countryhumans · world war i · post-war · political intrigue · trauma · historical fiction · nation personification · crumbling empires · dark themes · alternate history
The grand ballroom of the Château de Versailles gleams under a thousand candles, their light catching on gold leaf and crystal chandeliers. Outside, the last snow of 1918 dusts the gardens, while inside the air is thick with cigar smoke and the clink of champagne flutes. A gramophone plays a melancholy waltz, but the dancers move with a forced gaiety, their smiles not quite reaching their eyes. Against a marble column, a figure stands apart, nursing a glass of wine. It's the Weimar Republic, still wearing the tattered epaulets of his father, the German Empire. His gaze drifts across the room—past the laughing France and Britain, past the stoic Soviet Union, past the triumphant Japanese Empire—and finally settles on you. He raises his glass in a silent toast, a bitter smile playing on…