Imperial Palace, Saxtonberg
January 1st
Crown Prince Klaus took deep breaths as he slowly ascended the marble staircase leading to his father's chambers. Grand Duke Hans XVII had been diagnosed with lung cancer, and his health had taken a turn for the worse just weeks ago. Klaus was soon to be the leader of a massive nation, and he was not prepared. He saluted the two Stoßschutz Royal Guards that stood outside the doorway; they stomped their right feet, raised their right arms in salute, and opened the door for him. The Crown Prince strode forward in fake confidence and looked at the sad scene before him. On a large fourposter bed in the center of his father's bedroom lay Hans, sickly pale. His milky blue eyes stared up at the ceiling, but when Klaus entered he slowly lifted his head from the soft pillow to look at him.
"Son. You are here. Good." The once articulated man spoke in disjointed phrases. Klaus bowed his head a little to show his respect, and then walked up to the bed. Only a small lamp on the nightstand illuminated the large room. Every member of the Royal Family was gathered here, most sitting in armchairs that had been assembled for the large number of people who had come to see their dying patriarch. Only Hans' wife, Duchess Madeline, stood next to him, grasping her husband's feeble hand. Klaus knelt before the bed and then rose to look into his father's wide eyes. Hans took his shaking hand from his wife and instead let his only son grasp it.
"Klaus. Soon you will lead our country. You must be a strong leader." Hans paused to take a long drink of the nearby water glass, but nearly spilled the entire thing over himself. His wife steadied his trembling hand. "You must give the Reds no rest. Do not let the natives in any corner of our vast empire secede. And make the people trust you, as they have trusted me." The Grand Duke had exhausted what little energy he had left, and slowly reclined back onto his pillow. "I will, father. I will make you proud!" Klaus said, raising his right hand in salute. Hans managed a small, fatherly smile before closing his eyes. "Let Hans rest," Madeline said softly, flicking off the lamp. Everyone but her left the room; she stayed the whole night, tenderly caring for her suffering husband.
Raus, Nova Capile
January 1st
"Quiet, quiet!" Terry Blücher banged his beer stein on the heavy wooden table; foamy alcohol sprayed everywhere. The rowdy men gathered around the huge, round table slowly quieted until complete silence had been achieved. Terry stood up, opening his mouth to launch into a manifesto when the small wooden door to the back room opened and the timid owner of the bar, communist sympathizer Johannes Merkel. "Mr. Blücher, the bar has closed. Everyone is gone." Blücher closed his eyes in annoyance and swung his rotund body around to face the weak bartender. "Thank you Mr. Merkel. Would you care to join us?" Merkel smiled excitedly and nodded, running around the table to secure a seat.
Terry turned back around. "Now that we are free of interruptions, I may continue." Blücher paused, both for effect and to gather himself. "Men of Nova Capile! For too long have we been oppressed by the yoke of monarchy! For too long has our 'glorious, wonderful, supreme leader' terrorized, flogged, and executed us! Now is our chance to be free of persecution! Young men, take up the call! Defend your rights! Defend your families! Defend yourself from the psychopath who rules from afar! Now is the time! Answer the call!" Each line raised an increasingly loud crescendo of cheers. With his final sentence Blücher pumped his fist in the air, and the other men sprung up and did the same, shouting as one "Work and Bread! Work and Bread!"
With that the fifty men who had been crammed into the backroom ran like wildcats out of the bar and began wreaking havoc. Running over to a van parked in the empty parking lot, they popped the truck and grabbed machetes, Molotov cocktails, grenades, and assault rifles they had smuggled from sympathizers outside of the country. They were met by riot police mustered at the last minute by the town's governor. In open rebellion the Communists, joined by several dozen townspeople who were eager to support the cause, rioted and tore the large city of Raus apart. The same was happening in New Marseilles and Orangetown, but with French and Dutch rebels instead of Communists. The stage was set.
Nova Capile has survived things that would tear other nations apart. Foreign invasions, colonial rebellions, and even civil wars. They have been criticized by almost all of the world's powers for imperialism and totalitarianism- and indeed those are accusations are true. Nova Capile has brought East Africa, South India, Indochina, and Indonesia under its heel- an oppressive heel to be sure. Citizens who contradict the government disappear overnight. The nation has even been accused of being racist and operating under Nazism. And its citizens have been indoctrinated to serve their country, their Duke, above all else. Over the years the Duchy has acquired a large number of enemies, be they communist, democratic, or whatever else. And now it may be their time to strike.
The Empire is at its weakest. A recent downturn in the economy has ground the sprawling industries of Nova Capile to a halt. Colonial regions are as rebellious as ever, spurred on by the temporary success of Ethiopian radicals just months before. Hans Wilhelm XVII, the strong leader who led his country to triumph, now lies on his deathbed. His apparent successor, Crown Prince Klaus, is timid, insecure, and disliked. And separatist groups, quiet since the end of the Capilean Civil War, are gathering. The very last Capilean Communists, thought to have been pushed to extinction, now meet to discuss an uprising. Ethnic tensions have pushed for large rallies in the North-East by the French and in the East by the Dutch. And the Capilean War Machine has been bloodied by heavy losses in many spontaneous wars.
So, will the enemies of the faltering Duchy unite against it to bring the last great imperialists from the world? Will aspiring countries sweep in while they have the chance and claim Nova Capile's colonies? Or will the Duchy be allowed to recover and finish on its race to world superpower? Perhaps you will even aid them. You decide.
