly trimmed mustache and soft lines around his mouth. At a glance, he seemed like any ordinary gentleman you might pass on the street.
But his eyes were different. They stared straight ahead with crystal clarity, yet revealed nothing of what lay behind them. Like a man who saw everything but said nothing.
I looked at his face and thought briefly,
This is the real Neurath....
Meeting in person the figure I'd only known from records felt surprisingly mundane.
I met his gaze and spoke.
“I heard you were headed to Italy.”
“I prefer being in Germany. So I answered the President's call without hesitation.”
Neurath gave a light smile. I nodded but couldn't bring myself to smile back casually.
After a moment, I asked,
“Just one question.”
Neurath lifted his head quietly.
“Have you ever heard the word 'Fascio'?”
His eyebrow twitched ever so slightly.
“Do you mean the Italian Combat Fascio? I've heard it's a radical right-wing party.”
“Yes, that's it.”
I watched him steadily and asked,
“What do you think of it?”
Neurath paused as if in thought, then spoke evenly.
“Well.”
A brief silence.
“The world has many ideologies. It's just one of them.”
Not yet. I thought quietly. If my guess was right, he wouldn't start falling under that ideology's influence until his time as ambassador in Italy. Right after next year's March on Rome, when he'd confront Italy's political reality firsthand—that was my theory on when he'd be swayed by fascism.
But history had already diverged a little. He hadn't gone to Italy, so at least for now, there was no sign of it.
“...State Secretary?”
He tilted his head at me, and I let out a small chuckle.
“Nothing. I was just curious, since you were slated for Italy, if you knew about such things.”
I waved it off as no big deal, and only then did Neurath nod in understanding.
I couldn't fully trust him yet, but he seemed reliable enough to delegate to.
“Ah, State Secretary Joachim!”
An elderly gentleman extended his hand with a bright smile. Dressed in a refined suit, his graying hair and beard impeccably groomed—he was the very picture of a “gentleman.”
“Minister Rosen, I heard you served my father.”
“...His Majesty is still hale and hearty, but his anger hasn't subsided.”
Rosen leaned in and whispered. Evidently, Kaiser Wilhelm took issue with his son joining the SPD as a deputy and now serving as undersecretary in the Foreign Ministry.
He settled heavily into his seat.
“What can an old man like me do? I'll support Your Highness and Germany's diplomacy from behind the scenes.”
“I appreciate the words, but I still have much to rely on you for.”
Rosen nodded quietly. Having traveled the world in his youth, the post of Foreign Minister seemed a bit taxing for a man nearing seventy.
The door creaked open.
“Ah, Minister. Counselor von Neurath.”
Neurath offered a polite handshake, which Rosen accepted warmly with both hands, as if to say he was counting on him. But Neurath held papers in his other hand.
“A reply has arrived from London.”
I narrowed my eyes. Right on cue.
“What's it say?”
Neurath flipped through the pages as he replied.
“They're sticking to their original demands. And they're insisting on the immediate implementation of the war crimes trials.”
A short silence.
Rosen muttered low.
“...Stubborn.”
“It's beyond stubborn,” Neurath added. “This is less a negotiation than a notification.”
I said nothing, scanning the lines on the paper.
Rosen spoke first.
“They want to put Germans on trial at foreign behest...?”
He pursed his lips in thought, staring into space. Then, as if to prove his vigor, he rose promptly and headed to his desk.
“Dumping heavy work on me the moment I arrive....”
He sat, pulled a monocle from the drawer, fitted it between cheekbone and brow, and took out a pen, ready to write.
“Counselor, bring it here.”
Neurath placed the papers before him at his command.
“I'll report to the Chancellor myself.”
As Rosen moved to flip through them, I reached out and pressed down on the page.
“What do you plan to decide? Can't you at least let us in on it?”
Rosen met my gaze, lifted his head, removed the monocle, and leaned back in his chair. He regarded me steadily, then chuckled softly.
“The issue the negotiating powers are raising now is an extension of the Leipzig trials from last January.”
Rosen continued leisurely.
“We've already begun the trials. Germany takes responsibility for German actions. We've established that principle, and they agreed to observe.”
He tapped the papers lightly with a finger.
“Yet they're still demanding implementation....”
He paused and looked at me.
“It means they don't trust our trials.”
A brief silence flowed. I said nothing.
Neurath spoke quietly.
“It's less about trust and more about the results.”
Rosen's eyes turned to him.
Neurath continued without a flicker.
“The outcomes of the trials so far don't meet their demanded level.”
“So?”
Rosen's voice dipped slightly.
“Should we adjust to satisfy them?”
“No need.”
Neurath shook his head.
“But continuing this way will only bring more pressure. We need a different approach from before.”
I glanced back at the papers upon hearing that. Rosen watched me, then spoke.
“It's not as if there are no options.”
He leaned back again.
“State Secretary... that is, Your Highness.”
His gaze lingered on my face.
“If I may be so bold, you're in quite a useful position.”
A short silence. I said nothing. I already knew what he meant to say.
“The Allies demand 'accountability.'”
Rosen said lowly.
“And we're pondering how to demonstrate it.”
He set the papers down.
“A symbol can sometimes carry more weight than any argument.”
As Rosen's words ended, the room fell silent. I said nothing. As the son of the “emperor,” no one knew better than I what he meant.