Chapter 3: Stagnation is the death of a nation.

2/8 2025

Reichstag, Germania, Greater German Reich.

The Reichstag was packed. Any and all who was worth anything within the German Reich had showed up. Another Führer had kicked the bucket, marking the fourth in five years to die. One of them only lasted 43 days before kneeling over and dying after a stroke.

Ulfric was seated in the front row. Lightly tapping his briefcase. The noise within the room was unbearable. All of them yelling at one another, each one louder than the last. Yet somehow in the sea of words, not one was making any sense. He cursed himself for not bringing his aspirin. The speaker of the Reichstag called for a silence with three strokes of his gavel. Suddenly, silence became of the otherwise unruly crowd. Ulfric adjusted himself in the seat, making sure he sat upright and looked presentable.

They were going to announce the next Führer in just a few moments. Hopefully someone competent this time, yet in his head he knew that would not happen, and he and Gottfried would have to get to work again.

"Gentlemen..." the speaker began. "As you know… The period of mourning has passed, and the time has come for the party to elect the person to pick up the mantle of the Führer. As you all know, our great Führer did not get a chance to pick a successor, so the job has befallen to us. All of you have now voted, and the time has come to see the results."

He almost felt bad for Martin, who got promoted to the official speaker of the Reichstag ever since the death of Führer Bormann. He had held this speech so many times, Ulfric was sure it was more a sense of familiarity driving him rather than a script. If his intonations and speech was anything to go by, he had memorized this whole thing three years ago. He must have been the speaker to cover the most passing of leadership by now.

Ulfric locked eyes with someone from the militarist faction for just a second. He didn't even know the name of him, but his seated position gave away his loyalty. Ulfric looked away again, not wanting to start a staring completion just as the results were about to be revealed.

"As we all know, ever since the passing of our great Führer, Adolf Hitler, and the rise of his successor, Führer Hermann Göring, the law was passed that the Reichkanzlei is the ultimate authority in ultimately deciding who shall continue the legacy of our great Reich." Martin reached from under his podium to bring out the envelope hand sealed with the mark of the German Eagle on it. "And so…" He nervously moved to open it, hesitating for a second, "...it is with a clear conscience, and with the utmost respect of the Reich's wishes that we announce…"

Time slowed down in Ulfric's mind as he buried his hand to his temple, hiding his face. A thousand thoughts ran through his head, and none of them pretty. This time around it was so obvious of the lack of suitable candidates all the parties had, they were bad before, but at least some of them had characters, these ones might as well have been cardboard cutouts of Speer, Göring, Bormann and Hitler himself. He was so lost in thoughts however that he didn't even manage to hear who was elected, he simply knew that he would have to get rid of them.

It was to his shock however that when he opened his eyes, the entire council's sight was on him, partnered with thunderous applause. He was confused, unsure as to what was going on around him.

"Ulfric Kuhn, by the power invested in me and by the will of all the German people, please, step forth." Martin spoke to the microphone, looking at him with an expression filled face he had not seen from the lad in years. Ulfric slowly, but surely, arose from his seat. Once again being met with applause from the conservative faction, a few within the reformist faction were clapping their hands as well. Some within the militarists even seemed to be giving approving nods, yet none showed it openly. He also caught the sight of some of the few loyal SS politicians within the Reichstag, they were silently sitting in their chairs, stone faced.

Ulfric moved forth. Almost gliding among the marbled floor towards the podium. Once there, Martin handed him the Reichsmarshall's ceremonial baton, engraved and littered with gold, luxuriously encrusted with both the German Eagle and the Iron cross. Perhaps if he was still in his old military uniform, it might have even looked good on him, but unfortunately, he did not stake his claims with the militarists, so the only thing he wore to meetings was a suit.

"If you will, Mein Führer, address the nation." Martin requested with a slight smile on his face, he hated how excited the man looked in all this.

Ulfric stood there as stone faced as the SS men had been just a few moments ago, scanning his eyes over the horizon in front of him and holding the podium as tight as he could, so as to not reveal his shaking hands. The room had turned silent as they looked to him, as if they were seeking answers to everything. He never realized how tall it was at center stage.

The silence continued as Ulfric struggled for words. He would've at least prepared a speech if he thought this was ever going to be a possibility in a million years.

"Thank you." he said simply, and the awkward silence turned to a quick chuckle. It wasn't often the Führer showed gratitude, nor was it often that they were sweating profusely on their inauguration. Just as he seemed lost for words once more, he saw a figure in the back. Standing proudly in his military uniform. Gottfried had perhaps the biggest smile he had ever seen. He knew he had something to do with this. Words suddenly came to him.

