The city has changed. Not just in terms of architecture and structure - it seems to be something about the people he encounters in the streets. Despite the hardships they have had to encounter throughout the past decade, despite the excruciating worries that must haunt them all day, they seem so…awake, for lack of a better word. They have all adapted so flawlessly to the new speed of life, to these enormous changes. Beautiful, confident young women with haircuts like a man's strutting past a group of children chanting socialist battle hymns at posh businessmen on their way to an expensive lunch, all part of an infinite process to great for a single person to comprehend, all progressing.
They evoke a spark of hope in Ludwig, all problems he will have to face notwithstanding.
Having left the country a few months before the Revolution, he is slightly amazed to see how pervasive political life has become. On the way to his family's residence, Ludwig passes endless rows of the same posters again and again, KPD, SPD, Zentrum, DNVP, KPD…, most of them sporting some kind of crude depiction of political enemies. He has heard of the increasingly violent clashes between worker's unions and the police, constantly recurring brawls between the followers of parties from the far left of the spectrum, the agitated demands for a ban on demonstrations coming from his father's old friends. It will take time for him to get used to this new manner of living politics, he figures as he walks down the Kurfürstenndamm, feeling much more comfortable in the evidently more wealthy areas of Berlin.
Part of him feels that it was about high time that Germany makes the same transition towards a more participatory country that many of the other countries have managed to pass long before him, but at times it is shocking to see what manners of expression some of the newly introduced participants in the political arena consider appropriate.
So he has to worry about the general mood all over the country, he thinks as he turns to the right, briefly checking the sign to confirm that he remembers correctly how to walk home, and German finances are deeply unsettling, and on top of all that the relations to most foreign business partners are still deeply strained, but he's happy to sense that he can't quite shake a feeling of confidence as he walks down the street, the late sun of April warming him just enough to not feel anything at all.
He grows slightly anxious as he slowly approaches their old house on Tauentzienstraße, not having seen it in five years. The street itself has remained largely untouched, perhaps a little busier than it used to be, but the overall pleasantly luxurious atmosphere it radiates is exactly the one it was when he left. Ludwig is stopped by an elderly couple, former neighbours who used to let him and Gilbert play in their beautiful garden, sometimes together with their older son, who had already nearly been done with school and was thus much admired by the two of them. Vaguely remembering something about his friend wanting to join the military, Ludwig asks if he is currently in Berlin, hoping to maybe meet up if the occasion ever arises. They give him a weak smile, the woman's eyes suddenly looking very old.
How odd, he thinks as he strolls onwards, turning around briefly to watch his neighbours disappear around the corner, how very odd to think that their former friend should be lying dead somewhere in a mass grave in France, head punctured with bullets or torn apart by a grenade, while his childhood friend can still feel the spring breeze going through the streets of Berlin.
The sound of their old doorbell triggers enough memories to make his stomach lurch, but he barely has time to recover himself. The heavy front door is all but ripped open in a heartbeat and Ludwig instinctively shifts into a slightly more secure stance just as his older brother half-hugs, half-tackles him with a joyous roar.
"Ludwig! I- Finally, took you long enough", Gilbert shouts excitedly, refusing to let go for the moment.
"It's great to see you", Ludwig says and awkwardly positions his arms on the smaller man's shoulders, immediately taking over his traditional role of the composed counterpart to his enthusiastic older brother.
For a long moment, they don't say anything else, entirely content to be standing together like this, united, relaxing tensions they didn't even know they were holding. Finally, Gilbert lets go of him. "Come inside, Ludwig."
Gilbert has arrived a few days ago and seems to be entirely at ease, moving freely and with confidence through the rooms that used to be restricted for their father's personal use only. "I've already started sorting through some of the old files, but honestly, I'm glad you're here to take over, especially for the foreign ones", he calls from the kitchen.
Ludwig smiles to himself, thinking of their school days. Languages never were Gilbert's strong suit, but then again, neither were natural sciences or maths, at least back in school. His older brother barely made it through the Gymnasium, not as a result of some kind of mental deficiency but rather because of his utter refusal to grant more than a fleeting glance to anything that didn't promise an instant reward. The teachers would often remark on their apparently radically different personalities, praising Ludwig and scolding Gilbert to their father, who was well aware of what could be expected of his two sons. Occasionally, it even surprised Ludwig himself how well Gilbert took to the constant critique and condescension that accompanied his childhood and youth, not once taking any of it out on his smaller brother.
