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Chapter Eleven: Two Meetings
Chapter Eleven: Two Meetings

Things were moving quickly. Throughout the rest of 1941, the Axis prepared for the task ahead: Russia would fall before the next year was out, Hitler was sure of it. Hadzipetkov and Vulkov had arrived back in Bulgaria near the beginning of Summer and were both busy preparing the Army for its role in Operation Barbarossa.

Although they saw much of each other, neither of them had the opportunity to discuss what was really on their minds: Vulkov’s suspicions and Hadzipetkov’s true identity. Hadzipetkov kept quiet for obvious reasons (he was a spy, after all), but why Vulkov told no one of his hunch, not even the Tsar, was a mystery.

Regardless, the world seemed to sense that something was up. Near the end of Fall, the Spanish and Hungarians officially announced their entries into the Comintern. And the Allies, though they had lost North Africa, were undoubtedly planning something thanks to the arrival of the American juggernaut. 1942 would be a year to remember, but for what reason remained to be seen. Someone would win, but who would it be?

Many of Germany’s generals asked the Fuhrer for more time, the Spanish alliance with the Soviets being of particular concern, but their pleas were brushed aside. He would not allow any further delays or opportunities for a Soviet first strike. Once Spring came, the Axis’ armies would be ready, Spain or not.

With these developments, plus one more we’ve yet to get to, Tsar Boris has called a meeting to consult with his Ministers. Bulgaria may have saved the Axis once, but can it do so again? And would the rewards be worth the cost?

With Kyoseivanov having returned from his vacation and Hadzipetkov and Vulkov back from the front, this marks the first time since the start of the war that all the Bulgarians have gathered together to brief the Tsar. For though much has changed in the world, some things have stayed the same. The strong governmental architecture, the stiffly pressed uniforms of the Tsar and his Military advisors, the authority of a monarch over his people; these have given Bulgaria security. And through that security, strength. And the Tsar has used that strength to lead his people. But what if the people refuse to accept his strength, his authority? That is the main question on everyone’s minds as Minister Filov brings up the latest development. The development that has sparked this meeting. One closer to home than the war has ever been before. Insurgency.

“What should we do?” Kyoseivanov asked, a slight nervousness to his voice.

“Crush the traitors!” Lukov declared, eyeing the other Ministers.

“But we don’t know where they operate—” Filov began.

“So? We’ll question every suspect. Search every household. They will be found.” Lukov continued.

“They’re guerilla fighters, Lukov,” Hadzipetkov said, standing from his chair. “They won’t be driven out through brute force.”

Lukov stood as well, “Subtlety’s for the weak! We have to act now, we have to act fast, and we have to act hard! These Communists and their ‘Fatherland Front’ will think twice about challenging the Tsar’s authority!”

“Well I think…” Kyoseivanov started.

“No! We should…” Filov argued.

The dozens of Ministers present argued, hissed, and spat at each other (the tension had everyone on edge). Their voices all overlapping like a zoo.

The only people who weren’t yelling were Vulkov, who was (characteristically) silent and was watching the proceedings from his position near the corner of the conference table, Boris, whose head was in his hands in frustration, and Brian, who stood by the Tsar’s side trying to console him.

Hadzipetkov escaped the arguments just long enough to look up and catch Vulkov’s eyes shining at him, but he ignored the Air Minister and allowed himself to be pulled back in. Vulkov sighed and slipped out of the room.

“Enough!” Boris finally yelled. “Sit down all of you!”

The Ministers each sheepishly obeyed.

The Tsar continued, “This is exactly what they want, for us to fight amongst ourselves while they spread like a virus. The timing of this is no accident. We’re on the eve of our invasion of Russia, the heartland of Communism. This group is clearly trying to distract and divide us. But will we let them?”
A few of the Minister let out a mumbled ‘No’.

“I said, ‘Will we’?” The Tsar repeated.

The Tsar was met with some stronger ‘Nos’.

“Will we?!”

The Ministers all shouted together: “No!”

“Now let’s civilly come up with a plan.”

As the Ministers began to ‘civilly’ discuss options with each other, the Tsar slumped in his chair and felt his beating heart, it was slightly fast.

Brian leaned down, “Are you all right?” he whispered.

“Yes…yes I’m fine.” Boris whispered back, rubbing his temples. “Just tired. I’m sure it’s nothing.”

Brian hesitated but then said, “If you say so.”

The two men then turned their attention back to the discussion.

. . .​

Hadzipetkov left the meeting in good spirits: The Tsar had authorized his plan. The Army would stay in Bulgaria and deal with the Communist threat. The Germans would have to deal with the Comintern all on their own. The Germans would understand. They wouldn’t want any Communist insurgents behind their lines and Hitler would not budge on moving his timetable. Everything was perfect. Yes, and as he walked home in the cool night air he was, for the first time in a while, happy. The war would soon be over and he, Hadzipetkov would be rewarded for his efforts. Yes, he was happy. Yessiree. No conflicting feelings at all. None whatsoever—What was that? Something had scraped on the pavement behind him.

He turned to look and saw the unmistakably lanky form of Vulkov a few feet behind him. They each stared at each other for a few moments, but each second felt like an eternity. They were both alone. The meeting had gone late, and no one was out at this time of night. Their eyes were locked in combat with each other, each one waiting for the other to make the first move. Hadzipetkov blinked first.

He turned and began running as fast as he could, diving into back alleys and weaving in between side streets. It was raining and each step he took splashed loudly on the concrete. After a few blocks, Hadzipetkov turned around and leaned against a lamppost to catch his breath. He was soaked, both because of the rain and his sweat and his breath was shaky.

He didn’t know what Vulkov wanted, or, scratch that, he did know. Vulkov wanted to talk. But Hadzipetkov was done talking. He had made his choice, Vulkov was just going to have to accept it. The Soviets would win this war, the Germans would stand no chance. Ousting the government now was the only way to avoid the wrath of Stalin and the Red Army. Vulkov had to know that, he just had to. He (Hadzipetkov) was doing the right thing.

A few splashes on the pavement drew Hadzipetkov’s attention as Vulkov had caught up with him and, again, stood a few feet away. Vulkov caught Hadzipetkov’s gaze and seemed to be pleading, but the Colonel shook his head. There would be no turning back. Vulkov looked to be about to say something but suddenly a loud clap of thunder startled them both. The thunder brough with it a fresh mist of rain, obscuring their vision. With his pursuer distracted, Hadzipetkov saw his chance and slipped away. But as he did so, Vulkov called out:

“Be careful, Hadzipetkov! Remember what happened to the Messenger!”

