Joseph Wirth Cabinet (4): Working-Level Talks
"I was expecting diplomats from the Republic, but I never imagined someone entirely different would show up."
"I am a diplomat of the Republic."
I sat down and faced him with a confident posture. A brief silence fell.
Edgar Vincent, the British ambassador to Germany—who looked about as mature as Rosen—gazed at me for a moment before the corner of his mouth twitched ever so slightly upward.
"I see."
He tapped the table lightly with his finger.
"In that case, may I first confirm how much you know about this matter?"
"If you need me to."
I tilted my head as I replied.
"I understand your country is already conducting war crimes trials."
"That's correct."
"And yet, from our nation's perspective, the results so far have been less than satisfactory."
His words trailed off just a touch at the end. Not quite an accusation—more a tone of confirmation. I didn't avert my gaze.
"I'm well aware."
"In that case..."
He leaned forward slightly as he continued.
"Do you intend to respond to this demand in the same manner?"
I didn't answer right away. Before the silence could stretch too long, I slowly opened my mouth.
"That's not a question—it's more like a conclusion."
His eyebrow twitched faintly. With my hands clasped and eyes locked on his, I pressed on.
"What you really want to confirm here isn't our situation, but where you draw the line for 'sufficient'—isn't that right?"
This time, he was the one who paused. Our gazes clashed quietly. He didn't reply immediately. Instead, he flipped to the next page of his documents. The rustle of paper sounded unusually sharp.
"An intriguing perspective."
He murmured low.
"But standards shift depending on the circumstances."
"Which is all the more reason to clarify. In the current situation, what 'outcome' does your country truly desire?"
A hush settled in. He picked up his pen, then set it down again. Finally, he spoke slowly.
"It's simple."
His voice remained calm.
"Demonstrate accountability. We've viewed your country's initiation of trials positively. The disagreement arises over whether the results will be comprehensible on an international level."
But the weight behind those words was anything but light. I narrowed my eyes. He continued.
"The judgments on Hindenburg, Ludendorff, and others of their ilk will serve as the true test of that standard."
And then he smiled.
"We want to trust Germany."
I sensed it instinctively. Vincent leaned toward appeasement, but he was the type to coax what he wanted with a gentle touch. People who smiled like that were the trickiest to deal with.
"Well then—"
Screeech!
Before I could finish, the door swung open.
"Sorry I'm late."
Another man, also quite elderly, entered. His gaze lingered on me briefly.
"Where were we...?"
It was Charles Laurent, the French ambassador to Germany.
During a short break, I stepped out into the corridor to escape the stifling air.
"How are their positions?"
Neurath asked, his face etched with concern.
"France has its mind made up, and Britain is playing coy. Neither will be easy."
"Wasn't that expected?"
"True, but I doubt Britain will waver easily on the final decision."
Neurath crossed his arms, deep in thought.
"Then it's down to personal skill from here. The deputy minister's abilities will determine the next round of talks."
"This is just a working-level discussion anyway—no final decisions today. But I think I can tilt things somewhat in our favor."
At that moment, the door opened.
"Shall we resume the discussion?"
At Vincent's voice, I exchanged a glance with Neurath, gave a slight nod, and headed back in.
As I took my seat, both ambassadors' eyes turned to me. The room felt even heavier.
Laurent spoke first.
"Then, let's continue from where we left off."
I nodded.
"It seems you want punishment for more figures in the trials, but we're discussing within realistic bounds."
Vincent looked about to interject, but Laurent beat him to it.
"The problem is that 'realistic bound.'"
He flipped a page casually as he went on.
"We still can't accept where that line is drawn."
I said nothing. Vincent filled the brief gap.
"In that case..."
He clasped his hands, proceeding cautiously.
"You have no disagreement that war responsibility figures need more decisive handling."
The tone was soft, but the direction clear. I met his gaze. Then Laurent picked up.
"Especially starting with the Kaiser Wilhelm."
The room's air plummeted. Even Vincent's expression stiffened faintly, as if he hadn't anticipated going this far.
I stayed silent for a moment, simply staring at Laurent. Then, slowly, I spoke.
"So, you're asking me to agree to disposing of my father?"
Laurent replied first.
"War responsibility has nothing to do with position. You don't still see yourself as a prince, do you?"
I shook my head.
"I agree responsibility transcends position. That's why I'm saying this."
With hands clasped and eyes unwavering, I continued.
"This discussion isn't about emotions—it's about outcomes. Not just what's morally right, but what's practically feasible."
I tilted my head.
"If you were in my shoes, could you make a clearer decision?"
Laurent's eyes sharpened ever so slightly. I pressed on.
"Even setting aside the exiled former Kaiser, do you think I view Hindenburg and Ludendorff fondly? They schemed against the Empire and brought it down."
I took a short breath.
"If possible, I'd hold them accountable too. On that point, we're not so different."
Vincent nodded faintly; Laurent glanced at him repeatedly, looking somewhat flustered.
I let out a sigh.
"But Germany can't afford that right now. This government stands on a delicate balance of ideologies. If that collapses..."
I fixed my gaze on Laurent.
"The next person at this table will be far less cooperative."
Vincent's eyes deepened. I added finally.
"Talks like this won't even be possible then."
The room fell utterly silent. Not even the rustle of paper.
Vincent moved first. Hands clasped, he sat quietly for a while before speaking slowly.
"I fully understand the deputy minister's position."
His voice was still calm, but the nuance had shifted.
I watched him. Without breaking eye contact, he went on.
"And that Germany's situation can't be resolved by legal judgment alone."
He paused, tilting his head faintly.
"I'll convey that to my government as is."
That wasn't mere concession. It meant no further pressure for now—and judgment deferred.
Laurent said nothing, slowly rolling the pen in his hand. His gaze skimmed the papers, then returned to me.
After a moment, he spoke.
"Political instability can't be a blanket excuse for everything."
Short and firm. But he didn't stop.
"That said, we can't ignore the risk of worsening the situation."
I remained silent. He looked away, adding.
"I'll report that to my government too."
In the end, the conclusion was clear: no pushing further today. But it wasn't over.
Vincent rose slowly.
"Let's conclude today's discussion here."
He bowed his head lightly toward me.
"A meaningful conversation."
Laurent stood too, nodding curtly, though with evident dissatisfaction.
"I expect clearer answers next time."
Screeech— Opening the door to the Chancellor's office, Joseph Wirth looked up from his papers.
"Ah, Foreign Deputy Minister. I've been waiting."
"Britain's buying time, France is forcing a conclusion."
His hand paused.
"And?"
"They won't press harder for now. They acknowledged our instability could make things worse."
A brief silence. Wirth leaned back with a sigh of relief.
"You've bought us time."
"But next round, they'll come on stronger."
He chuckled dryly.
"No one's fool enough to miss that."
Tapping his pen on the desk, he added.
"Then we'll prepare until then."
I nodded, glancing at his desk. A draft peace treaty with America caught my eye; peeking at the back pages, I spotted names like 'Soviet Russia' and 'Poland'—new nations Germany was reaching toward to break its isolation.
I looked away and spoke.
"Either way, our options don't seem wide."
Wirth didn't reply. He just gripped his pen, staring at the papers.
I turned to leave without another word. We'd barely buttoned the first one, yet it felt more exhausting knowing we hadn't truly begun.