Date: Year 931 — Month 5 — Day 3Location: Führer's Private Residence – Upper Courtyard, New BerlinTime: 07:28 Hours
The balcony stretched wide across the upper floor of the Führer's private residence — a bastion of polished white concrete and thick marble columns, its railing trimmed with gold-lined iron. From here, the city lay open like a painting beneath pale spring skies. New Berlin was waking — smoke rising from chimneys, trams cutting through streets, banners hanging still in the morning breeze.
At a small round table near the balcony's edge, Adolf Hitler sat alone.
He wore his black leather overcoat, the lapels pressed sharp. Medals gleamed on his chest, and his matching gloves rested folded beside a white porcelain teacup. A soft breeze teased the edges of the gray cloth napkin on his lap.
At his feet, resting in the morning shadow, lay a young black wolf — barely four months old. Its fur was jet-dark, glossy in the light, and its eyes followed every passing bird and flicker of movement below. But its body remained calm, pressed close to the boots of the man who had tamed it. Not with chains or fear — but by presence alone.
The balcony door clicked open behind them.
Two maids emerged in practiced silence. The first held a modest plate — a small arrangement of greens drizzled with a clear oil. The second carried a broader silver tray with warm, seared pork chops and roast-seasoned chicken. Steam rose from the meat, filling the air with garlic and pepper.
They approached the table and bowed gently.
"The salad today is prepared with vinegared cabbage, grilled green leaf, and mint leaves grown in the Ministry's rooftop garden," the first maid said.
"The meat was pan-seared using the officer's kitchen stove, Mein Führer," the second added. "Seasoned with crushed mountain herbs. No sugars, no spice oil."
Hitler waved a hand dismissively.
"I trust your hands," he said plainly. "Your efforts are appreciated."
The maids bowed again. "Thank you, Mein Führer."
They stepped back and exited without another word, glass door clicking shut behind them.
The wolf lifted its nose toward the chicken, ears twitching.
Hitler leaned down and gently brushed the fur behind its neck. "Eat."
The black wolf didn't need telling twice. It stood, padded forward silently, and began tearing into the roasted meat with hungry but controlled bites.
Hitler turned back to his salad and cut a corner of cabbage. He ate slowly, methodically, chewing without expression as the wind lifted the faint sound of trams from below.
Minutes passed in peace.
Once the wolf had finished, it licked its snout, then turned toward Hitler again — tail twitching once before it sat quietly beside the chair.
Hitler reached into his coat, removed a cloth napkin, and wiped the corners of his mouth. He stood without haste, placing his cap upon his head, smoothing the front of his coat. Then the gloves — one, then the other.
The wolf stood too, instinctively, padding close behind his heels.
As they stepped toward the glass door, Hitler paused — sensing something.
A voice greeted him just beyond the corner inside the hall.
"Mein Führer," Seris said, straightening her posture. "Your vehicle is prepared."
She stood rigid as ever — clipboard in hand, uniform pressed, her golden pin catching the hallway light.
Hitler adjusted his cap with a slight nod. "Great work, Seris."
She blinked once. "Your praise is unnecessary, Mein Führer. I am only following orders."
He looked at her a moment longer than needed.
"No. It is necessary," he said simply. "Loyalty deserves acknowledgment."
Seris blinked again — her expression unreadable — before offering the faintest smile. "Then… thank you, Mein Führer."
The wolf brushed past her ankles, sniffed her boots, then followed its master down the marble hallway without a sound.
The sound of polished boots on concrete echoed down the marble corridor.
Hitler walked without hurry. His leather gloves creaked faintly with each movement. The black wolf padded just behind, quiet and alert, its yellow eyes flicking to every shadow like a sentinel born of instinct. Seris followed a step behind, clipboard tucked under one arm, her gaze cold and level.
As the glass entrance swung open, the upper courtyard came into view.
Three matte-black sedans were parked in a perfect row just beyond the steps. Each one built with thick armored siding, square steel fenders, and long curved hoods — reminiscent of the 1940s staff cars of old. The front grille of each vehicle bore a chrome eagle crest, and small Reich flags fluttered softly from polished rods near the headlights.
Steam hissed faintly from beneath each hood.
Just behind the convoy, a fourth vehicle waited — a larger black supply truck with two long exhaust stacks and reinforced side panels. Its rear was covered in a black tarp, tied tight. A red insignia marked the canvas flap — Engineers Corps. Inside, spare parts, fuel cells, and tools were stacked beside crates of rations and emergency radios. Two uniformed engineers sat on the edge of the truck, gloves on, toolbelts fastened.
The guards were already in place.
Twelve men stood at attention — three per vehicle — dressed in sharp black coats with silver trim, field caps angled low over their brows. Each carried a polished rifle slung across their chest and a sidearm at the hip.
As Hitler stepped down the final stair, the nearest guard snapped his boots together and raised his right arm forward — stiff, precise, palm down — the salute of the Reich.
"Mein Führer!"
Hitler returned the salute in the same sharp, commanding motion.No hesitation. No softness. The gesture carried authority older than the world they stood in.