"My fellow Germans… Friends… This is the greatest honor one could ever hope for… I hope to use this opportunity to help the Reich survive. It is no secret that our glorious nation is plagued by a cancerous growth. A sickness swelling from the inside, something we have been long overdue on addressing." The mood suddenly turned less joyful as more and more of the Reich's politicians seemed to be having more serious faces, it seems they were beginning to realize just what they had done. "I won't lie to you, I am sure you have seen it yourselves, but we are on a clock. If we truly wish to pursue the father of our modern nation's wishes, and have Germany last a thousand years and more, then there is only one thing to do."

He took another look at the sacred baton, this mantle had been passed from Führer to Führer over the years, exchanging so many hands, Ulfric finally realized the position he was in. It was the same position Hitler had been in, that Göring was in, Speer, Bormann, all of them were in this very same position. Yet unlike the fat pigs in front of him right now, they choose to act, to use this baton to its greatest extent. And like those fat pigs in front of him, Ulfric was no different. He was no saint, he was no mastermind plotter or hardened soldier, he was a politician. There was no miracle he would be able to perform, no great sweeping reforms, no second Night of the Long Knives.

He raised up the baton, high enough for all to see, and with one swift motion smashed it on the podium, sending the mantle flying.

"My fellow Germans. This baton has no place within the Reich." he lazily threw the remaining bit in his hand on the ground, and yet inside he screamed, for in his moment of pure emotion he had perhaps made enemies of the entirety of Germany. "This baton, the symbol of our eagle soaring across the world, has no place in a country that has forgotten their values. That has forgotten the goal our great Führer set out to do in the first place. Making a world free from degeneracy and impurity. Ensuring the Aryans' survival." That was when he spotted them, the SS men perked up, as did the conservatives, whilst the militarists and reformers looked on in horror at what their newly elected Führer had done.

"Our citizens grow fat and lazy from their luxuries. They have no ambitions anymore. Our great Wehrmacht sits still, content on playing cards and watching television. Our economy is falling behind, debts are piling up. The streets on fire because of protests, and rightly so! Have we forgotten what it means to be German? Did we not conquer the world once, and then the moon? And then the Solar System? Do we just sit here, and wait? For what? For the resources? For the land? Or to simply reaffirm our desire to prove our superiority." he smashed his fist on the podium, sending the broken top of the baton flying off. "I say Nein! I will not have us squabble amongst each other like children! I will not have our race grow weary and fat of the spoils of conquest while our enemies plot against us! I will lead the Reich, yes, but I will lead it, not rule it. And as Führer, I shall say this…"

He looked around one last time, making sure to remember the faces he would see this day, remember and burn them into his memory. They will be his enemies from now on, from this day until his death they will oppose every one of his actions and try to undermine him no matter the cost. And yet in the end, all he could see was his friend, having the biggest shit-eating grin on his face, and fighting the urge not to bust out laughing. It was that sight that made Ulfric realize why he was doing this. He had the power, he had the Wehrmacht, he had his friend.

"I shall say this." he continued, now calm as a flowing river. "I expect you to do the same."

Later that day…

Ulfric's office, Reichskanzlei, Germania.

Ulfirc was storming around his office. Knocking over bookshelves and whatever else came in his path. Meanwhile, Gottfried was sitting lazily in a chair to the side, laughing his ass off, while balancing a Weissbier in one hand and a cigarette in the other.

"Gottfried you utter baboon of a man, you incompetent, self-serving, son of a bitch. You bastard, you cowfucker, you ninkompomf, you motherless piece of actual garbage "

"Settle down Ulfric, it's nothing major."

"I will end your entire career right here!"

Gottfried's eyes shone with amusement as he stared at Ulfric. The bastard took a drag of his cigarette and exhaled smoke at him with a grin, as if testing him.

"Doubtful, but I wouldn't mind an early retirement in Tahiti if that's what you're suggesting." Gottfried leaned forward in his chair, "You need me, Ulfric. No matter how much you think for yourself, or how many mind games you try and play with the other pansies in here. All those tongue twisters won't do you any good when the SS come knocking." he did a little stomp with his jackboots. "And that's where I come in."

