Re: Blood and Iron

Bruno sat in his office the day after the old flags of Portugal flew over Lisbon once more. A newspaper rested in his hands, and his eldest daughter sat across from him. She was practically an adult at this point.

Though how you defined such a thing was complicated.

Physically, she was fully grown. Mentally? Her brain had more or less completed its development — save perhaps the prefrontal cortex. Or maybe it had. There was no way to know for sure without a scan of the area, and that technology didn’t exist yet.

It was commonly misquoted that the prefrontal cortex didn’t fully develop until the age of twenty-five — but that was an average. In many cases, things like drug or alcohol abuse could delay its maturation. And in the case of the hyper-gifted? It could develop far earlier.

Legally, she wouldn’t be considered an adult in full until the age of twenty-one — such were the laws of the German Reich. But even so, that didn’t bar her from engaging in many of the activities typically associated with adulthood in Bruno’s past life.

Next year, she would be marrying the Prince of Prussia — the grandson of the Kaiser, and a man destined to inherit the throne once both his grandfather and father had passed… or relinquished their claims.

But Eva wasn’t thinking about Wilhelm right now. Her eyes were locked on her father, questioning — calculating. The girl wasn’t a fool. Quite the opposite. She had inherited Bruno’s brilliant mind and his passion for geopolitics.

She understood exactly what Portugal’s coup meant. The return of its monarch to a throne long left vacant by corrupt politicians elected through popularity contests and false promises. And, of course, the equally detestable bureaucrats who — in every republic — robbed the nation blind and sold its soul for the slightest chance to line their pockets, if no loaded gun was pressed to their backs.

Portugal was entering the fold. The military had sided with the exiled king — Manuel II — who had inherited the throne from his father after the man was assassinated in 1908. He had reigned for a mere two years before being overthrown by republican rebels and forced to flee the country of his birth.

Manuel had now been invited back by the military. The Republic was cracking at its foundations — foundations built on wet sand. The burden of its neighbors, and its neighbors’ neighbors, was too much for the small coastal country to bear.

To those with an older sense of virtue, bringing back the king — at a time when monarchies and empires flourished — was a natural step toward securing ties with Germany that would never have formed under a republican banner.

Eva knew all of this. She wore a smug smirk on her face as she watched her father sip his coffee and read the paper in silence. He was too quiet — and in the end; she grew impatient. Groaning, she demanded an answer from the man she knew was purposely triggering her.

“So? What do you think? This changes everything, doesn’t it? We now have coastal access to the Atlantic! Father, this is great news!”

Unbeknownst to Eva, Bruno was exhausted. He needed more time than usual to wake up. His voice was low as he took another sip of coffee and casually glanced at the sports section. When he finally spoke, it came as a lecture — low, calm, and pointed.

“You know, baby girl… while intelligence is an admirable trait… patience is considered one of the seven heavenly virtues. You would be wise to temper that eagerness of yours while you’re still young. Because if you get to be my age and haven’t learned that lesson… life will bring you to your knees.”

He didn’t say another word. He flipped his paper again and continued reading — leaving Eva in silence far longer than expected.

Too long.

Bruno looked up — and saw her sitting there, patiently watching him with that same smug grin still tugging at her lips. She had not only processed his words, but taken them to heart so quickly, so thoroughly, that it almost felt like she had been testing him the entire time.

And in that grin, he saw his beloved wife — her mother. That look Heidi always gave him when she knew she was right.

He couldn’t help but smirk back as he folded the paper and sat upright.

“Very well. Let’s discuss the matter. It appears that little girl — the Habsburg Archduchess. What was her name again? Hedwig? She’s going to be the bride of Manuel. This would suggest that the Habsburgs were already in cahoots with the conspirators who led the coup against the republic…”

Eva narrowed her eyes, slightly annoyed by her father’s feigned forgetfulness.

“Really, Father? Am I supposed to believe you don’t remember the Archduchess’s name? Wasn’t she one of the little girls who orbited around you as if you were the sun itself? Back in the day — when you were still young, that is…”

Bruno gave his daughter a glare that could’ve cut stone — a raised brow and a murderous gaze that sent invisible spiders crawling down her spine.

“Oh? I’m old now? Funny… that’s not what the mirror tells me. I barely look thirty.”

Eva exhaled, relieved to hear the playfulness return to his voice. She composed herself, regaining her confidence once she understood he wasn’t truly angry.

“Father… in a year, you’ll be forty. It doesn’t matter how young you look. It’s not acceptable for you to act like you’re still playing hard to get with a woman nearly half your age…”

Bruno’s smirk vanished.

His posture sank.

And his eyes shifted — not toward Eva, but toward something behind her.

Eva’s words faltered as she noticed the chill in the room. Not heat — chill. A whisper at her ear — soft, but unmistakably deadly.

“Oh? And what are the two of you discussing so early in the morning?”

Eva froze. A cold sweat broke across her back. She didn’t dare turn her head — didn’t need to. She felt her mother’s expression before she saw it.

Only now did she realize she had dug a little too deep into her father’s past — and her mother’s shadow had been watching the whole time.

Bruno, ever the doting father, even in the face of his daughter’s verbal lashing, stepped in to redirect the storm — shifting the subject with calculated precision.

“Why, we were just talking about the ongoing situation in Portugal — and how it affects the Reich’s global position going forward. If a naval base can be negotiated on the Iberian coast, it gives us a position similar to Britain’s control over Gibraltar… and would force the British to think twice before trying to block our Mediterranean access. Isn’t that right, Eva?”

Eva could not possibly agree quicker.

She nodded rapidly, casting her father a glance that said “thanks for saving me again” before offering her mother the sweetest half-truth she could summon.

“That’s right. We were discussing how one of those pitiful little girls who used to orbit around Father is finally marrying the King of Portugal. Isn’t that great, Mother?”

Heidi, fully aware of the truth from the start, let the temperature in the room thaw. Her cold aura faded, replaced by the loving mother and wife that she truly was.

Clearly, she had only intervened to spare her husband the indignity of being slandered in jest — even by their own daughter.

She responded with gentle words and a whisper sharp enough to slice bone.

“Oh? Well that sounds promising. And Eva, dear… don’t ever slander your father, even if it’s just a playful little tease. I won’t tolerate such incendiary falsehoods — even from my own beloved daughter. Understood?”

Eva nodded silently as Heidi turned and walked off to “fetch some tea,” giving both father and daughter time to recover and gather themselves.

It was Eva who broke the silence.

“I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to put you in that spot. I was just having a little fun at your expense.”

Bruno scoffed, shaking his head.

“Eva, you think I care about something like that? I’ve survived bombs, artillery, bayonets, and machine gun fire. I don’t give a damn what others say about me — especially in jest.

But you should realize… it wasn’t my honor you were insulting. It was your mother’s.

And I’ve made princes bleed for less.”

He leaned forward, letting the lesson settle like ash on the morning air.

“I know you were just trying to have some friendly banter with your old man. But think about what those words actually mean — and who they affect when spoken aloud.”

He leaned back again, his voice softening.

“Now, where were we? Portugal, yes — and my thoughts on the matter?”

They moved on to a conversation about power versus alliances, and why one should never place faith in the promises of allies when strength can be secured through self-reliance.

But for Eva, the most important lesson she learned that morning wasn’t in the maps or treaties.

It was this:

There were men in the world willing to kill to protect their wives.And women who would do the same for their men.

And in that moment, Eva began to realize…

Maybe her parents weren’t so saintly after all.

Maybe, just maybe…

They were deeply human.

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