Republic Protection Decree
"...Did I hear that wrong?"
I couldn't hide my shock at the news I heard upon arriving at my office. They'd announced the treaty signing in parliament just yesterday, and I never imagined something this shocking could happen in less than a day.
Matthias Erzberger, leader of the Center Party and former finance minister, had been assassinated. While strolling through the Black Forest in the southern woodlands, he'd been gunned down by thugs, and Karl Dittz, another Center Party member of parliament with him, lay critically wounded.
More shocking than anything was that it had happened around 10 a.m.—just a short while ago. I stood there speechless for a long moment, my mind going blank.
No matter how unstable the republic still was, was it really so precarious that a prominent politician could be assassinated in broad daylight?
And yet, as I glanced at my reflection in the glass desktop, it didn't seem all that surprising. The faint scar from the gunshot wound still glowed red. Come to think of it, I'd been through something similar myself.
"...What about the perpetrator?"
I finally managed to speak. Neurath hesitated a moment before replying.
"Not identified yet, but... from the circumstances left at the scene, it looks like a politically motivated attack."
Politically motivated.
I closed my eyes. That single phrase was enough.
"...It's finally happened."
I muttered without realizing it. His secretary said nothing. I walked to the window, pulled back the curtain, and gazed outside.
Berlin's streets looked no different from usual. Carriages rolled by, people bustled about. Faces that knew nothing yet.
I drew a deep breath and turned back to Neurath. "The press?"
"Breaking news soon."
I nodded. "...This is going to blow up."
In just hours, this city would turn upside down. Gripping the windowsill, I said quietly,
"Is the police moving?"
"Yes. Investigation's already underway."
I slipped my hands into my pockets and blinked. "Parliament's going to be a circus."
"Isn't this the kind of thing he deserved?"
"What did you just say?!"
"Get out! Do you even know where you are?!"
The emergency session of the national assembly a few days later was, predictably, utter chaos.
Erzberger had pushed reforms so aggressively that radical right-wingers were already calling him "fair game for death" and defending his killer.
"The president enters!"
Paul Löbe, president of the Reichstag, who had yielded his seat to speakers and stepped down briefly, took his place again. But no one stopped shouting.
Löbe surveyed the pandemonium with a bewildered look before slamming the gavel down hard.
Tang!Tang!Tang!
"Order, please!"
But no one listened. I stayed seated, watching the scene unfold. The debate had long passed into something else entirely. This wasn't argument—it was pure hatred.
I slowly turned my gaze. On one side, Center Party and SPD deputies red-faced with rage; on the other, National People's Party members smirking openly with arms crossed. In between, People's Party deputies awkwardly trying to mediate, and Independent Social Democrats and Communists shouting that assassination was a line you didn't cross, the whole chamber reverberating as if it might collapse.
That was when it happened.
"Deputy minister."
Rosen called softly from beside me. I turned to him. He said curtly,
"The president's coming soon."
No sooner had the words left his mouth than the door burst open.
Kwang!
The noise in the chamber faltered for a moment. All eyes turned. Friedrich Ebert and Chancellor Joseph Wirth were striding down the central aisle together. Exhaustion etched their faces, but their steps didn't waver. Wirth headed to his seat, while Ebert marched straight to the podium without pause.
Löbe slammed the gavel again.
"Silence!"
This time, the clamor died down a bit—not completely, but enough to hear.
Ebert scanned the chamber briefly.
His voice wasn't loud, but it rang out with uncanny clarity.
A National People's Party deputy shouted immediately after.
"That's outrageous!"
"Dictatorship!"
"You think you're the emperor?!"
Tang!Tang!
Löbe pounded the gavel and bellowed,
"Speak with the floor! Is this a park debate? Uphold the basics of parliament!"
I stayed still. This wasn't my place to intervene. The Foreign Office had no business here.
I averted my eyes and exhaled quietly. Instead, I looked up at the podium. Ebert and the government behind him.
"...So it begins."
I murmured softly. Rosen, hearing it, sighed and whispered,
"This'll turn into a diplomatic issue."
I widened my eyes at him. "...Diplomatic?"
He nodded and continued. "With unrest like this, the outsiders won't sit idle. France, Britain."
Then, lower: "They're all watching us shake."
I nodded. We'd only said a few months ago that we'd try our own war criminals, that we had the capacity—and now, barely months later, an incident undermining the republic's stability. Of course Britain and France wouldn't let it slide.
A month after the Republic Protection Decree was proclaimed. Only after Erzberger's funeral—which had been little more than a political rally—did the parliamentary chaos subside.
"Take it down."
"Ah, yes...."
A scene I witnessed walking the streets. A young man in a flat cap pasting far-right flyers criticizing the government was stopped by a policeman standing with hands behind his back.
The "Republic Protection Decree," temporarily enacted under Article 48, was stabilizing society—but it also made people feel their basic rights were curtailed.
Of course, this was limited to the capital. In places like Bavaria with strong separatist leanings, lax policing meant it wasn't properly enforced, or so the rumors went.
"...Ah, Deputy Minister, you're here?"
"The world's so rough these days, I couldn't even take a shady alley. Sorry I'm late."
Neurath nodded lightly as if it were nothing. Sorting papers, he said calmly,
"Still, the capital's settled."
I nodded. "The capital, sure."
He paused at my words. Gazing out the window, I continued,
"Bavaria's different, though."
Neurath didn't deny it. "...Yes, no helping it."
I chuckled dryly. "So we're not really one country, huh."
He said nothing. The silence was answer enough.
I went on slowly. "Decree's issued, but enforcement's all over the place. The country's a mess—it's dizzying."
I smirked, picking up the papers he'd set down. As I read, Neurath ventured,
"Britain and France welcome Germany's emergency measures. Or, put less nicely, 'crack down and calm it, whatever it takes.'"
"I want to protest the interference in internal affairs."
As I set the papers down saying that, Neurath gave a bitter smile and fell silent. I didn't press, reading his expression. I knew without asking. Germany wasn't in a position to protest right now.
I turned back to the window. The streets were quiet. Orderly, controlled—perfect on the surface. But that quiet felt unsettling.
I murmured low. "...This isn't calm."
Without looking at him, I added, "It's just suppressed."
A brief silence passed. He said nothing, but didn't refute it either.
I looked back at the papers. "You know that saying? The calm before the storm. It's quiet now, but that makes it more unnerving."
Neurath gave an awkward smile. "Don't say that—you're making me anxious. I hope you're wrong this time, Deputy Minister."
He shook his head and lit a cigarette. I just stared at the desk piled high with endless papers. An inexplicable unease crept in.
...Was there something around this time? I can't remember.
I thought a moment, then dismissed it as nerves and picked up the top paper. For no reason, I glanced out the window again. The streets were still. Silent.