Ein Mann, Ein Pony, Ein Land, Ein Reich
His room in Canterlot Castle was nothing to write home about… if he could even write home. Nevertheless, it was just as he preferred it: spartan and without unnecessary flair.
He never particularly enjoyed all the fanciness that came with someone of his stature back home, so when he found himself unexpectedly here in Equestria, he knew immediately that it would be a welcome change from the norm whence he came. In the end, though, he still preferred his room in his small house that had been graciously given to him by his hosts.
In-line with the east-most wall of his room lay a queen-sized bed with rather drab bedding and two simple nightstands on either side to complement it. Facing the bed, on the west wall stood a body-length mirror which was being utilized by the six-foot, three-inch tall human as he dressed himself.
Today was no ordinary day for Paul Werner, as he had a specific task given to him by his saviors, his friends, and now his employers, Princesses Celestia and Luna. Such a task required him to dress for the occasion. Standing in front of the aforementioned mirror, he finished the last touches on his uniform, smoothing out any wrinkles and ensuring his tie had a comfortable, yet tight fit around his neck.
Beyond his stoic complexion, his bright-blue eyes shone of one who had seen too much in the more recent past. Though he was forty-four, his fair, pristine face was marred with some wrinkles of past conflicts. His angular chin held a distinctive, horizontal scar across the cleft.
One of three small souvenirs from the war.
Unlike his face, his uniform bore none of the same scars that he did. His clean uniform’s coat fit as snuggly as it always had, though admittedly he was a bit surprised considering he had not worn the entire ensemble for well over a year.
That, and maybe he just might’ve put on a few pounds.
Denial wasn’t just a river back in Africa, after all.
His faded, teal-blue coat and breeches meshed well with the jet-black lapels and boots respectively. Said lapels played host to the proper markings of a German Wehrmacht oberst, or ‘colonel.’ Shoulder marks were also present, denoting the corresponding rank.
He ran a single hand through his dark, but graying hair. All the while, he breathed an almost regretful sigh as he found himself in the nigh-completed getup that he wished he never had to wear again. His former job endeared him with a particular set of skills that landed him as one of Equestria’s honored military advisors and a top officer. This new job, much more laid back and less-taxing on his health, also came with a uniform… one which Paul wore with an enormous sense of pride.
Said uniform just happened to develop a tear the day before today’s main event. This was the only replacement available on such short notice.
He performed one final check that all else looked as it should have. Paul then glanced at the two medals that lay on the dresser next to the mirror, tucked in a special box. He pursed his lips as his eyes spaced out over the two very familiar yet simultaneously foreign pieces of metal. Both his Iron Cross and his Wound Badge called to him… he should have worn them with pride, as he always had.
But, the mark in their centers always did well to repel him these days.
Paul was further reminded of this when he lifted the two medals from their sanctuary… and was greeted with a folded bright, blood-red armband with the rather distinctive white circle and a swastika at its center.
He scowled.
“I should really dispose of that…” he commented to no one in his fluent but heavy accent.
While his native language was, of course, German from back home, he was fairly fluent in English… or as they called it here, ‘Equestrian.’ Still, his thought processes were always in his native language, and his exposure to the ponies ensured he sharpened his fluency in his second language and a habit of using it over the former. Even so, his accent never dissipated, as he still got plenty of practice in his native tongue.
And one of those areas of ‘practice’ was the source of the sudden, three gentle knocks at his door.
“Yes? You may enter,” Paul stated blandly without removing his gaze from his reflection.
“Papa?” a young, meek female voice spoke, and its instant familiarity drew Paul from his pensive stupor.
His face lit up brightly (yet ever controlled) as he turned to find his visitor: an alabaster-colored earth-pony filly with a flowing, crimson mane running down her neck. Her wide sapphire eyes reflected all the light in the room as she peeked in… but at the sight of Paul, she instantly shed her reticence and galloped into the room towards him.
“Papa!”
“Seerose!” he exclaimed.
Paul dropped to one knee and held his arms open just as the filly accepted his implicit invitation, jumping into his arms and hugging his chest tightly. Paul held her snuggly against him, growling playfully on her neck as he swung her around, much to the little one’s glee.
He pulled away just enough to meet his adoptive daughter’s eyes.
“How’s my röslein?” he asked, nuzzling his nose into hers, eliciting another round of giggles from her.
She began with a beaming, open-mouthed smile.