Carrying a small tray with drinks, Gilbert manoeuvres into the salon. "We'll have staff here by Monday, so until then we'll just have to eat out – I have a table at the Adlon for tonight."
Ludwig takes the glass holding amber liquor that Gilbert offers him and takes a seat in one of the luxurious armchairs his father used to provide for his clients. Gilbert pours himself a generous portion and sits down next to him. "I've actually invited some clients already", he adds, voice slightly apologetic. "Suits me just fine", Ludwig answers, even though in all honesty he would have preferred to stay for himself tonight, to gather his thoughts together.
"They were all really happy to hear you'd be there, you know. Guess they're afraid of me." Gilbert grins at him. Teeth bared, eyes gleaming in the reflecting light and his white hair dishevelled, his presence may indeed appear intimidating to anyone not graced with the advantage of a life-long built tolerance for his manners, his looks, his overall Gilbert-ness. "Can't really blame them", Ludwig says with a very slight smile.
"Aah, bullshit."
"Seriously, try not to scare anyone off."
"Don't worry so much, we'll do just fine. Honestly, I think some of the people father worked with were practically waiting for us to take over."
Ludwig gives him an incredulous look.
"Why should they?"
"Well, you may not have noticed, living everywhere but here, but he hasn't really done anything much this last year. Just sat around moping or meeting fellow frustrated old businessmen to mope together with. He was a bit of an asshole." Gilbert stares out of the window for a few seconds and then sighs happily. "I mean, his Großindustrie friends are going to hate us, and so will those DNVP guys. But if we really start the business all over, I bet they'll come from all over the world to buy our planes. Family name still counts, you know?"
Ludwig nods and twirls the liquid in his glass, relishing its sharp and yet oddly sweet smell.
The air still feels pleasantly tepid when they leave the house for dinner, so they decide to walk. Gilbert is apparently just as boisterous as he used to be, practically bouncing around Ludwig while continuously chattering.
"I think I'd like to look for a new team to work with. There isn't much of a team, anyway, father fired most of them, but we should definitely fire the remaining ones, too. They're idiots, and they're narrow-minded. I have some awesome plans in mind, I need people who can appreciate them."
"You shouldn't take too much time, though. We'll have to get started as soon as we have the necessary financing."
Gilbert shoots a tiny glare in Ludwig's direction, who has never particularly enjoyed being his brother's constant voice of reason, but this is just how they work, how they have always worked: Lazily brilliant Gilbert, engineer par excellence, reliable, versatile businessman Ludwig. He has grown accustomed to this unspoken arrangement years ago, but now that they are working together after years of separation, it takes some effort to constantly kontra geben.
"No, I know a few guys who I'd love to work with. At least judging from their work, I've never met them. Don't think they speak German, actually, but I'm sure we could somehow work around that. Everyone should know some German."
As they approach the city center, the sound of chorusing voices grows louder. "Mann der Arbeit, aufgewacht! Und erkenne deine Macht.." The first of May isn't too far away, workers are preparing for the big protests. Ludwig grows slightly worried, but the demonstration seems to be taking part in some of the side streets and they make it to the Adlon without encountering any disturbances. Still, the beating of the drums resonates in his ears, like a threat left unspoken.
It's been a long while since Ludwig last set a foot inside such a prestigious establishment, not having had an awful lot of money to spare during his studies and travels. Feeling self-conscious but careful not to let any of it show, he waits in the background until Gilbert has grown tired of flirting with the receptionist. They are led to a large table in a secluded corner of the restaurant.
"Some of your guests have already arrived, Herr Beilschmitt", the waitress whispers and retreats.
A few men have already been seated, waiting and drinking in silence. Most of them seem slightly familiar, men he met a few times in his father's study room when the old drunkard was tipsy enough to take a certain pride in showing off his son to strangers. "He'll run the business, won't you, Ludwig", his father would slur, "you'll take care of everything, good boy", patting him on the head like one would do with an obedient dog. He takes a deep breathand moves towards the table in a few strides. "Gentlemen, it is an honour to have you as our guests tonight", he says, not quite managing to smile.
