New Imperialism - AH RP v 2.1 [IC]

by **Senkaku** » Sun Dec 21, 2014 9:00 pm

Ikh Mongol Uls

All Under the Blue Sky, Chapter Two: Spiderweb of Steel

"Look on my works, ye mighty, and despair.
Nothing beside remains."

Khanbaliq
The Forbidden City

"Viceroy Batukhan, it has come to the attention of our khagan recently that reports from around Bishkek regarding the engagements against the Kyrgyz rebels may have been altered or even falsified by certain unscrupulous parties. He has also taken into account your own failure to crush said rebellion, as you were ordered to when it began, over the course of the last year. Additionally, records from the Grand Secretariat and our agents' dispatches from Chagatai indicate that you may be guilty of the crime of misusing the khagan's authority for your own political convenience. Finally, my tribunal has noted significant discrepancies in your viceroyalty' finances, with considerable funds having gone missing or having been apparently channeled into what would seem to be your own private coffers. These are serious allegations. What have you to say for yourself?"
Zaichun's eyes sparkled malevolently as he finished speaking, pacing around the base of the throne where Kublai sat with a stern expression.
Asadai Batukhan kowtowed (again). "Honored prince, Great Khan, I beg for your mercy and your ear. Truly, the crimes I am accused of are terrible, but I, Great Khan, your Viceroy in the Chagatid lands, I would never dare to so flout the authority of the all-encompassing emperor! Glorious emperor, my lord prince, I suspect that an unscrupulous soul may have fabricated such information against me to lead your honored tribunal astray."
"Are you doubting the tribunal, viceroy?," the khagan put in menacingly.
Batukhan kowtowed again, positively quivering. "Never, radiant lord! I merely suspect that a wicked man, one of devilish cunning, a master of manipulation who has his sights on my position, may have contrived some complex machination by which to convince the honorable members of the tribunal of my guilt."
"And who, viceroy, would you suspect or accuse of such a deed?," Zaichun said lazily.
Batukhan, forehead pressed into the floor, replied instantly. "The Governor of Bishkek, Faisal Sajadi."
"Some might say, viceroy," the Empress suddenly said, "that your speedy accusation of Governor Sajadi is suspicious, when we also note that the two of you have long had a strife-filled relationship and that the tribunal also noted that they believed you might have been misusing our khagan's authority against the Governor- who has proved himself as a competent administrator and general."
The viceroy began to babble something about Sajadi's wickedness and mercy and loving the khagan, but Kublai cut him off.
"Viceroy Batukhan, you embarrass yourself. I am disappointed and angered such a high-ranking official would ever dare to deceive me and use my aegis for such activities. Henceforth, you are stripped of your title as viceroy and as Governor of Kashgar. You will be replaced by Governor Sajadi as Viceroy of Chagatai. Your state stipend is taken away, your household will be granted to the new viceroy, and your private coffers are henceforth requisitioned by the state. You will be allowed to retire to your family's old seat, Yarkand, but half of the Batukhan clan's estate there shall be requisitioned by the government. Your property elsewhere shall also be requisitioned, and your sons will, I think, remain in the imperial court. Perhaps here they can be raised to become better men than their father is." The khagan rose, while the former viceroy remained crouched in fear, shock, and horror. "Let the realm condemn such corruption as this! Let all witness the humiliation of Asadai Batukhan! Such crimes shall never go unpunished by your khagan." He sat again. "Guards! Take him away."
The Empress smiled as she sat back down.

Guangzhou
Residence of the Governor

Wu Lao, Governor of Guangzhou, was, for the most part, a reasonably competent governor. He was less corrupt, indeed, than many, and had done a decent job of running the city of Guangzhou and its surroundings. He had faithfully overseen Khanbaliq's poorly administered, underfunded, and stop-and-go project to build fortifications around the city near the two Portuguese enclaves, and had proved himself capable of cooperating and negotiating with the Western barbarians.
He was thusly quite amenable to the eminently reasonable proposal offered to him by the Portuguese- especially since they had apparently seen fit to include a rather large bribe. Lao decided to keep only half of it- a quarter would be sent to the tax collectors, as an unexplained addition, and another quarter would be sent into the city's coffers.
The Governor swiftly wrote back, wishing his Portuguese counterpart well and saying he would be quite open to such a proposed railroad, and that he hoped a full contract and plan could soon be laid out.

As happened everywhere in the empire, reports were filed, and certain men and women with ties to the Grand Secretariat saw all.

Khanbaliq
Dejin Opera House

"I feel like we've been coming here a lot."
"It's a good place to relax and talk."
"We can't do that in our rooms?"
"You're funny."
Chabi giggled. "In all seriousness, though, you must have some authority over Xian's constant voyeurism. Every time I take a bath I always wonder..."
Zaichun snorted. "I seriously doubt anyone watches you while you bathe." He grinned. "But you never know. And no, I don't. It's the Vice-Regent's duty to spy on everyone, all of the time. And you can hardly blame him for being extra-thorough with me."
"I suppose. Oh, by the way, once they build it, I was thinking we could take a trip down to Guangzhou and ride the train! I've never been on one before," Chabi said with an innocent smile, biting her lip. She surveyed Zaichun's face carefully as he absorbed what she'd just said.
"Train? As in a locomotive? What are you talking about?"
Chabi widened her eyes slightly in innocent confusion. "I heard from... Oh, it must've been my aunt who lives there or something, anyways, the Portuguese are building a railway to connect Hong Kong and Macau! I was surprised we'd let the Governor approve such a project, but if it's happening I definitely want to ride the thing."
Zaichun pressed back in his seat, brow wrinkled, moving Chabi's hand off of his groin. "We did not let the Governor approve such a project, and we will need to be having a chat with our father and the Governor."
Chabi frowned. "Oh dear. Also, do you know when the Governor of Hanoi arrives? I once met his third daughter, who now lives in Jinan, and she's anxious about her father."
"I'll check." Zaichun kissed her lightly. "After this is over, I'll need to go to the Grand Secretariat and the palace, though."
"Fiiiine," Chabi said, fake-pouting, and inside she felt a warm, melting sensation, like a cat must feel when it toys with a mouse.

Khanbaliq
The Forbidden City
Hall of Supreme Harmony

"Now that we've dealt with the final preparations for Viceroy Sajadi's appointment and discussed what the Chancellor and I brought forward, I'd like to move on to the matter of the barbarians."
The imperial cabinet suddenly seemed uneasy, the room colder, and even the khagan, who had fought against the barbarians on Taiwan, looked slightly uncomfortable. The Vice-Regent, though, remained as cool and collected as ever.
"The Portuguese have extended a request to the Governor of Guangzhou to build a rail link from Hong Kong to Macau, through Guangzhou, which we will obtain revenue from and have jurisdiction over. The Governor approved, and planning is due to begin as soon as possible. I bring this up because I believe it could be favorable, for the sake of our struggling road system, to seek similar foreign investment across the nation to construct railways. Obviously not all Portuguese, but with multiple Western powers investing in new railways for us, we gain valuable assets that can be nationalized if we feel it necessary and that will help connect our nation."
"Actually, Vice-Regent," Prince Zaichun said coldly, "I reviewed this project and found it unsatisfactory. It has been terminated, and the Governor of Guangzhou will be subject to an inquiry."
Zhao Xian turned slightly, bowing to the Prince, his face flat and inexpressive. "And why, my lord prince, did you find it unsatisfactory?"
"To allow the barbarians to build one of their devilish machines through the heart of one of the greatest cities in the empire? This is nothing more than a cover for them to move their men and spies and opium into Guangzhou! We must resist all such incursions, wherever and whenever possible."
"My lord prince, truly, I am horrified to hear of this. Praise be to Heaven that you discovered such a terrible plot! Pray tell, how did your highness go about discovering such a dastardly scheme?", Xian said dryly.
Zaichun stuck his chin out slightly. "It needs no discovering or sniffing out, Vice-Regent. It is plain- all such barbarian enterprises are mere fronts for such insidious schemes."
"Truly? Such as the British rail line from here to Tianjin, that brings us at the court fresh fish and oysters daily? Or perhaps you meant the new Pallasian project to build a line from here to Karakorum? Or are you referring to the British-run railways around their concessions in Shandong, or the Franque project from Hanoi to Haiphong? All of these seem, in the humble opinion of the khagan's Vice-Regent, to have brought nothing but prosperity, convenience, and happiness to the regions they have been built in," Xian replied smoothly.
Zaichun swallowed. "It is not-"
The khagan growled slightly, and Zaichun broke off.
"My son, while I can appreciate your zealous regard for the empire's well-being, the Vice-Regent is correct," Kublai sighed. "Xian, you will countermand Prince Zaichun's order once this meeting terminates, and you have my permission to seek foreign investment. For now, limit it to areas where railways have already been built or are being built, and to Taiyuan."
The Vice-Regent bowed, hiding a slight smile. "Of course, radiant lord."
The Crown Prince smiled as well, bowing as he deferred to his father, but the smile did not reach his eyes.

Khanbaliq
The Golden Orchid Court
Residence of the Vice-Regent

Zhao Xian, Vice-Regent to Kublai XI, Möngke Khan before him, and, for a brief period, Tolui Khan before him, was walking back to his apartment in the Golden Lotus Court. It was a cool night, but not overly cold, and the courtyard he was strolling leisurely through was quite pleasant, with just-budding flowers and a pond, filled with brilliant and strangely-shaped fish. A few lamps were hanging, giving it a soft, warm feeling, and their light mixed with that of the twilight to make it seem like Xian was immersed in richly colored honey, flecked and mixed with shadowy filaments where the eaves of the building overhung the garden. He could a pipa playing somewhere, a slow, easy melody that made him smile slightly and relax.
The lamps all went out as the pipa halted, and Xian heard a slight hiss of air parting before something or someone, moving swiftly. The aged Vice-Regent was immediately on the balls of his feet, his knees bending slightly as his eyes darted around.

He leaped to the side, twirling just in time as a thrown dart whistled past his ear, and landed with arms extended and knees bent. Two- nay, three- men had materialized in the courtyard, and Xian's peripheral vision detected more movement on the rooftops as he shrugged his outer robes off to allow freer movement. Silently, two of the black-suited men drew blades, and the third, armed with a chain whip, launched himself towards the Vice-Regent. Xian pirouetted to avoid the chain whip as it swung towards him, deflecting the assassin's leap with a kick, and snapped into bridge position to avoid the whip's deadly head as it swung back. The man spun away from his kick, reeling his chain whip in, and the two men with swords began moving towards him. Xian, thinking quickly, whipped out his writing brush, and with almost no conscious thought sent it flying, handle first, to bury itself in the trailing man's throat. He made it another step or two before collapsing, but Xian didn't waste time watching him fall. He flipped backwards, away from the swordsman, shouting at the top of his lungs for guards, and dodged several strokes in quick succession before delivering a kick to the man's abdomen. The assassin dropped his sword to catch the Vice-Regent's foot, and as he flipped him over his back Xian snatched the strap trailing off the sword's handle as it fell behind it. The Vice-Regent cartwheeled across the garden, landing at the edge of the pond on his toes and fingertips. The sword was laying where it had slipped from his own grasp, about halfway between the two men.

They stayed like that for a moment, and then, as the first hollers of approaching guards came into earshot, they simultaneously launched themselves for the blade. The flurry of blows and counterblows was two fast to follow at first, and Xian felt his age for a moment when the much younger assassin caught his arm and nearly broke it before he managed to flip over and sweep his legs under the other man's. The other man caught himself, landing in a side plank, and rolled away with the sword's ribbon unfurling rapidly, caught between two of his fingers. Xian launched himself up from his hands, front-flipping down to land with considerable force on the assassin's hand as he went to rise. The bones crunched satisfyingly, and the Vice-Regent delivered a rapid kick to the man's face, feeling the jaw shatter and dislocate under his blow. The man merely grunted, rolling away and rising, and Xian tested the sword's balance, listening to the other man's pained breathing as the guards came closer.

The movement he had detected earlier suddenly returned, as two more men silently dropped from the roof on either side of him. One produced a single-shot pistol, while the other deployed a device that resembled a Spanish Tickler on each hand. Xian hurled himself backwards as the gun fired, feeling the bullet catch the edge of his sleeve, and spun to parry the man with the steel claws, knocking him back. There was suddenly shouting and the sound of sword's being drawn as a troop of guards entered the courtyard. While the Vice-Regent fought furiously with the claw-equipped man, the swordsman he had disarmed retrieved the chain whip that had belonged to one of his fallen brothers, and the pistolier hefted the dead sword's man's blade. Both engaged the guards while the Vice-Regent's blade blurred through the air.
The duel ended abruptly- Xian's sword slid between two claws, and broke with a ringing sound as it was jerked to the side, flinging its owner with it. The assassin snarled, flinging his ruined lefthand claws aside, and Xian lifted the broken blade's remnants to deflect his next series of attacks before a pair of guardsman took over for him. The assassin was wounded, but not seriously, and the two guardsmen were decapitated and disemboweled in short order by the ferocious steel claws.
The Vice-Regent lifted the spear of another dead guardsman beside him, and pulled with pin out of his topknot, sending it flying at the claw-armed assassin. It struck him in the groin, rather than the throat, and he staggered with a groan as blood spurted from the wound. Xian slammed the edge of the spear's blade into his skull, smashing it to bits, and spun to bring it around, snatching the chain whip from the air and wrenching it away from its owner with a flick of his wrist.

