Chapter 30

Flying made everything so much easier. The trip from Berun to Wien would have taken most of a day by train. I was able to make the trip in a little under two hours with my computation orb, even after slowing down to accompany the escort the Czechoslovakians insisted on providing as I overflew their territory.

It was a cold, clear morning. I'd bundled into my old military issue wool overcoat in addition to my usual flying clothes, and even so I was still diverting a little extra mana towards keeping my hands warm. The view, though, was spectacular. Neumann had wrangled a week off with his American paramour in exchange for his silence regarding my testing debacle, so I was left to enjoy the sights by myself once I left the Czechs behind at the border.

Visha had been in Wien for the last few days, making sure that our World Cup preparations started off on the right foot. The stadium had not even started to take shape, but the construction site did look reassuringly busy as it came into view. The workers below were scurrying back and forth with purpose. I could only hope that they weren't just putting on a show while they knew I'd be watching.

It didn't take me long to spot the one major landmark in the area. A large billboard, painted bright white. Once everything was finished, it would stand in pride of place in a plaza outside of the stadium to serve as the canvas onto which a team of mages would project illusions depicting the action going on inside. For now, it made for a convenient place to meet.

My first thought when I saw her was that I was badly under dressed. Where my clothing was strictly utilitarian, Visha had bundled up against the cold in a stylish set of furs. She was also, unless my eyes deceived me, wearing makeup.

Really, though, my clothing was definitely appropriate for visiting a construction site and then taking a stroll around town. However, while I would be leaving in the afternoon, Visha would still be working hard to get the stadium built. She probably had a meeting scheduled with some of the local big shots who would be helping to make everything go smoothly. There was no need to overthink either of our wardrobe choices.

Visha welcomed me to Wien with a friendly hug, then led the way to the construction site. Along the way, she filled me in on the work she had been supervising. It sounded like quite a bit, considering that she had only been in town for a few days. Well, that was to be expected with such a large project.

Even so, when I looked over the stadium site from the ground it still mostly looked like a collection of randomly placed holes and piles of dirt. I couldn't really make out the order that was to form out of this chaos. Of course, that's why I was leaving the work to the professionals. The workers seemed to be in good spirits, at least. They couldn't have been thrilled to have a distant boss fly in to interrupt their usual routine, but they at least put on a show being happy that I was taking a personal interest in their efforts.

We didn't linger around the stadium site for long. We were on a schedule, after all. The next stop was the planned stadium village. Rather than inflicting the crowds and traffic associated with major events on an existing neighborhood, we had decided to locate the stadium on the outskirts of town and build up the capacity to handle throngs of drunken tourists at the same time that we built the stadium itself.

Fortunately, it was much easier for us to acquire an appropriate plot of land than it would have been in modern Japan. As it happened, an old aristocratic family had once used this area as a country retreat. They were unhappy with the way that the growing city was encroaching on their territory, and were happy to sell at a reasonable price. I suspected that having their name associated with the World Cup had some allure, as well.

For now, the whole area was still unimproved grasslands, save for a few dirt roads. Carefully placed stakes and ropes told the tale of the future layout of the place for someone who looked carefully. One end of the main road would end at the stadium, of course. Several blocks away, the other anchor for the road would be the train station. There would be train service both from Wien's city center and from the park and ride facility currently under construction over by the autobahn.

The plan was for the main road to be largely used by pedestrians, and to line it with bars, restaurants, and souvenir shops. The streets working away from the main road would see more of a mix of hotels, grocery stores, and eventually ordinary residences. We wouldn't be doing the construction work on the town ourselves. I was half afraid Brodhun would present me with a collection of concrete boxes and ask for praise. Instead, we would be employing more or less all of the construction firms in Wien in the hope of building up some semblance of local flavor.

The effort wasn't doing our budget any favors, but I figured we could just call it an economic stimulus. In theory, we could eventually make money from renting out facilities or selling the land, but I wasn't going to insult the intelligence of the Diet by pretending that sort of thing was likely. Fortunately, they had proven happy enough to vote to spend any amount of money if it was in the name of making Germania look good.

I had seen the whole village's layout sketched out on paper. Walking through it gave me another perspective and helped me feel reassured about our plan. This was an important part of the charm offensive we had planned for foreign journalists. Even if our stadiums were slapped together at the last second, even if our cuisine was still our cuisine, as long as they could at least travel to and from the game in a convenient and orderly fashion and find hospitable beerhalls along the way, the foreign press corps ought to be inclined to cut us some slack.

All of that efficient transportation was still in the planning phase, of course. For now, it was a good thing that Visha and I could fly. A quick burst of magic took the two of us to one end of Wien's ring road, the street that was said to house the city's most spectacular architecture.

