Re: Blood and Iron

Chapter 650: Securing the Northern Dominion

FDR sat in the Office of the Prime Minister and Privy Council.

The office of the Canadian Prime Minister, to be exact.

After receiving word from his envoys in Europe, envoys who had failed, rather spectacularly, to secure Scandinavian neutrality as anything other than neutral, Roosevelt had made the choice to come north.

Not out of ceremony, nor for some show of diplomatic unity.

No. This was the act of a man running out of cards to play, reaching into the back of the deck for anything that still resembled leverage.

The Reich had sewn up the continent tighter than expected.

Tighter than anyone had warned him.

France was bleeding from internal saboteurs. While simultaneously struggling to keep up with Germany’s superiority.

The Dutch had chosen neutrality on the surface, but had sought guarantees of protection from the Reich already.

The Low Countries, Belgium included, were already practicing joint-military exercises with Germany’s armed forces as a precautionary measure against potential Anglo-French aggression.

And now the Nordics, cold-blooded in their calm refusal, had declared they would not cease trade with the Reich, come war or not.

What was left?

Russia? Tied to Germany through blood, faith, and fatherland.

Italy? Much the same?

Hungary? While their King might have some grievances with Bruno, he was willing to put all his chips in with Germany and its allies. He was a man of pragmatism more than vendetta.

All that remained were nations outside Europe’s grandeur.

The Americas, the South Pacific, and perhaps even a few African nations who were far less favorable towards the Germans as they appeared on the surface.

There lie a dominion with a population barely ten million strong became the most promising of the Allies current options.

A neighbor to the Americans, one whose armed forces were better known for their winter coats and maple leaves than any credible modern air force.

Canada.

But beggars could not be choosers.

And Franklin Delano Roosevelt was no fool, he knew that even a symbolic declaration could rally what was left of the Commonwealth, or at least save face before American voters.

If it came to that.

He looked across the desk at William Lyon Mackenzie King, who had just finished listening, rather stoically, to his American guest’s pitch.

King’s hands were folded neatly on the polished desk.

The man’s expression was unreadable, not quite polite, not quite cold. Just… measured. Reserved.

A long silence passed between them, the kind that forced weaker men to fill the air with nervous babble.

But FDR didn’t speak. He didn’t blink either.

Finally, King leaned back slightly and broke the silence.

“You’ve come a long way, Franklin.”

Roosevelt nodded. “Not as far as the storm coming our way.”

King gave a slight nod of acknowledgment, but his eyes remained fixed, his words careful.

“You speak of a war as if it’s already begun.”

“It has,” Roosevelt said, voice low. “Just not with bullets yet.”

“And you assume Canada will march to your drum?”

There was no hostility in the question. But no warmth either.

Roosevelt offered a faint smile, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “I assume nothing. That’s why I’m here. To ask. Face to face.”

King looked down at his notes, mostly blank, and then set his hands flat on the desk again.

“You ask a great deal,” he said. “And you offer…?”

“Survival. Relevance.” FDR’s voice was crisp now.

“The Reich has won the last ten years without firing a shot. They’ve strangled Europe with trade and treaties. Now they’re ready to do it with tanks. If we wait until the first city falls, it’ll be too late. What I’m offering is a seat at the table before that happens.”

King’s lips tightened. Not in offense, more like consideration.

“You speak of inevitability, Mr. President. But what you ask is for us to choose sides before the world has chosen war.”

Roosevelt’s eyes narrowed. “You think Berlin hasn’t already chosen? You think their armies aren’t already staged along half a dozen borders, waiting for the order?”

“We think,” King said, with deliberate emphasis, “that Canada has no interest in being first over the trench wall.”

Roosevelt paused, letting that sink in.

“I didn’t come to ask you to send a million men to their deaths, William,” he said. “Just to stand with us. To declare yourself an Ally before the floodgates open. Your Parliament will back you. The Crown will not oppose you. The public? They still believe in standing up to tyranny, same as they did in ’14.”

King’s jaw stiffened at the mention of the Great War.

His eyes flicked, for the briefest of moments, toward the framed photograph on the shelf beside his desk.

His own father, a veteran of Parliament.

A man whose ideals had not survived the mud and blood of Ypres.

In this life, the French and British had been thoroughly shamed in their defeat during the Great War.

And the Canadians were witness to the failures of the Allied Powers.

As well as the hesitancy of the Americans to join the war effort then.

Under President Hughes, America had stayed out of the war entirely.

And though Woodrow Wilson ran on a campaign of joining the war on behalf of the Allies. Paris fell before the election could even be held in the United States to determine their role in the war.

Canada had never forgotten this, nor had King. Hence why he listened with skepticism.

Roosevelt caught the look, and leaned forward slightly.

“That picture on your shelf,” he said quietly. “I’d wager he told you a lot of things. About loyalty. Sacrifice. Betrayal.”

King’s face didn’t move, but the air in the room changed.

Roosevelt continued.

“And I know what’s behind your silence. You think we’re late again. That we’ll let you bleed for a war we’ll only show up to after the smoke has cleared. Like Hughes did. Like Wilson tried to. You think we’ll keep playing kingmaker from across the ocean.”

King didn’t deny it.

“I don’t blame you,” Roosevelt said.

“We failed you once. All of you. France bled. Britain broke. And your boys, your boys were left to die in trenches for an alliance that collapsed like wet paper. You think I don’t know that story? My advisors warned me before I ever stepped foot on your soil. They said, ’The Canadians remember. And they don’t forget.’”

King looked up now, his voice low and even.

“And they were right.”

Roosevelt nodded solemnly.

“They were. But this isn’t 1914. And I’m not Hughes. I’m here because I know who’s coming. Because I’ve seen the reports. Because the men who crushed the Japanese Empire without blinking, those men are moving west. And if you think they’ll stop at the Ardennes, you’re dreaming.”

He let that hang in the air a moment.

“I came north, not to beg, but to warn you. If you don’t choose a side now, the side will be chosen for you later. Not with parliaments and speeches, but with tanks. With boots. With treaties signed at gunpoint.”

King narrowed his eyes slightly, hands clasped.

“And if I do choose your side, Franklin? What assurance do I have that you won’t turn tail again when the cost becomes too high? That you won’t abandon another generation of Canadians to die in Europe while Washington deliberates sanctions and speeches?”

“You have me,” Roosevelt said simply.

“I’m not interested in men,” King replied coolly. “I’m interested in outcomes.”

Roosevelt didn’t flinch.

“Then you’ll get outcomes. Military support. Access to Atlantic convoys. Shared intelligence. If you stand with us, I’ll make sure you’re treated not as a colony of a dying Empire, but as a sovereign partner. I’ll speak to your Parliament myself, if you want. But I need your commitment. Now. Before Berlin finishes circling the chessboard.”

King said nothing at first. His gaze drifted to the frost-laced window behind Roosevelt, beyond which the snow fell in slow spirals over the rooftops of Ottawa.

“I watched that war end,”

King said, almost to himself.

“Watched the Empire I grew up believing in crumble at the knees. Watched the Germans parade through Paris like Roman conquerors. The only thing that stopped them from marching down Whitehall was the fact that King George sued for peace and abandoned the French to save his own hide. You’re asking me to risk that again. Not just for Canada, but for everything we might become.”

Roosevelt said nothing. He didn’t need to.

King’s eyes returned to him, sharp now. Cautious, but not cold.

“I’ll take it to Parliament. But you need to understand, Canada is not the same nation it was twenty years ago. We don’t fight for old men’s alliances anymore. If we fight, it will be on our own terms, and only for causes worth bleeding for.”

Roosevelt nodded. “Then give me the chance to make it worth it.”

King studied him for a long moment before finally rising from his chair.

“I’ll prepare the vote. But Franklin, if your America falters, I will not send our sons to die for another empty promise. If we go to war, we finish it. And we do not retreat.”

Roosevelt stood too, extending his hand. “Then let’s make damn sure we don’t lose this one.”

Their hands met in the middle of the room. No cameras. No ceremony. Just the quiet gravity of two men agreeing to stand at the edge of the abyss, and leap.