The morning air in Oberfeld carried the smell of frost and gun oil. Hans stood on the fortress balcony overlooking the training fields. Thousands of soldiers drilled in precise formations, the black-and-silver banners of the Iron Crown fluttering above them—symbols not of fascism, but of sovereignty, order, and a future unbroken by chaos.
He turned as Albrecht approached, crisp and stern as always.
"The scouts report unrest in Moravia," Albrecht said. "The Czech military remnants are stretched thin. Local warbands have taken control of the countryside. Their provisional government has requested an audience."
Hans raised an eyebrow. "Voluntarily?"
"They fear a rebellion. They'd rather negotiate with you than watch their people tear them apart."
Hans nodded, folding his arms. "Good. We won't march in as conquerors. We'll walk in as unifiers."
Later That Day – The Iron Crown Council Chamber
The council chamber within Oberfeld had changed. No longer a military meeting room—it was now filled with diplomats, economists, military strategists, and foreign advisors from Hungary and Türkiye. At the head of the long stone table sat Hans, clad in a dark uniform bearing the Iron Crown sigil—a lion-wreathed crown over a shattered gate.
At his left was Commander Engelhardt. To his right, seated as honored guests, were Hungary's Guildmaster Barna István, a sharp-eyed tactician with the aura of a kingmaker, and Türkiye's envoy, General Halide Demir, representing Mehmed's will abroad.
Hans stood and addressed the room.
"I've bled for peace. I've spoken for unity. But now we face what cannot be ignored. From Poland's desperate calls to the rot festering in Moravia… we see the sickness. The Gate shattered our world, but it was our division that let the infection in. We must become more than survivors."
He pointed to the large map laid across the table.
"We will not annex for glory. We will stabilize to survive. And those who join us—willingly—will receive our protection, infrastructure, and a place in the new monarchy."
Barna spoke up, his deep voice measured. "And your Iron Crown... it will be a symbol of protection, not dominance?"
Hans nodded. "That's the oath I swore. A monarch to guard—not to reign unchecked."
Halide Demir smirked. "If you betray that, I'll personally have Mehmed drag you to the Bosphorus and toss you in."
"I'd expect nothing less."
Laughter broke the tension. But the mood shifted quickly as a courier entered, breathless.
"Urgent missive," he said. "From Somlanek. The Polish Unity faction has collapsed. Multiple militia groups now fly your banner. The people demand your intervention."
Hans took the letter. His eyes scanned the hastily written plea, signed by a civilian governor trying to hold the last sliver of Poland together.
He looked up. "We move at once."
Three Days Later – Border of Bohemia
Caravans rolled across the border—Iron Crown engineers, medics, and peacekeepers under strict orders. Czech military leaders stood at the edge of their checkpoint, eyes wary.
Hans dismounted from his horse and strode forward. He was not dressed in armor, but in a tailored coat bearing the Iron Crown's crest.
"I come not to occupy," he said to the assembled officers. "But to offer an alternative to your crumbling world. Let us build one together, before it's too late."
The Czech commander looked at him, then at the engineers already setting up power grids and water lines for refugee camps.
He nodded slowly. "Then let's talk."
That Night – Broadcast from Oberfeld
The broadcast went live across European networks—still fragmented but slowly reconnecting through Hans' infrastructure programs. Hans stood in front of a blue backdrop with silver lions flanking the Iron Crown insignia.
"To the people of Europe: for too long we've begged fragmented powers to help. For too long we've shouted into the void while monsters took our children, while cities burned, while allies argued. No more.
The Iron Crown stands as a pact—between monarchs and people, between soldiers and survivors. We are not the old empires. We are the last promise of order.
To the people of Poland—we are coming. Not to rule you. To rebuild you.
To those in Brussels, Berlin, and London who still argue over lines on maps—argue faster. Because the future won't wait for consensus. It's already marching forward."
The Next Day – Geneva Guild Outpost
Within the sterile halls of the Coalition headquarters, panic brewed. Dozens of monitors lit up with images: Czech towns raising Iron Crown banners, Polish militias pledging loyalty, even refugee convoys escorted by Iron Crown medics.
A Japanese guild representative muttered, "This is not stabilization. This is ascension."
An American delegate shook his head. "He's becoming the very thing we feared."
But the French delegate remained silent, eyes narrowed.
"Or," she said softly, "he's becoming what we all should've been."