Only after Hitler lowered his arm did the guard move to open the rear door of the black sedan.
The wolf jumped in first — a blur of black fur and flashing paws, landing neatly on the floor beside the seat.
Hitler followed, lowering himself into the rear compartment with ease. The interior was lined in black leather — clean, smooth, and cold from the morning air. A steel footrest spanned the floorboard. Above, the roof was reinforced, with a roll-down cloth shutter for the rear window.
Seris stepped in next, closing the door behind her. She didn't sit fully back — just enough to keep her clipboard steady across her knees. Her eyes moved once to the wolf, then forward to the windshield.
"Driver," she said, tapping the glass between the seats.
The driver turned — a clean-shaven man with a headset under his officer's cap.
"Yes, ma'am?"
"Notify the others. Departure authorized."
He gave a single nod, reached down, and picked up a compact field radio bolted to the dash. The gem-crystal embedded near the dial glowed pale blue as he keyed the side button.
"All teams — is a green. Begin departure."
The reply crackled through in three short confirmations.
In front, the first car rumbled slightly — not from combustion, but pressure. Runes beneath the floorboards lit faintly blue. The water tank beneath the cabin began to boil, and the heat pressure drove the axles forward with a hiss of smooth power.
The convoy began to move.
Tires rolled over white stone, then dipped down onto the main avenue where the capital opened wide.
Steam puffed lightly from the exhaust pipes. The cars moved not with speed but grace — controlled and deliberate.
Citizens along the sidewalk turned to look.
Eyes followed the motorcade in silence. Children stopped mid-play. Storekeepers paused while raising shutters. Officers on patrol straightened their uniforms. Some whispered. Some simply stared.
It wasn't fear. It wasn't awe, either.
It was unfamiliarity.
These machines — these runic-powered vehicles — had not been seen by the public. Not officially. Not yet.
And now they moved through the capital's heart like something out of prophecy.
Inside the car, Hitler adjusted his gloves and looked toward the window. He could see his own reflection faintly against the glass — stern, sharp, unmoving.
He didn't speak for a moment.
Then, without looking away, he asked, "Estimated duration?"
Seris didn't hesitate.
"Assuming no mechanical complications," she said, "and barring any geographical obstruction — six days."
"Six," Hitler repeated quietly.
He nodded once, satisfied.
"Very well."
The convoy pressed on. Steam hissed beneath their wheels. The city gave way to the roads beyond.
Fields rolled past in muted green and gray. Trees thinned. Hills rose gently on either side. The road curved, narrowed, then opened again — a thin scar of stone through untouched land. The sky remained pale, quiet. No birds. No carriages. No other traffic.
Just them.
Inside the lead vehicle, Hitler sat still, gloves folded in his lap. The black wolf rested at his feet, tail curled, head low but eyes open — watching the shifting light through the windows.
Seris remained seated opposite, her back straight despite the smooth rattle of the vehicle's suspension. Clipboard tucked under her arm. Eyes forward. Always alert.
A shadow passed over the car.
Hitler looked to the side.
On a distant ridge, a train crawled along an elevated track — dozens of carts behind a single steam engine, its outline barely visible through the mist. The Reich's rail system, built over the last year, had already begun threading through the far provinces like veins. It moved fast, unbothered, independent. A promise of speed and control. But not for this trip.
He watched it pass — then turned back to Seris.
"What arrangements have been made for our lodging?" he asked calmly.
Seris answered without hesitation. "The Empire has pre-secured independent lodgings for all invited heads of state. Each residence is guarded by joint military units and local constables, with layered runic seals on all outer barriers."
"And ours?"
"A private villa secured by our internal agents. Located two kilometers from the summit. Visibility is clear in all directions. Engineers arrived two days prior. Power and water are functioning. Local staff have been vetted."
Hitler gave a quiet nod.
"How many guards remain on-site?"
"Twenty-two," Seris replied. "All from your personal detail. Four stationed perimeter. Three rooftop. The rest rotate in two shifts. No personnel from foreign nations permitted near the main structure."
"Good," he said.
A brief silence followed, filled only by the hum of the runes underfoot and the soft clack of wheels striking road seams.
Then Seris asked, "Would you like to review the final speech draft before arrival?"
Hitler didn't answer immediately. His gaze was distant now — watching the road ahead through the front windshield. Pines lined both sides. The landscape had started to darken.
"No," he said finally. "Let the others speak first. I'll know what to say once I see their faces."
"As you wish, Mein Führer."
The convoy picked up speed slightly — runes glowing a little brighter beneath the floor as the incline increased. The rear supply truck adjusted formation, keeping tight behind the final car.
In the cabin, the wolf lifted its head, sniffed toward the window.
Its ears perked.
Then it settled again.
Seris glanced once at it — then back to her clipboard.
Hitler didn't move.
He simply watched the forest approach, his fingers tightening around the edge of his glove. Somewhere beyond those trees was the future — alliances, rivals, negotiations, threats. But none of it mattered yet.
For now, they moved like a blade through the spine of the continent.
The Reich was coming.
And the world would watch.