"Why the fuck do I need you? I just committed political suicide! Because of YOU!" He growled, "Every low life ball of piss in the Reichstag smells blood in the water… MY BLOOD! Do you understand? And they will step over their own mother if it meant being the one that puts two bullets in the back of my head. I'm FUCKED Gottfried! With a capital F! I won't last ten minutes out there!"

He resisted the urge to snot his friend across the face when all he did was stare back at him with the brightest smile on his face. Gottfried threw his arms out wide.

"You got me, Ulfric. And by having me as your buddy, you have the support of most of the Wehrmacht. The militarists wouldn't dare touch you if it means losing support in the ranks. The Reformists liked your little speech… Most of it anyway. The conservatives were a little shook, I suppose they liked your references to the good old days. The SS are the ones you have to worry about, but even they don't dare touch the Führer, at least not so soon after the election." Gottfried explained as he took another drag of his cigarette. Ulfric shook his head.

"This is why you never became a politician, Gottfried. The army may have my back, but what about the other fronts? What will your guns and men do if someone poisons my food or just kills me while I'm asleep?"

Gottfried waved away his concerns.

"Then they'll lose the support of the army, which means about 90% of the current standing army in the Reich, and as many of the people you can get on your side at that time. I've been on these streets Ulfric, the people aren't scared, they're not angry, they're not even sad at this point. They're apathetic. They don't care about anything at this point."

Ulfric scoffed, "Big words from you monkey man, you open a dictionary since I last saw you?"

"I'll let that one slide as I see you're very emotional right now. However, what I'm saying is that if you make them care, then the people would be more willing to support you."

Ulfric narrowed his eyes and calmed down a bit, his friend got the politician's side of his brain working again. "That could work…" he muttered, placing a hand on his chin to contemplate. "But there's no guarantee. And like you said, if they're apathetic then it simply means my words will just become white noise to them."

"Not exactly." Gottfired got up from his chair and took another drag from his cigarette, "You're a political unknown, all the suits in the Reichstag may know you or have heard of you but the common German not so much. This whole event and your inauguration could just be enough to pique their interest." Gottfried clapped him on the shoulder, "It's not every day the Führer is someone they've never heard of."

"I… suppose you have a point there." Ulfric hesitantly conceded.

"Not to mention you were very… Unorthodox in your speech and mannerism… Not everyday someone smashes the baton of the Reich Marshal." Gottfried laughed.

"Oh god, I did do that, didn't I?"

"Never knew you were so strong, Ulfric. I remember you faking your push-ups back in the army."

"Yeah well even an ant can lift a log every now and again." Gottfried shook his head.

"And now that's where the problem is." he took one last big puff of his cigarette and put it out in the decorated ashtray. "You see yourself as an ant. You think Hitler or Göring ever saw themselves like that?"

"Don't try and philosophize to me. That's my job. You might as well be wearing clown shoes if you tried." Ulfric straightened his tie and looked forward with a new look of determination.

"Well then… I suppose I better start writing my speech then." Ulfric said.

"Besides… It ain't like you've never been double crossed before…"

"I told you not to ever bring that up again!"

20/8 2025

Ulfric's office, Reichskanzlei, Germania.

Ulfric had been busy. He never realized just how busy he would end up being when elected Führer. He thought his former position didn't allow for much free time, but this thing took up everything. He was running on a good four hours of sleep most days. He had even thought about bringing his bed to his office, if it wasn't for the fact that there were constant guests in there, from both domestically and abroad.

He was signing off a new law that allowed for greater freedom of travel for labourers both within the Reich and between the Reich's unitypakt members. He hoped it would encourage economic growth in both the Reich and in the other member states as well. He sighed as he put the pen down on the desk again.

"Mein Führer… Is there something wrong?" Reinhard Müller asked. His newly appointed minister of finance.

"No, I'm fine. I know these reforms are for the betterment of the Reich… I just think I need more sleep." Ulfric replied with a weak smile as he handed the minister the piece of paper.

"If I may, mein Führer… You could always hand out some of the lesser tasks to a secretary, or a deputy of the party." Müller suggested as he placed the paper in his briefcase.

"I know, and maybe I will. But bureaucracy will be the death of me… I'm no Martin Bormann, you know." Ulfric responded, he sunk into his chair. "You may leave, Müller. I'm expecting the chief of the army any moment." Ulfric requested.

"Of course. Heil Germania!" Müller said as he saluted the Führer. Ulfric was happy to have five minutes for himself before Gottfried would show up. 'Perhaps this is what killed off all the previous Führers, endless work' he thought about it for a second, then scoffed 'No, none of those lazy fucks were doing half the work I've done these past few days.'

