Chapter 689: Power

In the German Reichstag, the parliamentarians sat in dense rows, layer upon layer, looking like the scales of a large fish, overlapping and quite a sight to behold. Most of these people were dressed in black and gray suits, while some wore the uniforms of the SS, the Wehrmacht, and some wore military-style jackets without rank insignia.

Those who could sit here were all social elites of a certain status. No system can guarantee that its top decision-making circle can accommodate people from the bottom of society. The pitiful identities of farmers and workers only appear in a country’s highest leadership body at certain specific moments, and over time, these workers and farmers will gradually transform into advanced producers, labor stars… eventually evolving into “upper-class people” like peasant entrepreneurs and worker startup models.

So there is no need to embellish any system. It is nothing more than a variation and improvement of elite rule. As for the core, it will never change. A truly democratic politics where everyone participates? Who would dare to give the decision-making power to build a nuclear reactor or to expand a war to a farmer? Who would dare to put someone who has worked in industrial automation their whole life in charge of the national grain reserves for the next quarter? So, let’s just throw the idea of absolute fairness into the cesspool. It’s just a slogan to be shouted at any time to attack hostile countries.

Now, this Reichstag of the Third Reich was even more interesting. Most of the people sitting in it were the beneficiaries of the country’s expansion and development. Every single person here was more or less involved in the war. To put it more bluntly, every single person here was a heinous war criminal.

But here, now, were famous corporate executives who contributed millions of cars to human civilization every year; famous philanthropists whose aid organizations had saved over a hundred thousand homeless refugees in the past six months; of course, there were also outstanding engineers who had improved the heavy water production process, and media moguls who could turn black into white… The only thing missing was a criminal.

The reporters’ flashbulbs were constantly going off at the high-ranking German generals sitting in the first row. The magnesium flashes popped one after another. At the head of the row sat the Field Marshal of the Third Reich’s army, von Rundstedt. Then came the generals from the Imperial Logistics Department, the General Planning and Equipment Department, and even the generals from the Imperial Personnel Reserve Department. Although these senior officers were not usually in the limelight, they were all genuine representatives of the real power in the imperial military.

Further back were rows upon rows of socialites: Krupp’s eldest son, a representative of the young generation of the new imperial nobility; the agent of the Jewish financial magnates; and the chairmen or leaders of other political parties. But surrounding them and outnumbering them by a hundred to one were the representatives of the Greater German Party, sitting there with expressionless faces and the party badge on their chests. Compared to the other factions, they were a sea of people, accounting for more than ninety percent of the total.

In the assembly hall, everyone was discussing the reason for convening this emergency session of the Reichstag. Some of the well-informed already knew about the American bombing of the Romanian oil fields and were clearly a little worried about the Empire’s attitude. After all, the war with the Soviet Union had already cost Germany hundreds of thousands of young men of military age, which was definitely a very serious blow to a country.

“I think it’s better not to act on impulse. If possible, signing a non-aggression pact with the United States… would be more in line with the fundamental interests of the Empire,” a nobleman said, peddling his ideas to a very well-dressed noblewoman next to him, hoping to gain more supporters for the upcoming vote. It was no wonder he hoped for peace between Germany and the United States. He was a merchant dealing in French wines and luxury goods, and opening up the American market was clearly more tempting to him than war.

On the other side, the representatives of the military-industrial enterprises, which were most strictly controlled by the Greater German Party, had the exact opposite attitude. They were already discussing increasing the annual production of incendiary bombs and aerial bombs by another 400,000 tons to meet the operational needs after the expansion of the war.

A fat man in a white suit was introducing his cannon production line to a man in a military uniform without rank insignia. This Belgian merchant had been authorized by the Ministry of Defense to produce 150mm self-propelled guns, using a modified version of the outdated Panzer III chassis. “The workers’ production enthusiasm is very high, and overtime is not a problem. At least three of these guns can roll off the production line every day. If we don’t wait for the paint to be applied and just load them onto the trucks, they can be pulled away and issued to the front lines on the same day!”

The man next to him was no small character. His attire already said a lot. This kind of dress was very fashionable in Berlin now and indicated that this person was a traditional Junker noble who had responded to the Empire’s call. Although they had no real power, their traditional status made them exceptionally prestigious. Most of these people had their own shares in new industries and, although they had no decision-making power, still had a considerable say.

