Chapter 47 — Military Parade 2

[Next is the 301st Heavy Tank Battalion! Unstoppable war machines, the pioneers of a new era, the mere sight of them on our battlefields has routed entire armies! Impervious to the weapons of our foes, they carry terrifying cannons, leading the charges!]

The earth rumbled as white steam shot into the air, powering forwards terrifying metal beasts. The crowd became nervous as the colossal figures came into view, an audible tension.

Their tracks churned the ground beneath, leaving deep imprints on the cobblestone streets not designed for such heavy loads. There was no doubt about their power.

There were two types of heavy tanks in the battalion; the Mark IV and the Sturmpanzerwagen A7V. Of course, they were both modified to run on steam power. Interestingly enough, there was a design of the Mark IV tank on Earth during WW1 that ran on steam. Steam tanks are a surprisingly realistic concept.

The Mark IV and A7V were instantly recognisable as weapons of war. They were moving fortresses, cold and boxy, clad in riveted steel plates. A chill came upon every spectator as the tanks rumbled forwards. No trace of humanity could be found on them. Their tracks, interlocked metal links, wrapped around unstoppable wheels that crushed over any obstacle, inanimate or otherwise.

The tanks' appearance was not flashy or fancy like the war machines of other Empires; it was brutally simple. There was no showing off, no extravagance, just pure unfeeling ruthlessness. Every component, every detail, served to make it a killer on the battlefield. It reminded the audience of the true nature of warfare, a truth that had been gradually pushed to the background, forgotten.

Over centuries, the humans of the world have regressed and forgotten. Forgotten the true essence of warfare. Too obsessed with the display of strength, of extravagant parades, of fancy soldiers. But they had forgotten that the true strength of their armies was on the battlefield.

But although they might have forgotten, didn't mean the other races have as well. While humanity rotted, stagnated, the demi-humans, or as the Archbishop would put it, beastmen, never got complacent. They never relaxed their vigilance, constantly fighting, using lives to fill the gap of heritage, only intensifying their warrior culture of struggle, resilience, of undying determination.

Beside Konrad, the Archbishop watched the procession pass with complicated feelings. Through his long life, he had seen many things, but none quite as unique as this case.

The Third Reich brought him back to an earlier time period. Before the great crusade, during humanity's golden period. Of course, he wasn't around at that time, no one alive was. Well, almost no one alive was, but that was beside the point. As part of his learning, he had read extensively about the history of the Church and the time period of its peak.

Although he was not there, he could feel the energy, the vitality through the history books. He could imagine and form a realistic idea, a concept, of what the world was like. Not just its appearance, but its spirit.

And now, upon the witnessing of today's events, and by extension the Third Reich, he felt that same, nostalgic feeling for the first time here, not in the past but in the real world, in the present.

It was a culture absent from the degradation of the present times, it was the culture of an innocent, passionate, youthful country, one of ambition and the desire for greatness.

And slowly, like a budding flower, a decision was formed in his mind.

[Perhaps… this Third Reich might be the change we need]

As for Konrad's radicalness? That was a minimum requirement. After all, which great legend of history was not ambitious and a little bit extreme?

And at this moment, unknowingly, the Archbishop made a decision that would either pull the Church into heaven, or drag it into hell.

Konrad speaking to him snapped him out of his thoughts. However, this time, he looked at Konrad with slightly different eyes.

[Could I ask you to prove protection for me? Preferably some spells protecting against bullets and the such. I'd be thankful]

[Oh, no problem, just treat it as a favour between friends. But what are you preparing for? I think we're quite safe here]

To this, Konrad was silent as he gestured to Alexandra to wait.

[Next, our glorious leader Supreme General Konrad will now address the brave soldiers of the Third Reich!]

At this mark, Konrad stood up and exited the safe viewing platform to the salutes of his generals all around him. The Archbishop smiled and followed right beside and slightly behind him, casting barrier and protection spells. It was truly a luxury, having an Archbishop being your personal bodyguard. Few people outside the Church could claim such an achievement.

The parade had stopped, all the soldiers re-organising in even formation in front of the tall pedestal. It was good that a large chunk of the city was demolished and flattened so that there was enough space.

The silence was suffocating, everyone's attention was on the figure slowly ascending the pedestal. Hundreds of film cameras were pointing at him to capture this historic scene. The microphone on the pedestal was broadcasting not just to the audience here, but to the entire Third Reich. This was achieved through the telegraph lines, which now acted as telephone lines.

It was broadcasting to countless citizens crowding around radios, around loudspeakers, eagerly waiting for Konrad's speech. Like this, Konrad had just broken the record for the most amount of listeners to a broadcast in this world. Indeed, it could be said that at least hundreds of thousands were listening. This logistical nightmare had been in preparation for several weeks.

Konrad reached the pedestal and gazed over his audience. Wherever he looked, the crowd flinched. Not because of his personal strength, but what he represented. A ruthless tyrant with the blood of millions on his hands. A terrifying, inhuman beast of whom little was known.

He seemed to come out of nowhere, bringing the weapons of demons. No, not even the weapons of demons were this terrifying. He was never seen, always out of public sight, but his presence sure was felt.

His roots, his control, was spread, gripping tightly through his terrifying legions. They were his puppets, his tools for conquest. His entire Empire acted purely on his whim, he was the sole ruler, he held absolute power. Seas would rise and tides would fall at his will.

But to his own people, he seemed like the Messiah! He pulled their middling Kingdom from crisis to the world stage. They felt like they had a purpose, that their efforts were recognised! The caution displayed against them by the other Empires brought them great pleasure.

They had effortlessly gone from obscurity to being under the spotlight of the entire world! They wanted to fight, to kill, to leave their mark in history! Just look at the people they conquered, and how they looked at them with fear. Look at those powerful wizards and warriors, how they trembled in front of their guns!

A problem that will happen with any group of people large enough is that the individual will feel that their actions don't matter. After all, no matter if they try their hardest or not try at all, is there really a difference in the bigger picture?

However, the People's Army didn't suffer from his problem, in fact, quite the opposite. With firearms, every soldier was a killing machine, equivalent to a mage! Each individual soldier was powerful, powerful enough to turn the tide of a war between two small Kingdoms!