Hadzipetkov stopped for a moment. ‘The Messenger?’ The young man had been his contact in the Bulgarian Messenger Corps. A bright lad who’d let the pressure get to him. The last time Hadzipetkov had seen him the boy’s hair had grown slightly shaggy and there was a crazed look in his eyes. He had been muttering something about the apocalypse (their own private joke about the coming Bulgarian Revolution) and had been frustrated about the apparent lack of progress. Hadzipetkov had told him not to worry, that patience was needed. That was the week before he and Vulkov had left for France. It was also the last time they’d see each other ever again.

Partway through the Scandinavian campaign Hadzipetkov had learned from one of his other agents (a member of the palace’s security forces) of the man’s death. He had snapped and had tried to assassinate the Tsar. Thankfully, he had failed, but at the cost of his own life. If the Tsar had died, that would have meant increasing influence from the Germans and, with Hadzipetkov away, from Lukov and the rest of the Cabinet. They would have been difficult to deal with, but the Tsar was a trusting puppet. Under Boris’ watch, Hadzipetkov’s army had ensured the Axis’ survival, making them overconfident and weak, a perfect target for Soviet entry into the war. And the Tsar had been influenced slowly, imperceptibly into his own deposition.

Although the Messenger had died, the dream of the Revolution continued to live on. His sacrifice was a necessary one to ensure secrecy. How Vulkov knew mattered not, he had told no one so far and would, presumably, continue to do so as long as he (Vulkov) though that he (Hadzipetkov) could be brought back from the brink. But he (Hadzipetkov) had no inhibitions, no second thoughts. He had made his choice…Yes…Yes, he had.

Hadzipetkov sighed and slipped away into the darkness. Vulkov continued to stand for a while in the rain. Seconds turned to minutes, minutes to an hour, then two. Finally, the Minister turned and went home, his feet dragging on the wet sidewalk.
 
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Some excellent intrigue! You've really tied all these seemingly disconnected events together into a broader narrative which is quite interesting. I also like how you've characterized all the important ministers and kept Vulkov as a bit of an enigma for both the readers and the other characters.

Will the Bulgarians be going into communist Hungary, or will they be staying in Bulgaria to suppress a revolt?
 
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Some excellent intrigue! You've really tied all these seemingly disconnected events together into a broader narrative which is quite interesting. I also like how you've characterized all the important ministers and kept Vulkov as a bit of an enigma for both the readers and the other characters.

Will the Bulgarians be going into communist Hungary, or will they be staying in Bulgaria to suppress a revolt?
Thanks! I've loved writing Vulkov and see him grow from a one-off joke into something more.

The army will be staying in Bulgaria. In game, this was because I compared the industries/militaries of Germany and the Soviets and saw that the Soviets had Germany outmatched by a lot. Combine this with Germany also having to deal with Spain...and you can probably tell what ends up happening. Also the "Fatherland Front" event happened not long after. It basically just made me lose Stability and gain Communist support every day. This probably would've led to a civil war if I'd played for long enough.

Depending on how I split my writing up, this story should finish up in about 2-4 chapters. I know this is kind of sudden, but I had always planned to end this AAR during/after the Russian invasion because of what happens with it. Hope everyone will enjoy it.
 
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Depending on how I split my writing up, this story should finish up in about 2-4 chapters. I know this is kind of sudden, but I had always planned to end this AAR during/after the Russian invasion because of what happens with it. Hope everyone will enjoy it.
I think that makes sense, we are getting to the apocalyptic concluding battle, and Germany doesn't seem set up to win! I look forward to the closing parts and appreciate all the work you've put into this.
 
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To end mid-invasion is a bold writing choice, I like bold and different so this should be good.

However this ends I do hope something nice happens to Vulkov and that Hadzipetkov face the consequences of his actions, I'm far more interested in the fate of those two than the fate of the invasion, which is a testament to the writing.
 
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To end mid-invasion is a bold writing choice, I like bold and different so this should be good.

However this ends I do hope something nice happens to Vulkov and that Hadzipetkov face the consequences of his actions, I'm far more interested in the fate of those two than the fate of the invasion, which is a testament to the writing.
I'm glad you've liked Vulkov and that Hadzipetkov is a compelling antagonist. They've kind of stolen the spotlight from the story's original duo: Boris and Brian.

TO ALL: I might be able to get a chapter up this week, however I'm also packing for a trip for the 4th of July. If I'm unable to post this week, then it will be next week when I get back.
 
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Chapter Twelve: The Beginning of the End
Note: After this chapter I plan to have one more finale chapter and then (maybe) an epilogue. It depends on how the finale goes/if I feel I've left it in a good spot.
Also I hope those of you who celebrate the 4th had a relaxing/fun three day holiday.


Chapter Twelve: The Beginning of the End

The invasion came in the Spring. It, at first, went well. The Soviets had not expected the Germans to attack so soon, given the recent addition of the Spanish and Hungarians into the Comintern. But Hitler’s appetite was insatiable, and he was sure of a swift victory. And, as they say, pride goes before fall. What had been envisioned as a quick drive through Ruthenia was instead ground to a halt, with heavy fighting occurring near the Pinsk Marshes. The Germans lost many men, men they could not afford to lose. With the Spanish making the invasion a two-front affair, and the awkwardly shaped dagger that was Hungary splitting most of the Balkans off from German assistance, it was no surprise that the Germans were soon on the defensive. By midsummer, any Axis gains had been swept aside by a, to German eyes, surprisingly well-equipped Red Army.

Hadzipetkov, of course, had warned his masters in Moscow of the invasion, negating much of Germany’s advantage. Romania soon fell, then the Axis positions in Yugoslavia and Poland, then Slovakia. Coupled with a successful Spanish breakthrough in the Pyrenees, it seemed Germany was doomed. Only one Axis member remained in any fighting shape: Bulgaria. Although this glimmer of hope was, in fact, Hadzipetkov’s doing as well. The Bulgarian people would resist long and hard against a Soviet occupation. But an internal coup would avoid any such sentiments. We go now to the Tsar’s quarters in his palace where he is deeply troubled…

Tsar Boris III of Bulgaria paced the floor of his room. He had been receiving hourly reports about the progress on the front, if one could even call it that. The Germans were fighting a panicked retreat back to Berlin, the Soviets were hot on their heels, and everyday Romanian refugees poured into Bulgaria’s borders. A front? No. Such a name implied stability, none of which could be found out there. What could be done? What could he do? He, the ultimate authority in all of Bulgaria, could do…nothing. The frustrated Tsar collapsed into a plush armchair and felt his heart. He was troubled, the Axis was in trouble, and his heart was now troubling him too. His mortality was upon him. Boris rubbed his chest and started to think:

I’m only forty-eight. Forty-eight? The 19th Century was so long ago. And now I’m the last of a dying breed. The age of the monarch, the age of kings, is over. Now all you have are ideologies and populism. Both of which try to do the job just as well as a king. They promise bright futures full of freedom and prosperity. But look at the world now: it is on fire again. It’s fitting in a way, the emperors of Europe had run the first war, and now the ideologues did so for the second one.