“Es geht mir sehr gut, Papa!” she replied with a perfect accent, then continued in their shared, native language. “But why did we have to come to the castle last night?”
Paul sat the two of them at the foot of his bed, allowing Seerose to get comfy on her haunches next to him.
“I told you, dear. Papa has to work today,” he replied, scratching behind her ear, which she eagerly leaned into.
She attempted to pout with her next words, but found quite the difficulty in doing so when Paul tickled the crook of her neck.
“But you said we could go to Trottingham today and see the aquarium~!” she protested, though her whining was token at best.
Paul couldn’t help but smile painfully at his daughter’s words, and though she wasn’t entirely serious about her disconcertion, he still did not enjoy disappointing her. Back on Earth, he had no one. His father had died in the First World War, his mother in 1938 to illness, and he was an only child. Further, he never married nor had any children of his own.
So, as a most welcome consequence, Seerose was the light of his new life.
“This is true,” he replied in Equestrian, bobbing his head as he considered her words. “And I’m sorry that events had to work out this way… but the Princesses needed me today urgently. Besides, working is how Papa gets to buy you all those sprinkled cookies from the bakery that you love so much.”
He punctuated his words by poking his daughter’s stomach. She immediately pushed him away with a squeal.
“Ja, I know…” she said, also switching to Equestrian. Nevertheless, her ears flattened at the thought of the lost opportunity.
Sensing her disappointment, Paul was quick to act, and already had a contingency plan in mind. Old habits die hard, after all.
He looked to her with an impish grin.
“But~…” he began. “I heard that somepony’s turning eight in three days,” he playfully mused.
One of the few things Paul lived for was seeing Seerose light up like a Christmas Tree.
“Me me me!” she squealed, defaulting back to their native tongue.
“Ha ha! I suspected it was somepony special that I knew… so, I’ll tell you what,” he began. “We can go anywhere you like that day… your favorite restaurants, amusement parks, what have you! Okay?”
Seerose, of course, beamed at the prospect. However, this was slightly challenged when she appeared to still mull over her dad’s offer.
Paul had one last thing to add:
“How about we eat at your favorite diner tonight, after I finish what I must, hmmm?”
At an instant, Seerose needed no other convincing. She suddenly sprang upward and began bouncing on the bed excitedly
“Yaaay! Okay, Papa!”
Paul chuckled, pulling her into another embrace, which the filly gladly returned. He planted a lone kiss on her forehead, then tousled her mane which earned him another heart-melting giggle.
“Ahem.”
Paul and Seerose looked back towards the room’s entrance and found both Princess Celestia and Luna, garbed in their regal attire. Instead of expectant looks on their faces, their own hearts appeared to have melted as well at the scene that he and his daughter put on.
Seeing the two of them (or either one on their lonesome) would always ignite a spark of calmness and tranquility inside Paul. Celestia was always lovely conversation, and Paul enjoyed going on walks with her to discuss everything and nothing at the same time. Princess Luna was one in which the two of them confided in more intimate and darker thoughts, as well as sharing a much darker sense of humor and appreciation for things military.
In short, Paul was also blessed with some nice friends.
“I’m… so sorry, did we interrupt something?” Celestia awkwardly spoke once she wrenched herself from her cutesy stupor.
Paul set Seerose on the floor and whispered in her ear:
“Bow to your Princesses.”
“Yeah yeah, I know!” she whispered back before doing just that.
Both Princesses politely acknowledged her, and smiled brightly as well.
“And no,” Paul said, addressing his regal superiors with his business-like, friendly stoicism. “I’m just about ready to depart with you.”
He then turned to Seerose with the same smile he would always show her.
“It’s time for Papa to go to work. Run along now, and I’ll be back in time for supper. Save up an appetite, okay?”
She eagerly nodded.
“Okay!” she exclaimed, scampering towards the door between the princesses, already on a mission to occupy her time until then.
“And finish your homework!” the human playfully prodded like a good father.
Seerose chose to ignore that last statement. However, she could not properly leave without shouting something back at Paul over her shoulder.
“Ich liebe dich, Papa!”
But she was well out of sight before Paul could respond in kind. Still, those words always warmed his entire body each and every time she said them with the conviction a filly of her age could muster. The German officer sighed out lovingly whilst gazing at where Seerose formerly stood.
“And I love you my röslein, above all else.”
“If the species difference were not obvious,” Princess Luna cut in. “We would have assumed she was naturally your own.”
Paul walked to his dresser to grab two more items.