Another gun went off, with a startlingly loud blast, and the former pistolier crashed into the pond as the disarmed chain whip assassin retreated from the soldiers, towards the Vice-Regent. He was swiftly re-equipped, though, hafting a spear from another fallen guard, and the two again exchanged a flurry of blows. This time, the assassin's wounds put him at a serious disadvantage, though, and Zhao Xian finally finished him off with a brutal kick to the chest, feeling ribs spring under his foot and knocking the man to the ground, groaning.
"Take him away...for... questioning," the Vice-Regent said to the surviving guards, catching his breath.

POST SUMMARY:

Ah, fuck it, I'll skip the Commies and the military for this post.
-Viceroy Batukhan has been dismissed, most of his property seized, his sons held hostage in the imperial court, and he has been exiled to Yarkand and disgraced. Faisal Sajadi is now Viceroy of Chagatai.
-Lady Chabi intercepted news of the planned railroad in Guangzhou and threw a wrench in the works by manipulating Zaichun to order its cancellation and summon the Governor of Guangzhou to court.
-The Governor of Hanoi has been dismissed and replaced (offscreen, I'm tired)
-The Vice-Regent got the khagan to restart the railroad project and send the Governor back to Guangzhou.
-Someone or something (jk

) tried to kill the Vice-Regent, but it turns out he's a pretty kickass fighter.
-Mongolia is inviting limited foreign investment in the Taiyuan area and in a few areas where foreign railroads have been built.

by **Sasutary Island** » Mon Dec 22, 2014 12:41 am

The Kingdom of Afghanistan

خدا نجات پادشاه

Kolkata, Dutch Bengal
13 January 1881
The envoy got off the train. Their journey was longer than expected due to Cholera threats, the train had to be diverted south towards Bombay. But, they managed to reach their destination of Kolkata. Briskly taking their documents, they disembarked from the train, and hired a local carriage to take them to the City Hall. The streets were crowded with many locals and foreigners, the streets were blocked with men and women. The progressiveness of this place, compared to Afghanistan, was a culture shock to the Envoy.

As they dismounted the carriage, the men carried their briefcases and walked up to the two guards in front of the City Hall. The envoy showed him his identification as a man of the Afghan Government.

"Hello there. On behalf of the Afghan government and the King, I am here to discuss important business of diplomatic matters with the Governor or your superiors." the head of the Envoy said in Dutch.

Kabul, the Parliament Square
A massive crowd of eager young Kabulites had gathered in-front of a Recruiting Officer of the Afghan Home Guard. He began shouting Anti-Nestorian rhetoric, calling them 'Back-stabbers' and 'a disgrace to all people'. A band was playing Milli Surood, while a few boys were waving the flag of Afghanistan. Nationalistic fervor has boiled for the past 40 years, as the Nestorian Empire was large and smugglers and Nestorian villagers would often go into Afghanistan and steal a few locals before selling them as slaves. A great deal of young men and boys, mostly from poor and lower-middle income families began signing up to 'stop the Nestorian menace' as many a war poster said. given a maximum of 6 months training with outdated or damaged weaponry, these bolstered the Afghan Home Guard by 5 Battalions, breaking the usual Afghan stance of Peace and Diplomacy above all. For the military top brass could sense that years upon years of relative Afghan peace would be exploited by the British and Nestorian governments.

Artillery Battalions, Howitzers and Mortars make up the majority (3 out of 5 battalions) of this new recruitment drive. Though a severe lack of Artillery shells is being noticed, the guns themselves are in abundance, mostly due to the large weapons manufacturing facilities that are run by foreign investors. Ammunition, however, is hard to come by, with the lack of supply of Sulfur and other minerals essential in gunpowder production. Many of Afghanistan's populace is also unqualified to handle such volatile substances, and most workers who work in ammunition factories are imported foreign talent. The King has encouraged more people to take up the jobs still vacant in ammunition factories and foreign investors to open more, and the government is willing to pay a neat price for it.

Persian Defensive Line, 3rd Durrani Grenadier Militia
The 3rd Grenadiers inspected the field of sand and dirt in-front of them, it was exercise day. The Artillery, roughly 3 kilometers behind the front trenches began hurling out test rounds, filled only with 1/8 of the normal explosives, near the Nestorian border as part of the usual yearly military exercises. The men peeked above their trenches, hearing the screech of the shells above them before dirt and sand was kicked up into their faces. The artillery was to be directed by front-line battalions using a new means of communication, the cable telephone. Though largely experimental and bulky (needing a team of 6 camels to move them along), the telephones provided the artillery with unmatched accuracy as the shells were directed towards the target, in this case an abandoned Barn. The shells landed, and though they were drastically downsized from the real thing, it still caused many men to flinch at the bare sound of the explosion. The 2 hour long bombardment allowed the men to make acquaintances with their telephones, and allowed the artillerymen, most of them were mere clerks or shepherd boys, to earn valuable experience in indirect artillery bombardment. The 2 hour barrage had costed roughly A£6 thousand.

The men settled in for the night, their A-Rations heated over the campfire as the wind of the night roared above their heads. The horses were asleep, as were the camels. The only men who were awake were the sentries, or men who went to clean the latrines, or those brave men who walked out with gas lamps to the nearest date palm to get a night's meal. Officers with their binoculars scanned the lands with binoculars, while out in the distance a contingent of 1 of the Western Cavalry Battalion, noticeable by their Slouch Hats and carbines slung to their back, were out on maneuvers. The galloping waked a few, while the rest simply went back to sleep, a few young men became restless and at the wee-hours of 2 am began to explore the vast trench system, or joined the small group of men around the camp fire. A small group from the 3rd Sappers were out there, in the dead of night guided by small strings like blind men. These men were to inspect the ground, should there be any defilades, it was to be filled immediately and the land surveyed for any vantage point the enemy may use, which in such a flat steppe as this, was almost completely flat.

by **The Holy Dominion of Inesea** » Mon Dec 22, 2014 1:31 pm

Army Requisitions Buildings
Nestorius, The Nestorian Empire

The doors of the Quartermaster-General's Office opened and out walked representatives from New France. This had been the second time today European representatives had left the office of the Quartermaster-General. Earlier in the day, a similar purchase had gone through with the Dutch, providing some 25,000 new rifles and a few hundred heavy weapons to the Nestorian Army. The standard rifle of the Nestorian Army was the Dominus Rifle, a lever action rifle an eleven round tubular magazine. They were well suited to the fast paced combat of the Eastern Military Region, and performed admirably on horseback in the Western Military Region. The only issue was it couldn't be fired from prone as well as other rifles, but prone fighting rarely occurred, at least until recently. It was actually a fairly robust design, having a higher rate of fire and normally more ammunition per magazine but a slower reload time and being maybe having 100 meters less range than European models. Each Infantry Lance, some twenty Soldiers, had four marksmen with single shot, bolt action rifles to engage enemy snipers, and to clear out targets at long range. It worked well against the Judeans and Arabians.

Recently though, the European nations had slowly began encroaching upon the lands of Asia. Since the late sixties, it had been acknowledged the fleet wouldn't be able to beat an European fleet, so the Army had been reorganizing to combat them. Under his command, he had 30 Regiments of 5,000 Regular Army troops for a total of 150,000 Regular Army. He also had 50 Battalions of the Church Guard scattered along the borders. At 50,000 men, this unit was tasked with patrolling the and guarding the borders. They were the best units in the military in terms of training, but second to the Army in terms of equipment. Finally, there were 200 Battalions of Militia, some 200,000 Reservists, scattered about the country. They all got annual training, but lead regular careers. Given the enemies on all borders, most had combat experience. Each man had the rifle he used when he left the Service. Most were five round tubular's or, for the older members, single shots.

Some 45,000 rifles were being bought from the West. Half would go to the Church guard, half to the Regular Army. The 25,000 rifles he got would go to the Crimean, Baghdad, Kirkuk, and Zabol Regiments.

Zabol, The Nestorian Empire

"They're firing practice rounds again!"

"Fire the 75mm in their general direction. Just short of the border! I want you to stencil Our Lord's name into the ground!"

"Yes, Colonel!"

Some dozen or so 75mm pieces opened up along the Defensive Line East. Later, more 75mms opened up in practice along a larger section of the line. Only 75mm's though. The 150mm pieces were being held in reserve because they didn't want to reveal their longer range. And because there were not many of them. This was a fairly common game, one side practice firing, the other practice firing back. it provided good practice, and thus the Colonel let it continue.

by **Greater Mobile** » Mon Dec 22, 2014 5:54 pm

Царизм Аляски
The Tsardom of Alaska

Novoarkhangelsk, Alyaska

January 1, 1881

The cold January air swept across Novoarkhangelsk and over castle rock as the bells from Saint Michaels church announced to the sleepy town that the new year had arrived. Today would be about prayer and thanks for many. Celebration for others. For people like Tsar Mikhail, however, it was just another day, and the bells just served as the harbinger of hard work and toil.

The Tsar stepped out of his room after getting dressed and walked down to a prepared meal. Afterwards, he began the grueling part of his daily ritual: listening to a select few nobles complain and tell him how things should be handled.

After some menial tasks, like settling a dispute of the diversion of a stream outside of Port Aleksandr, The Tsar picked up his list of prepared tasks he must undertake, and got to work.

As he picked up his pen, the fog horn on the blockade runner Germes ripped through the city.

The letters were sent, and the business was set in motion. Within the week the Mongols and Californians will have received the Tsar's requests ,and his great friends in Eurasia will have a letter hand delivered by the Alaskan Ambassador in Yashingrad. All that was left to do for this day of work would be purely domestic affairs.

by **Sabara** » Mon Dec 22, 2014 8:08 pm

Horw Municipality
Lucerne, Switzerland-Piedmont

"Tea, Leon?" A petite woman opened the door to the study, letting light infiltrate the dismal room. She was carrying a platter of chinaware, with two biscuits perched precariously on the edge. The Chancellor of Switzerland-Piedmont rose out of his comfortable chair with slightly rheumatic movements. His brown hair was quickly greying, and blue eyes outlined by dark circles.

"Really, Marie, you didn't have to go to all this work," Leon said, nodding his thanks. "I'm sure the housemaids wouldn't mind."

"It's good for me." She replied simply, after setting down the platter among the jumble of papers on Leon's desk. By the time she was at the door, her husband was penning a letter. She sighed. Under that petite frame was a warrior. Marie Leuthard was one of the first female politicians in Switzerland-Piedmont. So it was only a matter of time until the two (Leon and Marie) met. Leon was the charisma, Marie, the fist. They made quite the dynamism. But after the marriage, everything changed. It was no longer acceptable for Madame Leuthard to pursue a career in politics. So although she was her husband's chief adviser, she often felt powerless watching her husband crumbling under the weight of a nation.

Although it was a beautiful day over Lake Lucerne, she couldn't enjoy it. Sometimes, it was almost impossible to endure looking at her husband. Ever since he had taken office as Chancellor, he had aged years. "It's those damned journalists" Marie uttered angrily to herself. Leon was the object of ridicule by most media outlets, as all other Syndics and Chancellors of the past. Sometimes freedom of speech could be a curse.

As she pondered these thoughts, gazing out at the Lake through the large kitchen window, the door of the study creaked open. Leon (now in a trenchcoat and tall tophat that made up for his height) entered the anteroom across from the kitchen, and Marie's stomach sank. Was it already time?

"Marie, I'm sorry," Leon sounded positively miserable. "I'll be back as soon as I can. Maybe once I get back, we'll go on that trip to Barcelona."

Madame Leuthard smiled bravely. "That would be good."

They gazed at each for a second, but soon the "clop-clop-clop" of a carriage could be heard. Leon quickly embraced his wife, and exited the villa through the large double doors in the front entrance. In only a day he would be what seemed like half a world away, Genoa.

Marie stood in front of the doors for what seemed like an eternity, before tiredly walking to the study. She wanted to take a look at the letter that was taking her husband away from her.

Communique of the Confederation of Switzerland and Piedmont
Addressed to the honorable Republic of Francia, Dual Kingdom of Catalonia and Naples, Hellenic Republic, Sultanate of Judea, Republic of Portugal, Papal States

Due to the ever-changing nature of southern Europe, and the undesirable volatility of politics in the Mediterranean region, the Confederation would like to invite all foreign delegates to a conference in the city of Genoa to discuss future security and stability of our region. The conference is scheduled to last for two days at the Palazzo Reale, and shelter will be provided though the Albergo Mare, a luxury hotel in eastern Genoa.

