Erich Wagenmann sat down in his favorite old chair. It was an ornate, comfortable chair; he didn't remember the name of the manufacturer. Of course, the man would know his name, as it was and had been known and feared for many years by then. He looked down toward the ground and chuckled. He remembered when during his youth he was quite round, it was difficult to see the ground from certain angles. That had changed sometime during his passage into manhood, when he grew to a surprising 6'4" and slimmed out. "Oh, days like those I haven't found since...the most fulfilling friendships I've ever had," he mused to himself.

His right hand reached out of its own accord and wrapped around a glass of sweet tea, an old favorite from his days of obesity. But in the same way that love held over, hate held over. And as such, he blazed for a second with anger against his former enemies. Trent Boyett, who he and his friends had eventually seen killed when they were 19 by the sheer luck of a wolf coming up on their camp site at the same time as he was arriving. That was when Erich had known he was destined for great things. The rest of the boys, so to speak, had simply been relieved to find an old source of torment dead. That was what separated him from them. He saw things as they could be. They saw things as they solidly were. The difference between great men and ordinary ones.

"Erich? The biographer will be here in 5 minutes." His secretary deigned to inform him. He chuckled. Liesel was perhaps the only person on the earth anymore that didn't treat him with almost divine reverence. Save his son, of course. Frederick was 24 now, and a colonel in the Reichsheer. That was his father's insistence. But thankfully, Frederick had proven to be a very good soldier, once they got the royalty ironed out of him. It reminded Erich of his youth in a small town in Westphalia. He'd never dreamt he'd rise to the heights he had. Heights almost dizzying to those who hadn't enjoyed them. Heights...of Kaiserdom.

If you'd told anyone living in his hometown that they had a future Kaiser in that town, they would have either shit their pants laughing, or maybe simply reported you for talking of revolution. After all, nothing ever happened in Südenpark, but every city has its day, as they say. Speaking of Südenpark, what had happened to the inhabitants there? The local constable, Barbrady, had been killed one day by a horse's kick. No one really noticed or cared. That bitch of a headmaster, Victoria, had gone insane eventually. Only Erich knew why. And he wasn't saying. It was one of the first times he had ever found how to assert his authority, or authoritah, as he used to phrase it, on those above him. "They did respect it, didn't they?" He let out a wry chuckle. He had gray hair these days, thick gray hair that he kept slightly longer than most men's, just above his shoulders. He wore a kingly mustache, a thick one slightly stretching around the lips. His eyes, dark brown as always, also never gave an inch as always.

Well, from his 14th year onwards. Before that he was a pussy, quite frankly. In physical matters, that is. He'd already made a kid eat his parents in chili by that point, but as a fighter in general, he wasn't great overall. At a point, he'd taken lessons from a local instructor and proceeded to beat up a grown man with a black belt, albeit a dwarf, but after that in the typical arrogance of his youth, he'd neglected his lessons and become weak. When he turned 14, he'd been walking home when he saw a small man dominating a large one, his employee at the time, simply through words. The large man had finally had enough and swung at the small one. Eventually, the large man had killed the small one with his bare hands, Erich watching the whole time, never knowing that the two were handicapped and that they were plotting to kill his acquaintance Jimmy. That was when he understood that, were he to ever escape the small shithole of a town that was Südenpark, he needed to add physical intimidation to his already powerful mental side.

"Erich? The biographer is here." Liesel called in from her desk. "Send him in." Erich responded with a sigh. The man walked in and sat down. He was about medium height, and slightly overweight with full white hair despite his doubtless age emanating from his face and eyes. Erich looked him in the eyes, and they radiated in surprise. The other man's green eyes looked hardened and bitter beyond emotion. "I've waited for this day my whole life, you son of a whore." The man stated this with obvious relish. Erich simply glared, with the firmness that had made him Kaiser of the German Empire. "Well...I will be damned. Scott Tenorman."