“She needed a home. If there was something good I could do for this world and simultaneously have something I never could… then the choice was obvious,” he said pensively.
He placed a handkerchief in his pocket while unholstering his pistol to check it; the latter was one of the few objects that survived his sudden ‘transfer,’ one that he cherished. Paul reholstered it and completed his ensemble with the visor-cap that rested on the dresser. Placing it on his head and adjusting it properly, he gave himself one more quick once-over in the mirror.
Oberst Werner was ready for duty.
He then turned to his princesses.
“Shall we?”
“Certainly,” Celestia replied, gesturing out the door, and they were off down the hall.
With a small guard detail, said trio marched with a purpose towards a chariot that was waiting to take them to their final destination. Celestia trot in the center flanked by Luna on her right and Paul on her left.
All of their respective footsteps and hoof-falls were synchronized.
“I’m sure you’ve read the brief over and over again, but do you wish to revisit it?” Princess Luna asked, directing her question to Paul.
No one looked anywhere but forward.
“Ja. But perhaps it would be good to recap and ensure I did not miss anything,” said Paul.
Celestia nodded and as the three of them exited out of the main entrance of the castle, and into the warm, brilliant embrace of the luminous sun. The aforementioned carriage was waiting for them, as expected.
“The fascist nation of Alemaneia has sworn in a new leader, one who’s much more… progressive than his predecessors. As such, he, on behalf of the militaristic nation, has extended an overture to us,” the Solar Princess went on to reiterate.
Paul let the name ‘Alemaneia’ swim through his mind; he wasn’t the first time he heard it, certainly, but it still baffled him. Not only was the cross-language parallel uncanny in several senses, but it was also the home country of his daughter.
“Right, and he as well as his top military advisor are arriving at the Port of Manehattan today, yes?” he added whilst following after Luna into the carriage.
“Precisely,” the latter added. “Due to the… less-than-desirable attitudes the former leaders of Alemaneia have exhibited, we could not in good conscience ratify any treaties or trade agreements with them. Now, we can attempt something on a trial basis.”
Celestia nodded and picked up where her sister left off. The carriage began to take flight.
“My sister and I will handle the Chancellor directly so we may hash out a trade agreement and potentially a formal alliance. To make things that much more binding, we would like you to negotiate the terms of military cooperation,” she said.
“Right. And I shall be meeting with…”
“One of Chancellor Unser’s top brass: ‘General Field Marshal’ Aryanne Land,” Luna finished.
Paul blinked. He didn’t recall that name in the briefing. Moreover, it seemed the universe was playing a hideous trick on him.
He responded with the subtlest of unease, undetectable by anyone who did not know him well enough.
“Right…”
Celestia continued in a more lecturing tone:
“Secure something which will be beneficial for both of us. Remember, Alemaneia is coming to us, and despite their smugness and arrogance, they’re beginning to get desperate. Ergo, you’re working from a position of strength. I trust you shall use that to your advantage. Negotiate back and forth to secure assured cooperation between our militaries.”
“Offer anything reasonable, we give you full authority,” Luna added. “We just need something on paper to look at, and the final decision will rest between us and the Chancellor. If the General refuses cooperation, walk out.”
Paul understood perfectly, and with a deep breath, he readied his sternest face… one which could buckle the knees of a lesser man. However, this time, it came about more naturally rather than it being forced. The reason was that Paul knew what was meant by ‘military cooperation.’ Admittedly, though, the circumstances were much different than back in Germany. Equestria was not a militaristic nation… quite peaceful, actually. Nevertheless, both princesses understood the need for a strong, unified, and ready fighting force under the pretenses of ‘better to have and not need rather than need and not have.’
He commended them for this ideology.
However, he knew of the mistakes that such ‘cooperation’ could spawn. Germany often had to clean up her allies’ messes, and this time, he would rather not have an amendment stating that if Alemaneia went to war, Equestria would be obligated to support.
He would not stand for that. In the end, however, he was not worried. Paul felt there would be no need to walk away from the negotiating table. This ‘Aryanne’ would most likely see reason if she was as competent an officer as she was made out to be.
“Yes, Your Highnesses. It shall be done.”
The largest port and harbor in Equestria, and one of the largest in the world, in actuality, was the Port of Manehattan.
Located in the city of its namesake, it served not only as a junction for commerce and supplies flowing into the Equestrian nation, but as a stop for passengers visiting, returning, and departing abroad. This being the case, it was never a surprise to see the dock terminals full of the hustle and bustle of ponies going about their business.