The date will set at (x). It is our sincere hope that we, nations of the Mediterranean can resolve our differences and move forward to a more stable region.

Signed,
Leon Leuthard - Chancellor
Raoul de Meuthse - Foreign Premier

by **Valentir** » Mon Dec 22, 2014 8:19 pm

Amsterdam, Holland, Kingdom of the United Provinces and Belgium

Chapter 1: The Winds of Change
7th of April, the Year of our Lord, 1881

It was a quiet day at the Royal Palace, as it joined the nation in mourning the Willem. In public the staff of the Palace stayed strong, and honoured the memory of their king with pride, but in private many of the staff were overcome with great grief. The majority of the staff had served Willem for at least a decade. They served him his tea, brought him his clothes, as was expected, yet many also become close friends with the King. He was friendly, and always open with his staff, and in many ways they were like family. It was hard on them when he passed, but hard most of all on his son, Prince Martijn. Despite their opposing political views, Martijn and his father were very close, and often spend time at their lodge in the Ardennes. Willem's death left everyone devastated, and an entire kingdom devoid of leadership, with a young man of only twenty to fill the void. The young king would be tested, for Europe was a deadly political field, where you either win, or you die.

Martijn was alone in the Royal Office, a large room, filled with memories and the cobwebs of an old era. This was his father office, and from here he directed one of Europe's greatest powers, forging alliances, influencing policy, and writing countless reforms. This legacy of one of the Netherland's greatest kings now sat upon his shoulders. A entire kingdom, nearly 120,000,000 people, with one of the largest economies, and with large financial assets all over the world. It was all his to lead. Tens of millions would look to him for leadership, in times when the future was uncertain. Can I do it?, Martijn asked himself, Do I have what this country needs? Thoughts of doubt and failure clouded his young mind. Tears began to fall from his eyes, and he took a seat in the old leather chair that was his father's. For awhile he wept silently, memories flashing by him. The Young Prince finally started to settle down, and he looked up. On the mahogany desk, sitting in front of him was a picture. His Majesty King Willem, and his Queen, Karolina. The picture must have been from the 20's, for the couple was young and full of life. Once more the Prince's mind was clouded by negative thoughts, but he was interrupted by a soft knock at the door. He set the picture down and wiped his eyes, "Enter." The door slowly creaked open, and a petite woman, brunette with blue eyes, no older than nineteen, walked in. It was none other than Isabel María de Valencia, the wife of the Prince. Martijn rose from his seat in haste, and went to hug her. "My darling, I'm so happy that you are here!" Martijn dwarfed his wife considerably, as he was quite tall, with the large body of his great-grandfather Leopold, whom many called 'the Ox.' Isabel met his embrace with a kiss, "I came as soon as I heard, my love." They stood there for several more moments in a passionate embrace, before they reluctantly broke away. They took a seat at the small black sofa by the bookshelves, snuggling up next to one another. "I'm sorry my love, I know how hard this is."

"I just can't believe he is gone, so suddenly. Whats worse is the physicians are divided on the causes. One says his heart gave out, another says he died of stomach pains, and one idiot suggested that it was poison. And then I'm bombarded by those rats in Parliament over legislation and policy."

"You shouldn't be too hard my love. They are only looking out for you and the nation. Your father was the glue to the Liberal Coalition, and now that he is gone the coalition will begin to unwind, coming apart piece by piece."

"The Conservatives will now doubt take advantage of situation, and emergency elections will be held. And then I have the Royal Council pushing me for a coronation date, and I've already heard enough out of the court about how great a king I will be," Martijn sighed, "My father told be that becoming a king is one of the hard parts, and that being is even harder. If only he could see me now, ruling the country all on my own."

Isabel put her hand on his cheek and turned his head towards her. Their eyes met, and she kissed him softly on the lips. "You will be a great king, greater than your father. You are stern, diligent, and wise, yet you are are also kind, just, and patient. You are my lover, husband, and my king, and you will lead this country to greater glory." Isabel moved towards her husband and hugged him tightly, "You aren't alone, I'm here for you, always." The young prince smiled, and gave his wife a kiss.

"I'm glad I have you, my darling."

"And I'm glad that you have, my love."

His Imperial Majesty King Martijn I of the Netherlands, circa 1882

Her Imperial Majesty Queen Consort Isabel María of the Netherlands, circa 1881

by **Hastagia** » Mon Dec 22, 2014 11:27 pm

Sultanate of Judea

12th of April, 1881

Jerusalem, Sultanate of Judea

The smell incense hung in the dimly lit study as Sultan Nabeel Hassen stood over a table peering down on the map of the world which lay on the table. He muttered to himself as he tapped the nations of the Middle East who still followed the light of Islam. "Hedjaz, Oman, and Judea..." He balled up his fist and raised it in quick succession slamming it down on the table. "Damn Infidels!" Nearby servants went pale as the Sultan would once again go into one of his rages about the Nestorians.

Nonetheless one servant stepped forward head bowed and asked "Yes my Sultan?"

Nabeel replied "Bring me the Heads of the Military, the Prime Minister, and a Scribe." As he took a deep breath in then out. "The rest of you may leave."

Relieved the servants bowed and said "Yes my Sultan." walking quickly out the door to carry out his tasks or to head to the servant's quarters in the rear of the palace.

Nabeel finally alone drew his Janbiya and stabbed into were the great Persia was but now the infidels who call themselves "Nestorians." Nabeel now tapped his foot impatiently as he would finally set his plans into motion in forming a grand Caliphate that would rival that of any before it. He sighed knowing of what happened to previous attempts but he would succeed with a modernized military he would and by Allah he would succeed. Finally after several minutes of waiting Prime Minister Najeeb Shaban, Generals; Khaleefa Elamin, Haani Ullah, Munjid Samara, Rajab Dallal, Jawhar Jama. Looking up at the Generals and Prime Minister. "Prepare the troops! Ready the masses we prepare for war against Egypt." The men gathered stood stunned t the Sultan's orders. Judea had not been at war for nearly 70 years but now he wishes to invade for whatever reason?

"Sultan may I ask why you chose this course of action?" the Prime Minister asked.

Nabeel replied "It is time the Caliphate is reformed."

The Generals replied with smile and joy in their hoarse voices "At once my Sultan." as they eagerly left to mobilize their men.

Najeeb looked down solemnly "Yes my Sultan" as he trudged out slowly to ready fiery speeches and convince he people this was in their best interests.

The Sultan turned to the scribe who had just entered after seeing the many men leave the office "Began to write now, "To those who i may concern..." Naseer would drone on for hours editing and revising his leaders to a certain amount of Countries.

From the Sultanate of Judea

To those who it may concern in the Confederation of Switzerland and Piedmont.

[tab=6]We will gladly attend said conference in hope of expressing our willingness to negotiate with our Western and Mediterranean Counterparts. Furthermore to express our gratitude we will grace thee with our mighty heir to the Sultanate Hamood Hassen as being our representative to the meeting.

Signed,
Sultan Naseer Hassen, Defender of the Islamic Faith, Sultan of Judea, Emir of Acre, Emir of Jerusalem, Emir of Syria, Emir of Adana, Emir of the Sinai, Emir of Jordan, Protector of the people of Judea, Jordan, and Syria[/tab]

From the Sultanate of Judea

To those who it may concern in the Dual Kingdom of Catalonia and Naples

We would like to get help in modernizing our Army to fight off the Nestorians and other vile creatures. Will you help us noble ally? We will pay for everything in way of diamonds and other precious gems.

Signed,
Sultan Naseer Hassen, Defender of the Islamic Faith, Sultan of Judea, Emir of Acre, Emir of Jerusalem, Emir of Syria, Emir of Adana, Emir of the Sinai, Emir of Jordan, Protector of the people of Judea, and Syria

by **Neo-Assyrian Empire** » Tue Dec 23, 2014 12:14 am

The Republic of Francia
Chapter Deux: Monsieur Baptiste?

La Sénat du Francia | Paris, Francia
April 12^th, 1880
"Order, order in the chamber!" Speaker of the Senate, Felix Bault, standing behind a lectern, smacked a gavel against its surface. "Order, order," he continued to yell. The senate quieted down. "The next bill we will vote on, proposed by the Socialist Party, is the Laborer's Act. This bill, if it passes, would limit workers to a mandatory 10 hours per day maximum, institute a minimum wage of 3 francs per hour, and would add guidelines for safety within any industry."

The Senate, which had a conservative majority, burst into a flurry of anger and excitement. Conservative members were slamming the proposal, while others argued with the Liberal members of the Senate. Bault grabbed the gavel again. "Order, order in the senate! Sirs, calm down!" After a few moments, the Senate was back to the calm that it was just moments before. "Now, we shall begin to cast our votes."

After nearly thirty minutes of voting, it was tallied up to: 35 Pass, 57 Veto, 8 Abstain. "And with this vote," continued the Speaker, "The Laborer's Act has failed to pass the Senate. If a new vote is taken and a majority wish to bring the bill back to the Senate floor, that can be done at a later point. Now, on to the next bill..."

The Activists' Den | Geneva, Francia
Later That Day
In a dark, smokey room of Geneva, three men sat around a table, talking and playing a game of cards. It was a small room, though it was all they could afford. In the back, on a wooden table, sat a telegraph machine. One of the men, Thybault Fou, leaned back in his chair, kicking his feet up on the table. "So, long story short, we were running out of the bar when-" The telegraph started going off. Startled, Thybault fell out of his chair and scrambled to get to the telegraph. Grabbing a pencil off of the table, he began to write down the message. Once the machine stopped, he shook his head. "No... no, no, no!"

"What is it, Thybault?"

Fou stood there for a moment, looking down at the paper. "The bill failed to pass..."

"What?" Another man, Pierre Ouvrier, stood from the table. "How could that have happened?"

"I'm not sure... God, damn those Parisian politicians! They are blinded by greed, so much that they cannot see the plight of the working class! If only there was a way... a way to make them see, to understand that we deserve better conditions."

"But how? The government has proven time and time again that they will ignore the workers."

"Funny you mention that, Pierre. Andrew and I have been discussing what would happen if the bill fell through, and we decided that what we shall ask of you is necessary. After all, drastic times call for drastic measures. We will make them grant us our rights. Here, let me tell you."

Thybault leaned in and whispered the plan to Pierre. After doing so, he handed Pierre a six-shot revolver, fully loaded. "This is what you will use. Now, if you remember the plan, and as long as everything goes accordingly, we shall be the start of something great for Francia!"

Pierre nodded. "Now come, we should celebrate before you head off to your destiny!" The three men left the smokey room, going to the local bars. They wanted to have fun before the future turned dark

Paris, Francia
April 19^th
A large crowd formed in front of the Senate building as the Prime Minister and the President were to give an address about the recent events in the legislature. Prime Minister Bault was up first, saying that the bill would only have hurt the country. Meanwhile, President Baptiste sat in a chair on the sidelines.

"Are you okay, Louis?" The president looked up to see one of his aides and friends, Francois Dumont.

"I'm fine, Francois, but thank-"

"You don't look alright. You look pale, as if you're ill."

"No, I'm just fine. It just seems like Mr. Bault's speech will last a while longer."

"Don't worry, it should be fine, Mr. President." The audience started to applaud. "Well, it looks like Bault is done. You're up, Louis."

_________________________

Amongst the crowd was Pierre, listening to the Prime Minister's speech. "The bill would have been a blessing for the Frankish people, not a curse," he thought, "How dare he even think that? Does he not know how much the workers are suffering right now in the factories of Orleans, Lyons, or even Paris?!" He began to make his way through the crowd, shoving people out of his way to get closer to the stage. "I can't stand hearing this capitalist nonsense. How can they even view worker's rights as an evil? Just because a franc goes to a worker rather than into a politician's pocket?" He shoves another man out of the way. Ouvrier is now standing only twenty feet from the stage, close enough to get a good shot at the speaker.

He looks at Bault, preparing to attack. He tried to calm himself down. After all, he didn't want to miss his target. "Don't worry, one man killed to keep a thousand workers alive is a great thing. I'll become a national hero for this. Don't worry about it, it's an easy shot. Your family shall mourn, but they shall also praise me for what I do here today." The audience applauds as Pierre is ready to fire. Bault, however, steps down from the podium. Pierre is ready to fire at the next speaker, whoever it was (He was not paying attention to the speech at this point.). Once Baptiste took the stand, Pierre decided it was now or never.

"Monsieur Baptiste? This is on behalf of Le Syndicat des Travailleurs Armées!"

Pierre pulled the revolver out of his coat jacket and fired off five shots, three of which hit the president. After the five shots, he points the gun at his head and pulls the trigger, killing himself. President Baptiste, slumped over the podium, was shot in the shoulder twice, with a third bullet grazing his neck.

