Heroic. That was how the residents who took up arms against the German aggressor must have felt. Picking up weapons, marching together with the small police force of the country, facing a behemoth they could not possibly defeat. But those brave men held one fatal false assumption. They believed they would fight other men, foot soldiers like themselves.
Instead, towering before them, were not humans, but monsters. Monsters carved from steel, their turrets aimed directly at them.
Then, finally, a human showed his face.
An officer, judging by his uniform, climbed down from the foremost tank.
Slowly, he walked past them. Their knees already ached, yet none dared to voice it or rise to their feet. This man would not hesitate to shoot them if they even flinched.
"Grand Duchess," the officer said, his tone elegant, directed at the woman standing in the large doorway of her residence. The residence of the Luxembourg royal family for decades, for centuries. Their ancestral home, now surrounded by German forces who had stepped onto their land illegally.
Grand Duchess Charlotte's gaze matched her expression. It was the look of someone who had lost, yet still wanted a rematch.
"General?" she began, her slight accent carrying a questioning undertone.
"Jeager," Paul answered warmly.
"Well, General Jeager, on behalf of our nation," the Duchess began.
"Oh please," Paul interrupted, glancing at his watch. "Why don't we go inside and discuss these matters over a cup of tea. A quick one."
The Duchess looked at the peculiar General with surprise, but still gestured for him to step inside.
Paul observed the hallway as they walked.
Extravagance. Gold. The past. He studied the ornaments and portraits lining the walls. And dying, like every monarchy nowadays.
Soon, they entered a room. The Duchess gestured toward a chair.
Paul sat down, clasping his hands, while the Duchess gave quiet orders to a pair of attendants. She then returned and took a seat herself.
"Are you in a hurry?" she asked.
"Yes, unfortunately," Paul replied, leaning back.
"To rob more land?" the Duchess asked, tilting her head.
"Indeed," Paul answered without shame, something she had not expected.
"Indeed?" she repeated, surprised.
"Yes. What else are we doing? We are robbing you because we are stronger," Paul said, his gaze shifting to the door as the attendants entered with fresh tea.
Paul took his cup and raised it to his lips.
"You do not seem so strong now, General. I could have put something into the tea, or rallied my attendants to attack you," the Duchess said provocatively, not lifting her own cup.
Paul lowered his cup, smiling faintly.
"You would not poison me. You are old nobility. You have a strong, if misplaced, sense of honor. As for your attendants, they would not survive," Paul replied before finally tasting the tea.
"It is good, thank you. Perhaps you would like to continue with the topic from before," Paul said, placing the cup down.
The Duchess shook her head slightly before setting her cup aside as well.
"On behalf of the Kingdom of Luxembourg, I hereby surrender unconditionally to you, General Jeager."
Paul nodded.
"Good."
He took the cup again and sipped.
The Duchess narrowed her eyes at the scene.
"You are quite young," she began, before being interrupted.
"You know, Duchess, there are two options before us right now," Paul said, locking eyes with her.
"My men could remain here for some time. Roam freely. Have some fun. I am sure they would enjoy it," Paul continued, his gaze wandering through the room. "Perhaps they could sleep here. You have many guest rooms."
"And the second option?" the Duchess asked, pressing her lips together.
"We could leave immediately. A small occupation force would remain, of course, but it would soon be replaced by German police."
"What do you choose?" Paul asked, meeting her gaze once more.
The Duchess looked at him for a long moment before speaking.
"The second option. Of course."
"Well, there are some prerequisites. First, I want no resistance from anyone in this small piece of land. Second," Paul continued, taking another sip of his tea.
"What is it that you want from us?" the Duchess asked, annoyed.
"I want something from you," Paul said, smiling.
For a moment, there was silence. Then the Duchess flushed slightly. Paul noticed immediately and raised his hand.
"No. Not what you are thinking. I am happily married. I want you to flee to London," Paul said.
The Duchess quickly collected herself and gave Paul a questioning look.
"Flee? Why?" she asked.
"To live there, of course. And to keep a little long distance friend. Me," Paul replied, his eyes now more dangerous than amused.
The Duchess's eyes widened.
"You want me to spy for you," she realized. "Why should I?"
Paul stood up, the teacup still in his hand. Slowly, he tilted it, letting a few drops spill onto the floor.
"What are you doing?" the Duchess asked.
"Anything I want," Paul answered calmly. "The same applies to the fate of this residence. As I said before, you can live in peace, or you can suffer. That depends entirely on your performance. Of course, you could go to London and never write to me, supporting the Allies. But I would calculate the odds carefully before deciding, dear Duchess."
The Duchess twitched slightly, her worry evident. Paul observed her reaction with interest. In the original timeline, this woman had fled and supported the Allied war effort. But this was no longer the original timeline. It had been altered drastically by Paul's interventions.
She would do, Paul thought, watching her reaction.
"I…" she stammered. "How would we approach it?" she whispered, embarrassed.
"Do not worry about that. You already have the trust of the British royal family. That is the best starting position one could wish for. You will not be suspected if you make no mistakes. A friend of mine will contact you," Paul said, turning and walking toward the door.
"The tea was excellent. I hope you make the right decision, and that we may drink another cup together in a distant future. Here," he added, giving the Duchess one last pressing glance before exiting the room and leaving the door open behind him.
Paul exited the palace, the afternoon sun gleaming brightly against his face.
"General, how did it go?" Hasso asked, intrigued.
"We will continue onward immediately. We have already wasted too much time here. That rascal is probably far ahead by now," Paul replied, glancing back at the palace windows. A woman stood there, watching.
"So. Good or bad?" Hasso asked. Reicher, standing beside him, only shrugged.
Either way, Paul's division moved on, leaving behind only a small occupation force. Soon, they crossed into French soil, where they linked up with Rommel's division, which had already seen its first real engagement with French forces.
"How was it?" Paul asked as Rommel stepped up to him.
"Only a light detachment. Our scouts report that the main force is on its way. French tanks," Rommel answered, tilting his head slightly.
"Well," Paul said, his gaze drifting into the distance, "this will be the first real enemy we have faced."
Rommel followed Paul's gaze.
"They won't break easily," he said.
Paul tightened his gloves. "Neither will we."
Between the trees of the Ardennes, engines howled. Echoes of distant battles carried through the forest, the desperation of those trying to stop the invaders audible in every roar.
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