He walked over the coffee machine he had installed on the far side of his office. His legs felt weak as he moved across the floor, even though he had been seated most of the day. He weakly pressed the button that would produce him some liquid energy. When his cup was full, he took a well deserved sip.

"This stuff is the mother's milk…" He muttered to himself. Feeling a small boost at the bitter taste. He walked back again, he sat back down in his chair and leaned back as he took another sip.

There was a knock at the door. "Come in!" Ulfric yelled. The door creaked open. And it was none other than Gottfried, in his new Field Marshal uniform. He waved a salute as he entered. "Please, take your time." Ulfric remarked as he rubbed his temples.

"You tired already? It's only like 2 in the afternoon." Gottfried asked, not jokingly as Ulfric might have expected.

"You bet your ass I'm tired. Haven't been outside of this room in 48 hours." Ulfric angrily replied. "Anyhow, let's get down to brass tacks. Gottfried, we are fucked."

"This is the 730th time I have heard you say that. Yet somehow you keep finding a way out." Gottfried remarked as he hung his coat up on the rack. His visor cap too. "So what's the problem this time?" Gottfried asked as he sat down in front of Ulfric.

"What's the problem? You wanna know what the problem is? The problem is that the conservatives are sidelining me! That the reformists are encouraging riots in the streets! That the militarists are whispering of staging a coup! That the SS are working behind my back! That's what the problem is!" Ulfric ranted. Throwing his pen on the table and sending it flying to the other side of the room. Gottfried remained unscathed in his seat, like he barely noticed.

"Perhaps the conservatives are angry that you employ such liberal minds like Müller in your government." Gottfried suggested as he pulled out his pack of cigarettes. He then wasted no time in lightening one of them up.

"Thank God you are here, Gottfried! How would I ever figure this out if not for you!" Ulfric exclaimed sarcastically, but with a bitter tone behind it.

"You need to calm the fuck down. You haven't been sleeping, Ulfric. All that coffee is making you a wreck. Forcing your body to work when it needs rest." Gottfried lectured.

"You turn into a fucking physician or something? Perhaps you would prefer being minister of healthcare? Lord knows we need one." Ulfric as he pulled up a potential list of candidates for the position.

"Why not pick a militarist for that position. One less thing they'll moan about, and they won't be able to do shit."

"No, we'll get a good conservative to fill in those clown shoes. I hear Fihren's been moaning about not having any work at the council meetings, might dump it on him, see how he likes not getting sleep."

"You take away that lazy fuck's sleep, and he'll turn into the ape he looks like."

"Colourful commentary, as always…" Ulfric said tiresomely. "But that's not what I called you here for. I need suggestions, Gottfried, good men who can fill the ranks for me, men who have a spine, men who can think for themselves."

"So you're essentially telling me to find a needle in a field of haystacks."

"It's not as impossible as it sounds. Take a look through our armed forces, you could maybe find some ingenuitive minds in the Kriegsmarine or the Luftwaffe, perhaps some of Donitz's and Göring's mind was left in those cores."

"I thought we agreed that the entire Wehrmacht was to remain apolitical. I won't have my men start wearing suits and ties to boot camp. We defend the Reich. You pencil pushers decide who we are defending it from. The Japanese? The SARF? The remains of the Red Army? Or some Africans living in mudhuts." Gottfried replied with a sharp tone in his voice. Ulfric knew this was something Gottfried was passionate about. Gottfried never cared much about politics, but you fuck with the army? You get his full wrath.

"I know… I know… But I'm desperately trying to pull together a government here. Most of the Reichstag refuses to work with me. Müller only agreed after I promised bigger economic reforms to the Reich…" Ulfric sighed.

"I know it's tough. But I think you forget who you are. You are the goddamn Führer for crying out loud. We'll make this work. I got the army, you got the influence and power. Countries have been kickstarted back up again with less. You play politics, I make sure no one else does. Then together we can face the SS menace when the home front has been secured." Gottfried assured Ulfric.

"I don't want a cabinet of loyal yes-men. I want minds, I want hearts, I want bodies. I want our Reich to have a soul again Gottfried, like the old days."

"Hah! Sounding more like Bormann every second now."

Ulfric opened up a drawer full of documents regarding reports of their annual net income. Records showing all the way back 10 years and with prediction of the Reich's trajectory in the next 10 years.