"The Beilschmitt boys! What a pleasure to meet you again, Ludwig", says an elderly man to his left, rising from his seat to shake hands. The others follow suit. They are financers, old business partners who are hopefully willing to cooperate, two bankers from some of the most important institutions in town. Ludwig is surprised to be greeted by a couple of younger men with a decidedly foreign lilt (Italian, maybe?) to their German, brothers apparently, whose last name sounds distantly familiar, probably an old customer's sons.
As soon as they have finished their greeting rituals, one of the bankers begins to speak loudly enough for the whole assembly to hear. "Certainly you understand that due to the unfortunate nature of this occasion, we would like to, as you say, talk business right away. Upon his untimely decease, your father's business was quite heavily indebted, but we have high hopes in your ability to restore the company as quickly as possible." The small man peers carefully at Gilbert through his pince-nez, but does not manage to establish any eye contact. Gilbert appears to have shut off completely, not looking at anything in particular as he downs his drink, his pale hair conveniently shielding him from prying looks.
"I assure you-", Ludwig begins, previously unaware that the company might need any actual restoring yet quickly grasping that this meeting might turn out to be even more difficult than anticipated, but he is interrupted immediately. "Could you give us a brief overview on the state of your plans for the company?" This question, delivered in a decidedly malevolent tone of voice, comes from one of his father's most frequent guests, a German shipping magnate.
Ludwig waits for a second, willing for Gilbert to speak up, to clarify this situation not only for their guests but also for him, but he does not so much as look up.
He clears his voice. "Unfortunately, I have only arrived today and have therefore not had any occasion to look through all the relevant files, but I guarantee you that as soon as we-".
"Let me spare you some work then, son. You don't have an awful lot of time left, so you may want to get the company back to work. Your father was so far in Rückstand he was probably happy to hand the company over to you two. Now, I'm not inhuman, and neither is anyone here at the table, so we'll give you some time to fix this. But if we don't get any results by the end of the year, there won't be much of a company left to work with."
This, Ludwig decides, has to be the most uncomfortable moment in his entire life. The three things he hates the most in life are, in this order, being unprepared, feeling weak and surprises of any kind. He hadn't expected to find all three combined so devastatingly for dinner. He stops attempting to explain what he does not understand himself, blocking out the reprimands until they finally cease. For once feeling grateful for his utter inability to show emotions, Ludwig manages to end the meeting with as much dignity as the situation allows, despite his total mortification. How is this supposed to work we cannot build planes out of dirt and clay we need money so much money oh god twirls around in his head, but he shakes hands and exchanges polite formulas that do not mean anything at all, really, because these people are intent on tearing them apart unless they somehow prove to be worth something after all. Gilbert won't meet his eyes. He probably knew, or at least sensed that the company's state was far worse than their father would let on, but he didn't. say. a. word. Ludwig is about to explode, to punch his older brother right then and there in the most elegant restaurant in town, when he notices that they still are not alone.
"Well", one of the brothers says with an infuriating smirk, his heavily accented German making even Gilbert look up, "I have to say, that was disastrous."
So, you guys. This is not only my first venture into the vast array of APH fiction, but my first attempt at fiction at all. Maybe a few words to clarify a couple of things:
English is not my native language and I currently don't have a beta reader, so if you have a hard time struggling with any accidental bizarro speak, let me know.
I don't know, would you like some brief explanations on the historical background?
This is supposed to be taking place in April 1928. With the government having fallen apart yet again due to the parties' inability to compromise on the school system (was srs bsns, apparently), the new government elected in May constituted the final part of the Weimarer Republic's parliamentary phase. I'm not entirely sure yet as to what period of time this fic will be covering, so I don't know if I'll get to the Präsidialkabinette and Hitler's rise, and even though that is an extremely interesting episode it's not really what I'd like to cover.
Not sure if I'm getting this across, but I'm kind of trying to make Ludwig and Gilbert incorporate the more liberal but highly conflicted spirit of Weimar.
That's basically the general stuff, if anyone's interested in the parties, the elections, the song, let me know that, too.
You need to talk to MEEE
Reviews are so ridiculously much appreciated, you have no idea.