Reincarnated: Vive La France-Chapter 300: Home is what you remember, not always where you live.

Kaunas sat under a cold gray sky, its river frozen at the edges, its streets quiet in the morning frost.

In the Lithuanian Ministry of Foreign Affairs, Foreign Minister Juozas Urbšys stood at the window with a telegram in one hand and silence hanging in the air behind him.

He turned, finally, to face the two aides waiting.

"Summon the cabinet," he said simply. "And ask the president to join us."

By the time the ministers assembled in the main council room, the table was already full with papers and nervous glances.

Defense Minister Stasys Raštikis sat stiffly in uniform. Finance Minister Tallat-Kelpša tapped his pen constantly.

Only President Antanas Smetona appeared calm or practiced enough to look it.

Urbšys began without preface.

"Warsaw is preparing to act. Not militarily. Not yet. But politically. I received confirmation last night through our contacts in Berlin. Poland intends to issue us an ultimatum within the week."

The room stilled.

"On Vilnius?" asked Education Minister Antanaitis.

Urbšys nodded. "They will dress it in diplomatic terms. But the demand is simple: resume relations with Poland. Recognize their legitimacy as the de facto power in Vilnius. Or face... unspecified consequences."

"They always speak of ’consequences’ as if we’ve not already endured them," muttered Minister of Culture Jonas Yčas.

"They want to seal the coffin," Raštikis said flatly. "They want the world to accept that Vilnius will never be ours again."

"And what will we say?" asked Antanaitis, his voice rising. "That we forgot our own history? That we accept theft?"

Smetona looked across the table. "Let’s speak plainly. We have not had control of Vilnius since 1920. That’s eighteen years. A generation."

"That doesn’t make it theirs," said Antanaitis.

"No," the president replied. "But it makes it complicated."

Urbšys stepped in. "Complicated or not, the ultimatum will come. We are isolated. The French and British won’t intervene. Berlin... watches with interest, but says nothing."

Tallat-Kelpša finally looked up. "Is this the price of survival? Letting go of Vilnius?"

Raštikis didn’t wait. "If we accept, we are weak. If we resist, we are crushed. Either way, the memory of Vilnius dies."

"Or we preserve it in silence," Smetona said.

The room quieted.

"We don’t have to announce defeat," the president continued. "We can present it as a re-opening of diplomatic ties. A gesture of regional peace. The text doesn’t have to mention Vilnius at all. But the message will be understood."

Antanaitis slammed his fist lightly on the table. "Words are not protection! They will claim it as victory. We will be humiliated."

"And if we resist?" Urbšys asked quietly. "Do we fight Poland? Alone? With what? We have sixty thousand men. They have three times that."

Raštikis nodded slowly. "Our army is ready for defense. Not for suicide."

Smetona leaned forward, his voice low. "The question is not whether we feel wounded. We all do. The question is whether we wish to bleed again or live long enough to build strength for another day."

No one answered.

In Warsaw, Foreign Minister Józef Beck stood before a fireplace with his arms folded as aides placed the final version of the ultimatum on his desk.

"The language is acceptable?" he asked.

"Yes, Minister. It’s been vetted by legal and military counsel. Formal. Clear. And unprovocative."

He nodded. "The world will read diplomacy. Lithuania will hear something else."

One of his senior staffers hesitated. "Do we really expect them to say yes?"

"They’ll say yes," Beck said. "Eventually. They have no other door to walk through."

"Is it wise to pressure them? France might disapprove."

"France is too busy with Spain," Beck replied. "And Britain is already looking the other way. No one will move for Lithuania. We are giving them a way to save face. We could have sent soldiers. We sent paper."

Back in Kaunas, the cabinet had splintered into private conversations. Urbšys stood with Smetona by the hallway window.

"We can delay it," the president said. "Say we need time. Ask for a third-party mediator."

"They’ll say we are stalling," Urbšys replied. "And they’re right."

Smetona looked at him. "Would you accept it?"

The foreign minister hesitated. "Not gladly. But yes. Quietly. For now."

The president studied him. "You were born near Vilnius, weren’t you?"

"I was."

"Does it still feel like home?"

Urbšys turned his eyes to the snowy street outside. "Home is what you remember, not always where you live."

Later that day, the sealed envelope arrived hand-delivered by a Polish envoy. 𝒻𝑟𝘦𝘦𝘸ℯ𝒷𝑛𝘰𝓋ℯ𝘭.𝘤𝘰𝘮

He handed it to Urbšys at the Foreign Ministry with a shallow nod.

"No cameras," the envoy said. "Warsaw wishes this to remain respectful."

Urbšys didn’t open it until he was alone in his office.

The letter was printed, formal, and precise.

"The Republic of Poland, in the interest of stabilizing bilateral relations and regional cooperation, proposes the immediate reestablishment of diplomatic contact with the Republic of Lithuania. This reestablishment should proceed without precondition or reservation, under the understanding of mutual sovereignty and territorial recognition. In the absence of such progress within forty-eight hours, Poland reserves the right to pursue alternative measures."

He read it three times.

Then he folded it, placed it in his briefcase, and walked out without a word.

The full cabinet gathered again that evening.

Antanaitis was furious.

"They want us to sign away the blood of thousands with the stroke of a pen."

Raštikis was somber. "The military cannot guarantee Kaunas will hold if Poland crosses the line. We are not in a position to bluff."

Smetona listened, face unreadable.

Minister Yčas, who had remained quiet until now, spoke slowly. "There may be wisdom in remembering that Lithuania’s soul is not bound to a building in Vilnius. It is in the people. If we must live to fight another day, so be it."

Antanaitis turned on him. "You would sell pride for strategy?"

"I would not sell anything," Yčas replied. "But I would not die for the shape of a border drawn in 1920."

Smetona rose.

"I will respond to the Polish government within the day. We will not admit loss. We will not sign a surrender. We will agree to diplomatic normalization under our own terms, in our own words."

The room fell quiet.

"History will know," the president said, "that we were forced into silence. But let no one say we embraced it."

As the ministers filed out one by one, a junior official no older than twenty-five remained behind, standing near the coat rack.

His hands were clenched.

Urbšys paused beside him.

"Is something wrong?"

"My father," the man said quietly, "was a teacher in Vilnius. He was arrested when the Poles took it. He died in a cell."

Urbšys didn’t speak.

"I just thought," the young man continued, "we’d do more than this."

"We are still here," Urbšys replied softly. "That is the beginning of everything."

That night, Kaunas was cold and silent.

There were no rallies.

No banners.

Just empty streets and shuttered cafés.

In the Foreign Ministry, the reply letter to Warsaw was typed on neutral paper.

"The Republic of Lithuania acknowledges the proposal and will proceed with the establishment of diplomatic channels in the spirit of regional peace and mutual independence. Lithuania reaffirms its national identity, its historical memory, and its sovereign status in the process."

No mention of Vilnius.

But everyone understood.

Urbšys signed it with a firm hand.

He closed the folder and looked at the seal before handing it off.

"Let it be known," he said quietly, "that this was not surrender. It was survival."