Hearts of Iron 4 Player's Guide to Save the Isekai World

Schrodinger's school student

Man is a political animal. But sometimes, they can be so stupid, that it becomes useful.

Imagery is an element of understanding individual thought. In a uniform, it's a good design, exposure, and interpretation. It's a matter of understanding the limitations when exercising any of all capabilities, never mind how anomalous it may be.

Still, it's odd wearing a relic of the past. Others might call it cosplay at worst and illiterate at best. Still, anything could cement the sartorial intricacies and preferences as the moniker of man's capability to destroy. The Prussian uhlan was no better, regardless of how much color variation Erich cycled in front of a mirror.

With a stone gray scheme and light brown hair, he made a good Imperial officer of the Galactic Empire stranded on a backwater planet in a province larger than the Grand Duchy of Luxembourg on its height of territorial control — which wasn't a lot.

It was only the slight narrowing of his eyebrows to elicit the fear the feldgrau and stahlhelm brought across Europe. Thankfully, he just looks like a moron. A handsome moron, if he's being self-loving. It made a good charade, an interpretation, a corruption. With everyone trying to out-drip each other, simplicity becomes lethal, a design to fool the fools and scare the scared until he gets some chocolate chip in the desert.

But then again, he has little time. A wide yawn escaped him, and his eyes drew to the files concerning the government, economy, and society littered his desk under the magic gem lamp imbued with light magic.

How environmental.

Then Erich whimpered. He stumbled to the wall and grappled his head as a sharp pain surged. He forced steady breaths, and the concentration throbbed all over his head. Erich pressed his head against the wall and let the dizziness pass. It will take time to get acquainted. Thankfully, the pain receded rather quickly. Unfortunately, it's always the aftermath, the mental scarring. It wasn't healthy. A stroke or an aneurysm will seem better and better than the balance.

Someone rapped the door, and Erich's clothes transitioned into the traditional suit and tie. It's the least he could do.

"Yes?"

A giant knight towered over him. "Sir Erich, His Majesty would like to invite you for breakfast and continue discussing matters from yesterday."

That was quick. Skimming through the finances, the man had a lot of work to do. But, perhaps entertaining him through a meal is only a given for accommodating Erich's demands.

The hallways looked cozier for a Kingdom that could call someone from a different world, with fewer pastels and more mahogany and oak to bounce sunlight around. There's the occasional arch, but it signals the end of a corridor and entry to another room. It's not much different from a rural mansion or someone who wants to project themselves as sophisticated philosophers and connoisseur of the arts in the marbled image of ancient warriors, the romantic likeness of distinguished leaders and Heroes in the canvas, and the ornate collaborations between artisans and smithies.

The carpets were designed for kids to run all day because what nine-year-old would have the patience to navigate a labyrinth? It might as well be an example of virtue signaling that compares rich Westerners climbing a mountain for a picnic and an African trekking four miles to get water for their kids.

The servant ahead turned at the corner, and Erich readied himself, seeing knights guarding Room 202. Palaces were always goddamn culprits of confusing designs. People always get a hard-on for architecture, while those who work in the damn place get lost in either someone's home or office.

As the doors opened, Erich almost lost himself snickering. It's been a long minute, hasn't it? It had to be the most picturesque sight he'd seen in his life. It's not every day you find yourself in the best dining spot in the city, with glass windows leading to a balcony overlooking the waterfall. It hits you like seeing dinosaurs grazing the fields and gathering in a watering hole from the distance.