The Mandate of Heaven

"Aaargh! I am innocent! I am innocent, I tell you!" Roman von Ungern-Sternberg thrashed like a rabid dog, his arms pinned by the soldiers.

He really is a brute who ran with the Cossacks. Even with several soldiers piling onto him, subduing him was no easy feat. I frowned.

"You lost. Wash your neck and wait for the blade."

"Only Christ and God the Father can judge me!"

"...Huh?"

What on earth was this butcher talking about now? This was a man who had slaughtered every priest he could lay his hands on.

I had captured many adversaries over the years. Karl Lueger had held onto his convictions until his very last breath, sacrificing his life just to give me one final, massive middle finger. Führer Apis's sudden transformation into a seemingly innocent, ordinary citizen right before his death had been quite a spectacle. Hötzendorf... he was the political rival who had given me the most trouble. In any case, he deserved to be treated like Hannibal Barca, Scipio's great nemesis.

But Ungern-Sternberg was by far the most bizarre. He was the first to howl and thrash like a wild beast upon capture. He looked like nothing more than a bandit chieftain.

"Bind his arms in chains."

"Stahl, you son of a whore! Who do you think you are to bind my arms?!"

Sigh. I could not stomach his sheer vulgarity.

"Gag him as well."

"Yes, sir!"

Leon Trotsky watched the raving madman with a look of concern. "I wonder if this is wise, Vice Chairman Stahl."

"What do you mean?"

"With him in that state, I wonder if we can even hold a proper trial."

"...Leave him to the Poles."

"Shall we?"

I called over a Polish military police officer who was staring at Ungern-Sternberg from a distance with eyes burning with hatred. "Officer."

"Y-Yes, Vice Chairman!"

"I am well aware of how deeply you detest Ungern-Sternberg. Nevertheless, he must stand a proper trial. And, of course, he must undergo a thorough 'dissection' of his crimes, just as Führer Apis did."

"Yes, I understand."

"I mean he cannot remain in that state. Do you understand?"

The Polish officer nodded, a trace of disappointment on his face. "Yes. There will be absolutely no torture."

He didn't ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠seem to grasp my meaning. Shaking my head, I corrected him. "That is not what I meant."

"...Pardon? Then..."

"If you torture him recklessly and turn him into a broken shell, it will be highly problematic. It is, of course, illegal under international law. What I am asking of you, Major, is to ensure he is in a state where he is 'at least capable of testifying.'"

"Ah! In that case...!"

"Yes. Make him cooperative for the trial."

The Polish officer nodded, then dragged the chained Ungern-Sternberg away like a dog.

The sheer brutality of Ungern-Sternberg—burning people alive, decapitating them—had filled the lands of Poland and Russia with restless, vengeful spirits. He had to be offered up as a sacrifice to appease those souls.

Hearing my exquisite choice of words, Trotsky couldn't help but chuckle.

"'Make him cooperative for the trial.' I see you can be quite ruthless when the occasion calls for it, Vice Chairman."

"Well... aren't the Poles and Russians the ones who suffered the most at the hands of that war criminal? The British and Germans deserve a turn as well."

"That is true."

"Therefore, I believe Ungern-Sternberg's punishment should be decided through joint consultations among all affected nations. Our Empire plans to act merely as a mediator."

We had finally brought the war to an end... but this long, grueling conflict that had dragged on for nearly three years would reshape the global order from its very foundations. A mountain of unresolved issues loomed ahead, giving me a massive headache.

First of all, Russia currently had two Tsars. We had to decide which one possessed true legitimacy. Then there was the question of what to do with Great Britain, which had occupied St. Petersburg. What should Germany, which had held the line against Russia in the early stages of the war, receive in return?

Russia alone was a logistical nightmare. If France got involved, it would become even more of a clusterfuck. Because Ludendorff had suddenly launched a coup, the war between Germany and France had fizzled out. France had gotten off with far lighter punishments than the Germans had wanted. Of course, France's economy was already in ruins thanks to the massive amounts of counterfeit currency I had flooded them with, and they had lost all their colonies...