"Our GDP is growing at 0.2 percent annually! 0.2 percent! How are we ever going to get forward in life with this hanging over our heads? At least Müller understands economics. To be honest, I actually think he might be the right choice. Radical, but not socialistic. Liberal, but not a reformer. He's just the right type of extremist we need."

"What about the militarists, how are you keeping them in check? I know my part in keeping them out of the Wehrmacht, but what about the Reichstag?" Gottfried asked.

"That's what I have you for. The suits in the Reichstag may decorate themselves with fancy medals, but if you asked them what war they fought in, they'd probably say some random skirmish in the Sahara. You've been on the front lines, you've shown the soldiers you care-"

"Ulfric…" Gottfried interrupted the Führer, "... I told you, I'm not going into this political bullcrap."

"And thankfully, you won't have to. You just need to keep doing what you've been doing for the past twenty years, show the Army who the real man at the top is, and sway their loyalties to the point where going against you would be factional suicide. Not a single paper signed and you can do it all a thousand miles from Germania."

The field marshal thought about it for a moment, and he could understand where Ulfric was coming from, it made sense, in his own sort of way. "So what? I just… convince everyone I'm the real leader of the Militarists?"

"Don't convince, show them. Walk around like you own the place, any big shot starts coming to you, you don't salute, you wait for them to greet you. And once some time has passed, people will notice I'm favoring you, if anything, they might just start going into your good graces for a chance to earn some recognition from me."

"I don't know Ulfric. You're essentially asking me to start acting like those SS orangutans in Burgundy and the Baltics. Walking around like they own the place. I'm still a soldier, if boot camp has taught me anything it's always salute your superiors."

"Good thing you never payed attention during drills then."

"Heh, got a point there." Gottfried chuckled. "What about those Technocrats? Not much you hear from them."

"For some reason, they have picked up an interest in space travel. Which they haven't been since the 1960's. Funnily enough, I got a telegraph from my Netzram inbox. Does the name Alberta Elisa Hitler ring any bells?" Ulfric asked.

"Wait… A.E. Hitler, you're right I have heard that. That one plane girl? From the Hitler family line?" he could scarcely believe what he was hearing. Ever since the death of the first Führer, the Hitler family has more or less been deified by the German people, and for good reason. This surge in popularity was met with an enigmatic approach by most of Hitler's relatives however, only in recent times have they begun resurfacing in the public consciousness. The main reason for that being the rumored "guinea pig" for the research division of experimental aircraft design of the Luftwaffe, Alberta Hitler.

"She was mighty impressed with my speech. So impressed that she even offered her services, should I ever need them. Though I don't I'll have her flying any of my planes anytime soon."

"Why not? I heard she's a pretty good flier all things considered."

"Well she is, but she deals with experimental crafts, and experimental crafts tend to crash and burn. I'm surprised she's still alive at this point, she's been doing it for nearly a decade. Can't imagine how she managed to convince the air research division to let her fly. Much less her own family."

"You don't say no to a Hitler. Doesn't matter which one."

"You're right on that front at least."

"But… That seems more like something short term. How are you going to win more favor with them than just having a good PR stunt in your pocket?" Gottfried asked in a confused manner.

"Remember what I said about space travel? They think they are onto something big. Our space endeavors ended when we reached Venus, and poor old Deathshead died. If I throw some money into the research of it… Then we're golden." Ulfric shared his knowledge.

"That could work...But it could also backfire if you fail. Cause then you just have a failed space program and a lot of time wasted."

"That's why it's mostly token money. You know, send Luftwaffe astronauts out to survey Mars. Keep them entertained and the technocrats happy. That's all I can think of in that regard."

"Good… At least we have some sort of battleplan now... " Gottfried looked up at the time. "Oh shit… I'm gonna be late home. Hanah is gonna kill me… Literally. Or make me sleep in the hen house." Gottfried began hurrying towards his coat and visor cap. Wasting no time in getting dressed. "I'll see you tomorrow Mein Führer." Gottfried went off with as unprofessional of a Sieg Heil Ulfric had ever seen.

"Right, right. Heaven forbid you leave matters of state before your wife." he muttered to himself once Gottfried was already firmly out of the room, not even closing the door on his way out.

He got up from his chair and closed the entrance to his office. "Right… you have a plan now." it was a voice as hushed as the ones you would hear of children using to hide from their parents. "But that just leaves one question." he went back to his financial reports. Müller was kind enough to format them all neatly and have them be as readable as possible, he never was good with numbers but charts and statistics he could understand more or less.

"How the hell am I going to fix you?"