Re: Blood and Iron - Chapter 886: Resignation

Chapter 886: Resignation

In the months following the end of the Second World War, and the attack on the German delegation’s life in Geneva; Switzerland found itself in a precarious position.

Their economy had been in decline for years; their politicians were being exposed for corruption left and right. And to top it all off they were suffering from a serious problem with French nationalism.

The remnants of de Gaulle’s regime had fled across the Swiss border and over the course of the last four years infested every corner of the country.

This had culminated in the attack on the German delegation during the peace accords hosted in Geneva. An attack which forced Swiss police to modernize as best they could to counter the growing threat of terrorism.

Every attempt to crack down on a cell created two more. And as violence spread, the police only seemed to make matters worse. The left-wing political parties capitalized on the failures of the current administration.

It seemed every facet of power within the Swiss Confederation was working against its president. And today he had gathered the press and his ministers on the steps of the Presidential palace.

Scorched marks and bullet holes from the previous attacks had been patched up in the time since. But the scars remained hidden behind a fresh layer of paint and stucco.

Philipp Etter adjusted the microphone. As he stood in front of the podium, he looked into the cameras, addressing not the press, but the people of Switzerland.

“These last few years as your President have been the greatest honor of my life. And during my tenure I have endeavored to do my best to overturn the obviously growing state of decay within this country. And while I know not every choice I have made has been free of controversy. I must confess that I have found it exhausting to see my opposition claim for my impeachment or resignation every time something has not gone to their liking.”

The press began to silently murmur among themselves, thinking perhaps the President was about to publicly lambast his opponents one was quick to stick a camera in his face.

“Mr. President, are you blaming your opposition for the current dire straits of the country and the negative direction it has headed during your administration?”

Philipp did not respond to this, at least not at first. Instead, he adjusted his tie and took a drink from his glass before addressing the remark.

“On the contrary, I quite freely admit to my own failures in regard to policy decisions that did not have the desired effects. However, since my critics have become so loud, and are now openly using repeated acts of political violence and tragedy against my security measures designed to combat the rising tide of terrorism. I hereby announce my resignation. If you all think you can handle this matter better than I and my party can? Then I freely invite you to try… but know this: by forcing me out of my position, you have removed the only person keeping the wolves at bay, and now the cattle will pay the price.”

Philipp did not entertain any more questions and instead instantly walked off without even looking in the direction of the press. Not even as they chased after him, trying to get another sound bite to add to their individual networks.

The doors of the palace closed behind Philipp with a muted thud. Inside, the press noise became a distant storm.

The Finance Minister stood pale beneath the chandeliers.

“You realize what you’ve just done?” he asked quietly.

Philipp removed his jacket slowly.

“I’ve stopped being the lightning rod,” he replied.

“Without you, Parliament will fracture.”

“It already has.”

Outside, sirens began to wail, not because of violence, but because word had spread faster than official channels could manage.

Banks began fielding withdrawal requests. The Army Chief of Staff had already dispatched observers to the western cantons.

No one said the word civil war. But it hovered.

Within hours of the President’s resignation, the Federal Council fractured into open disagreement.

Markets reacted first.

The Swiss franc dipped sharply against the mark before stabilizing under quiet intervention from domestic banking consortia.

Statements were issued reassuring investors that “continuity of governance” remained intact. No emergency powers were invoked.

Not yet.

In Lausanne, a French nationalist demonstration turned violent when police attempted to disperse it. Three officers were hospitalized. Seven arrests were made.

By evening, two of those arrested were already being framed as martyrs on pamphlets distributed anonymously throughout the canton.

In Basel, a coalition of industrial magnates met behind closed doors to discuss capital flight.

And in Bern, a junior intelligence officer filed a report noting increased movement in rural districts near the French border; unfamiliar men, well dressed, well-funded, disciplined.

The report was forwarded upward, but it did not make the evening news.

Publicly, Switzerland remained neutral. However, privately, it had begun to tilt.

—

The news spread across the alps as quickly as the words had been spoken. And Bruno sitting in his estate yard, watching his grandchildren and great grand children playing in the first snow fall of the new year; had read the words on a telegram sent to him from the Reich Security Service.

While no longer holding the now retired position of Reichsmarschall. Bruno did not have to rely on his own private means of intelligence to keep up to date with the ongoing matters of national security and foreign affairs.

He was after all the Grand Prince of Tyrol and maintained the highest level of security clearance in the country despite officially being retired from the military. And it was because of this that many members of the Reich’s various intelligence bureaus reported to him on matters of importance such as this.

Bruno did not open the file immediately, he weighed it in his hand first. The Reich Security Service did not send telegrams for trivialities. And they certainly did not mark them in red unless escalation thresholds had been crossed.

He broke the seal.

Swiss Federal Council divided 3–4 following resignation. French Nationalist cells confirmed active in Vaud and Neuchâtel. Banking sector instability increasing. Two confirmed Werwolf detachments in position. Awaiting directive.

Bruno exhaled slowly.

Switzerland had always been an anomaly. Publicly neutral. Privately penetrated. Its banking houses had once served as arteries for foreign capital that opposed Berlin’s restructuring of Europe. That had been corrected quietly over decades.

But destabilization required calibration. Too much pressure and the Confederation fractured into unpredictable cantonal militias. Too little, and the corruption reconstituted itself.

Philipp Etter’s resignation accelerated the timeline. Bruno folded the telegram once more, he did not look alarmed, if anything he looked mildly inconvenienced.

When Heidi glanced over and saw the message handed off to them by a member of his Personal Leibgarde, she glared at him.

“No….”

Bruno was quick to open his mouth in protest but Heidi cut him off instantly while shaking her head.

“I said no… Bruno, you have one year off before you become Chancellor. Less now, and I will be damned if you waste any of our time together with matters that can wait until later… Whatever it is, it is no longer your responsibility. Not until you become Chancellor, that is.”

Bruno sighed heavily as he placed the manila folder aside and leaned back in his seat beneath an awning, near a fire pit where he roasted Stockbrot over its flames.

Heidi only smiled again and shut her eyes as she leaned back in her seat next to him, when she saw that her husband had finally let go.

“I know I shouldn’t complain now that you’re finally learning how to have some fun… But, Stockbrot in the middle of winter? Really?”

Heidi smirked despite keeping her eyes shut as she relaxed in her thick winter clothing beneath the awning that shielded them from the snow outside.

She knew she had gotten under Brunp’s skin with that remark. Even if she didn’t witness the expression on his face, she could easily hear the words in his voice.

“What would you know?”

Heidi only then turned over and looked at their descendants building snowmen. She knew sooner or later their grandchildren would be hungry, and she couldn’t help but sigh as she recognized her husband was right again.

“Make sure to roast a few more….”

Heidi began to pout after admitting defeat, knowing that behind her, Bruno was smirking victoriously. And she couldn’t stand that fact.

But she couldn’t stay mad at him. She had never managed to do so in her entire life. Especially not when their grandchildren and grandchildren saw the Stockbrot roasting over the flames and came running over.

In the end, Bruno and Heidi enjoyed a small snack of Stockbrot and hot cider together with their grandchildren sin the snow on their estate grounds.

And Heidi couldn’t help but mutter under her breath something that Bruno pretended he didn’t hear.

“You always know best….”