My natural instinct was to treat this like a reconnaissance mission. Our objective was to examine our targets as quickly as possible. Before I could take more than a few steps, though, Visha latched onto my arm and slowed me from a forced march to a leisurely amble. I didn't try to resist. She was the one who would have to turn our plans into reality, so she should decide how long we spent examining each building. Besides, it was hardly unpleasant to stroll around the city with a beautiful woman on my arm.

It would have been more pleasant if I'd been reincarnated in my original body. Although, in that case Visha would not have been nearly so touchy-feely. Probably.

I glanced to the side, seeing her carefree smile. Visha had lived a sheltered life in the 203rd. Of course, as a capable aerial mage she was physically more than capable of defending herself. I still worried that she would open herself up to emotional harm. It had been some time since our last heart to heart, and she hadn't yet told me anything about her love target. With each day that went by, I was more worried that she had fallen for someone who would end up breaking her heart. She was an adult, though, so I was resolved to keep my nose out of her personal life.

Turning back to what I was supposed to be doing, Wien didn't lack for impressive buildings. The city had been a major center of power and commerce for centuries before Osterry had even joined the empire. That heritage had worked a sort of justified arrogance into the city's bones. By comparison, the capital Berun seemed like the home of a bunch of nouveau riche.

Fortunately, Visha and I had similar tastes. Out of all the varieties of buildings on display, we both kept gravitating towards the clean lines and simple beauty of the neoclassical style. I wasn't sure how well anybody would be able to duplicate the style in concrete, but that wouldn't be my problem. It would be up to Visha to find somebody willing to try. Worst come to worst, we could just claim we were creating a new style inspired by the classical examples.

Once we'd settled on the three buildings that would serve as the key examples of the look we wanted, it was time for lunch. Visha had picked out a cafe that was owned by ardent supporters of the Germanian Workers' Party. She had met them during the most recent political campaign, and spoke highly of the meals she had enjoyed there. It would have been more effective if I hadn't had the experience of watching Visha tear into a plateful of K-brot with a smile on her face. Suffice it to say, I didn't have high hopes for the local cuisine. I did give them high marks for service, though, when Visha and I were greeted at the door and immediately ushered upstairs into a private dining room.

I followed Visha's lead and ordered a second plate of what she was having. I was pleasantly surprised when the food was delivered. It wasn't boiled or steamed. Nothing was pickled. There wasn't even any sausage on my plate. No, it was a simple savory crepe, a mix of cheese, vegetables, and spices with just a bit of meat. I found it a little hard to believe that I could order such a thing without leaving the country.

Our conversation as we ate was light-hearted. We mostly spoke of practical matters. Scheduling our trips to the other three cities that would be hosting the World Cup. The logistics of editing and delivering films of the games to be shown in theaters. That sort of thing. When we had both finished eating, though, Visha set down her fork and gave me a serious look.

"Chancellor," she said, "I know about that."

I sat up straight. I could feel icy fingers dragging down my spine. I had been betrayed!

"Did Neumann tell you?"

I had replied without thinking, but even as I said it I realized that Neumann probably wasn't the culprit. I had paid him well for his silence. He was the kind of person who wouldn't hesitate to tattle, but once bought he usually stayed bought. A more likely culprit was Elya. I had been hoping the incident would pass beneath her notice, but as expected she was sensitive to the information flowing through the Imperial bureaucracy. I couldn't even blame her for sharing a bit of non-classified trivia with her friend.

The source of the information didn't matter, though, really. What was more important was that I put my own spin on what had happened before Visha could start teasing me about it.

"Well, anyway, it's expected that rigorous testing could result in destroyed equipment," I said, doing my best to adopt a more casual tone. "I'm sure the test pilots melted a few orbs along the way."

I had certainly destroyed plenty of orbs back when I was an official test pilot. If professional test pilots melted orbs from time to time, and I had melted a computation orb, then I must still have the skills of a test pilot. Logical fallacies were one of my strongest subjects.

"You melted your computation orb!" Visha said, her calm facade cracking and falling away.

The point was, that while melting a computation orb might be a beginner's mistake, if you looked at it in a larger context, it really wasn't that bad. Perhaps Visha had listened to too many of my political speeches to be taken in by a simple con like that.

"Yeah, yeah..." I said, waving a hand dismissively, before trailing off as I noticed the incongruity. "Wait, I thought you already knew?"

Visha looked down, her cheeks flushing slightly in embarrassment. After a moment, she had gathered herself and managed to look me proudly in the eye.

