Re: Blood and Iron

Henri d’Orléans stood at the doors of Bruno’s palace. Jaw agape, as he witnessed its grandeur.

It was a behemoth of neo-baroque architecture, mixed with futuristic technology. Its scale was easily on par with Versailles, or perhaps… even bigger.

Bruno did have a tendency to be petty when it came to matters of the French. And the idea that Versailles was debatably the largest palace in the world rubbed him the wrong way.

Since he had decided to construct this monstrosity for the sake of his family and future generations, he ensured that he broke the record without dispute.

Even so, Henri did not remain slack-jawed for long. Instead, he was greeted by the staff at Bruno’s home, who invited the man indoors.

And there he saw Bruno and his family. Larger than he ever expected it to be.

Bruno and Heidi had eight children of their own. Four boys and four girls. And among them, half were now married with their own kids.

Their spouses and children were equally present, and dressed in exceptional formal wear.

Bruno himself wore his military dress uniform, the medals won in wars past adorned across his body. Glistening under the light of the chandelier, provided to the palace via the Tesla resonance tower embedded in its tallest spire.

In fact, the Palace in Innsbruck had multiple redundant power systems, whether in the form of solar panels on its roofing that blended seamlessly with its aesthetic.

Savonius wind turbines mounted on the hills above the palace grounds, its power cables routed through fortified structures beneath the earth.

Or simply the geothermal micro-generator embedded in the lowest level of the bunker complex beneath below the surface of the palace grounds.

Bruno’s palace was built to survive the end of the world. But Henri did not know these things, instead his eyes were captivating by the opulence on display.

“I must say, your highness, this is…. As much as it pains me to admit, this is grander than Versailles.”

Bruno, not being able to conceal his contempt, could not help but make a joke on the matter.

“Yeah, well, Versailles is now a ruin, so I would hope my home is more suitable than it.”

Henri wanted to frown at the remark, but Heidi beat him to it, nudging Bruno in the ribs with a disapproving gaze, as Bruno recovered his sense of hospitality, and provided introductions.

He went on for quite a while personally ensuring that Henri met and shook hands with each of his family members, and in the end, Bruno invited the man up to his office.

Where once it was closed, he offered him a drink.

“I have whiskey, wine, and beer. Pick your choice.”

Henri, ever the Frenchman, was quick to choose the obvious.

“A glass of wine would be nice….”

Having mistaken what Bruno considered was the only acceptable form of wine, Bruno cracked out two crystal glasses and poured a cup of port for each of them.

He was, after all, still working on finishing the King of Portugal’s gift. And had yet to put a dent in the pallet from Lisbon.

Henri’s eyes opened wide when the wine hit his tongue and he realized it was far stronger than he expected it to be.

Placing the glass down on the desk, after taking a few courtesy sips, while Bruno eyed him cautiously.

In the end, the awkward silence was interrupted solely by Bruno’s discretion.

“So, I have summoned you all this way, well you know why. It was made pretty clear by the way I wrote the address in the letter, no?”

Henri, finally having been given an opportunity to speak about this, latched onto it and was quick to offer his thoughts.

“I honestly thought you were joking when I saw what was written. The house of Bourbon was deposed in finality nearly a century ago. And you think the French people will accept another King?”

Bruno was silent, at least at first, while he sipped from his wine. He continued to do so while measuring the man sitting across from him.

“Yes… I think France will be begging for a king within the next fifteen years. I won’t lie to you, at the rate things are going, another war will break out. And unfortunately, I will have to teach France a very painful reminder of what happened in 1871 and 1916. This time so that they never forget.”

A brief pause, as Bruno sipped once more from his glass.

“And when I do, France will be in a worse state than it was in its civil war. They will need legitimacy in order to prevent another one of those from occurring. And that will come in the form of the rightful monarch returning from exile and claiming his seat like his ancestors before him.”

Henri was stunned by this news. Sure, things had not been the most stable in France, especially after the most recent coup.

But another war? One far greater and more destructive than the previous one? He could not help but rise in protest.

“Can such a thing really not be avoided? With all of your wealth and power, can you not prevent the outbreak of another war?”

Bruno placed his cup down and sat up in his seat. Leaning forward he pressed his hands together while staring Henri in the eyes.

“Please… Sit….”

Almost subconsciously, Henri sat back down, his outburst quelled with a subtle shifting of his head downwards and the sweat on his brow. All the while Bruno continued.

“The time for that had passed. If de Gaulle could have been eliminated during the midst of his coup, I would have had a chance to press forward with a transition towards long-term stability through your reign. But alas, the fates intervened, and he survived the encounter with Charon. Now, I am forced to prepare for war.”

Henri fell silent… For years it had been the dream of his family to return to power and reclaim their lands and titles.

But the way Bruno presented it, the only path to achieving this aim was if France was lit ablaze so horrendously, that it would require the Bourbons to return in order to save their soul.

It was a complicated matter. On the one hand, he wanted to stand up, turn around and leave.

Rejecting Bruno’s offer. But that wouldn’t stop Bruno, and that wouldn’t stop de Gaulle from proceeding with this madness.

What mattered now, what was his duty, as the rightful heir to the throne, was to ensure that when the world bled, and France burned, he was there to sweep away the ashes, and rebuild.

Because of this, Henri sighed heavily, picking up the drink he had placed down at the start of the conversation, and drinking its entire contents in a single forceful swig.

“Alright… For France, and its people, I have no choice but to align myself with you. Especially since I know that neither you nor de Gaulle plan to back down from whatever fury has stricken the both of you. I would almost believe that you have been compelled by Lyssa into such insanity, but I know better than that.”

Bruno, having met a man who quoted the mythology of the ancients as much as he did, curled his lips into a playful snicker.

“Oh? You know of Lyssa? A name usually forgotten by even the most educated of men. You are surprisingly well informed for a Frenchman….”

Henri did not take offense. His face did not twist and mutate into a scowl, rather the opposite.

An eager expression formed on his regal features as he fired back at Bruno, having accepted the man’s challenge.

“That’s rich coming from a German like yourself….”

The two men laughed as they poured another glass of wine. And the discussion that followed was no longer about war, politics, or the madness that consumed men to wage those two things with the ferocity of savages.

Rather, they discussed family, life, and their individual aspirations.

At one point Bruno even took the man on a tour of his house, showing off the many portraits, most of which were painted by his daughter Elsa’s hand.

By the time Henri bade farewell to Bruno and decided to return to Paris he had understood the man well enough to know that Bruno was not a man who looked forward to the upcoming war.

Rather, while lamenting its necessity, Bruno understood that so long as France stood defiant, and Germany stood dominant, there would be another reckoning.

One that could only be quelled when one emerged in a victory so overwhelming in its totality that the desire for another conflict faded from the collective consciousness of both realms and their people.

And unfortunately for Henri, he understood that France was destined to be on the losing end of this conflict.

As patriotic as he might be for his country and its fellow man. He knew by the end of the night de Gaulle would not stand a chance against a man like the Lion of Tyrol.

With that in mind, he returned to Paris fully intent to cooperate with Bruno, to ensure that in the world that emerged from the ruins of the next war, France would be able to survive.

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