He listened to the Belgian merchant, who had become a German citizen six months ago, promoting his production line and products, nodding from time to time. A few days ago, he had shown an interest in participating in arms production and was currently investigating several promising military projects. He could be considered a major financial backer, so it was no wonder the former Belgian was trying so hard to sell himself.

In the first row, a general from the logistics department was leaning over and whispering to Field Marshal von Rundstedt. He was worried that the logistics department’s preparations were not as perfect as imagined and that something might go wrong in the future war. “My Field Marshal, is the Empire really going to declare war on the Americans? The reserves of strategic materials in Germany are not sufficient to meet the needs of a two-front war. We must persuade the Führer to give up the idea of a direct confrontation with the United States…”

“General, if I were you, I would shut my mouth and sit back in my chair,” von Rundstedt said with a frown, looking at the pot-bellied logistics general in front of him, not forgetting to add a touch of sarcasm. “Personally, I believe that as a soldier of the Empire, one only needs to receive the Führer’s orders and carry them out.”

“Yes… yes!” The general saw that von Rundstedt was unwilling to say more on the issue of starting a war, so he quickly shut up. Compared to these famous generals who had fought and won glorious victories at the front, these men who had spent their careers in the logistics department had to give way. They didn’t even dare to think of retaliating by holding back supplies. If these trusted and beloved generals of Akado were to complain to the Führer’s residence, they would definitely be in deep trouble.

While everyone was guessing at the reaction of the Führer and the other true high-level decision-makers to the American attack on Romania, a line of SS men walked into the assembly hall and stood with their hands behind their backs on both sides of the aisle, their chests puffed out. After these men entered, the buzzing sound in the large hall completely disappeared. The entire hall became eerily quiet. Everyone involuntarily sat up straight, their expressions becoming wooden and stiff.

Sure enough, a few seconds later, with a high-pitched cry of “The Führer has arrived,” the main doors of the conference hall were pushed open from both sides. Akado, accompanied by Anna, walked in, a grave expression on his face.

The moment his foot crossed the threshold, a loud rustling sound erupted in the hall of over a thousand people. It was the sound of buttocks leaving folding chairs, and there was even a hint of uniformity in it. Akado’s prestige in all of Germany was unshakable. Imagine that Hitler in 1944 was still as steady as Mount Tai. One can imagine how much power the current Akado wielded in Germany.

“Heil Akado Rudolph, our Führer!” As everyone stood up, as all their right hands were raised, as the heels of their boots clicked together, a deafening cheer erupted simultaneously. At this moment, no one would question the wonderful feeling that power brings. Anyone facing such a mountain of cheers would feel a sense of joy. There were no exceptions.

Surrounded by a forest of arms on both sides, Akado walked on the red carpet towards the position that symbolized the pinnacle of power. The person who could stand there was a person who could influence the world, a person who could change history, and also the most powerful person in this world.

He walked on the red carpet, step by step, until he reached the intersection of the aisle and the first row of the audience. Then, under everyone’s gaze, in the flashes of the reporters’ cameras, he smiled and waved his hand at the saluting von Rundstedt, signaling everyone to be at ease. The entire auditorium once again echoed with the sound of arms slapping against the sides of their trousers.

“My Field Marshal! Are you ready for war?” Akado did not turn to walk towards the chairman’s seat but faced von Rundstedt and asked.

“My Führer! Army Group A is ready to march to the front at any time! I believe that all of your troops, like me, have been ready for battle from the moment they swore an oath to you!” von Rundstedt replied, standing at attention. “Give the order! My most respected Führer!”

Akado nodded, then turned and walked towards that highest position, where various loudspeakers and microphones were already set up. Their design was very exaggerated compared to today’s, but their workmanship was very fine, exuding the kind of heavy beauty of German mechanical design.

Akado stood behind these microphones, the smile on his face gone, and the temperature in the entire hall instantly dropped. “Gentlemen, in view of the American attack on Germany’s ally, the important oil production base of Romania, I express my deep regret… Since Roosevelt thinks he has a hope of defeating Germany, then I will give him this opportunity! You all think that I will give an important speech today. In fact, you are mistaken. I only have one sentence I want to tell you!”

Published: 2025-09-18T11:10:43.000+00:00
Last Edited: 2026-02-27T18:42:21.000+00:00
URL: https://www.patreon.com/caleredhair/posts/mtr-c689-power-139175654

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