"You told me to say that when somebody was acting suspicious," she said.

I just stared at her. How had it come to this? I remembered giving advice to a young Lieutenant. Specifically, advice on what to do in order to rein in a shady boyfriend. I never would have expected her to take that advice and, against all reason, turn it back on me.

Visha reached out to take my hand in hers.

"You should be more careful. I," she said, then cleared her throat. "The whole country is relying on you."

We'd gone straight past friendly teasing and landed directly on sincere concern. That was bad. Instead of a friend ribbing somebody for missing an off ramp, this felt more like a family gathering to discuss whether grandpa should still be allowed behind the wheel.

I'd fought throughout the entire duration of the Great War, save for the year I spent in War College. In all that time, even as I led from the front in battle after battle, I was pretty sure that none of my subordinates had ever seriously considered the possibility that I might die. Not while I was awake and had a computation orb in hand, at least.

Now, after seven years of civilian life only briefly punctuated by the destruction of a Francois expeditionary corps, Visha was downright worried for my safety. Had she gone soft? Not likely, not when I recalled the looks on the faces of those cadets who had been put through her remedial training. Just how badly had I let myself go?

In the face of such a heartfelt appeal on such a serious matter, my only possible response was to deflect with humor.

"You aren't bored after being stuck in the same job for these years?"

Visha drew herself up as straight as she could without letting go of my hand. Her face flushed with confidence.

"Of course not," she said. "I want to be your deputy forever."

That was also troubling. She had noticed that the job of deputy chancellor was more appealing than the job of chancellor. Sure, the chancellor could boss you around, but the working hours were quite reasonable and the compensation was about the same. Most importantly, the world didn't see the deputy chancellor as the embodiment of the country's spirit, which meant that it offered a clear path to a safe and comfortable retirement.

On the other hand, people did change over time. Even if she was happy in the same job for three years, she might not be after ten. Everybody wanted to see their career progress move forward. In a sane world, I should lose an election well before that became relevant, but if Being X was going to keep sticking his nose into things, then I needed to stick with my own long term plans as well.

As for the matter at hand, I had already decided not to continue working as a test pilot. It was just pride that had me wanting to hide that fact from Visha. Now that she had caught me out, I was a big enough person to admit the truth.

"All right, all right. I'll restrain myself," I said. "I got stir crazy and went overboard. It won't happen again."

Rather than gloat, Visha looked thoughtful. "You could start making regular visits to the academy. I'm sure we could put our own aerial lacrosse team together."

"To play against the kids?" I asked.

A little friendly competition was just the kind of thing to keep active. Without any risk to life or limb, Weiss wouldn't have an excuse to keep putting things off. The only problem I could see was that the cadets didn't seem likely to do their best against opponents who outranked them.

"It'll be fun," Visha said, squeezing my hand for emphasis. "Besides, if it's just to get some exercise, does the level of competition really matter?"

That was a fair point. Even if our opponents weren't really trying to win, at least I'd have an excuse to be in the air. As long as I was reasonably graceful in victory, the cadets shouldn't bear too much resentment. They might even consider it a worthwhile trade in order to rub elbows with their superiors.

"I guess not," I said. I glanced to the side, and saw the woman who had welcomed us to the restaurant lurking in the doorway. "Ah, is it time for the check?"

Prompted by my question, the waitress came bustling into our room. Visha let go of my hand and put her hands behind her back, blushing slightly. I never really stood on my dignity as chancellor, but Visha had an odd sense of propriety sometimes. The waitress was beaming at her. It seemed the two of them had become friends during the election campaign.

Actually, pushing my memory further, calling this woman a waitress was selling her a bit short. She and her husband owned this place together. She was a few years older than Visha and not much taller than me. She had a full head of dark hair and a generous figure that perhaps carried an extra pound or two. When she turned to face me it was with a motherly smile.

"Don't be silly, dear. There's no charge for the two of you," she said. "I just wanted to see if you were interested in dessert."

"Hmmm," I said, torn. I did like free food. I also liked sweets. On the other hand, I didn't want to impose too much on Visha's friend.

"It's a strawberry filled crepe," she said, "topped with chocolate sauce and whipped cream."

"All right," I said. If she was that intent on forcing desert on me, it would be rude to resist.

"Wonderful," she said. She glanced at Visha, receiving a nod, before taking a note on her pad. "Has everything been to your liking so far?"

"Yes, the food was excellent," I said. What was it you were supposed to say at fancy restaurants? Ah, yes. "My compliments to the chef."

Her face lit up. "Oh, Addie will be so glad to hear that! I'll go get him."