Is this how his father had felt in 1918? Was his father even still in Coburg, or had he fled west to the Rhine, to the Benelux, to France? Who could say? What did he think of his son making the same mistakes as him? Another German alliance, another war, another loss. Could it be that fate had pushed him towards this moment, with that dream so long ago? Was it a test to see what he’d do? Had he interpreted it all wrong? Whatever the case, he had done what he’d thought was best for his people and his nation. But that now seemed a poor excuse.


A shuffling of feet outside his door piqued his interest. Before the visitor had time to ask for permission to enter, Boris had already gotten up and with a few quick strides had opened the door. It was Brian, whose hand now hung, poised to knock, in the empty air where the door had been.

Brian startled back in surprise, “Oh! Forgive me for disturbing you, my Tsar!”

“It’s alright Brian. Come in. And, please, drop the courtier façade for today, will you?”

“Alright,” Brian said. “Are you all right Boris?”

Boris went and sat back down in his chair, “Yes…It’s just, do you ever wonder if you’ve made the right choices in life?”

Brian eyed Boris warily, “I suppose so. Everybody must feel that way at some point or another. It’s just a part of being human.”

Boris offered Brian the seat opposite him, “Yes, but what if your wrong decisions didn’t just affect you? What if there were millions of others counting on you, hoping for you, being affected by your one wrong move? Wouldn’t you feel trapped, like there was no way out, because no matter what way you choose, someone will lose?”

Brian sat down and stared deeply at his friend, “These aren’t rhetorical questions, are they Boris?”

Boris stared back at Brian for a long while. Then, he looked down at his lap and said, “No. you’re right, they’re not.”

Brian stared at Boris and waited for him to continue.

Boris looked back up, “I’ve been thinking about my father and what he did at a time like this, twenty-four years ago. He abdicated. He’d hoped I’d lead Bulgaria to a brighter future, and I’ve always tried to do that, but now…now…” he faltered.

“But now you’re thinking you’ve made the wrong choice,” Brian continued.

“Exactly.”

“Boris…” Brian started; he couldn’t find the words to speak.

He fingered one of the brass buttons on his aide-uniform, stood, and walked over to a desk with drawers in the room. Boris said nothing and watched his companion. Brian stood in front of the desk and studied each of the drawers. After looking over each one carefully, Brian finally opened one of the handles and pulled out a medal. He turned around and held it out for Boris to see.

“Do you remember the day they pinned this to our chests?” he said.

Boris carefully took the medal from Brian’s hand and looked at it.

“Yes, yes, I do” he replied, “It’s to remember our service in the Great War. Do you still have yours?”

“Right here.” Brian replied, pulling his own medal out of his jacket pocket. “Doesn’t it feel like an eternity ago?”

“Yes.” Boris agreed, “And the world forgot so quickly.”

“They did. But it was their choice to forget.”

“What do you mean?”

Brian eyed his medal, watching the light from a nearby window glint off its metal surface. He rubbed his thumb tenderly over the grooves in its design. He replied:

“They couldn’t handle the destruction, the upheaval. Some of us chose to cope by remembering, others chose to forget.”

“And you Brian, what did you choose?” Boris asked.

“I chose to carry on. To do what your father trusted me with in 1915, and what I’ve, hopefully, done ever since: To follow you and protect your life.” Brian looked up at his friend.

Boris got up out of his chair, “Even though I’ve made mistakes, even though I’m not a perfect Tsar, even though I may, in fact, have doomed this country, this dynasty, and the government to destruction!? Kyoseivanov was right, we should have never gone through with this.” He turned away from Brian in shame. A few silent tears rolled down his cheeks.

Brian pocketed his medal and walked slowly towards the Tsar. He came up behind Boris and gently gripped each of Boris’ shoulders with his hands and turned him around. Brian looked Boris straight in his eyes and said:

“Kyoseivanov may have been right about that, but he’s been wrong about plenty of other things too. But do you want to know why, I think, you’ve kept him around, despite his mistakes. It’s because, even if his decisions seem silly after the fact, he sticks to them. And he continues to try afterward, even if he’s usually wrong. It’s lonely at the top, for Ministers and especially for Tsars. Whatever choices you’ve made, you’ve made for a reason. And whatever end may come because of them, I’ll still be glad to be here by your side.”

Boris sniffed. “Thank you, Brian, I really mean that.”

“I know you do Boris. I—”

Brian was cut off by an urgent knocking at the door. Brian backed away from Boris and stood at attention while Boris sat back down in his chair, wiped the tears from his eyes, and adopted a nonchalant look.

“Come in.” Boris said.

The door opened and Minister Filov entered the room, he bowed slightly and shakily to the Tsar.

“Filov?” Boris said with surprise. “What is it?”

Filov twitched nervously and there was an obvious amount of sweat on his face.

“Did you run all the way here?” Brian asked.

Filov nodded and used his hands to wave any further questions aside, “My Tsar,” he croaked, “we need you to assemble the Cabinet right away…” Filov stopped and caught his breath.

“Filov?” Boris urged, slowly rising from his chair. “What happened?”

The Minister said only three words:

“Berlin has fallen.”

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That was a really well-written update! I'm sorry to see this AAR come to an end but it is certainly building to a great conclusion.

You did a really job capturing the tragedy of the defeat, and it really makes you wonder what, if anything, Boris could do differently. I also like how you explore the mindset of the generation that survived World War I.
 
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That was a really well-written update! I'm sorry to see this AAR come to an end but it is certainly building to a great conclusion.

You did a really job capturing the tragedy of the defeat, and it really makes you wonder what, if anything, Boris could do differently. I also like how you explore the mindset of the generation that survived World War I.
Hopefully the conclusion will be worth the wait.