Even so, it was out of the ordinary to see an entire section of a terminal cordoned off and overseen by an entire platoon of Equestrian Army troops. Those who had lived their lives in the city and frequented the port knew this as the sign of somepony important visiting Equestria. More convincingly, the placement of regular soldiers was a dead-giveaway for the arrival of a foreign dignitary.
Who the foreign dignitaries were, however, still came as a massive shock to those who were able to see past the stationed troops.
The ship that had docked was not a typical commerce or transport ship, but an Alemaneian dreadnought with its flag raised high. An appropriate ramp was raised to accommodate the height of the ironclad warship, and as four individuals stepped forth and downward, it was as if the beautiful spring day suddenly chilled.
Opposite of the visitors, Princesses Celestia and Luna, as well as Paul stood ramrod and stoic. The human observed with keen interest as the four ponies descended to the dock, and he could more clearly make out defining features. The two proud, pristine-white ponies bringing up the rear were clearly soldiers, if their jet-black uniforms and steel helmets were anything to go by.
The two equally porcelain-white ponies in front, however, were another story.
The left pony, clearly male, was well built for somepony his size. A plain, gray-colored suit with the Alemaneian cross adorned on his chest was all he sported, and his square jaw and casual indifference played host to an air of confidence. His dark mane was neatly styled and combed to perfection, and his face was devoid of any facial hair or even the slightest trace of stubble.
The right pony was female, and a long, flowing blonde mane complemented her coat and piercing blue eyes. Further adding to her chilly exterior and monolithic aura of sheer confidence and arrogance was her military uniform. It held numerous medals and gargantuan rank insignias on both her shoulders and accompanying visorcap… and Paul had little question in his mind that this was the famous Aryanne he had heard so much about.
The mare in question appeared… uninterested in her surroundings. Her eyes scanned the distant skyscrapers, as well as her immediate surroundings with a barely-veiled annoyance. What’s more, when her eyes fell upon the stationed Equestrian troops, they honed in on the only batpony among them.
She pursed her lips in readily apparent disapproval. This was not lost on Paul.
The odd trio stepped forward to greet the newcomers, and the front stallion immediately perked up upon laying his emerald eyes on the two princesses.
Princess Celestia was the first to greet them with a genuine smile on her face.
“Chancellor Unser… such a pleasure to meet you,” she said, extending her hoof to the stallion.
The Chancellor hooked his right hoof with hers and beamed determinedly back at the Solar Princess. He promptly repeated the gesture with Princess Luna.
“Your Highnesses,” he spoke with one of the thickest, most quintessential high German (ahem, Alemaneian) accents Paul had ever heard.
He then bowed his head respectfully.
“Thank you, both of you, for hosting me in your wonderful nation on such short notice. It’s my sincerest hope that we are able to work something out for the good of both our nations.”
“Of course, Chancellor,” Princess Luna replied with a deep nod of her own.
Aryanne averted her eyes, disinterested. Paul had dealt with his fair share of larger-than-life officers back in Germany but for some reason, this pony in front of him was starting to get his blood boiling… and she hadn’t uttered a single word yet.
He took a deep breath and hardened his posture, and his gaze.
That was Celestia’s cue to gesture to him, drawing all attention to the lone human.
“This is Colonel Paul Werner,” she said. Both Unser and Aryanne’s eyes were now upon him, though the former was pleasantly surprised and the latter was… visibly weirded out.
Luna picked up where her sister left off.
“He’s one of our best commanding officers in our forces, and he’ll be the one negotiating things military while we hash out our other agreements.”
Paul extended his hand to the Chancellor. Surprising himself, he had to physically prevent himself from acting on reflex and delivering a Nazi salute.
“A pleasure to meet you, Sir,” Paul said, saluting normally and extending his hand to shake the stallion’s hoof. Surprisingly, the Chancellor did not pull back from Paul’s ‘spidery appendages.’
“Likewise,” Unser politely replied, delivering a strong hand-hoof shake, as Paul had expected.
The Chancellor gestured to the mare next to him… who’s eyes had not left Paul. Her eyebrow seemed perpetually cocked.
“This is Generalfeldmarschall Aryanne Land. She will be Colonel Werner’s counterpart in the talks today while we go about our own business,” he addressed the princesses, and both sides urged the two of them together.
Paul, one who held the tenants of ‘be polite and courteous’ close to heart, stepped forward and offered his hand after he saluted.
