Re: Blood and Iron-Chapter 823: Juneau’s Capitulation

Chapter 823: Juneau’s Capitulation
Ernest Gruening sat in his office in Juneau, Alaska, the capital of the American territory.
Surrounding him were the Adjutant General J. P. Williams and several other advisors. The lot of them appeared to be in mourning.
Not for the sake of the soldiers that lie dead at the southernmost tip of the territory, mind you. But for the idea of an Alaska itself.
There was no doubt in their minds that resistance against the Russian invasion was futile. Alaska had neither the manpower, nor the industry, nor the logistical support to put up any kind of armed struggle against the Russian Empire and its invasion.
As for the American mainland? It was without a doubt in a state of complete and total disarray, to the point that no matter how much they pleaded for support, the lines of communication remained utterly dead.
To put it simply, they were on their own, and they had no means of defending themselves from would-be marauders. Let alone empires, which thirsted for their borders.
With a heavy sigh, Ernest Gruening announced what they all knew was inevitable.
"Since we have no other options, I hereby give the order to open official channels with Saint Petersburg for a ceasefire and a negotiation to surrender, and annexation into the Russian Empire. The experiment of our forefathers, one of government by the people, for the people, of the people, has failed, and we are its victims abandoned to older tides."
Only silence remained after his last words had lingered off into a trail that led to nowhere but emptiness.
Each man present stared at their feet, in shame, in grief, and in pity. Nobody immediately moved to relay the orders, not until the territorial governor snapped at them.
"Well? Are you just going to stand there while our territory continues to burn? Go! Relay my orders and open diplomatic channels now!"
The men scurried off with a haste Ernest had never before witnessed them capable of. While the Adjutant General remained.
J.P. Williams sighed and shook his head as he sat down in the seat in front of the territorial governor. No longer standing on formality, ceremony, or decorum, he sat and spoke his truest, honest thoughts.
"We never should have provoked a war with the Germans. Their dynastic ties to Russia gave them an industrial advantage that countered our own. This war was destined to end in a failure from the start."
Ernest sat stoically as he poured himself a glass of moonshine. With supply lines cut off from the mainland, the territory had largely been forced to rely on itself. Even the alcohol had been reduced to localized amateurish production.
He drank from the glass as if it were the water of life itself. Finishing it all in a single go, without the slightest hint of choking, or coughing from its flame, or rotgut taste.
Despite the high alcoholic content and the amount he consumed, the man seemed utterly sober, as his words came out crisp and with perfect enunciation.
"Roosevelt was a damn fool. Thinking the United States could take on such an unholy alliance, especially after they defeated our allies in France and Britain within the span of a week."
The territorial governor quickly looked left and right, as if he were searching for someone, anyone, who might be listening in to them.
And then, when he confirmed that his paranoia was unfounded, he leaned in close and whispered to J.P. Williams.
"Between you and me... I think the man was a socialist, one who has held a grudge against the German Reichsmarschall for making it his life’s ambition to butcher reds wherever he finds them. To me there is no other explanation for this disastrous crusade that Roosevelt has forced upon us all."
J.P. Williams didn’t speak, not at first; instead, he grabbed the bottle of moonshine and poured himself a drink. He, like the territorial governor, showed his fortitude for liquor, as he downed it in a single gulp.
And it was only after he had taken off the edge with a strong substance, did he made his innermost thoughts known, despite the treasonous sentiment behind them.
"Commie bastard... I hope he hangs once this is all done!"
The two men poured another cup and toasted the sentiment while preparing for the eventual negotiations with the Russian Empire.
---
Alexei sat in his office within the Winter Palace of Saint Petersburg. Unlike Bruno, he had no stomach nor desire to witness the end of the old world up close.
Nor was he under any personal obligation to do so. This was a crusade that Bruno and his father had started a long time ago.
One that Alexei had inherited, and while he had fulfilled his duties to honor his predecessor’s legacy, and the alliance that Nicholas forged with Wilhelm and Bruno.
Alexei was not nearly as invested in the narrative as Bruno was. War had been declared. Russia joined together with its allies in the German Empire, but Alexei was more interested in what he could gain from the conflict rather than dismantling potential threats to his homeland that may never actually manifest.
It was because of this that he and his generals had conspired to invade Alaska and reclaim the land for the Russian Empire. Especially now that it was certain the United States would never recover from the war.
On his desk was a telegraph from the Pacific Fleet, which was currently on an expedition to Alaska. The territorial governor had expressed a desire for an armistice to negotiate a surrender.
Alexei looked over at his advisors, of whom his wife, Elsa, was among them. They began to squabble among themselves until finally the usually quiet and domestic Tsarina gave voice to her thoughts.
"Alexei, my love... Accept the request for an armistice. The Alaskans know they cannot win this fight and seek unconditional surrender. Contrary to what your generals might think, they have no reason to continue fighting. Nor seek favorable terms, they simply wish to end the bloodshed before it worsens, and gain a stable foothold in the Empire...."
Several generals shot Elsa a nasty glare, which she returned with one of her own, forcing them to back down on the spot, avert their gazes, or outright direct them towards the ground in submission.
As for Alexei, though his wife seldom interfered in matters of geopolitical importance, and mostly kept to her own role as the Matriarch of the House and its internal affairs.
Whenever she did feel the need to express something with regard to subjects such as this, her wisdom was worth its weight in gold. And thus, Alexei took her side, even if some of her generals were more reckless with their own advice.
"Indeed, my wife, your Tsarina is correct. The Alaskans have no reason to continue fighting. Especially not for a homeland that has abandoned them. Agree to the ceasefire and contact our embassy in Hanseong. I wish for the negotiations to take place on neutral ground to show that we have no further hostile intent."
The Russian generals quickly bowed before their Tsar’s discretion.
"If that is your command, Your Majesty..."