Ah, damn it. What were we going to do about the colonies?

I clutched my head. This was the most difficult problem I had faced since entering politics.

Noticing my distress, General Brusilov smiled gently. "It seems Vice Chairman Stahl is deeply troubled over how to lead his nation forward."

Trotsky muttered sarcastically, "His nation...? No, he's thinking of leading the entire world in Britain's stead."

Brusilov, maintaining his genial, easygoing expression, addressed me. "Do not pay Representative Trotsky's cynicism too much mind, Vice Chairman Stahl."

"Pardon?"

"Do not worry so much. You are only thirty-three, are you not? That makes you four years younger than this goat-bearded Red over here."

That was true. If I lived out a natural lifespan, I would probably survive into the 1950s. Since this was 1916, I still had over thirty years left.

"The Austro-Hungarian Empire may have its share of headaches. But look at the state of Russia. While your country is a rising star, our Russian Empire has completely collapsed."

"..."

I had to prepare myself to shoulder the weight of a global superpower. But General Brusilov had to shoulder a Russia that hadn't even finished collapsing yet. Compared to Germany, where Frankfurt and its surroundings lay in ruins, or Poland, which had lost over twenty percent of its population along with its land, my worries were practically trivial.

"Still, with a commander as capable as General Brusilov at the helm, Russia's future might not be entirely bleak."

"I have a mountain of counterarguments, but I shall let it slide. That is not what is important right now. Look over there."

Without prompting, General Brusilov pointed toward the soldiers standing in formation.

Why were they acting like that...? Their postures were strangely lax. These were supposed to be the elite of the elite. Why did they look so undisciplined?

"Have you forgotten?"

"Forgotten what?"

"We are the victors. The war... is finally over."

"...!"

"It was a three-year war. A short period, perhaps, but looking back, it was also the longest time of our lives."

Considering that World War I lasted from 1914 to 1918, and World War II from 1939 to 1945, three years was indeed short. But if one thought of the period between Germany's invasion of the Soviet Union in 1941 and the fall of Berlin in 1945, it wasn't short at all. Over ten million people had died in a mere three years.

"This is the victory and the peace we have waited for so desperately."

"Yes. We ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠have."

"Yet now that the moment is here, none of us know what to do. Not the soldiers, and certainly not myself. That is why, despite standing in such a grand formation, they look so strangely relaxed, do they not?"

"I agree."

As I stood there, dazed by an end to the war I had never imagined, Trotsky sneered in frustration. "Vice Chairman Stahl, for a master politician, you are remarkably slow on the uptake."

"Pardon?"

"You are the one who must resolve this awkward, suffocating tension, Vice Chairman. No one here knows how to actually end a war."

"Me?"

Trotsky of Poland and Brusilov of the Russian White Army—the key figures of the Eastern Front—were both staring intently at me. So were the officers from the German Empire, like Rommel, and even... the Kaiser himself.

"Without the blood of the Russians and Poles, and without the elite German army, victory would have been impossible. For me to..."

"And without the Austro-Hungarian Empire, none of those prerequisites would have existed in the first place."

"But..."

As I continued to hesitate, Trotsky finally snapped. "Once this war is over, we are enemies! Poland will struggle with all its might to escape the Empire's grasp, and Russia will aid us. We will do everything in our power to dismantle the hegemony of Stahlism!"

"..."

"This very moment is the only time we will ever accord you the prestige of being the leader of the victorious nations."

Brusilov clapped, finding Trotsky's bluntness refreshing. The contributions of Poland and Russia were immense... yet all the politicians and officers present began to follow Brusilov's lead, clapping as they stared at me.

Finally, I looked toward His Majesty, the Kaiser. Ferdinand II gave me a warm, paternal smile and patted my shoulder.

"Your Majesty..."

"The soldiers are not waiting for me. Everyone—absolutely everyone—is waiting for you. The hero of this war."

"B-But..."

In the end, Trotsky lost his patience, lunging forward to grab me by the collar. "Now I see!"

"W-What is the meaning of this?!"

"Did you want to hear those words that badly?"

