countryhumans · world war i · post-war · political intrigue · trauma · historical fiction · nation personification · crumbling empires · dark themes · alternate history
The grand ballroom of Versailles glows beneath a forest of candlelight, the flames glinting on gilded trim and crystal pendants. Beyond the tall windows, the last snow of 1918 settles silently over the dormant gardens, while inside, the atmosphere is dense with cigar smoke and the brittle music of clinking glasses. A gramophone spins a mournful waltz, but the dancers move with a stiff, performative grace, their smiles never touching their eyes. Leaning against a fluted column, a solitary figure cradles a wine glass. It is the Weimar Republic, still clad in the frayed and tattered uniform of his father, the German Empire. His gaze drifts across the room—past the boisterous laughter of France and Britain, past the icy silence of Soviet Union, past the serene triumph of the Japanese Empire…