Thanks! I feel like that's something that doesn't get discussed that often: that most of the leaders/generals of WW2 were alive and/or fought in WW1. I've always suspected that Hitler's actions were partially because of untreated PTSD and trauma from his time in the trenches.
 
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I've always suspected that Hitler's actions were partially because of untreated PTSD and trauma from his time in the trenches.
I'm willing to believe that's part of what radicalized him, or at least many of the early Nazis if nothing else. I'd be curious what other people think, I've never really looked deeply into the origins of Hitler's ideology.
 
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Dark days for Bulgaria, perhaps too late for a nice outcome for Boris and Brian though I still hope Hadzipetkov faces consequences for his treason.

Boris undoubtedly made incorrect choices, but none of them were obviously wrong at the time he made them. Gambles certainly, but if you take a risk you should be prepared for it to fail and deal with the result. I do have a small amount of sympathy, it must be frustrating to see Hitler would prioritise invading Ireland over defending the Eastern Front, because you just cannot plan for that sort of madness.

I'm willing to believe that's part of what radicalized him, or at least many of the early Nazis if nothing else. I'd be curious what other people think, I've never really looked deeply into the origins of Hitler's ideology.
I'll admit I don't know either. But many millions fought in the trenches and returned home, but despite fears at the time there was no huge spike crime in the UK at least. Indeed for many types of crime the figures dropped in 1919. No big rise in radical or extreme political groups either. That said those figures are for society and we are talking about an individual, so perhaps it did affect him far more than other veterans. But my guess would be that it was Germany losing the war that had a bigger impact on him than any warfare related experiences.

In any event I am reminded of the example of Eichmann, his psychiatrist reported him as having no problems or conditions at all and being in good mental health despite all the horrors he had committed and ordered. Sometimes there is no underlying pathology, just the terrible realisation about what people are capable of.
 
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Dark days for Bulgaria, perhaps too late for a nice outcome for Boris and Brian though I still hope Hadzipetkov faces consequences for his treason.

Boris undoubtedly made incorrect choices, but none of them were obviously wrong at the time he made them. Gambles certainly, but if you take a risk you should be prepared for it to fail and deal with the result. I do have a small amount of sympathy, it must be frustrating to see Hitler would prioritise invading Ireland over defending the Eastern Front, because you just cannot plan for that sort of madness.
You're right that it may be too late for some of our characters, but I hope you enjoy the ending nonetheless. Hadzipetkov's consequences was something I really struggled to write while doing this final chapter, but I think I've done it well enough.

How can anything go to plan in an unhistorical focuses HOI4 game ;) ?
 
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Chapter Thirteen: Adieu, Auf Wiedersehen, Gesundheit, Farewell
Author: Hey everyone! Sorry this took a little longer to post. And also sorry that it is super long (over 3000 words according to my Word doc). I just had to make sure everything was wrapped up in a nice way, which I hope is enough of an excuse for the length. Hope you all enjoy this last chapter!

Chapter Thirteen: Adieu, Auf Wiedersehen, Gesundheit, Farewell

Boris, Brian, and Filov rushed out of the room. As they slid into the seats of the Tsar’s royal automobile, Boris quickly barked an order at a secretary to contact the rest of the cabinet. The palace’s staff watched in confusion as the three men entered the vehicle and, not even waiting for the Tsar’s chauffeur, had Brian drive them away. The tire tracks left their skid marks freshly visible on the pavement as Bulgaria’s citizens looked on. Boris’ heart and mind were both racing as fast as the car he sat in.

Minister Kyoseivanov was the first to receive the call, seeing how he was in his office working. This also meat that he arrived much earlier than the others, which gave him ample time to grumble about Filov’s “over-exaggerations” of urgency, as well as utter other unkind and flippant remarks about his coworkers, Brian, the Tsar (you get the point).

Hadzipetkov received the call second. He was, in fact, on his lunch break at a small bistro on the other side of the city. His reasons for having lunch so far away from his office were, firstly, to clear his mind of the humdrum of administrative government work. But, secondly, and arguably more important, was that this side of Sofia was away from prying eyes and ears. Hadzipetkov stood up, called for the check from the waiter, paid his bill, and, as he was tipping the waiter, made a slight spasm with his hands. This spasm was so small that, to a casual observer, they would think Hadzipetkov were merely stretching his joints after a long meal. But it wasn’t so. The waiter saw the spasm and knew its true meaning. In response he twitched his head, which, to anybody not familiar with the signal, simply looked like a brisk nod. But again, it was not so. Hadzipetkov recognized the gesture and, having done his work, made his way to the government offices. There was more work to be done yet.

The waiter picked up the bill and his tip and began to spread the word among his comrades who also worked at the restaurant. Through a nod here and a gesture there the city was mobilized. Then from the city to the countryside, from there to the Army’s encampments at the border of Soviet-controlled Romania and Yugoslavia, and from there to the NKVD agents stationed with Soviet forces. The Revolution was coming.

Vulkov was the third person to receive the call. He had, incidentally, just arrived at his office just a few minutes before due to an errand he’d run. When an assistant told him of the Tsar’s summons, Vulkov straitened his hat, grabbed the four tickets he’d purchased at the train station that morning, and headed for the conference room to await the Tsar’s arrival.

Lukov was the last person to receive the call. He had decided to use his lunch break that day to get a shave and a cut at his barber’s. As his barber made the finishing touches to Lukov’s stubble, the shop received the call from Lukov’s secretary. When his barber handed him the phone, Lukov’s face went from calm, to, briefly, panic, to, finally, a cold rage simmering beneath the surface. He ordered his barber to: “Finish the job quick, he had places to be”. The man complied, then walked over and closed the blinds on the shop’s windows saying: “the Sun was disturbing his light”. Lukov nodded impatiently and relaxed a little in his chair. The barber walked up behind Lukov, wielded his razor in the quick, effortless fashion gained by years of practice, and slid his knife across Lukov’s throat. And that was the end for Minister Lukov.

. . .​

As Hadzipetkov walked up the steps of the government building he noticed, out of the corner of his eye, the Tsar’s vehicle come screeching down a sharp turn and abruptly halt at the foot of the steps. So, this is where it will end. He thought. Hadzipetkov shrugged, entered the building, and went straight for the conference room.

Filov was the first out of the vehicle and fumbled with the latch on the door as he tried to hold it open for the Tsar. As Filov struggled with that, Boris sat slumped in his seat and was rubbing his chest. Brian, seeing Boris’ discomfort, was beside him in an instant.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“What isn’t?” Boris sighed, then grunted as he adjusted his position. He was still rubbing his heart.