What on earth was he talking about?! Instead of saying anything more, Trotsky released his grip and took a few steps back. And then... he bowed his head.

Trotsky—the proud, stubborn, foul-mouthed man whose ego pierced the heavens—had bowed his head to me.

"Thank you, Stahl. If not for you, I would have perished in Alsace-Lorraine. Tens of millions of my Polish compatriots will never forget your name."

Brusilov raised his hand to his brow in a crisp military salute. "And Russia, too, would still be drowning in the quagmire of war if not for you. You saved the lives of our people. You are our Messiah."

Finally, Ferdinand II spoke. "Even after Sophie left this world, I was able to endure because you were by my side. You are my benefactor and my hero. Thank you, Stahl."

The high-ranking officers and politicians of Germany, Poland, Russia, and the Austro-Hungarian Empire all bowed their heads to me in unison.

Dazed, barely registering ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠what was happening, I trudged up to the makeshift podium. As I stepped into view, a soldier bellowed at the top of his lungs.

"Present arms to Vice Chairman Stahl!"

Snap! They saluted me in perfect unison.

And then... a bold soldier shouted from the ranks. Triggered by his shout, a wave of voices began to ripple through the crowd. Though they spoke in different tongues, they were all saying the exact same thing.

"Thank you, Vice Chairman Stahl!"

"We survived because of you, sir!"

"Thank you, Stahl!"

I remembered the mass games I had orchestrated with Hitler and Ferdinand II. Watching thousands of people move as one under my command, I had tasted the intoxicating magic of power for the first time. Back then, I could barely even stand straight. But looking back now, that had been mere child's play.

Everyone was smiling and waving at me. Danke, spasibo, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠děkuji, dziękuję, hvala...

"Thank you, Stahl!"

I bit my lip hard, swallowing the tears that threatened to spill over. With great effort, I forced myself to speak.

"As of 16:31 on November 25, 1916, I declare that all hostilities have ceased. Before this, humanity had never witnessed such a hell. Man, once believed to be a rational and reasonable creature, has been laid bare as flawed, irrational, and cruel. Every ounce of pride and faith we once held has been shattered to pieces. Yet... you have also proven something else. You have proven that humanity cannot be defined by malice alone. You, who held onto hope amidst endless hatred and despair, are the proof that humanity still has a future. Thank you. Thank you for surviving. Thank you for fighting alongside me against the darkness of mankind. Once again, I declare that all combat operations are officially concluded as of 16:31 on November 25, 1916. It may be difficult, but I make this earnest plea to you all. As fathers, as sons, as lovers, as friends, as brothers, and as comrades... please, do not forget how to smile. Lay down the nightmare you have carried. Sleep without fear. Dream in peace. You have done well. You will overcome whatever lies ahead. Now, let yourselves smile."

Pat, pat. Something fell from the sky.

I raised my head to look up. Following my gaze, the soldiers looked up in unison.

White flakes. It was the first snow.

The soldiers, who had survived a reality filled with nothing but despair, smiled with the pure innocence of children as they watched the first snow fall over Russia.

"Whoa!"

"It's snow!"

"The first snow of the year!"

They cheered, throwing their military caps high into the air. It was as if they were celebrating the snow itself rather than the end of the war. Watching them, I smiled and stepped down from the podium.

And then... amidst the warm, falling snowflakes, a long-forgotten message materialized before my eyes.

Ha, so this moment has finally come.

To be honest, I had always dreaded this message. I was terrified that everything I had dreamed of and accomplished here would be reduced to nothingness. It was the reason why, despite being married, I had never clung too tightly to love, and why I had chosen not to have children. It was why I had carried myself so lightly, as if I weren't truly living in reality.

If I returned to being Choi Jin-hoon, the 21st-century graduate student... I knew I would miss this place so much it would destroy me.

But now, I had finally found my answer.

"My name is..."

I raised my head once more, staring up at the mandate of heaven. And to whoever might be watching me from somewhere out there, I proudly declared:

"My name is Marx Stahl. Chemist and revolutionary of the Austro-Hungarian Empire."