Chapter Text
Berlin, March 3rd, 1924.
Germany was relieved. The treaty had been signed. After today, Turkey would be both a useful ally and a great economic help. There was still much to be done, but he could allow himself some occasional optimism. He handed Turkey a cup of coffee (the older country turned down the alcohol which was first offered).
“Thank you,” said Turkey, lounging the chair in front of Germany’s desk and picking up several packets of sugar, “I still have something important to discuss with you, though. I wanted it to be part of the treaty, but my new Republic’s leaders said it wasn’t ‘important’ enough.” He started pouring all the sugar packets into his mug at once.
“Oh? What is it?”
Turkey took a long sip of his sugar with a hint of caffeine, slammed it down, and then looked Germany straight in the eyes. “We need to talk about Schliemann.”
There was silence for a few seconds. “...Do you mean the archeologist?”
“The very same!”
More silence. “...Why?”
“Why? Because what he did is an affront to my people’s history and culture! He destroyed the city of Troy! And he belongs to your country, so I want justice!”
Germany put his cup down and leaned back. “Turkey, Schliemann has been dead for about three decades.”
“That changes nothing!”
“Until now you have said nothing.”
“I’ve been busy!”
“For at least a decade, no, you were not, at least not more than usual.”
“Stuff happened and you weren’t paying attention—look!” Turkey put his hands on the desk and leaned forward. “That fraud ruined several iterations of the ancient city to find the Homeric one only to destroy it in the process! I know the archaeologists haven’t technically confirmed it yet, but it’s my land and history, and I can feel it in my bones!”
Germany rubbed his face with his hands. “And so what? What can I do? Why are we talking about this?”
“Why are we talking about this? Why do you think? With this friendship treaty, you should feel obligated to help! We want retribution for what he’s done!” Turkey grabbed his coffee for another sip and then put it back down, very quickly and without letting his eyes leave Germany’s.
“...Look,” said Germany, “Schliemann is dead, I cannot punish him. Nor can I fix what he has done. I really do not know what you want from me. I also still do not know why you have never talked to me about this before, when Greece already met with me about the man a while ago, over his takings from Mycenae. You cannot possibly have been waiting this long for a treaty like this?”
“What part of ‘stuff happened’ isn’t making sense here?!” Turkey got up and started pacing around. “You cannot fix what was broken or lost, but you can return all that he stole for your museums, Yes? Just send them back with me!”
“Do you think I can just move around priceless ancient artifacts by snapping my fingers? Even if I could send them back, it would take some time to prepare.”
“Then, I don’t know, sue his estate? Or would I do that on my own? Look Germany, it was your guy, you need to do something here!”
Germany was losing patience. “Listen, Turkey, I do not care for-”
The office door slammed open and another, shorter man stomped in.
“Germany! I just heard that you apparently have had my mom’s bust of Nefertiti for many years now. Would you mind telling me where it is and why you took it?!”
Germany wished he opened up his beer instead of his coffee.