"Doctor? Do we have a doctor in the crowd?" Several men rushed to the stage, hoping to save the injured president. However, nothing they did would have saved him. President Baptiste died on the stage by a deranged Worker and, as the press would soon label Pierre, an Anarchist.

Le Journal du Franque
Baptiste Mort!
Assassin Tués, Rallye Se Transforme En un Massacre!
Édition Spéciale

A peaceful political rally turned violent earlier this afternoon when a troubled worker and anarchist Pierre Ouvrier shot and killed President Louis Baptiste before taking his own life. Before assassinating the president, Ouvrier yelled "This is on behalf of Le Syndicat des Travailleurs Armées!" It is now believed that the government is arresting any person affiliated with this group.

Prime Minister Bault has declared himself acting-president until an election is held early next month. Mr. Bault commented "It is a sad day for Paris and the Republic. We shall find out who worked with Mr. Ouvrier in order to make this attack possible and persecute them to the furthest extent of the law. Until an emergency election can be organized next month, I shall stand in as acting President."

More information shall be added in the next edition, once we learn more from this situation. Today is a sad day for Francia indeed.

by **The Khedive** » Tue Dec 23, 2014 12:22 am

Prince Otto von Bismarck

The City of Berlin
Kingdom of Prussia
North German Confederation

17. April. 1881

Bismarck burst through the doors of the Prussian Landtag, his countenance inflamed and ruddy with impotent rage, almost quivering. Such an unseemly sight aroused a pause in the current raging debate concerning Anti-Socialist Laws which had been proposed by none other than himself.

From the doorway he thundered. "Now is not the time for dithering! Not when all of the Orient is on fire! The time for quibbling and bickering can come later, when the lives of Germans abroad are no longer in jeopardy!"

He paused, for the words came with great difficulty. He swallowed a sob and wiped back impassioned tears. "57 lives -- German lives! -- have already been lost in Egypt! The Prussian mission has been besieged, and all may be lost. With every word I fear we have lost another hundred.

"The Prussian ambassador sends for help. Not for himself -- he fears it is already too late for him -- but for other Germans in Egypt who still have hope."

His voice cracked, and for a moment he seemed to have succumbed to emotion. Then, wiping away the tears, he mustered.

"Prussians! Germans, if you dare call yourselves! Will we let this savagery continue?"

A resounding call echoed through the Landtag: "Nay, we must rescue our fellow Germans!"

Bismarck grinned. He had no idea why the King would dare consider such a removed territory which would so easily disturb the balance of power, but there was still time to dissuade him. What mattered at the moment was North German pride.

Now began the German intervention in Egypt.

Ludwig Windthorst

The City of Hanover
Kingdom of Prussia
North German Confederation

21. April. 1881

Bismarck was a brilliant statesman renowned above all for his perfidy. Much as what was portrayed in public, he was no ideologue; whatever cause suited him at the time was what he adhered to until a better one came along. Harnessing the winds of fate. A politician through and through, he'd been labeled a reactionary, a progressive, a liberal, an absolutist, and at last a scoundrel. He had principles, definitely, but not ideals. Principle number one was a Diet majority.

Last decade, he espoused free trade until it no longer suited him, trading it and its proponents for protectionism.

Now, that old red reactionary had arranged for a meeting in Windthorst's own office, a clear sign of the drastic measures he was willing to pursue to stick to principle one. Herr Bismarck had introduced another Anti-Socialist Bill, calling for more stringent measures than the ones introduced in 1879. The socialist influence was steadily increasing, not only in the factories throughout Pomerania and Silesia but also the educated middle-class of the liberal west, most notably Bonn and the Ruhr.

In spite of the ban on the Social Democratic Party, its members continued to operate in the halls of the Diet, not as official members of the defunct party of course, but as independent candidates. They were a weak force now but it was certain the matter would reach a breaking point very soon. The ideals of Marx and Engels clearly had support in the members of the public, and, so it was rumoured, friends in high places. Not that it came as a surprise.

The awaited knock came from the spruce door. The hulking frame of Bismarck, with broad, commanding shoulders, crouched through the doorframe, wrought for Windthorst's own slight build, and into the room. They drew near, the air crackling from the tense gaze both parties offered -- for they had fought like lions in parliament, with all regard thrown to the wayside -- and reached into an embrace.

"Do take a seat, Monsieur Bismarck! It must have been a tiring journey from Kniephof, despite the wonder of the Prussian railway system. Do you take your tea English?" He gestured for the valet to serve their tea.

"I will take it how you take it, Monsieur Windthorst. I am glad to finally be in a warm place after winter's chilled my old bones! I must admit, the decor is most elegant."

"Oh, I try to keep it Spartan! There is beauty in modesty, elegance in minimalism. Perhaps I am a Philhellene for that sentiment, or a romantic yearning for the old days, pining for stark white marble pillars, but I do also love our German opera. Have you seen Wagner?"

"A masterpiece of German romanticism. Dark, brooding, yet grandiose! Bombastic and baroque in its sensibilities! A reflection of the opera of life. I would spend weeks lauding that artwork. But it detracts from the main concern of my visit, if you may pardon me for skipping such a fascinating topic."

"No, don't fret! From your worried countenance I fear it is an urgent matter which cannot wait any longer." A knowing smile flashed. "Tell me, Herr Bismarck, what troubles you?"

The Colonel

Aboukir Bay
Mediterranean Sea
Sultanate of Egypt

23. April. 1881

Riding on the crests of turquoise waves and sapphire rides, carving steel hulls through tourmaline foam under the cover of midday, the six battleships bearing the North German naval jack began their bombardment of Alexandria.

Concurrently, transport ships bearing 4,000 men of Prussia and 2,000 of the other German states were making for shore, where they were to establish a beachhead.

Tough fighting was anticipated, but they had the Krupp, and the Egyptians had not.

Ludwig Windthorst

The City of Hanover
Kingdom of Prussia
North German Confederation

21. April. 1881

Bismarck finished the last of his tea, and rose from his seat. They sealed the agreement with a handshake, as was proper in Western and German society, before Windthorst walked him to the corridor. "How fares the young prince?"

"Growing. He's off for his first visit on his own in Scandinavia. Still too preoccupied with the fleet."

"Well, tell him we have much to discuss. His ideas on government are intriguing, as always."

*Apologies for the reserve. It is quite necessary*
- State visit to France
- Socialist Laws
~~- Seeking a majority~~
~~- Conservative-Centre coalition~~
~~- 57 dead in Egypt~~
~~- Military intervention in Egypt~~
- Visit to Mongolland
- Pan-German agitation

by **The Emerald Dragon** » Tue Dec 23, 2014 12:37 am

State of the Ryukyu

The shock that followed the assassination of the Frankish leader was... stunning to say the least. An elected leader. Killed. In. Broad. Daylight. At. A. Place. Surrounded. By. Other. People?. Surely there must've been a mistake in the translation of the Ryukyuan Sun newspaper? Of course, the Council knew better and had already requisitioned a merchant vessel registered from Naha for an intelligence gathering operation. Four Agents of the Ryukyuan Agency for Ryuko-Japanese Security would be dispatched to Paris, their names were, Keitaro Nobu, Haruki Matsumoto, Ieyasu Ikegami and Kensuke Rose.

Once in Paris, they'd rent out an apartment where they'd operate from and observe any leads of the group, who the Council feared would encourage a similar hardline group in the Ryukyu Islands. Still, the Council was being careful to stop itself completely ignoring the citizen populace, who still held ultimate power. But... they guessed they could give themselves a bit of
leeway because they were writing the Constitution at the time and it wasn't finished yet. That'd definitely need finishing within the next year.

Hopefully, the agents would capture an important figure and bring him to Naha itself for a potential questioning.

by **Alleniana** » Tue Dec 23, 2014 12:40 am

Random Event
Alexandria, Egypt
15/4/1881
"The Sultan is dead! Long live al-Dumyat! Al-Iskandriyah is dead! Abu Bakr Mohammed al-Iskandriyah, dead at the age of 77! New sultan, Abdul Rahman ibn Haroun al-Dumyat has ascended to the throne! Long live the Mayor of Damietta, ascended, al-Dumyat! The sultan i-"

A smoking barrel quite literally pointed at the man, his face a mask of red for a second before he fell flat on his back. It was an incrimination, but not a dangerous one, at this time. A man in a red cape and with the greasiest of goatees lowered his arm, gun still in hand, though.

"This man is a traitor, and the words he speaks are wrong. The sultan is indeed dead, but the new sultan is the old sultan's son, as I am sure you are all aware is the custom. Botros Se- who the hell are you?!"

The newcomer, the crowd fearfully milling in a wide radius around him and the dead crier, dressed in black, was an impressive figure but no more impressive than the gold cloth-clad horsemen who had galloped into the square from one of the side streets. Despite the well-polished matchlocks they bore, though, and their scimitars covered in the sheen of sunlight abounding, the gunman stood aloof. Behind him, two men, one with a club and the other with a well-worn European musket of his own, stepped up.

"We are the guards of the palace, the troops of the Sultanate!"

Urging his jittery horse onwards a bit, he managed to recognise the crier he had hired.

"And this man carried out my orders, direct from the sultans, new and old! How dare you! I hereby..."

He almost looked as if he had forgotten his line, puzzle spreading across the white bearded officer's face upon his horse, and then a red rose silently spread across his chest, covered in silks. The horsemen behind him, in a flash, had prepared to fire, and now the crowd, already made nervous by a solitary shooting, went into full panic, screaming and shouting and fleeing into the streets, stalls torn down and everything trampled into the yellow dust.

"Take care of them."

Two more confused faces appeared, but this time, before they were shot. The cloak-clad fellow fled into the panic, dodging behind a stall full of okra, leaving his two not-so-bright henchmen to use their few seconds left on earth to figure out that he had deserted them, sold them for time, left them for dead.

A crack turned their bodies limp, one that also saw the cobbles dented and everything from cloth to wood to flesh torn around them amongst the Alexandrians, and then they rode on, crushing their so recently brawny bodies into a muscled pulp, pursuing the fellow who had shot a messenger and an officer.

Like some bizarre comedy, the messenger defeated by the man in the cape and the man in the cape defeated by the horsemen, the tables were turned once again. The soldiers on their mighty beasts charged forward, hooves smashing overturned carts and furniture and pushing aside the turbulent mass into which the offender had fled, and then suddenly they found themselves on the opposite end of a charge of townsfolk, they ignored but for pushing and shoving. And then, when they saw the elephant, a bronze artillery piece mounted on its back, two columns of infantry from Damietta and Cairo behind it, they too turned and fled, destroying many a spine, arm and leg under their retreat.

As the invading army came into contact with the city's meagre garrison, so much of it siphoned off to the Suez area for stability, not thinking the capital might be under danger, the city itself began to burn, from harbour to harbour, sea to lake. Gunfire, of course, broke out, mixed with shoddy artillery pieces firing off, swords clashing, buildings collapsing as their supports burned out, and screams of people watching as the supports of society burned out too. For all the sultan's weakness, he had never been inept as so to be completely blind, insensitive to the international situation. But as the followers of Benghazi, Tobruk, Cairo and Damietta broke into warfare, funded by the mysterious foreigner of the Sahara and the robber barons of the south, they cared not. They craved glory, recognition. Their heads swelled with the thought of their independent state, oblivious of anything outside of it.

Already, as news spread of what scanty order there remained in Egypt, foreign powers tensed, got ready, Suez perhaps threatened and a potential colony in turmoil. The sultan's son watched his advisors and ministers panic, the pretender claiming his abdication doing the same but with less competent and less knowledgeable underlings. Swathes declared their independence, from Benghazi to the "Funj", and between a pale, gormless pretender promising independence willy-nilly and a near-boy, the legacy of a country rotting thrown upon him, Egypt came to ruin. Much was yet to be decided, and much was to be done, but perhaps, it would be said with certainty, already, that Egypt burned.

by **The Kingdom of Glitter** » Tue Dec 23, 2014 12:41 am

The Dual Kingdom of Catalonia and Naples

El Dual Regne de Catalunya i Nàpols

To Arms!
Barcelona, Catalonia| April 18th 1881 Anno Domini

News of the unrest in Egypt had quickly reached the ear of the Prime Minister. He petitioned the King to call am emergency session of the Royal Assembly, and the King granted his request. Quickly the Royal Assembly filled with politicians questioning why exactly they were awoken at such an early hour. The Prime Minister, along with the King, the Minister of War, and several various leading generals, quickly walked into the Senate, the house that would be required to pass to pass any form of a declaration of war.

"Gentlemen!" the Prime Minister boomed. "The time has come for our nation to establish our dominance over the Mediterranean once and for all! Recently, the Sultanate of Egypt has descended into complete and utter civil war, and we are going to end this civil war by absorbing them into our glorious nation!"

Cheers burst out from the seats that housed the members of the Liberal Party.