With that, she turned and hurried off down the stairs. Wait, was I supposed to compliment the chef to his face? I looked at Visha, confused. She seemed, if not happy, at least not alarmed. If I had to guess at her emotions, I'd say she looked resigned. Before I could press her for an explanation, the cafe owner returned.

She wasn't alone. A hefty figure came lumbering into the room behind her. If she could stand to lose a few pounds, he could stand to lose a few stone. I could acknowledge that the fat and happy chef was a valuable marketing tool, but at some point you ought to worry about your own health. His forehead was glistening with sweat just from rushing up the stairs. Despite that, he was standing bolt upright, brimming with pride. A veritable soldier on review.

"Chancellor," he said, "the meal lived up to your expectations?"

It was strange having somebody I'd never met before hanging on my every word. Still, there was no harm in being honest. It had been the best meal I'd enjoyed in quite a while, after all.

"Yes, it was quite good," I said. I took a closer look at the chef. Something about him struck me as familiar. "Have we met before?"

"I ran a message to the 203rd once, during the war," he said, then laughed, sending his belly shaking. "Of course, back then I could fit into a uniform."

His wife patted him on the shoulder. "You still had your mustache, too, dear."

I searched memory as best I could, but came up blank. I'd met an awful lot of soldiers during the war. He must have just had one of those faces. Rather than admit my failure, I decided to change the subject.

"Well, you've done quite well for yourself since the war," I said.

"The food here is terrific, and the decorations too," Visha added. "I especially like those paintings."

Our room had been fitted out with a tasteful set of decorations. The focal point of the outside wall was the window, of course, but the other three walls each featured a nicely framed painting. I was hardly an art critic, but they did look quite nice. Not something you'd necessarily see in a museum, but better than you could just buy off the street.

"Why, thank you," he said, puffing himself up. It was like watching somebody pump air into an already inflated beach ball. "I painted them myself, actually."

"Truly?" Visha asked.

"We met at an art exhibition, actually," his wife said, smiling. "Addy was going to study at the Wien Institute of Art."

"Once I married Ruth and had a family to support, though," he said, "I had to face the fact that my pastries sold better than my paintings."

He patted his belly to punctuate the remark. It seemed he didn't carry a grudge from having had to give up his dream career.

The capitalist system was a marvelous engine of prosperity, but it couldn't guarantee that every individual was always happy. Sometimes the things a person enjoyed doing and the things he could do to earn money didn't match up. It was a relief to see that, at least in this case, that mismatch hadn't created any lasting resentment. My one permanent policy goal as Chancellor, after all, was to make sure that the public didn't launch into a violent revolution that would threaten my own life.

Not that this guy was much of a threat to anybody, other than perhaps his wife if he were to roll on top of her in his sleep. As a matter of principle, though, I was always happy to meet a citizen who was content with his lot.

"Honestly, though," his wife said, "we owe much of our success to you, Chancellor."

"Me?" I asked. I certainly would have eaten here all the time if I had heard of this place earlier, but as far as I knew I'd never put a pfennig in their pockets.

"Before reunification, our business was drying up," she explained. "We would have been forced to shut down if things had continued as they were."

I'd known the Osterrian economy had been in a downturn, but it seemed I had underestimated its extent. If quality establishments like this one were nearly ready to go out of business, it certainly helped explain why their government had been so desperate to reunify.

"Or, at least, I would have had to ask my father in law for another loan," the chef added. "Avoiding such a fate was more than enough to earn my undying loyalty, even if I hadn't already joined the Germanian Workers' Party."

Judging by his tone of voice, he was speaking perhaps half in jest. It seemed our free meal was coming with a complimentary side of family drama.

"Now, dear, daddy did help us get this restaurant started," his wife said. She still sounded cheerful, but there was a definite warning note in her voice.

"A fine investment," he replied, "that was repaid with interest."

At this rate, the happy facade was going to drop soon. I really didn't want to sit through a full blown domestic argument. Unfortunately, using the Type 97 to escape would be rude. It would also mean abandoning my dessert.

I looked over to see that Visha looked equally uncomfortable. I gestured towards the couple with my head, urging her to try to derail the oncoming argument. Fortunately, she got the message.

"Ah, I forgot to thank you earlier," Visha said. "Giving the opening speech for our campaign rally in Wien was a big job. You did quite well."

Once again, I was forced to consider whether Being X had intervened in the last election. I had long realized, of course, that Visha had made mistakes during the campaign due to her naivete. Seeing them in detail, though, always made my head hurt. Just because he was her friend, she had rolled this fatty out to try to rile up a crowd of voters? It really made me doubt that my win had been on the level.