“I’m not talking about the war,” Brian clarified. “I’m talking about here,” he pointed at his own heart.

“It’s…nothing…” Boris struggled.

“We need to get you to a doctor. Now!” Brian exclaimed.

“No…No!” Boris commanded. “There’s no time. Bulgaria needs their monarch to lead them through this crisis.”

“But—”

“That’s an order Brian! We’ll talk about this later…”

With that, Boris pushed past his aide, opened the door Filov had been struggling with from the inside, and walked up the steps of the building without missing a beat. Filov stood agape at the Tsar’s brusqueness and breach of protocol. Brian stood looking on at his lifelong friend and liege. There was a mix of admiration and worry in his eyes.

“Is he always like that?” Filov asked.

“Only when he’s determined,” Brian replied, smiling to himself.

Boris stopped in his stride and called back: “Let’s go, gentlemen!”

“Coming, my Tsar!” Brian replied, who quickly climbed the steps and entered the building with Boris, leaving Filov in the dust.

The Minister stood shocked for a moment before he entered the building, trailing behind the others.

. . .​

Vulkov stood outside the conference room, waiting. As Ministers and other government staff filed past him into the room, he said nothing to any of them. He was waiting, waiting for someone specific. Eventually Hadzipetkov rounded the corner, strutting confidently up to the entrance to the room. He was followed a few moments later by Boris and Brian, and, eventually, Filov. Vulkov’s head perked up and he moved to the middle of the hallway.

Hadzipetkov, seeing his colleague, assumed this would be yet another plea for him to ‘change his ways’. Hadzipetkov rolled his eyes, he’d play Vulkov’s little game. But Hadzipetkov was mistaken. He made as if to avoid Vulkov’s path, but then faltered in his stride as Vulkov completely ignored him, walked past him, and made his way towards the Tsar.

Fine. Hadzipetkov thought. At least, if nothing else, he’s finally accepted my choice. Hadzipetkov then re-donned his smile and confidently strode into the conference room.

Filov, despite being in last place, quickly surpassed the Tsar and entered the conference room alone. It was his duty as the most senior Minister, after all, to ensure order. He thought.

This just left Boris, Brian, and Vulkov alone in the hallway. The sounds of their shoes as they walked up to each other echoed off the dark marble floors.

“Minister.” Boris acknowledged Vulkov with a nod of his head and started to move towards the room.

But Vulkov, sensing his chance, shot out his arm and gripped the Tsar’s shoulder, stopping his gait.

“My Tsar, wait!” he said.

Vulkov had surprised Boris, making him falter in his stride and fall down on one knee. Brian, who had been just behind Boris, quickly tried to help his friend up. Vulkov was initially shocked by the Tsar’s frailty and released his grip on Boris’ shoulder. He did not know how to react. Only once Brian began to move, did he also try to help Boris up. Together, Brian and Vulkov acted as crutches for the Tsar and brought him to a seating area just outside the conference room.

“You can’t go on like this,” Brian said, “We need to postpone the meeting.”

“No…We can’t. Can’t let them see weakness…” Boris strained.

“I don’t care! The Ministers certainly don’t either, not if it costs your life! The war can wait. Right Vulkov?”

Vulkov was awkwardly standing a few feet away from the others. Whether this was out of respect for the Tsar, or because of his own idiosyncrasies, none could say. His still, looming figure could have almost been mistaken for one of the Corinthian-style columns used as accents throughout the building. He shuffled forward slowly, not wanting to appear hasty or disturbed in what he was about to say. He had delayed too long. The hour was coming when it would be too late, and indeed perhaps it was already here. But regardless, Vulkov began to speak:

“We need to leave.”

Brian nodded, turning back to Boris. “See? Vulkov agrees. We need to get you—”

“I gave you an order Brian...I’m fine!” Boris snapped back.

“We need to leave. Now.” Vulkov repeated.

“Don’t you start,” Boris said. “This is between me and Brian.”

“You can’t just sit here!” an incredulous Brian replied.

“I don’t plan on ‘just sitting here’. I plan on attending a very important meeting which is being delayed because of this foolishness.” Boris tried to get up but slumped back into the reception chair. “Help me up.”

Neither Brian nor Vulkov moved.

“Fine. It seems we’re at an impasse. Well, I hope you two are happy defying your Tsar. My father never would have stood for his subordinates humiliating him like this. He would’ve…He would’ve…He…”

Boris hunched over in his seat and wept.

“I’ve failed him.” He said softly.

Brian reached out a hand and patted Boris’ shoulder to comfort him. It did nothing to console Boris. He continued to cry. Vulkov, once again stood awkwardly. That is until he remembered the four tickets he’d purchased that morning. He pulled them out gingerly and placed one of the tickets on Boris’ knee. Brian took his hand away from Boris’ shoulder and picked up the ticket. Boris didn’t react and continued to cry.

“What’s this?” Brian asked.

“An escape.” Vulkov said.

“Escape from what?” Brian replied.

“Bulgaria.”

Brian looked confused, “Bulgaria? What do you mean?”

“The times have changed. I see it in every day that passes as this war drags on. I hear it in his voice at every meeting. I feel it in my bones.”

Brian still looked confused, “Times have changed, that’s true. But whose voice Vulkov? Why do we have to leave now?”

“Because of his plan. Into this plan he has poured all his ambition, all his cunning, and all his allegiance. None of his former self remains.”

“But who?!” Brian pressed.

“Hello there.” A voice said.

Vulkov and Brian turned around, startled by the voice. Boris snapped his head up before quickly wiping his tears on his sleeve.

Hadzipetkov stood there, leaning against a pillar, “The Ministers are wondering what’s keeping you. They sent me to investigate.”

“Yes, sorry Minister. Vulkov cornered us with a question. We’ll be along any moment now.” Brian said.

“Really?” Hadzipetkov’s eyes flashed. “And what, pray tell, was this question, if I may ask? Vulkov?” He turned his eyes, like miniature spotlights, upon the Minister.

Vulkov stood, because he had kneeled to keep his voice low before, and although he towered over Hadzipetkov, Vulkov looked sheepish in front of Hadzipetkov’s searching eyes. After a minute or so Hadzipetkov cleared his throat and said:

“Yes. Well, we’d better be getting on with the meeting. Even if Lukov hasn’t arrived yet.”

“What’s that?” Boris asked.

“Ah yes. We’d only been waiting for you so long because Minister Lukov hasn’t shown up yet. But we can’t wait for him, or you, my Tsar, if you’ll forgive me, all day.”

“Yes, your right,” Boris said as Brian helped him out of his seat. “It’s not like Lukov, I wonder what could be keeping him?”

“Your guess is as good as mine, my Tsar. Now, if you’ll follow me.” Hadzipetkov replied.

Hadzipetkov led the procession towards the doors of the conference room. Boris and Brian were second, with Brian trying to, subtly so Hadzipetkov wouldn’t notice, act as Boris’ crutch. Vulkov trailed in the procession. And although, outwardly, he maintained his cowed demeanor towards Hadzipetkov and the others, inside his mind was racing.

Hadzipetkov held open the door and ushered the others inside. The first thing Boris, Brian, and Vulkov noticed was how bright the light was when compared to the light outside the conference room. Because of this, it took them a few moments to adjust their eyes. By the time they did, however, it was too late. There was no one else in the room. No one. Instead, there was only the Tsar, his aide, Vulkov, and Hadzipetkov. Hadzipetkov entered the room last, and, as they were still adjusting to the light, clicked the lock on the door shut and pulled out his pistol. He pointed it at Boris.

“Hadzipetkov…What’s the meaning of this?!” Boris challenged.

“Not another word,” Hadzipetkov said, “unless I allow you to speak. That is, unless you want your aide to pay the price?” He aimed his gun at Brian.

Vulkov, Boris, and Brian made no sounds.

Hadzipetkov smiled, “Good. Wouldn’t want any messes now, would we? I just have to keep you here for a few hours before the NKVD takes you off my hands.”

Boris’ and Brian’s eyes widened with shock and then, increasingly, horror. Vulkov stared dully at Hadzipetkov, his hands by his sides.

Hadzipetkov relished their reactions, most of all Vulkov’s, since he thought he had broken him. “I hear Siberia’s nice this time of year. That is, of course, if you’re lucky. Some never get the chance to see the Soviet countryside. Or anything, for that matter, ever again.”

Boris’ eyes widened some more, and he began to shiver. Hadzipetkov assumed it was simply fear.

“Yes. It’ll probably be Siberia for you two.” He pointed his gun at Vulkov, then back at Brian. “Boris I’m afraid you won’t get such a vacation…” He pointed his gun back at the Tsar.

Boris’ shivering turned to shaking. His hand moved to his heart. The only thing that prevented him from falling over was Brian’s support from acting as a crutch. Hadzipetkov’s eyes widened in recognition of Boris’ hand movement, “Let him go.” Hadzipetkov said, pointing his gun at Brian.

Brian didn’t move.

Hadzipetkov cocked his gun, “I said ‘drop him.’”

Brian shook his head ‘no’.

Hadzipetkov grew angry, “Do it! Now!” He was shaking with rage just as much as Boris was shaking with pain.

Brian shook his head once more, “No.” he said.

Hadzipetkov sighed, “I suppose I could just say he tried to run away,” He muttered. Then he pulled the trigger. The gun went off. A loud bang was heard.

Boris shoved Brian out of the way. The bullet hit him in the chest, directly across from his heart. Vulkov lunged at Hadzipetkov, tackling him. The gun flew wildly, landing near the back of the room. Vulkov and Hadzipetkov were wrestling on the floor in an epic duel, ensuring neither of them was able to go for the gun. Brian had ripped off his jacket and was trying to stem the blood flowing from Boris’ chest, a near equal amount of liquid was also pouring from Brian’s eyes. With one hand he was holding the jacket onto Boris’ wound and with his other he was clutching the hand of his dear friend as he felt the life leaving him. Boris was smiling sadly at his friend and was repeatedly whispering:

“It’s all right…It’s all right…”

Brian was trying to hold the tears back, to no avail. As he felt Boris’ hand start to go limp, he couldn’t stem them anymore. Brian wept for many things in that moment. He wept for his liege, he wept for his friend, he wept for Bulgaria, he wept for the war, the dead, the fallen, the forgotten, the veterans, he wept for the past, he wept for Boris’ father who wasn’t there to mourn his son, he wept for himself, and for his failed promise to protect Boris with his life, and he wept, most of all, for the future. A future without Tsar Boris III of Bulgaria.

As Boris slipped away into history Vulkov was still wrestling with Hadzipetkov on the ground. The two men were evenly matched: both of them had their military training, Hadzipetkov had what he’d learned from the NKVD, but Vulkov had the larger body. They struggled, pushed, pulled, and fought there, on the floor of the conference room, for the fate of Bulgaria. Eventually, Vulkov maneuvered himself on top of Hadzipetkov and, with a blow from his knuckles, knocked him out.

It had been a near thing, Vulkov tore his aching, exhausted body away from the Minister and stooped to pick up the gun in the corner. He looked at it, then at Hadzipetkov, unconscious on the floor, with contempt. Then he slowly walked over to Brian, crouched next to him, and placed a hand on his shoulder.

“He was a good man.” Vulkov said.

Brian said nothing. His tears had run out, and now the whole room was silent.

Vulkov said nothing for a minute more, then spoke:

“I know it’s hard, but we have to leave him. Otherwise, we’ll be next, and there will be no one to carry on his memory.”

Brian nodded sullenly, “I know.”

Vulkov nodded and stood. He looked around the room and rested his eyes on Hadzipetkov. Vulkov weighed the gun in his hand, but quickly discarded the idea. Instead, he walked over to the Minister and stuffed something into his breast pocket. Vulkov looked back at Brian, who had stood.

“You ready?” Vulkov said.

Brian looked down at Boris one last time and nodded. “Let’s go. We have a train to catch.”

Vulkov holstered the gun, opened the doors, and stepped out into the wider world.

. . .​

By the time Hadzipetkov woke up they were long gone. The train had taken them to Istanbul across the border (though he didn’t know that). All he knew was that his prey had slipped through his fingers. Hi superiors were not as angry as he’d thought though. They had praised him for his swift coup. The capture of most of the government’s Ministers and the sudden death of the Tsar had killed any resistance. And although two may have escaped, what was that when compared to the whole of Bulgaria: the last member of the Axis still standing. The war was at an end and Communism reigned supreme.

Hadzipetkov opened the door to his new bedroom, the room of the former Tsar. It had been a long day, and not everything had worked like he’d hoped, now he was ready for a good night’s rest. A draft was coming from an open window in the suite. Hadzipetkov quickly closed it and began to undress. As he took of his jacket, a crumbling sound from one of the pockets intrigued him. He laid the jacket on the bed and went through each of the pockets, finally coming to the one that held what he sought. He couldn’t see what it was in the dark, so he turned on a lamp near the nightstand.

Hadzipetkov eyed it critically: It was a ticket. A train ticket. Dated for today: October 6, 1942. Direct to Istanbul. Turkey? When had he gotten a ticket to Turkey? Why was it in his pocket? Unless…

A light went off in Hadzipetkov’s mind. It had clicked. Clicked? No. Something had clicked, behind him. Hadzipetkov turned…

He never got the chance to turn fully. The assassin was too quick with the trigger. And so ended the life of Colonel Nikola Nikolov Hadzipetkov. So ends all who fail the NKVD. And so ends this story.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Author: That's a wrap! I hope you've all enjoyed reading this as much as I've enjoyed writing it! I probably won't do another AAR for a few months since the new semester is coming. But who knows? If I get enough of a break from school/feel in the mood I might post something.

The next one will either be the CK2 beginning of a megacampaign I've been playing or an EU4 AAR that's similar in style to this.

Hope you've all enjoyed! Thanks for reading!
 
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The barber walked up behind Lukov, wielded his razor in the quick, effortless fashion gained by years of practice, and slid his knife across Lukov’s throat. And that was the end for Minister Lukov.
I did not see that coming! A bit uncivilized to betray Lukov's trust like that, but what can you expect from communists?

“The times have changed. I see it in every day that passes as this war drags on. I hear it in his voice at every meeting. I feel it in my bones.”

Brian still looked confused, “Times have changed, that’s true. But whose voice Vulkov? Why do we have to leave now?”

“Because of his plan. Into this plan he has poured all his ambition, all his cunning, and all his allegiance. None of his former self remains.”

“But who?!” Brian pressed.

“Hello there.” A voice said.
I really enjoyed this sequence, it's excellently written in my opinion.

Hadzipetkov relished their reactions, most of all Vulkov’s, since he thought he had broken him. “I hear Siberia’s nice this time of year. That is, of course, if you’re lucky. Some never get the chance to see the Soviet countryside. Or anything, for that matter, ever again.”
And now Hadzipetkov's true side comes out. Very nice job conveying the villainy

Brian was trying to hold the tears back, to no avail. As he felt Boris’ hand start to go limp, he couldn’t stem them anymore. Brian wept for many things in that moment. He wept for his liege, he wept for his friend, he wept for Bulgaria, he wept for the war, the dead, the fallen, the forgotten, the veterans, he wept for the past, he wept for Boris’ father who wasn’t there to mourn his son, he wept for himself, and for his failed promise to protect Boris with his life, and he wept, most of all, for the future. A future without Tsar Boris III of Bulgaria.
Another sad moment, but it is a good legacy for Boris, even if no one but Brian and Vulkov will ever know.

A light went off in Hadzipetkov’s mind. It had clicked. Clicked? No. Something had clicked, behind him. Hadzipetkov turned…

He never got the chance to turn fully. The assassin was too quick with the trigger. And so ended the life of Colonel Nikola Nikolov Hadzipetkov. So ends all who fail the NKVD. And so ends this story.
I didn't see this coming! What an awesome twist!

Overall, I really like how you wrapped things up. It might not be a happy ending, but Boris got a good send-off and Hadzipetkov got his richly deserved end. It fills in just enough details to be satisfying, and it leaves a lot up to the readers' imagination.

Author: That's a wrap! I hope you've all enjoyed reading this as much as I've enjoyed writing it! I probably won't do another AAR for a few months since the new semester is coming. But who knows? If I get enough of a break from school/feel in the mood I might post something.

The next one will either be the CK2 beginning of a megacampaign I've been playing or an EU4 AAR that's similar in style to this.

Hope you've all enjoyed! Thanks for reading!
Congrats on finishing an AAR, that's always a huge accomplishment, and this is even better because it was so well done. I hope your semester goes well, and I'll be looking forward to whatever you decide to write next.
 
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And so we reach The End. Congratulations indeed on this achievement, one that relatively few writers on this board can boast of.

A not 100% satisfying ending, but then few things in life are. It was of course good to see Hadzipetkov get exactly what he wanted, only for it to not turn out as he expected. While his specific end was a surprise, that the revolution would turn on it's own is a tale as old as revolutions. In contrast the quick and brutal murder of Lukov was a surprise, he was never going to have a good life under the new regime but it was still a shock he never even made it that far.

Overall I find myself disappointed in Vulkov, not in the writing but in the character himself. He knew what was coming and had several opportunities to act, yet he spurned them all bar a single half hearted attempt to get Boris to leave and only acting with haste when it was far too late. That said he now finds himself in exile with Brian who, when he gets over his shock, will work this out as well, so I doubt it will be a pleasant time for him as he is forced to confront his failings.

Good luck with your new semester, if you do start a new work please drop a link into this thread so I can find it. :)
 
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I did not see that coming! A bit uncivilized to betray Lukov's trust like that, but what can you expect from communists?
I bet that's what Lukov would've said, had he been given the chance.
I really enjoyed this sequence, it's excellently written in my opinion.
I can't take credit for it entirely. Parts of it were inspired/paraphrased from the opening monologue of Tolkien's The Fellowship of the Ring (the movie version. Can't remember if it's in the book, since it's been too long since I've read it).
And now Hadzipetkov's true side comes out. Very nice job conveying the villainy
Thanks!
Another sad moment, but it is a good legacy for Boris, even if no one but Brian and Vulkov will ever know.
They'll have to carry Boris' memory with them, wherever they end up.
I didn't see this coming! What an awesome twist!

Overall, I really like how you wrapped things up. It might not be a happy ending, but Boris got a good send-off and Hadzipetkov got his richly deserved end. It fills in just enough details to be satisfying, and it leaves a lot up to the readers' imagination.
Thanks again!

With how the game went, I knew this story wasn't going to end happily from the get-go. I just didn't know how the ending would go until I got there.

Other ideas for the ending included: Boris waking up on New Year's Day, 1936 and realizing "it was all a dream". The narrator not liking that ending and locking himself in the studio to write his own, better ending; And the entire Cabinet getting stuck in time because of some Allied naval invasions (I did play a little bit more after Germany's defeat to see if the Allies or Soviets would do anything, some weird stuff happened).
Congrats on finishing an AAR, that's always a huge accomplishment, and this is even better because it was so well done. I hope your semester goes well, and I'll be looking forward to whatever you decide to write next.
I'm glad you enjoyed! Thanks for reading and commenting!
 
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And so we reach The End. Congratulations indeed on this achievement, one that relatively few writers on this board can boast of.

A not 100% satisfying ending, but then few things in life are. It was of course good to see Hadzipetkov get exactly what he wanted, only for it to not turn out as he expected. While his specific end was a surprise, that the revolution would turn on it's own is a tale as old as revolutions. In contrast the quick and brutal murder of Lukov was a surprise, he was never going to have a good life under the new regime but it was still a shock he never even made it that far.

Overall I find myself disappointed in Vulkov, not in the writing but in the character himself. He knew what was coming and had several opportunities to act, yet he spurned them all bar a single half hearted attempt to get Boris to leave and only acting with haste when it was far too late. That said he now finds himself in exile with Brian who, when he gets over his shock, will work this out as well, so I doubt it will be a pleasant time for him as he is forced to confront his failings.

Good luck with your new semester, if you do start a new work please drop a link into this thread so I can find it. :)
Thanks for your comments and readership!

I agree with you that I'm not 100% happy with the ending, but it mostly works. Hadzipetkov, as we've seen him in this AAR, is ambitious and a little self-conscious. He wants great things, but it's how he goes about achieving those things that leads him towards villainy. Lukov was IRL assassinated in 1943 by members of Bulgaria's anti-Axis partisans (which consisted mostly of Communists). Lukov was also the leader of a far-right organization in Bulgaria at the time (the UBNL). Given this, I think it makes sense that Hadzipetkov and his conspirators would want to make sure he couldn't rally any of his supporters.

As for Vulkov, his hesitation to act is his fatal flaw. Even at the end, when Hadzipetkov is unconscious on the floor, Vulkov chooses to stuff a spare train ticket into Hadzipetkov's pocket. This could have easily given away Vulkov and Brian's escape if Hadzipetkov had woken up sooner or checked his pockets earlier. But that's who Vulkov is: he chooses not to give up on the chance that Hadzipetkov might turn back from the path he's on, even though Hadzipetkov has already given up on himself.

Brian might realize this eventually, although he doesn't know just how long Vulkov's known about Hadzipetkov's double-life. Vulkov probably has this regret as well: that he didn't act sooner. But Hadzipetkov has (especially after his victory at the Ardennes) the complete trust of the German and Bulgarian governments. We already saw in an earlier chapter that some Ministers, like Kyoseivanov, don't really like Vulkov at all. Brian, in fact, was the only one to stand up for Vulkov in that chapter, the rest of the Ministers did nothing. Brian might blame Vulkov in the future, but I. think their shared memories of the escape from Bulgaria, Boris, etc. will mean that they never truly hate each other. There will be some strains and fights certainly, but in the end I think they'll both realize you can't dwell on the past.

Thanks! And I will definitely link to my next AAR here when I'm ready!
 
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Parts of it were inspired/paraphrased from the opening monologue of Tolkien's The Fellowship of the Ring (the movie version. Can't remember if it's in the book, since it's been too long since I've read it).
I knew that felt familiar, but I couldn't figure out where.

With how the game went, I knew this story wasn't going to end happily from the get-go. I just didn't know how the ending would go until I got there.

Other ideas for the ending included: Boris waking up on New Year's Day, 1936 and realizing "it was all a dream". The narrator not liking that ending and locking himself in the studio to write his own, better ending; And the entire Cabinet getting stuck in time because of some Allied naval invasions (I did play a little bit more after Germany's defeat to see if the Allies or Soviets would do anything, some weird stuff happened).
Those would have been interesting as well, although I have to agree with the narrator 'it was all a dream' is a terrible ending. I'd be curious what happened after your defeat if you wouldn't mind posting a brief summary.

Lukov was IRL assassinated in 1943 by members of Bulgaria's anti-Axis partisans (which consisted mostly of Communists). Lukov was also the leader of a far-right organization in Bulgaria at the time (the UBNL). Given this, I think it makes sense that Hadzipetkov and his conspirators would want to make sure he couldn't rally any of his supporters.
Interesting, I see he was a nastier man than I'd realized.
 
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Those would have been interesting as well, although I have to agree with the narrator 'it was all a dream' is a terrible ending. I'd be curious what happened after your defeat if you wouldn't mind posting a brief summary.
I only played for a few more months, because there was basically nothing I could do as the sole member of the Axis. I decided to not join Germany's war against Russia, which meant I didn't die when Germany/Italy surrendered. Once the war was over, Europe looked like this:

Factions.png


Europe.png

I was still at war with the Allies though, but couldn't really fight them. Also random states throughout the map became deserted (like the chunk of map missing near Vilnius in this screenshot).

Then, after letting a day pass, I got a peacedeal with Yugoslavia for some reason. So, I just stole everything Hungary took:

I get a peacedeal. Somehow.png


The new Bulgaria.png

Then, the Allies invaded through my new Balkan puppets a few weeks later. I didn't realize that they were automatically called into the war, so didn't garrison their coasts. The Allies quickly flooded in with troops and eventually ground me down with their numbers. And that was it.

I figured the invasion of Russia and the Communist coup would be a much more interesting and satisfying way to end things. Although I did have to leave out Bulgaria getting some of its lost cores back.
Interesting, I see he was a nastier man than I'd realized.
From what research I did, that seems to be true of a lot of Bulgaria's Interwar and WW2 government (though not all). Filov (who was Prime Minister from 1940-43) and his government passed a law which basically complied with Nazi policy. However Jews who were from Bulgaria's pre-war territories were exempt. Tsar Boris, at least, seems to take a stand against his German allies in this case. And, interesting fact, he had a correspondence with the future Pope John XXIII to try and resist Hitler's insistence that he deport all of Bulgaria's Jews (Hitler was also angry that Bulgaria decided to not send troops to the Soviet Union).
 
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Hitler was also angry that Bulgaria decided to not send troops to the Soviet Union
I knew about that part of it, and the Bulgarians really found themselves in a miserable situation. They avoided the destruction of their army like the Hungarians and Romanians suffered, but the Soviet steamroller was going to have to make a stop in Sofia either way. The real Boris really couldn't make a great choice, but there was also a bit of opportunism against Yugoslavia and Greece that brought the Bulgarians into the Axis orbit.
 
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