The gesture was not reciprocated.
“Good afternoon, General.”
Aryanne only stared at his hand as if he offered her disgusting food. She tilted her head towards her leader and spoke out the side of her mouth.
“What is that and why does it speak with our accent? Is it mocking us?”
Paul had every one of his suspicions confirmed at that moment, and naturally, he understood everything she said.
And he would not stand for it in front of his leaders. So, he put on his best sarcastic voice possible.
“Pardon me?”
The look on Aryanne’s face made his interjection all worth it. Her eyes widened and her jaw slackened in disbelief. The Princesses were out of the loop for the few moments that had transpired, and Paul took her stunned silence to continue. If his further predictions about Aryanne in general were correct, he knew just how to approach this.
“And it appears you are not one for manners. My apologies. I suppose Alemaneia’s barbarism is far-reaching.”
Aryanne scowled immediately, and her brow furrowed as she closed the couple-step distance between her and Paul. Her eyes were brimmed with a certain hatred that Paul was accustomed to seeing back in Germany.
“Why you disgusting, insolent ape…” she seethed, pointing her hoof up at him.
Paul swiftly batted said hoof away, stunning both the princesses and the Chancellor. His eyes locked onto hers with a ferocity that he was more than capable of mustering, and the sides of his mouth curled downwards. Further, he switched back to Equestrian.
“You will not point your hoof at me, Generalfeldmarschall.”
“Paul…” Princess Celestia called out.
The Alemaneian troops that accompanied both the Chancellor and Aryanne trotted to the latter’s side and stood aggressively towards Paul. In turn, the Equestrian soldiers went onto high alert, ready to intervene.
The mare herself looked absolutely flustered.
Paul tactically ignored Celestia and gazed upon her new entourage patronizingly. His gaze then became icy.
“Your show of force does not impress me, Aryanne. Tell your troops to stand down or I shall obliterate any military cooperation at this instant, you white-shelled cockroach,” he threatened through gritted teeth, mimicking disrespect with disrespect.
Aryanne visibly flinched… Paul figured she had never been spoken to in this way.
Simultaneously, Celestia, horrified, was about to rebuke the human but Luna wordlessly extended her leg in front of her sister, stunting anything she might have done to intervene. The Lunar Princess was keenest on watching what would unfold.
Aryanne’s face soon mirrored Paul’s, regardless of the height distance.
“Are you threatening me?” she countered in Equestrian.
Paul only had a simple answer, and he preceded it with a simple smile.
“No. I’m walking,” he said, and made to turn on his heels and depart the area.
However, somepony had other plans.
“Soldiers, stand down,” Chancellor Unser gave the order imperiously. With he being the supreme authority, Aryanne’s troops, naturally, returned to their former positions.
The Alemaneian leader then looked toward Paul, who had turned his back on them and was about to leave.
“Colonel, please… I’d like to extend my apologies on behalf of General Land’s disrespect. We would very much like to continue as planned,” he added with an air of professionality.
Paul shot his Princesses a sideways smirk and a wink. That perked Celestia up (and furthered Luna’s confidence in the situation)… and Paul then turned back to face the Chancellor and Aryanne.
“Very well,” he said.
Unser nodded, then turned to Celestia and Luna.
“One moment, please,” was all he said before he dragged Aryanne off to the side to discuss something in private.
And from the scathing gestures Unser was giving the mare, she was getting a hell of a rollicking.
For his part, Paul smiled confidently at his leaders, his friends, and they smiled in return. As he had come to think, the Alemanian’s responded to one thing and one thing only: force. They respected power and detested weakness of any kind. Passive acceptance was equivalent to capitulation in their eyes.
He had this.
After a few more moments, Unser returned to the small little group… with an unnaturally stoic Aryanne in tow. He then smoothed out one of the lapels on his suit and cleared his throat.
“Let’s get to work.”
The trip to two of Manehattan’s most opulent hotels was one-sided… as the Princesses and the Chancellor, surprisingly, got on quite well. Unser, in their opinion, was a far cry from his predecessor, and the predecessor before him, and so on. He was not perfect by any means, but he promised transparency, an end to pony rights abuses, and an ultimate ‘good gut feeling’ allowed the two ethereal alicorns to take his word.
As such, they got along nicely.
Paul and Aryanne, however, did not…
…not in the slightest.