He was all smiles again, now that he was the object of praise. "If I succeeded, it was only thanks to the Chancellor. All of Osterry is eager to bring the Francois to heel!"

"Yes," his wife added. "Duisbuch was a good start! We're all excited to see what you have planned next."

Just as with national affairs, it seemed the secret to harmonious coexistence in the domestic sphere lay in shared hatred for the Francois Republic. It was frustrating, sometimes, to be in charge of a nation where even happy small business owners were cheering for a war of aggression. In the long run, the best way to secure peace would be to persuade ordinary citizens like these two that peaceful prosperity was worth more than any military victory. Until then, all that I could do was resolve myself to exercise the power of my office to restrain the nation's military yearnings

Our chef soon excused himself to head downstairs and tend to the melting chocolate. The dessert, when delivered, proved as decadent as promised. I'd definitely swing by Heidler's Cafe the next time I visited Wien. As I left, I made a mental note to check back and see if they could make anything suitable for consumption at the stadium. We did have that large extended food court area to fill up, after all. It would be a shame if the whole thing turned into nothing but a showcase for different varieties of sausage.

ooOoo

Time passed. Days turned into weeks. Weeks into months. All the while, I enjoyed the luxury of governing a country that, for once, wasn't facing any imminent disaster.

Visha and I had quickly selected the appearance of the other stadiums. In Berun, a few lovely buildings would serve as models of the art nouveau style to be applied to the stadium. The stadium in Hambrück would mimic the brick gothic of the major regional landmarks, while the stadium in München would ape the area's famous half-timbered buildings. Transforming those aspirations into concrete reality would be tough, but that's what subordinates were for. I resolutely stayed out of their work and let them handle the practical problems by themselves.

Her other suggestion, of regular aerial lacrosse games, proved to be a wonderful idea. We were able to field a team with Visha and myself as the forwards, Weiss in the midfield, and Neumann and Koenig as defenders. Teyanen played goalkeeper, backed up by Grantz when he was injured. The academy students, as I expected, refused to play seriously. I found that I didn't mind as much when it had been part of my expectation going in. I actually had to restrain Visha from running up the score in frustration. I was surprised that she cared so much about the integrity of the game. In the end, I managed to arrange things so that we always won by a reasonable but not excessive score of ten goals.

In order to reward the students for putting up with the hassle, we always stuck around for drinks afterward. I appreciated the chance to stay in touch with my old companions, as well as to get to know the young mages coming up through our new system. While I wouldn't be commanding them in battle, it still wouldn't hurt to have some first hand knowledge of the troops serving in the army that I would be relying on if everything went to hell.

Contrary to my expectations, though, nothing had gone wrong for several months. Our new prototypes of the heavy tank and modern fighter were able to get through demonstration exercises without crashing or burning, suggesting that they might enter service within the next couple cycles of equipment acquisition. In foreign affairs, the Allied Kingdom increased spending on its army, just as I had asked, though not by as much as I had hoped. They also ran into some problems negotiating basing rights with Pullska. I was a little disappointed that I wasn't asked to mediate, but I could understand that both sides had their pride to consider.

The Francois stopped expanding their army. Instead, President de Lugo committed to a complete overhaul of their equipment, planning to have a fully modern military within a year or two. I found his plans a bit alarming, but at worst it would bring their army to parity with ours. I also didn't think they'd be able to keep their gear up to date as time passed, reducing the long term threat that they posed. Really, the whole thing seemed to me to be a way to engage in economically useful deficit spending without admitting that the Francois approach to the Great Depression up to that point had been completely wrongheaded. Their economy was still in a shambles, of course, but men employed in arms factories or the army were less fertile ground for a revolution than men who were starving and unemployed.

In Ildoa, the northern forces were holding strong. They even launched a few strikes south of the Arno, although they had yet to make a serious effort to move the front lines as a whole. Any civil war was unpleasant, of course, but for now the Ildoans had at least settled down into a relatively constrained sort of conflict. I didn't love having a war zone at my border, but a war at such a low level was tolerable. For now, at least.

With two months left until the World Cup, the final list of participants was determined. The city of München would be hosting the Unified States, Albion, Aegyptus, and the Waldstätte Confederacy. Hambrück would feature matches between the Francois Republic, Czechoslovakia, Ispagna, and New Granada. The capital, Berun, would have the honor of hosting Germania, Hungary, Peru, and Dacia. Finally, Wien would play host to the teams from Platia, Brasilia, Lothiern, and the Legadonia Entente.

With the schedule set, the only thing left for me to do was to hope that the stadiums finished on time and no more wars broke out before the first kickoff. If I was really lucky, we could even make things look good on television.