Re: Blood and Iron-Chapter 457: By the Numbers
Though Bruno sat across from Nicholas at the Tsar's desk as a mere guest, he was the one who opened the bottle of vodka placed on the table and poured the drinks, offering a toast in Russian.
The two men sat in silence as they enjoyed the drink. It wasn't a fine scotch of vintage worth a sizeable chunk of their lifespan, but it was a clean, and crisp drink, especially when paired with ice.
Bruno's tolerance towards alcohol was at the point where vodka could be consumed as if it were mere water. And even Nicholas found himself impressed with the manner that Bruno handled his Russian spirits, making an offhand remark about it with a playful tone in his voice.
"Are you sure you weren't born in Tsaritsyn instead of Berlin? The way you handle your vodka reminds me of the good old boys who work in the factories..."
Bruno simply smirked as he placed the glass down on the table and filled it again with the liquid that was clearer than the crystal glass which contained it.
"Oh, I was born in Berlin alright. I am 100% ethnically and culturally Prussian, but spiritually? You could say my soul bleeds for the bitter frost of mother Russia..."
Even if this was a mere throwaway line, Nicholas couldn't help but see it with a confident and prideful outlook. It meant far more to him than his expression would suggest. Even so, with pleasantries now dispatched — and small talk having already pressed up against boundaries, Bruno preferred not to revisit — he got straight to business.
"Now that pleasantries are out of the way — let's talk progress. I expect the numbers to justify the Reich's considerable investment."
The Tsar had long since prepared for this meeting and slid a folder across the desk with a quiet pride. Bruno silently nodded as he read the figures — exactly what he had calculated, but he was content to let Nicholas speak.
"With the investment and joint-development programs you've put in place — licensing, tooling, engineering support — we're now producing upwards of 700 armored vehicles based on your E-10 designs per month. In addition to this, we're producing 130 to 150 armored vehicles based on the E-25 chassis.
"As for our aerial output, thanks to your help with advancing our understanding of aviation and airframe production, we're manufacturing roughly 100 to 120 Bf-109 variants, 20 to 30 light bombers based on your Do 17 design, and 15 to 20 Ju-52 transport aircraft.
"Our naval dockyards are more limited, but we're managing to produce one Type XXI submarine every three to four months, and one destroyer every two to three. Logistical support ships are on roughly the same time span.
"Rest assured, we're doing our best to fulfill the demands of our alliance. Unless there's something you wish to add, I believe these figures are satisfactory."
In truth, the numbers were only slightly below Germany's — a feat Bruno had predicted, but was still pleased to see proven. Russia had a far greater potential for mass manufacturing than Germany, and Bruno had only just begun to awaken that giant. It was only a matter of time before Russia outproduced them all. That was precisely why they were a critical ally — and why Bruno would do nearly anything to keep them that way.
Dynastic politics had one unmatched advantage: blood tied nations tighter than treaties ever could. Democracies and autocracies built alliances on the principle of shifting interest. Bruno preferred loyalty — or better yet, family.
Towards the end of Bruno's past life, the European Union and NATO had clutched their pearls over the U.S. demanding relevance from alliances that had outlived their original purpose. But Bruno had seen those same NATO states gut their own militaries and rely on American protection like entitled children.
Alliances, he knew, must be built on shared burdens — not bureaucratic daydreams. And so he steered the conversation gently, but directly.
"So, how is your boy doing? Alexei seems quite taken with my daughter — and I don't blame him. She's rather fond of him, too. Do you think our little plan will run smoothly, or do the fates intend to throw a wrench into the gears?"
Nicholas chuckled, shaking his head as he took a sip from the glass Bruno had poured.
"Taken with her? She's all the boy talks about as of late. He's utterly infatuated. And if she feels the same, then this alliance of ours will last a very long time. I do have several other daughters, you know. And you have more sons, yes? Ever considered building in a bit of redundancy?"
Bruno smirked and waved it off.
"Josef will be marrying the Habsburg brat — you know, the one orphaned when the Archduke and his wife got themselves murdered in Sarajevo. It's the least I can do for the girl, all things considered.
"I haven't brought it up with Franz Joseph yet. Frankly, I'm waiting for the old bastard to croak. His heir, Charles, is far more fond of me these days."
Nicholas nearly choked on his vodka.
"Are you seriously considering a betrothal between Josef and Archduchess Sophie? The girl is practically the same age as Anastasia — nearly a decade older than your son, is she not? I was only half-jesting when I suggested it."
Bruno shrugged, unconcerned.
"Didn't stop me with Erwin. His bride's older, too. Age matters less than political alignment. So long as they marry at the minimum legal age — like Erwin did — it's a non-issue. Besides, I had considered your youngest as a fallback. But the Habsburgs are the final keystone in this alliance.
Even when stripped of their sovereignty in the Balkans, their symbolic value is beyond what most people realize."
Nicholas knew better than to question whatever grand vision Bruno was working toward. Instead, he poured himself another drink and shifted the conversation. They still had several hours to burn before Elsa and Alexei's meeting concluded — and not nearly enough vodka to last them through the entire evening.