"We have already begun the process of mobilizing our forces in order to stabilize Albania. So, the process of ferrying troops to Egypt will be much easier for us. As soon as this Senate passes the declaration of war on Egypt, 60,000 men will march from Tunis and Gramanate for Benghazi, while we send 30,000 from Catalonia and Naples for Alexandria. This war shall be won easily, and our dominance made forever known to those whose coastlines lie on this sea."

Further applause and cheers broke out now from most members of the Senate.

"Shall we take a vote then?"

The Senate then voted if they wanted to declare war on the Sultanate of Egypt. An overwhelming three forths majority vote returned, and the King signed the declaration. The Dual Kingdom was now at war with Egypt.

Tripoli, Tunis and Gramanate| April 18th 1881 Anno Domini

In the early hours of the morning a telegram arrived at the Colonial Command Headquarters in Tripoli. General Salvador Dalí was awoken by his aide.

"Pardon me, General. But this has just come in from Barcelona."

The general slowly got himself out of bed to receive the letter.

"Thank you, Mercè. But word from Barcelona at this hour can only mean one thing."

He sat down at his desk and read the telegram.

"Ah yes I was right, war! I must be off now, Mercè. Lots to do. Send word to the forts and garrisons across this colony. We must mobilize and head for Benghazi at once."

TO THE SWISS-PIEDMONTE FOREIGN RELATIONS OFFICE
From the Dual Kingdom's Relations Department.

I happily accept your invitation to discuss the future of our great region in Genoa. I will be in attendance, along with the Assistant Minister of Foreign Relations, Feliu Castell.

May we prosper as a region hand in hand.

Signed,
Guifré Vilaró, Foreign Minister

TO PORTUGAL, PONTUS, AND JUDEA
From the Dual Kingdom's Relations Department.

Dearest of Brothers,

Recently, our nation has declared war on the Sultanate of Egypt. I now must call on you to honor your agreements with our realm and join us in arms against the Egyptians.

United we are strong.

TO THE FRANKISH FOREIGN RELATIONS OFFICE
From the Dual Kingdom's Relations Department.

It is with utter disgust that we condemn the most horrific act that took the life of your most noble president.

Your nation has the sympathy of every man and woman who calls the Dual Kingdom home, and we most certainly wish that you find and eliminate and further threats to your government.

May God aid you in your quest to route out this evil, and protect you from the same evil that took the life of a great man.

by **Sveltlana** » Tue Dec 23, 2014 1:21 am

KALMARUNIONEN SKANDINAVIEN

Chapter Two: Hjerteknuser
14th of January, the year 1881.

(note to all - RP delegations in your next post after this one)

AN OPEN LETTER FROM SCANDINAVIA
To all civilized nations of the world.

It is with grief that this missive is sent to all the civilized nations of the world. The King of the Kalmar Union of Scandinavia, the esteemed Gustaf Ferdinand Magnus IV Akilles von Wittelsbach and Vasa, Ruler of the Nordic Realm and Protector of all Scandinavians, has passed to the great beyond, leaving in this world a widow and three grieving daughters.

All are invited to attend the funeral of our late monarch, which shall take place the 20th of April, the next month. Accommodations shall be provided for all delegations in the luxurious Tre Kroner hotel in Stockholm, a short distance from the Royal Palace and the Stockholm Cathedral, where a service shall begin on the appointed day.

-- THE ROYAL PALACE; STOCKHOLM --

No less than half-a-dozen dresses lay thrown in the ground, their pale and dark shades mixing the color of the wooden floor much like the different-hued components of a salad. Christine, the Crown Princess, was at the mirror, trying a million and one ways in which to do her hair, not a single one of which satisfied her. Her dextrous hands shuffled her healthy blonde curls into impossible shapes, but always upon looking at herself again in the mirror, she would release the whole arrangement in frustration. And then, she remembered that it was a funeral she was going to and not a ball! If she wasn't sure that her two maids were outside, knowing exactly what she was feeling like and having felt that feeling before, Christine would have unleashed an earth-rending scream of utter irritation that would have sundered the foundations of the enormous palace. She opened another wardrobe and looked clear through her hats and veils, without finding that single, optimus one that would fit her spiffingly.

Oh, cursed be the universe! Rather than looking at her best when meeting that handsome blue prince, Wilhelm of Hohenzollern, she would be forced to look black and drab, nullifying the beauty of her sparkling eyes, tender pink skin, and round Swedish features.

As if jumping from a sinking ship into the ocean and acknowledging the inevitable, Christine opened the door and beckoned the two maids to come in. For no less than a few hours, the three women fussed over Christine's appearance until at last she was prepared. This is what she would look like for the funeral, and it wasn't all that bad. One of the maids made a quick sketch.

TO THE BOER FOREIGN RELATIONS OFFICE
From the Kalmar Foreign Relations Department.

In the name of the Kalmar Monarchy, I, the Scandinavian Chancellor hereby express the Scandinavian nation's interest in investing in the project that the Boer Government has thus far made open, the project of the construction of the port of Harbon.

Furthermore, I am certain that a large number of enterprising capitalists within the Kalmar Monarchy will be delighted to further participate in the project along the Scandinavian government.

In order to learn more about this project, I would voice the interests of the Kalmar Monarchy in inquiring about the possibilities of receiving more information about the project itself, and following the approval of the soon-to-be crowned Crown Princess, we will rapidly dispatch representatives in order to accomplish this investment.

P.I. Nordahl
Lord High Chancellor

by **Altito Asmoro** » Tue Dec 23, 2014 5:21 am

April 12nd, 1881

The Military is in process of expanding its arms industry. Some Portugal companies are still in Colombia, and with cooperation, Arms Industry of Colombia will be able to expanded. Portugese aid is highly regarded as the only way to protect Colombia's national interest as well as Portugal's benefits from South America. In regards to that, but without the time needed to make the proposal, for now the Ministry of Economy will reevaluates the roles of Portugese in the Colombia's national interest, economy, and military.

On the other hand, Gran Colombia publicly declared its sponsorship to the Antarctic expedition to the nearest Globe Broadsheet in South America to messages its declaration to the man himself, courtesy of explorer and prominent international personality Jean de Raffeteu. Gran Colombia hoped that this expedition could fruit into early investment in South Pole, and if any, an early advantage to the national interest. Audition for the men able to be in expedition is start.

by **Liecthenbourg** » Tue Dec 23, 2014 6:22 am

Les Etats-Unis de Nouvelle France
Les Rocheuses, Montagne, Nouvelle France

Chapter 2: Faith (and Explosions) Can Move Mountains
21st of April, 1881 AD

"Pierre" Guillame said into the darkness, his lantern's flame flickering brightly and illuminating his face, giving him a warm orange hue.

"Oui?" came the raspy response followed by a cough of soot.

"Is it done?"

A rustle came from in front of him and soon the face of his comrade was visible, his face blackened with the power and dust of the tunnel. He responded with a nod and both soldiers quickly began their sprint towards the station constructed near their location. Before long, a locomotive had begun moving them away from the dead end they were in. As on queue, the tunnel itself shook slightly, an explosion came from the dead end and it was soon followed by a bright light piercing that end of the tunnel. They had done it. A tunnel, spanning from the Nouvelle France province of Montagne to the sparsely populated regions of inland California and it cut straight through Les Rocheuses. In truth, the railway only cut through the mountain in her last stretch of the journey, a few kilometres at best whereas the rest was built alongside mountain paths and so forth before even coming close to the relatively uninhabited stretches of land. In recent decades however, ambitious settlers had settled this rather empty but claimed land.

So when "reports" came from this wild frontier that several Nouvelle Francais had been assaulted, the Government had stepped in personally. The construction of this rail way tunnel was to ensure the protection of the citizens of the nation. Many would've assumed that this was in word only, but many were wrong. The government had done as it said it would and now this rail way was to be for the sole purpose of, as the President had put it "To ensure the safety of our people in these lands that are, in technicality, that of the Californians but are relatively unsettled save from our own ambitious individuals. If need be, the military itself will be involved." Involved it had gotten, General Michel Baie had been in charge of the detonations across the Montagne that would create this tunnel. He was a famed expert on controlled demolitions and his expertise was well used. In the few months he had needed to complete his project he had ended up with 60,000 infantry, 4,000 cavalry, roughly 104 maxim guns and approximately 240 artillery pieces.

Le Sénat, Ville de Quebec, Quebec

"And so" Dupont began, reading from the document that had been placed in front of him. "In a unanimous vote, we, as a Democracy, have voted in favour of the proposition put forward by our President. It is the necessary course of action - "Due to the settlement of several Nouvelle Francais on that side of the Rocheuses, the Government of Nouvelle France sees it as her duty to allow these civilians of our nation to remain united with their brethren. The land may, in technicality belong to the Californians but their lack of a population render much of the land useless and thus we see it as our duty in the name of the Lord to use what he gave to us" - . These are the words of our field marshals in the area. The Californians cannot provide adequate protection for our people in these lands. We have a duty to our own people - we are also the greatest power here in the North American Continent. To solidify our position and to show that we can protect our people, because we have to do so, we only have one solution. War."

To: The Foreign Office of California
From: Jean-Baptiste Leclerc, President of Les Etats-Unis de Nouvelle France

Dearest Receiver of this Missive.
Due to increasing unrest amongst reports we have most graciously received from the Western Rocheuses we are officially declaring war upon your nation.

by **Senkaku** » Tue Dec 23, 2014 10:28 am

Ikh Mongol Uls

All Under the Blue Sky, Chapter Three: Den of Serpents

Limestone Pinnacles near the Li River, Guangxi

"If my body dies, let my body die, but do not let my country die."
-Genghis Khan

Khanbaliq
The Golden Orchid Court
The Chancellery

"You look awfully good," the khagan grunted, "for a man who's past seventy and just had the fight of his life last night."
Zhao Xian bowed, giving a slight smile. "Not the fight of my life, lord khan. That was many years ago. But trust me, beneath the silk, these old bones are... rather achy," he said dryly.
The Chancellor snorted. "Tell him the truth." He looked at the khagan, amused. "He had to get two servants to help him out of bed this morning because he was sore and his knees were flaring up again."
Xian raised an eyebrow. "Now, now. We all age- this is the man who, at Jehol last year, stopped riding after ten miles because his legs were getting sore."
Ayan sulked slightly. "That deer was damn quick, and I'm still a sight better than you. In my prime-"
The khagan interjected gently. "If you're quite finished?"
"Apologies, my lord," Xian said with a wide smile.
Kublai grinned. "Aging is hard- or, some nights, soft, I suppose." Ayan and Xian both snorted as he continued, Ayan chuckling slightly. "Anyways, what have we gotten from the surviving assassin?"
Ayan and Xian instantly looked grim, and the Vice-Regent's voice was grave. "I personally helped with the interrogation, and we were finally able to get some reasonably valuable information out of the man before he succumbed to his injuries and our techniques."
Ayan interjected. "He says, my lord, he is a member of the Yihetuan, hired by... a certain person in the court... to kill the Vice-Regent."
"Who are the Yihetuan? And who was this person who hired them?"
Xian's face now looked like carved granite. "The Yihetuan are an underground group, following a hyperconservative ideology that seeks to purge the Empire of Western influence and create a new union, where all races and peoples of Asia can join under one banner to defeat Western imperialism and our own corruption. Essentially, they are rebels, seeking the overthrow of your majesty."
"Who were they hired by?"
"Sire, I would not recommend you ask me that question. I feel as your adviser it would be, as of now, an unnecessary burden and a threat to your judgement to-"
"Who?," Kublai growled, suddenly stern.
Ayan spoke up, his face set.
"The Prince Zaichun."

Viceroyalty of Chagatai
Kyrgyzland Province
Outside Bishkek

"There's a rebel mortar position one valley over, dropping shells on our troops in this village here. The road to Kashgar runs directly through here, and we've got troops on it, but as the captain of your guard, Viceroy, I would advise against it."
Faisal Sajadi, Viceroy of Chagatai, Governor of Kashgar, and also Governor of Bishkek, frowned, biting his lip, as he looked at the map.
"I agree- I don't want to be blown to pieces by a shell. Didn't Batukhan send soldiers up the Kashgar road before he was removed?"
"Khanbaliq informed us 40,000 riders were marching from Kashgar, but I suspect prior to his dismissal Batukhan ordered some or most to turn back. My reports say there are about 15,000 troops, only around 2,500 real riders, and they've stalled forty miles east of here, because they can't get through a pass that's heavily defended by your own people, the Tajiks."
"Are the rebels there aware I am now Viceroy?"
"They are not."
"Find a way to inform them. If I am to get to Kashgar in any reasonable amount of time, I don't want to have to take a pass. This is frustrating enough. Now, if we send Acigecalr and his Jurchens over the top of this ridge, they'll be able to fire down onto the mortars and take them out."
Su Fan gave the Viceroy a surprised look. "Not a bad suggestion, sir. I hadn't even noticed that." He hurried out of the command yurt, shouting orders, and Faisal Sajadi paced around the map, listening to the thunder of distant cannonfire and the pop of muskets and rifles.
He was going to Kashgar, and he was going to break this damned rebellion on the way.

Tianjin
SS Chevalier Bleu

Temür, fifth son of Kublai, his second by his concubine Lady Shen Chang, Imperial Prince of the Second Rank and Lord of Changchun, had just had a mind-blowing orgasm with two extremely flexible and very curvaceous girls and was so drunk on rice wine and high on opium he could scarcely see, when he had been taken out of the singing girl house by Imperial guardsmen and brought back to the palace after a night hitting the town with several other of his friends, lords and princes all. There he had stayed for several hours, while a physician sobered him up, and he had been briefly summoned to a short convening of the imperial small council. They had informed him, quite calmly and abruptly, that he would be traveling to Scandinavia, to seek the hand of the future Scandinavian queen.
Temür had not really had any reaction to this, nor had he any idea of how to process it. He went back to his rooms, got drunk again, didn't remember much of that evening (but knew it involved things that he hoped no one else remembered, either), and had spent the next day sobering up after his steward reminded him of the upcoming trip. While he'd recovered from his partying, his servants busily emptied his rooms, packing practically everything they could lay their hands on so he would have a comfortable trip. He had even had to explain to them that the gas fixtures for the lamps were not, in fact, charms built into the building by geomancers and that it would be unsafe to remove them.
Then he'd said a quick goodbye to his father, a much longer goodbye to his mother, spoke briefly with the Chancellor, and was packed off to Tianjin. He was taking a Franque steamboat, specifically hired just for him, to Scandinavia- a place so distant Temür had to think about it for a moment when finding it on the map.

Temür lay back on his bed, wondering what on Earth he was about to sail into, and stared out the cabin window as the steamboat pulled away from the quay.
Everything he had ever known began to dwindle rapidly, as the ship picked up steam, heading out into the Bohai.

Viceroyalty of Nanyu
Jiangsu Province
Shanghai
Pudong
Wu's Noodle House

"Well, my mole in the Grand Secretariat offers a very intriguing tidbit," Tai said. The Politburo was, once again, clustered around their usual corner table in Wu's Noodle House, discussing their plans and the Party in general.
"Oh?," Ahmad said, and Bataar perked up, but did not say anything through a mouthful of fried shrimp dumpling.
"Apparently, the Yihetuan tried to assassinate the Vice-Regent."
"What?"
Bataar nearly spat out his dumpling at Takeshi's outburst, taking a swig of kumiss to avoid choking.
Takeshi said, more quietly, "What happened?"
"Yihetuan assassins attacked Vice-Regent Zhao in his quarters. All were killed but one, who died under questioning. The rumor is they were hired- or some say volunteered- to kill him for the Crown Prince."
There were raised eyebrows around the table, and Bataar laughed.
"Perhaps the imperial court will do our work for us. Regardless, comrades, we must..."

POST SUMMARY:

-The Vice-Regent's assassination may be attributable to the Crown Prince, but no action has yet been taken and the information has not been released except outside a very small circle.
-Chagatid Viceroy Sajadi is making his way from Bishkek, his previous posting, to Kashgar, and on the way carrying out a campaign against the Kyrgyz rebellion.
-Prince Temür, Kublai's fifth son, is being sent to Scandinavia to try and win the hand of whoever the Scandinavian Crown Princess is. Temür is actually intelligent and nice (and very good-looking), but he's a bit of a partier and somewhat irresponsible. He has also, (interesting side fact) done some fighting in Kyrgyzland, sent by his father probably as some coming-of-age thing or something. He's got a bunch of servants, a few officials, and an agent from the Grand Secretariat with him, plus some guards.
-The Communist Party is not doing a whole damn lot, but they're plotting and laying their organizational base.

by **Carathon** » Tue Dec 23, 2014 12:59 pm

Status Pontificius

The Papal States

On the day of my appointment, I came face to face with the Holy Father. His gray eyes immediately caught my gaze and with his angelic white Papal robes flowing in the wind, the older man strode towards me. He looked me up and down, and after a moment of deep pondering, inquired to me 'Do I have any reason to doubt your loyalty, soldier?' I, of course responded that I had loyalty to no man, nor creed except that of God and his holy book. Slowly, but surely a rueful smirk spread across his face. I was confused as he pulled me close, and pointed to a red-robed Cardinal in the distance.

'Do you see Cardinal Richardo de Cerzano there, child?' Still baffled, I offered a weak nod in return. 'He is a good man of god, no?' Once again, my throat feeling as if it was sand paper and my mouth dry, I could do naught but motion my head up and down like one of those delightful children's toys. His smirk now turned to an almost gleeful grin, he whispered quietly to me, as if we were old friends. 'He routinely fucks his mistresses in the confession booths and can be found more oft under a strumpet's skirts then in prayer. The only thing that is holy to him, is coin.'

I looked to him in awe. 'Surely God would not let such a man, founded in sin and bribery to assume such a high seat in representing his voice and will?' This time, the Holy Father could not resist guffawing out-loud, drawing several glares from a passing group of nuns. He was now so close that I could smell the putrid stench of wine on his breath.

'Silly child, how do you think I was elected to the supreme pontificate?'

- Excerpt from the memoirs of Captain Hans Adenaur of the Swiss Guard.

Chapter 1

The World Goes Mad

Status Pontificius
The Holy City of Rome

When the Minister of Justice, Alfonso Lombardi came upon the poor quarters, his eyes nearly popped out of his socket. There, the Swiss Guards grimly manned barricades against tides of Roman civilians. Many carried roughly sewn tri-colours and nearly all of the men - many of which were armed with axes and old muskets - wore cockades proudly in their caps. And upon a overturned wagon, several men whipped the crowd into a frenzy with words speaking of liberty, national unity and democracy under the green, white and red flag. Briefly sputtering in disbelief, the Minister of Justice turned to a nearby Swiss Guardsman slack-jawed. "W-..w-what in the bloody name of God is going on here?" He finally managed to cough out. The Swiss Guardsman, apparently a officer of some sort, barked orders in French whilst his men continued to hold the barricades. He glanced to to the Minister of Justice, and roughly spoke in his native language. "Les libéraux font à nouveau une histoire damnés."

The Minister of Justice looked at the man quizzically. Several other Swiss Guards laughed, before the Officer ordered them back to manning the barricades. Sighing, he turned back to the Papal Minister of Justice and began to spoke very slowly and carefully in Italian, treating the man as if he was a dullard. "The damned Nationalists and Liberals are at it again. They're rambling on and on about failed harvests, and demanding...... adiminstrative changes." He lifted up his ceremonial Morion helmet to scratch the back of a thick mop of black hair. "The only thing I know is that these blasted buggers nipped several of my men good - and they don't appear to be letting up anytime soon." He briefly peered over the barricades at the rabble-rousers.

Alfonso exhaled, gathered his courage and spoke to the officer in his most formidable voice. "Let me pass. I shall sooth my fellow country-men." The Swiss Guard officer looked briefly surprised at the words of the man who he had assumed to be a coward like most other so-called men of the cloth. He soon recovered, and letting out a coarse laugh, gathering a contingent of Swiss soldiers, armed with rifles and halbreds, to guard the Minister of Justice as he gulped, and nervously moved pass the barricade.

Almost immediately, they were set upon by crowds of howling liberals, nationalists and socialists. The Swiss Guards, as skilled as they may have been, were pitifully outnumbered and it appeared the group would be butchered the very moment after setting foot from the protection of the barricade. But one of the men from atop the wagon, possessing a simple, if not stylish suit, a fashionable goatee and thoughtful blue eyes called to his fellow rabble-rousers.

"Friends, Romans, Countrymen! Lend me your ears!" From this line alone, Alfonso realized this man was well-read and he knew well that there was little more dangerous then a well-read man. "What great hypocrisy it would be, to demand freedom, elections and the natural right of a man being able to speak his mind without being crushed like a roach - and yet to set upon a man of the cloth like a pack of ravenous hounds when he asks the same of us? - I say let him speak."

Suddenly the cries of - Let him speak! - echo'd throughout the restless crowd. Thusly the crowd receded, and Alfonso and his Swiss guard were spared from anything worse then jeers, shoves and being spit upon as they made their way to the over-turned wagon. With a vague smirk on his face, the well-read man personally helped Alfonso to the top of the wagon.

Alfonso cleared his throat, and began to speak. Of course, this being before the age of the mega-phone and other means of amplifying speech, his general message was reverberate from the front to the back of the crowd by the nudges and whispers of one man to the another behind him and so-on. By this means, were his words, polluted and filtered by misinterpretation and bias, eventually rallied throughout the masses.

"Dear friends. I understand your needs, how your hearts cry out for freedom, and love and peace. How you yearn for reunification with your kin, and receive naught but the whip of tyranny in return. But this is not the path! Jesus Christ preached love and understanding for all his children - not this violence of looting, and over-turning wagons and burning and killing! I promise you - return to your homes and all crimes will be pardoned and I will act with all my ability and authority to petition the Holy Father for increased local autonomy, increased grain subsidies and what-ever else God's children are in want of." Alfonso desperately plead to the crowd, who gradually grew silent. For a moment, it appeared as if his appeal might work and this crisis may be averted.

Yet, the well-read man with the goatee let out a humorless laugh.

"Yes! Let us all go back to our homes, to be arrested by the so-called Holy Father's tyranny and have our families exiled and our goods seized! The Papacy, allegedly speaking the word of God, does not respect thy neighbor, they do not give out alms freely to the starving masses, children forced to chew on bones as if dogs and the elderly, thin and skinny. They are content being the subjects of the foreign Tyrants of Naples and Catalonia. They grow fat whilst we starve. They call for us to fight amongst ourselves. They reject our god-given rights to have a say in who 'ought to rule us, and hide behind the word of God. These men are not holy - they have betrayed the word of god! They have committed the most grevious treachery by rejecting the word of God, who said all men were equal by hoarding power for themselves and spit upon the ideas of modesty, temperance and chasity!" It suddenly dawned upon Alfonso that this man had never intended for the crowd to be calmed. The Minister of Justice was meant to be a sacrifice upon the altar of liberalism, a target to be verbally destroyed and then physically destroyed in order to further the frenzy of the crowd.

"And do you know what was done to traitors? To the agents of Satan and Tyranny upon the ides of March so many scores and centuries ago?" Alfonso knew what was about to happen, what was about to be inflicted upon him. Even before the rabid crowd grabbed the holy man by the ankles and dragged him to the cobblestone, he had made peace with himself. Like Thomas Becket of Canterbury, he offered himself a living sacrifice. "For the name of Jesus and the protection of the Church, I am ready to embrace death." He repeated the phase over and over again as stab, chop and blow came upon his body again and again, before a bill split his skull in two and sent him into the eternal darkness.

The Swiss Guards outside of the barricades were set upon by the crowd and murdered with their own arms. The Swiss and Papal Militia manning the barricades first used their ceremonial halberds to fend off the marauders, before resorting to the volleys of rifle-fire, which cut into the crowd with sickening screeches, rending bone from flesh and twisting sinew and tendon into bloody gore. The agitators responded with strikes of melee weapons and disorganized bursts of musket fire which had little affect.

At the end of the day, over one hundred protestors laid rotting in the streets, along with a dozen Swiss Guards and Papal Militia. The coalition of nationalists, liberals and socialists had taken most of the poor quarter of Rome but the Old Guard had fended them off.

For now.

The Vatican

Pope Innocent XIV from a stained glass window as plume after plume of smoke from the burning city flowed into the sky, combining into one giant tendril of blackness reaching into the heart of darkness.

"God help us." Gasped out of his cardinals. God is dead, you witless fool the Pope almost wanted to lash out, but managed to restrain himself. He glanced to Captain Hans Adenaur, the second in command of the Colonel and Leader of the Swiss Guard and beckoned towards him. "What is going on in the city? Tell me your men have it under control."

Hans briefly glanced to several of the other Cardinals, and then to the Pope. "Many..... agree with me when I say that our forces, down-graded and under-funded in recent years, may be incapable of holding back the dissidents. I suggest we request the Dual Kingdom for military ai-"

"No." The Pope cut him off. "They've already relegated me to little more then a prisoner in the Vatican and robbed the Kingdom of God of Romagna. What if their soldiers march into Rome, and decide they'd like to stay?" Hans opened his mouth, but was cut off once more. "You will handle it. Other-wise, what the bloody hell do I pay you cunts for?" Several of the Cardinals appeared uncomfortable at such words coming from the Holy Father's mouth, but none spoke a word or objection.

Pope Innocent glanced to a messenger. "Now, about those messages..."

Merzanno di Firenze, a portly man spoke up. "The Dual Kingdom requests for us to pay for the damages in Albania, while the Swiss request for us to meet in Genoa." Another Cardinal laughed out-loud. "We hold the City of Rome, the greatest and most holy city in Italia and they ask for us to meet in some minor city that was probably a peat-bog hovel during the days when Rome was the envy of the world? The hubris!"

The Pope nodded. "I agree, Cardinal, but we unfortunately have little choice. Merzanno, you will go to Genoa. Someone visit what-ever brothel Richardo is in and tell him he's going to Albania to over-see reconstruction." A few Cardinals grumbled. "Someone, give me a bloody pen and paper."

Litteraeque a Status Pontificius

Deus Vult

To The Dual Kingdom of Catalonia and Naples

The Holy Father weeps for the poor souls afflicted by the work of the devil Albania. He prays for their safety, and would like to remind them their perseverance will be rewarded in heaven, and God looks kindly upon those who remains faithful to Him even in times of poverty and tragedy. The Church will gladly donate the sum of two-hundred thousand Roman Scudos to the afflicted in Albania to rebuild their churches and provide alms to the poor.

However, the Holy Father would like to call upon the pious of Catalonia and Naples, the Defenders of the Faith and their vast wealth to also aid in rebuilding Church properties and their duties in providing to the poor.

God Smiles upon Thee, Pope Innocent XIV

Litteraeque a Status Pontificius

Deus Vult

To The Confederation of Switzerland and Piedmont,

The Kingdom of Heaven upon Earth wishes for nothing more then peace in the Mediterranean, and as such will be most certainly sending a Papal Legate to Genoa and would like to commend you for such a initiative.

God Smiles upon Thee, Pope Innocent XIV

Miscellaneous Actions:

- The Pope commends the leaders of the CMA greatly for exempting the holy-men of the Catholic Church from combat military service. He promises that God will not forget such an act, and sends a piece of wood said to be a-part of Jesus Christ' cross as a gift.
- Pope Innocent XIV releases an announcement that he is preparing to personally embark on a train whistle-stop tour across the Catholic Americas, beginning in New France, if they would have him.
- Pope Innocent XIV releases another announcement, claiming the declaration of war upon the Egyptian barbarians to be a " necessary evil " and justified by God's will, as-long as civilization and true Christianity is spread to the darkness of heathen Africa.
- The Papacy announces that the soul of President Louis Baptiste is currently residing in heaven, and that God damns the scoundrels who would take such a grievous action against their follow man.

by **Paketo** » Tue Dec 23, 2014 1:37 pm

Amasya, Kingdom of Pontus
April 18th 1881

The city of Amasya, the crown jewel of Pontus and her capitol. The city'swalls rise up out of the Antolian countryside and temples to the gods can be seen dotting the hills. The largest temple over looking the city was the temple of Pontus a next to it was the slightly smaller temple to Zeus Stratios (Zeus+Ahuramazda) who was the second most important deity to Pontus. The land outside the walls was dotted with small villages supplying the city with raw goods and foodstuffs.

The city was in a time of peace but that would not last for long. A lone rider rode hard through the city gates toward the imperial palace. He zipped through the city doing her best to avoid Any citizens on the roads of the city. Leaping over carts and dodging almost everything imaginable, the rider finally made it to the palace and began her way to the throne room climbing the many stairs and running through the passageways that lead to the room. The palace was certainly a large complex leading to the rider to be out of breath as she threw open the doors to the throne room.

The man sitting in the blue throne raised his scepter and turned towards the doors as the opened. "Who dares?" He yelled as his Persian style beard seemed to almost sway in the wind from the open windows. His crown prince Pontius wore a much calmer expression than the king though simply turning his eyes towards the door as did the queen. "My king.....there....is a....telegram...from the....dual kingdom" the messenger said pausing between words to catch her breath. She quickly gave the piece of paper to the king. "The wires to the Capitol are still being fixed so I had to ride here from the coast to give the message to you" she said bowing to the king. The king peered at the paper having his facial expression change a few times before he completed his reading of it. King Leon II handed it to Constantine before standing up and beginning to pace back and forth with a angry expression on his face.

"Invading Egypt and they want our troops to do it with them!! The nerve of those Catalans" ranted Leon "my father signed that agreement to protect Pontus from Greece and Nestoria and there is no way I can refuse this request because their protection is invaluable to Pontus". The King continued ranting and until Pontius finally spoke up interrupting him. "Father, we can use this to our advantage. Many of our people have come to accept Alexandria a holy site of the gods and since it is located in Egypt, we can claim the city for ourselves. The people will rejoice at how King Leon liberated the great city of Alexandria" stated the prince in a calm voice. Th king stoked his beard for a moment "yes yes, I like it. If we mobilize the reserves we can have 100,000 men within two weeks correct Pontius?" Asked the king and Pontius nodded "good. Messenger, ride back to the coast and give them these words to send to the Catalans in response. I, King Leon Pontus II of the kingdom of Pontus, will honor your call to arms against the Egyptians and will prepare a army of 12,000 in support of your operations......". The messenger wrote everything down on a piece of paper within her bag and read it back to the king to confirm his words. "Yes that is right messenger, now go take these words to the coast. Constantine, I leave the organization of the to you" said the king resulting in a salute from Pontius and a hasty retreat by the messenger

To: The Foreign Ministries of the Dual Kingdom, the great protector of the Mediterranean
From: His grace, Leon Pontus II of the Kingdom of Pontus

I, King Leon Pontus II of the kingdom of Pontus, will honor your call to arms against the Egyptians and will prepare a army of 12,000 in support of your operations. These men shall be mobilized and ready to begin operation in Egypt within a weeks time

King Leon Pontus II

Phasis, Kingdom of Pontus
April 20th, 1881

"how much longer must we toil for that crazy king?" yelled the young man of obvious turk background slamming his fist into the table "how much longer will we allow these nobles to oppress us? We toil day in and day out in factories and in the farms while they live a easy life off of our hard work. We must rise up against these corrupt pigs". Many shouts of agreement came out from the crowd gathered around the table but others seemed against the man's words. "are you idiot Tabo?" sneared a obviously persian man "Zeus Stratios smiles down upon these rulers currently. You would dare to suggest to go against those who the gods favor?". Almost everyone who had just been shouting jeers of agreement now fell silent as these words hit them. To go against the gods could mean death for all of them and a pitiful afterlife. "The gods only smile down on those pigs because they offer great sacrifices using their wealth. We take them down and we can use their wealth afterwards to please the gods. Marks has outlined the perfect society in his manifesto, one where everyone is equal and free from these capitalistic pigs. It would be a crime for us not to rise and institute a change, it would be a crime not to make this society in Pontus" shot back Tabu to the Persian.

the arguing continued back and forth dividing the new Marxist group into two factions. One who supported peacefully trying to institute a change to marxism or the whites and Pontus and one who wanted open revolt for the change or the reds. tensions flared between the two groups that night and it almost seemed that war was to come within the party before a revolt would come.

by **Forty Twoania** » Tue Dec 23, 2014 3:23 pm

The Hellenic Republic

Athens
The Republic had survived longer than many had dreamed bringing Greece into the modern age, which the decadent monarchy was't able to do in over 300 years. The Greek economy was booming as the textile industry grew around Constantinople but Greece still faced many issues. The Dual Kingdom was showing constant aggression towards Greece, forcing the Republic to rethink it's strategy to insure it's survival. With the vile Dual Kingdom to west and the vengeful Pontus to the east, the Greek parliament found the need to search for foreign support in order to insure it's independence. The Liberals in parliament advocated allegiance with Francia, whose values fit closely with the the values of the Republic, while these points were criticized by the radical conservatives and the ultra nationalist, the idea of closer ties with Francia prevailed and gained a majority in the Greek Parliament.

The Collapse of Egypt and the subsequent Catalan Invasion brought with it great worry to the Greek Parliament. In Egypt lived many Greek Coptics who were seen as brothers and sisters of the Greek nation unlike the Anatolian pagans. The Greek Coptics had settled up and down the Egyptian Coast making up a sizable portion of the population of Alexandra, Tobruk, and Cyrenaica were they had lived for hundreds of years. The Greek Parliament decided to stand strong against the Dual Kingdom in order to protects the rights of its people living abroad and insure that they would be treated justly. Greece would be attending the Genoa Conference

Corfu
The island of Corfu had been devastated by an earthquake. The casualties were believed to be in the thousands and many more were believed to have lost their homes. Tent Cities were popping up across the island and the adjacent bit of Greek Mainland, which had been afflicted with a tsunami spawned from the earthquake. After hearing news of the earthquake, the Greek Government was moved into action sending aid and troops to the devastated region in order to aid with the reconstruction of the region and to deter any of the Dual Kingdoms dreams of subjugating the entire region using the "reconstruction" of Albania as a cover. The Greek Government ordered that 10,000 troops were to be sent to Corfu and other affected parts of Greece in order to insure both the region reconstruction and the territorial integrity of Greece

To: The Republic Of Francia
The Parliament of the Hellenic Republic has shown interest in establishing a establish a treaty of friendship between our two nations. Our common values and our common goals in keeping the balance of power in the Mediterranean have lead the people of Greece to believe that closer ties between our two nation would be beneficial to both our nations. We are prepared to offer Francia permission to establish military installations in Greece, the lowering of tariffs in order to foster stronger economic ties between Francia and Greece, and of course full diplomatic support behind any of Francia's present and future ventures. In return all Greece expects is Francia's backing of Greek territorial integrity and when ever possible investment in Greece's growing economy
Signed,
Prime Minister of the Hellenic Republic
Konstantinos Ciriaco

by **Sabara** » Tue Dec 23, 2014 3:52 pm

Palazzo Reale, Genoa
Liguria Canton
April 24th 1881

You shield your eyes as the sun infiltrates the large plantation shutters that adorn the central conference room. Huge chandeliers hang from the ceiling, and plush carpets cover the marble floor. In the middle of the room there is a small circular table surrounded by simple, wooden chairs - that's where you're sitting. You realize that the Palazzo Reale is truly as luxurious as claimed by those fickle Genoese.

Soon, your thoughts drift from your surroundings. Worries about how the Mediterranean nations might respond to some of your initiatives fill your stomach with butterflies. Representing Switzerland-Piedmont in one of it's first major home summits, it will be your job to eloquently portray the nation to a wide international audience. At least this shows the Chancellor's faith in you. Originally, Leon was going to be the sole representative, but the cabinet decided it would be more effective and formal if the Chancellor visited the meeting on the second day, with you (the Premier) as the main broker.

Suddenly, you hear the unmistakable noises of a horse-carriage. The flag adorning the top identifies it as the delegation from the Dual Kingdom. Your heartbeat races. It's almost time to begin.

(OOC: Main Thread)

by **Bujahla** » Tue Dec 23, 2014 8:23 pm

Republic of Portugal
A World Affair | Chapter 2: Uma Potência Mundial

A photograph of Nova Lisbosa (Sapporo), a predominantly Portuguese city in {Ezochi} (OOC: Need a Portuguese name for it)(

March 23rd | Lisbon, Portugal

The map laid desolate in the dark room. Light peered in through the slits of a window. It floated in the air before drifting down and settling on the ancient table. Sprawled out over it was a map of the Far East. It showed the colonies of Canton and Ezochi outlined in Portuguese Green. Ezochi is the island north of Mongolian Japan and the colony consists of it as well as the Kuril islands to the north. It was gained by the Portuguese in the Opium Wars. At first, it didn't seem like much. A set of islands north of Mongolian Japan? What was to be gained? It was separated from Honshu by a straight so it couldn't lead to further expansion. That was until it was explored and garrisoned the year after it was obtained. The environment was pristine and the gold that they found was numerous. This lead to immediate colonization and by 1849 it was officially a settlers colony with migration from Portugal as well as some state-sponsored migration. Since then, it has had an increasing Portuguese population that is almost outnumber the Ainu people (but not yet). Now, the governor of the Island wants to expand the control of the colony to the disputed Sakhalin to the Northwest. Claimed by both Mongolia and Portugal, the treaties of the Opium Wars never settled its status due to vague language. Both claim it but neither are active in it, thus leaving it essentially free land, but not for much longer. On March 20th, a Portuguese-Ainu trading post from Ezochi was established at Yuzhno-Sakhalinsk. This would be the first of many portuguese expansions into the area.

*BAM!* The door slammed open and the map quickly faded into obscurity. The two men sped into the room and shut the door as quickly as it was opened. The one stood a good 5'9" with a long, dark beard and piercing eyes that glimmered in the sunlight. "What do you mean that he knows?" stammered the angered man.
"Prime Minister.... Uhh---"
"-- Spit it out already son. I don't have all day!"
"We couldn't find the incriminating evidence of you at the house. "
"Well where is it?"
"Well, I don't know that, but we believe its because there is a file missing from the AG's office."
"How would you know if he's missing a file? Did you find it before he--"
"After you killed him? A team of men searched his office. We knew he had the incriminating information and we were going to take from him. We couldn't find it however."
"Maybe he never had it? Maybe he wasn't coming after me? Oh lord, what if I had him assassinated and he wasn't a threat!"
"There's no time for that sir. It doesn't matter. He knew too much and he was a threat to our establishment. You had no other choice, sir."
"You know, you're right. It doesn't matter, we had to remove him..."
"Who will you have replace him? Surely there's no one in our party...."
"I'm thinking of having De Castro become the next AG. It'd be a bold move to go across coalition lines, but it'd pay off. It'd look good, he's the best attorney in the government, and it'd remove the leader of the opposition."
"Isn't that risky sir? We still don't know where that file is sir."
"Well that's not a problem for now. Now I have an attorney general to replace. I'll let you be." The Prime Minister patted the man on the back, opened the door, and left. Little did he know of how ironic his choice of appointment would be.

A photo of Cairo before the start of the Egyptian Civil War, 1880.

April 18th | Lisbon, Portugal

The Minister of War looked over the notes in front of him. Briefings upon briefings. Maps of Egypt and the Mediterranean were scattered across the war table. His aids rushed around the room furiously bringing in new information and pinning it in place on the walls. Paper flew across the room. Shouts of new telegrams coming in. The room was a bloody mess. And in all this chaos stood the Minister of War, Daniel de Lima. A stocky 5'10" he wore a bright, formal military uniform that was outfitted with pins and medals that commemorated his service across the republic. From Morocco to India he served in almost ever deployment possible. He was a crowned war hero and a fierce patriot. With little regret, he would die for his nation, and he would make it so his men felt the same way. He stood over the table and looked at the map of Egypt. The profits of the Nile were enormous, but if he was to join the coalition, they'd mostly go to Aragon, and very little to his nation. On the other hand, he could join on behalf of the Sultanate, a move that the British were likely to take up as well. Though this would seriously harm his relations with the DK. There was little Portugal could gain in the situation, so perhaps it wasn't worth the risks.

It was at this minute a messenger came into the room. He carried a brief case and an envelope. As directed by de Lima, he set the brief case by the table and gave him the envelope. In cased was a letter that was addressed to de Lima's eyes only. De Lima wasn't an inherently corrupt man, but his interests for what was "best for portugal" were very malleable. The letter he received was by Altair Cortes, the President of Coronos Corporação, the world's largest PMC. In it he argued that the Portuguese should send a small force to be lead by the DK's forces and that the Portuguese should fund the CC to invade and secure the Suez. In the briefcase was a significant sum of money. De Lima's family in Porto wasn't that well off due to the Long Depression and Cortes told him he should use the money to help them get back on their feet. This was an offer de Lima could not resist, sadly. He accepted and decided to send a small force to work for the DK while the CC would be paid to engage Port Said and secure the canal.

Post Summary:
- Portuguese create a trading post in Southern Sakhalin
- Chagas's men couldn't find the info that the AG held before they killed him.
- Chagas is ironically considering crossing parties lines to make de Castro the Attorney General (dramatic irony)
- Introduced the CC owned by Altair Cortes. Minister of War is Daniel de Lima. CC bribed de Lima to go to war in Egypt. Troops sent in.

by **Alleniana** » Tue Dec 23, 2014 11:32 pm

Random Event
Cairo, Egypt
"Shit. All of them, lost? Shit."

He batted a few more recent reports from within the city aside, and looked once again at the dog-eared parchment the now-deceased runner had delivered.

"Nearly 15,000 of them. Bloody hell. How many once we get a couple thousand more militia?"
"Just over 15,000."
"And they've got all the riches of the Sahara propping their mercenaries up."

The governor eyed the map, the most complete representation of troop numbers and movements in the war so far there was. Sure, Cairo was walled, but in this day and age, and with its antiquated fortifications, it meant little. It would be a hell of a fight, one they might not even win with the garrisons of their nearby allies called in. And, of course, Europe was getting ready to pounce, he the centrepiece of the arguably most legitimate side. The sultan, indeed, even now sat in a cold sweat, doing nothing by tasting his sherbet collection and sipping wines in terror. Of course, sitting in a room and attended by servants all paid for by him.

But two days ago, he had been sitting comfortably, administering what petty justice the citizenry wanted; bread and circuses, and not much of each. Now, panicked and tired, the man who'd barely touched a marshal's baton or officer's pistol in his life masterminded an entire military campaign. What the hell was going on? And what would come after?

The more he considered that, indeed, the more he dreaded it. The sultan, despite his legitimacy in every way, al-Dumyat's excuse as flimsy as any gutter trash, was inexperienced in every way, except perhaps in the medieval Arabic texts he so liked to study, and the luxuries he pigged out on, giving a belly ridiculously round for his age. Even with victory, he could not guarantee his own power, and there was nobody else who could guarantee it either. What was there to do? Though, to be fair, victory would be preferable to defeat any day.

"Pull up another few units of whatever you can. We need to overwhelm them, and fast. If we win this battle conclusively, we may well end the war, before the European dogs even have a chance to properly sniff blood. I... I plan to engage in some diplomacy."

The conversation stumbled on for only a little bit longer, ending in the conclusion that perhaps about another 5,000 militia might be found from Cairo's domains before they were stretched to the limit at this juncture, in addition to yet more desperate letters sent by desperate men to their "allies", seemingly unaware of the significance of the war. And then, as his primary aide left the room, blackened artillery and bloodied bayonets occupying the young man's mind, the governor of Cairo began scrabbling around, desperate to make a start on something that might save them the country, the war, and everything. Had he the authority? It hardly mattered now.

Before long, a message had been fired off; surely, to be the first of many, as both sides slowly opened to the idea of inviting the foreign devils in.

To the Lord Protector of the Commonwealth of England, Scotland and Ireland and the President of the Republic of Portugal,

It is with urgency and worry that I write to you now, great rulers of your foreign lands. I, governor of Cairo, and the prime protector, advisor and representative of the rightful sultan of Egypt, Botros Sem al-Iskandriyah, the only son of our previous universally recognised sultan Abu Bakr Mohammed al-Iskandriyah, request help and aid from you, help in defeating the rebels, spreading anarchy about the land of the Nile and aid in removing the influence of those who would transgress against the rightful crown. In seeing you as some of the most just, and ones who would surely be interested in our region, with the Suez Canal nominally Egyptian, the people of Egypt cry out for a protector against the destroyers of civilisation.

Currently, the pretender, a mere mayor of the regional city of Damietta, Abdul Rahman ibn Haroun al-Dumyat, makes his claims to the throne clear, but equally clear as baseless. With no cause, he has leapt into rebellion, along with many other magnates of the nation, in attempting to defeat the rightful rulers of Egypt and seize power, as I say, with no reason or provocation. However, such is the barbarity with which they have attacked that we are in danger of losing the war, of seeing Egypt disintegrate into a ruin and even the canal to be put into danger. It is truly our fault in having allowed such transgressions to pass against the state, and so, now, we would hope that you would accept a treaty to save us.

We propose that the entirety of the Suez region, including Port Said and Suez itself to be yielded either to Portugal or the Commonwealth, depending on your preference, or to the company that currently manages the canal. Furthermore, we would grant wide benefits to your nations' people within our borders, tariff reductions, extraterritoriality, perhaps even Cyrenaica and its periphery as a colony if you so desire. In return, we wish only that we are given the military support needed, surely a small matter for you, to crush the rebels and defend against any other encroachments, in addition to guaranteeing our independence, thus that people might not evilly take advantage of this period of weakness. We believe that this would be most suitable, but in the dire straits we are, negotiations would be easily looked upon.

Once again, in desperation, we beg your mighty nations to aid one less fortunate, to preserve us and in return to take some of our humble gifts; lands, money, rights, what we have to offer. We are in crisis, and we truly see you as perhaps the only ones who might be able to solve it. We await a response eagerly, and wish you good health and success in all.

From Governor Aziz ibn Ibrahim of Cairo, representative of Sultan Botros Sem al-Iskandriyah of Egypt

by **Neo-Assyrian Empire** » Tue Dec 23, 2014 11:43 pm

The Republic of Francia
Chapter Trois: À l'Afrique, Nous Allons!

Geneva, Francia
May 1^er, 1881
In the same smokey room that the assassination was planned, Thybault and his friend sat around the table. He put a cigar in his mouth, lit it up, and let the smoke fill the air. Thybault knew that his time was short, and he would not fight it since it was clear: His plan did not work. All that happened was a boy died, a President was murdered, and now the nation is against the same unions Thybault wanted to give power. He checked his pocket watch. A little past noon. At any moment, the police would come and raid the place. He just knew it.

Outside, there came the thudding of boots. It was loud enough to be heard inside; loud enough for Thybault to realize what was happening. He slowly stood up and raised his hands. The door was kicked in as several Frankish officers ran into the room. "Hands up!" The other man quickly obeyed the officer's orders. "Thybault Fou and Claude de Jaager, you are under arrest for conspiring to assassinate President Louis Baptiste of Francia." As the charges were read, two other officers put the conspirators in hand cuffs. From here, they were put into a carriage and sent off to a local jail. Their trial would be in two weeks.

Paris, Francia
May 2^nd, 1881
The Presidential Mansion was in chaos as the government reorganized from the attack nearly two weeks before. President Bault walked down a hallway as various aides and officials tried to reorganize. An aide, holding several messages, ran to the President. "Mr. Bault, these messages have come in for you." He handed the president the letters.

"Let's see... condolences from the Dutch, the Catalonians, and the Pope... a conference invitation from the Swiss... and letters of friendship from the Greeks." Bault nodded. "Seems appropriate to me. Is there anything else?"

"The Egyptians appear to be going through a civil war. If you wish, we could invade and extend our Colonial Empire to the Red Sea, maybe even beyond. However, the Dual Monarchy has taken interest in the region recently. We could risk starting a war if we intervene."

Bault nodded once more. "Anything else?"

"No, sir."

"Good. Now, be on your way. I've got work to attend to." The aide left the President as he went to the Presidential Office.

To: Raoul de Meuthse, Foreign Premier of Swiss-Piedmonte
From: Felix Bault, Président du Francia
Bonjour, sir!
I believe that it would be in the best interest of the Republic to attend this Genoa Conference. We shall send a diplomat and several guards as escorts.

~Felix Bault

To: Konstantinos Ciriaco, Prime Minister of the Hellenic Republic
From: Felix Bault, Président du Francia
Bonjour, sir!
Even though Francia has never held strong ties with the Hellenic Republic in the past, it is never too late to change. Francia shall intervene if your nation is ever threatened by a hostile power and, whenever possible, shall invest to grow the Hellenic economy. I hope that this shall be the beginning of a great friendship between our two states.

~Felix Bault

To: Ferdinand IV de Valencia, King of the Dual Kingdom of Catalonia and Naples. FOR YOUR EYES ONLY
From: Felix Bault, Président du Francia
Bonjour, sir!
I speak for all of the Frankish people when I say thank you for your support during these troubling times. However, your imperialistic policies towards Egypt has caused some concern amongst the Senate here. After all, you are invading a nation that has a key waterway for the world. If you take it, then there shall be consequences... unless if Francia is given a slice of the nation.

We are willing to send in forces to overthrow the savages in control of the country. The specific amount of land that we would like to receive should be portioned to how much the Frankish forces have helped there. If we did not do much, then we only request a coastal city, such as Port Said. If my forces fight many battles and are pivotal in toppling the Egyptian Government, then we would request more land.

This deal is your choice and, if you decline, we shall respect that. I await your response.

~Felix Bault

Post Summary
- Members of Le Syndicat des Travailleurs Armées are being arrested and charged in the death of President Louis Baptiste
- Francia is beginning to ally with the Hellenic Republic
- In Secrecy, Francia is attempting to split Egypt with the Dual Monarchy of Naples and Catalonia

by **Hastagia** » Tue Dec 23, 2014 11:44 pm

Sultanate of Judea

3rd of May, 1881

Haifa, Judea

The Sultan and his five Generals sat in the War room in the Palace of Haifa discussing possible strategies and they needed them fast as the declaration of war was being sent today. As the usual two generals got into a argument on what to do. The sides were torn with Majority believing that the whole force of 25,000 Men of the Army of the Sinai should attack Port Fuad and with the others believing it is better to attack with 20,000 men and send a cavalry detachment across the Suez and attack from the opposite bank cutting it off from supply and laying siege to it. The Sultan had not spoken out in any of the meetings and they had assumed he would go with majority or his favorite who had sided with the 25,000 Men attacking all at once.

"Listen" General Jawhar Jama demanded "Attacking with all 25,000 Men makes no sense! It will be a bloodbath with unnecessary casualties!"

"And a siege won't?" General Khaleefa Elamin asked, "Cutting up the men will do nothing good for us except get them slaughtered from enemy raiders, we need the men in the assault!"

Finally the Sultan spoke out "Enough... We will split our forces with 5,000 Cavalrymen crossing the Suez and 20,000 Infantry men attacking the city proper, the Navy shall send a majority of the fleet to assist in it's capture as well. I believe it is the best turn of actions."

"But my Sultan we need the..."General Khaleefa Elamin complained

"Enough!' