Re: Blood and Iron

Chapter 918: Referendum

Nearly a year had passed since the first economic coordination agreements were signed in The Hague. What began as an “economic support package” had quickly spiraled into an unpayable debt crisis.

The Netherlands had lost its colonies in the East Indies and the rest of the world. And its own domestic industrial capacity, for what little it was worth, was increasingly reliant on German investment and banking.

From an economic standpoint, the Netherlands had lost all sovereignty already. And as issues continued to stagnate and decline overall. The protests, riots, and acts of terror continued to spread across the country.

By now, Dutch citizens, whose families had been Dutch since the 80 Years’ War ended were no longer flying the national flag.

Nor were they flying the Prince’s flag…. The banners waving in the streets of Amsterdam and The Hague were none other than the Reichsbanner, as the citizens of the Netherlands demanded referendum.

The politicians hid inside Parliament, as the protestors were barely kept from barging into their doors by police just outside.

But if the shouting and rocks being thrown towards their windows was anything to go by. There was no choice left but to submit to the will of the people.

Queen Wilhelmina stood in the halls of parliament, her crown sitting not so proudly atop her head. She looked over to her right side, seeing the Prime Minister standing there with his head low.

She then looked across the aisle and saw the remainder of Parliament doing the same. With a heavy sigh, she reached up and removed her crown, placing it upon the podium in front of her.

A shocking gesture that preceded her voice, which thundered across the halls.

“The people have made their will clear…. Let the referendum be had… The vote will be held in a fortnight. Every eligible voter will be able to cast their ballot… To remain a sovereign people, or to bow before the German Reich. The choice is no longer in our own hands.”

She turned around and left the hall. Her crown still sitting on the podium, abandoned in finality.

—

News quickly spread across the nation and through its borders with Belgium. King Albert sighed heavily in relief as an aide informed him of the matter.

Germany had made him wait too long. It became abundantly clear to Albert years ago what the German Reich, or more particularly, what the now sitting Chancellor was playing at.

He had personally witnessed in to world wars what his neighbors were capable of. Britian, France, the United States. Industrial and military giants. Brought to heel by German will and steel.

Bruno was a man who was not to be defied, over the course of nearly half a century he had brought the world’s great powers to heel, either through overt militant domination or through shrewd diplomacy.

What could Belgium do against suck overwhelming power? Nothing… voluntary submission and reintegration with their shared heritage proposed greater benefits than stubborn defiance.

While the Netherlands and Switzerland suffered years of economic tribulation and internal civil strife. Belgium had become an extended corridor of the Reich. Joint security agreements made the nation safe, and investment flooded into Brussels and the rest of the country as if it were already a federated state.

They had prospered deadly from the alliance, while the others targeted by the eyes of Berlin had been brought to ruin. Not through bullets, bombs, or missiles. But through the weaponisation of entropy.

Albert knew all of this, he had seen it coming and had been a willing partner. The more he proved himself a valuable asset, the more autonomy he, and Belgium by extent retained when the day finally came to accept annexation.

And that day was finally near. Not in some indefinite closeness, but a finite date. Two weeks and the referendum in the Netherlands would be held.

The Belgian Monarch finished his tea and placed it gently down upon its saucer. Looking over at the aide who had brought him the news, he was quick to speak in a calm and almost indifferent term.

“I believe the time has come for us to hold a referendum as well. Hold it on the same dame as the Netherlands. Let the people decide whether or not they wish to remain as things are, or embrace the future.”

Albert knew all too well the public’s opinion. Polls had been held, studies had been conducted. And since the end of the First Weltkrieg, German immigration, and marriage into Belgium had made their ties permanent.

Even those without direct ties to Germany were favorable towards the idea. As their fathers, brothers, and sons had fought, bled, and died beside German soldiers.

It was a no brainer to formalize their entry into the German Reich as a federated state. And every data point supported this thesis.

Thus, Albert wasn’t surprised, he wasn’t sullen, he wasn’t even all that excited. He was simply relieved that he no longer had to wait and conspire against his neighbors in the Netherlands.

Neighbors who had been either too ignorant or arrogant to see the tides of history shift away from their favor.

—

Across the continent, the announcement spread like wildfire.

Berlin did not celebrate publicly. There were no triumphant speeches from the Reichstag, no declarations of victory from the Chancellor’s office. The German government merely acknowledged the announcement in a short and measured statement.

“The German Reich respects the sovereign decisions of its neighbors and will cooperate with any outcome chosen by the Dutch people.”

Privately, however, the mood in Berlin was far less restrained.

For over two decades German policy had quietly strangled the independence of the Low Countries. Trade routes had been redirected through German ports. Banking institutions had slowly absorbed Dutch debt. Industrial conglomerates had relocated their production chains eastward into the Reich’s economic sphere.

By the time the riots began in Amsterdam, the outcome had already been decided.

The referendum was not the beginning of the process.

It was the final formality.

In the Chancellery, Bruno simply reviewed the latest intelligence reports in silence. The protests, the riots, the desperate debates in parliament; they were all expected developments. Each had appeared years earlier in strategic forecasts drafted by his advisors.

He closed the folder and set it aside without comment.

History, it seemed, had finally begun to atone for its original sin.