The Wolf Ballet || WW2

33. The Wolf Ballet

Chapter Thirty-Three

Glancing out from the window of Adolf's office, Ivan took note of the light lingering whisk of clouds surrounding the crescent moon. Contrails lead directly to the North Star, just a quarter off from the natural satellite. Berlin was no greater safe than any other country—the royal army had previously made its threats clear. Bombs have been dropped but so far only in the country. It would not be long before the capital would become aware. It saddened Ivan to know that his country was destined to rue; wishing something had never been done. But it was a lesson they would all have to someday endure.

"I assume you brought me up here to discuss my granddaughter," Ivan sighed, slowly making his way around the short cushioned couches. "I would be lying if I said that did not concern me,"

Hitler chortler, raising his chest as he looked around the room as if what Ivan was insinuating was ridiculous. "Don't be that way Ivan, I just want to personally ensure that she is alright and to offer my apologies. It's not every day we make mistakes like this one."

"A mistake that could have been prevented if she had just proved she was a traveling German," Joseph Goebbels added snarkily.

The philologist leader did not seem ever so pleased with Ivan's presence. It seems the negligence of his country's protectors had caused a great deed of public mutiny. It was a stain on their reputation—the entire German nation knowing such a misunderstanding could happen. Worse of it, it was a girl from a respective Aryan family name that got imprisoned. No
German families would feel properly guided if there was a chance they could fall under internment. It took a lot of work to make sure they all came out of this calamity unscathed by public doubt.

Ivan glared down at Joseph, releasing a false
humorless scoff.

"Yes, well it seems your men are accustomed to force before questions." Ivan began, creating the tension among men to double in size. "She's a young girl twice as small as yourself—your men not only trapped her and herded her into the tracks like some filthy gypsies—you stripped her, shaved her head, and defaced all that is German from her. She will never be the same again."

Ivan had a particular urge to pick on Joseph as he knew it was he who had sent for Ophelia to meet the Führer. As his best hand and official advisor—Ophelia was like the thorn in their sock. They wanted Ivan to bring her so that they could make their threat known. They did not care for her well-being or her recovery. They wanted to make her their proxy—to create the image that all was right in the direction of the government and that they, the people, should not fear the outcomes of their propaganda. They would make Ophelia the brand of strength to all Aryan people—that they were indeed supreme.

Remembering the politician had three young daughters of his own, Ivan dared to speak in delegate to Jacques Baudelaire. Who, at this time, could not stand before those responsible for the violation of his daughter and defend her.

"Tell me, Mr. Goebbels, " by now, Ivan's true resentment had begun to surface. His voice looming over to the sitting man with clear disdain. "How would you feel if you found one of your girls close to being RAVISHED BY AN OLD MAN AGAINST A SHEET OF ICE!"

Joseph Goebbels did not take Ivan's means of disrespect lightly as he swiftly shot up from his seat. It was quick and instantly Ivan felt the collars of his tighten around his neck. Joseph loomed over him, red in the face.

"YOU OLD FUCK! HOW DARE—"

The other men fought to restrain Joseph, though the struggle was short-lived as Hitler himself called for the commotion to cease.

"DAS IST GENUG!"

One command was all it took for all men to settle down.

"Leave us," Hitler demanded, dismissing his party from the room. Ivan watched as Joseph reluctantly let him go and grabbed his coat off the couch. Following the line of Germany's most influential names, eventually, the room settled and Ivan was left alone in his supreme's presence.