Eventually, the group separated to accomplish their original plans, which left the human and (what Paul had dubbed her as) the pseudo-Nazi mare to their own devices; each group would occupy the penthouse conference room of a respective hotel.
For Paul, he prophesied that things would not be easy for him. It was not because of the initial incident at the docks, though.
It wasn’t even the fact that Aryanne outright refused to make eye-contact or acknowledge his most basic existence as they strode along toward their destination.
Hell, it wasn’t even the fact that Aryanne’s reputation preceded her… and ponies would stop and stare with a mixture of fear and anger. A few native Alemaneians even spat in her direction whilst hurling “fascist whore!” and other insults at her.
What really would serve to make this difficult for Paul, was that Aryanne seemed to feed off the discord and hate that her very presence created. Each and every time a pony would stare at her, she would stare back in kind with an icy arrogance that had been perfected through experience. Every insult hurled at her, she returned with an almost jovial wink or a blown kiss.
Paul had to admit, however, that he was taken off guard when Aryanne blindsided him with an out-of-the-blue, nonchalant comment whilst they strode down the final street.
“You Equestrian’s let batponies serve in your army?” she broke the silence.
He knew exactly what she was doing, though.
“Some of my best soldiers are thestrals. Princess Luna’s guard force is almost exclusively made up of them, as well,” he replied, gesturing toward the entrance of the rather grand Manehattan Prime Hotel.
They promptly altered their course, and Aryanne only mulled over his words with a bob of her head.
“Hm. Shame,” she said. She made a vague gesture with her hoof to help stir her thoughts.
“They have their uses, but were… redundant. They’re not common in Alemaneia much anymore,” she added.
“Oh? Why is that?” Paul asked, though he already knew the answer.
He just wanted to continue getting a feel for what he was dealing with.
The two stopped at an elevator ready to take them both to the top of the hotel, and Aryanne looked up to him with an almost giddy smile.
“We got rid of them.”
“I see.”
Conversation dropped off after that, and it was not until the two of them arrived at the conference room did Paul attempt to get back to business. They had plenty of space, and despite the massive table at the center which extended the entire length of the room, filled with more chairs than could be used, the two decided on a traditional approach. Paul sat at the head (which held a chair in tune with his size), and Aryanne to his left.
“Very well. Shall we?” he bade, getting comfortable in his chair.
“I suppose,” Aryanne replied, indifferent.
He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose out of habit.
“Right. So, ideally we wish to form some manner of cooperation that shall be beneficial to both of our nations, with the necessary caveats in place. I propose a joint exercise in the next month as a show of goodwill with us as commanders,” Paul began to rattle off in a very professional tone.
“It doesn’t have to be large, but I’m thinking two infantry divisions from each of our nations, combined with some naval vessels to make things interesting. In my experience, we can—”
Aryanne slammed her hoof on the table.
“I want a mutual defense treaty,” Aryanne interrupted.
Paul’s stoicism never ceased.
“That is not possible, nor desirable to Equestria. Nor am I willing to agree to it.”
The mare was colored most unimpressed, though her look had an underlying, knowing edge to it.
“Oh Please… military cooperation and a potential alliance with no mutual defense?” she questioned exaggeratedly. “That sounds silly, does it not? Allies are supposed to protect each other.”
“Alemaneia doesn't exactly have the best track record for... martial discretion,” Paul deadpanned.
Aryanne shrugged.
“And what does that have to—”
It was the human’s turn to smack his hand on the table, annoyed. He had a lone command for his counterpart:
“You will speak Equestrian in my presence, General.”
Aryanne narrowed her gaze, huffing, and Paul took the moment of silence to continue.
“Why would Equestria commit herself to mutual defense when Alemaneia finds itself embroiled in constant internal and external conflict?”
“Why wouldn’t she?” Aryanne countered. “Equestria has the chance to expand her influence and power into the next continent over! At Alemaneia’s side we would be unchallenged,” she added with an almost animalistic hunger.
The human raised a lone eyebrow.
“The princesses literally manipulate the sun and the moon… I am not so sure what this ‘lack of influence’ you are insinuating is,” Paul rebutted. “Celestia and Luna have no interest in imperial expansion.”
Aryanne shrugged again, and she chuckled gleefully with an epiphany.
“Weak ideals for a weak nation. How fitting.”
Paul crossed his arms and reclined in his seat.
“If Equestria is as weak as you say she is, then you and your leaders must be incredibly desperate to come to us for an alliance,” he prodded.
And he got the reaction he was looking for when Aryanne slammed her other hoof on the tabletop, propping herself up aggressively.
“Your nation is a poor excuse for one that claims to represent the interests of ponies worldwide, you daft monkey,” she snarled. “If it were up to me, I’d be halfway across the ocean back home at this instant.”
Paul decided to sit back and let her vent.
“And you’d be in tow… and on the first train to a work camp,” she seethed.
The right corner of the human’s mouth turned up.
“Your confidence in Chancellor Unser is quite reassuring.”
Aryanne bared her teeth, and her entire face seemed to scowl. With a deathly-low tone, she asked:
“Are you questioning my loyalty to my Führer?”
Paul shook his head.
“I am not questioning your loyalty. I’m questioning your confidence… which I need not do anyway, because it shows brightly like that band on your foreleg.”
Aryanne only had a few choice words.
“Fuck. You. You, worthless insect.”
As if tit for tat, it was Paul’s turn to be quite unimpressed. So much so, he actually laughed.
“Honestly, is that the best you can come up with?” he asked rhetorically. “And if you’re so offended and unwilling, why not walk out that door right now?”
The Alemaneian mare only steeled her position, nearly nose to nose with Paul. At his words and implicit permission to storm out of this meeting, she still did not budge.
And the Colonel knew exactly why.
“You won’t, hmmm? Perhaps it is because the Chancellor is ordering you to come home with something of value? Perhaps… if you don’t, he shall do it himself?” he fancied a couple guesses.
Her anger was palatable. Though they had gotten nowhere thus far, Paul at least made some headway on a different path.
What’s more, her right front hoof was shaking with barely-contained rage. Aryanne was given a harsh reminder of how little power she had outside of her domain, even more so when pitted against someone experienced in this art.
Paul was not done yet, however.
“I shall speak in a more familiar tongue for the both of us for this part,” he began. “Also, I’ll save your pride from admitting the fact that you do have no faith in Unser.”
He uncrossed his legs and sat forward, not afraid to press his nose against Aryanne’s.
“Allow me to wager… your entire career has been spent climbing the ranks under Unser’s predecessor, internalizing the ideals which, in your eyes, made Alemaneia so great. But the problem is that Unser is radically different. He wants to change things for your ponies. Make their lives better. But how he wishes to go about it directly conflicts with said ideals.”
“Alemaneia is great and shall always be so!” she finally spoke once again.
“Alemaneia is ‘great’ because you feel your fascist principles work perfectly, Aryanne. You feel Unser is attempting to undo the progress of all your leaders before him!” Paul stated confidently.
The mare pushed herself away and sunk back into her chair. Her death-glare never left the human.
“I grew up when our nation was a joke to the world. We were weak, and through our leaders we became strong! Feared! The degeneracy was rooted out and Alemaneia prospers as the greatest power on our continent! I would not expect something like you to understand,” Aryanne roared.
Paul suddenly stood up.
“I will not allow you to assume half-truths. I’ve lived through two world wars, and was fortunate enough to come here during the second. I’ve lived under fascism, I’ve experienced its effects, both positive and negative!” he asserted sternly, though never raising his voice inappropriately.
He pointed to the scar on this chin.
“One souvenir from a war to preserve it: shrapnel from an artillery strike.”
He undid one button on his shirt underneath his coat, and exposed the skin on the upper-left part of his chest. There was another quite visible scar.
“And another one: a bullet from the front lines.”
Paul readjusted his shirt and coat.
“All I knew was war; I lost my father to it and I lost a fair portion of my adult life to it. Fascism cannot exist unless you are engaged in war, preparing for war, or fighting an internal, common enemy,” he concluded. “And that shall be Alemaneia’s future.”
“Our hegemony will be sustained with or without Equestria’s help!” Aryanne barked.
Paul nearly recoiled with how fervently she spoke those words. Had she not been a pony, he might have figured he was back home on Earth. Catching his breath, he felt something stir inside of him. Part of it was a stark reminder as to what he left behind… and another was a sorrowful thought spared for his daughter. Her family gave her up to an Alemaneian orphanage, and he did not want to imagine how her life might have been.
She had willingly told him some things… but not everything; he never wanted to pressure her. Paul would hug her extra-tightly tonight.
Nevertheless, he continued.
“Your ‘hegemony’ is already receding, General.” Paul bluntly pointed out. “You prosper on war, on pointing hooves at your neighbors and punishing those who would disobey. Your economy is already contracting, and Unser understands this. He has enough foresight to see past state ideals for the good of the citizens.”
He glanced at his watch, then let his two hands mold together. He also had something genuine to propose:
“And you would allow Alemaneia to maintain the status quo. To continue conquest and subjugation. Have you ever wondered what will happen when you succeed? When you run out of enemies to fight?” Paul asked.
Aryanne only blinked, flinching as if struck. Her hardened scowl remained, but Paul could see past that façade; she was being forced to confront a reality that she had not had to think about.
Feeling he may have touched a nerve or hit his mark in some manner, Paul adopted a much softer tone; he switched back to Equestrian.
“So, General. I’m thinking of a joint exercise next month between our two nations. A show of friendship to the world. How do you feel about this?”
The mare’s glower only hardened, threatening to crack her face should it have gotten any deeper. She stared into Paul’s awaiting eyes with such a hatred… such a blazing furor that, had he been in Alemaneia, Paul knew for a fact he would have been killed by now.
The ethereal reaches of her anger and all of her prejudices touched him in such a familiar, horrifying way, but he knew right then that he had won.
And her next words, in a much more soured deadpan, did well to corroborate.
“I’m willing to contribute up to five divisions and six vessels depending on how large we wish to make this.”
The announcement of a successful agreement between the two nations’ militaries (and full cooperation between generals) was the best news that the princesses could have received.
As such, the moment Paul turned back to his friends after seeing the Alemanian warship off, he was assaulted by hugs and nuzzles. He apparently saved them from a massive thorn in their sides, and his unorthodox but proven methods had born fruit.
Affection from his good friends as well as the promise of a sweet, monetary bonus, and a few bottles of wine were nice. But Paul was looking forward to something much more enjoyable this evening. Further, despite the headache that Aryanne had put him through, they being able to see past their differences (at least, at the bare minimum) allowed Paul to take something from the whole experience.
He mulled over this as he gingerly hung his uniform on a trolley, along with anything else which would be taken back to his house. Dressed in a more casual white dress shirt and some slacks, he waltzed in front of the mirror to make sure his hair was parted as he’d like it.
Dusk was upon him, and that necessitated having some magical candles lit within the room. Their flames cast small shadows over his face, leaving half lit and the other half shrouded in darkness. Through the lack of direct sunlight, the mirror failed to reflect the scars on his face, but Paul knew they were there.
They always would be.
With one last sigh, he smoothed out his clothes. There was one last thing he had to do.
“Papa?” Seerose’s voice chimed in from the doorway, and she peeked in with a lone eye.
Paul smiled at her.
“Ready for supper?”
“Ja! Ja!” she exclaimed, bouncing up and down.
The German chuckled deeply, and made sure he had the essentials on him, such as his wallet, his knife, and his watch.
“Very well! Give me exactly one minute and we shall go eat, ja?”
“Okay!” Seerose said, nodding and slipping back out of the ajar door.
Alone once again, Paul’s brow furrowed as he reached into his right pocket. From its recess, he gently retrieved the lone occupant: the blood-red armband, one he had used to wear every day.
He could never stand the sight of it anymore… yet time and time again, he could never let go of it. He lambasted himself every day for that. That symbol represented something he was ideologically opposed to in all respects. He was a soldier of Germany, a staunch defender of the Fatherland.
But the ideology that this symbol represented, in his eyes, had no nation.
And today’s meeting with Aryanne further confirmed this. The takeaway from today’s negotiations was an undoubtedly more-secure Equestria, a (hopefully) more peaceful Alemaneia, and a more secure world.
For him personally, the takeaway was the strength to let go.
With a final breath, Paul let the armband hang limply in his grasp as he held it over the magical candle. Barely two seconds later, it began to burn. As a steady flame ate away at the armband, Paul calmly strode over to the room’s fireplace and tossed it inside. He watched keenly as the swastika was consumed by the fire, and as if an ethereal weight was lifted off of his shoulders, it was now nothing but ash and memories.
The human mustered a single, tame smile, and without looking back, he walked out his door to meet his daughter.
“So, I heard somepony was hungry!” he said with delight as he slammed his room door shut, letting the lock catch completely. He had a most refreshing dinner with his little girl planned, and he would enjoy every minute of it.
He spared one last thought to the armband as he hefted a laughing Seerose onto his shoulders. Possessions, artifacts, and antiques of one’s past serve to anchor one to their origins… to keep precious memories alive.
This one, he felt, was best forgotten.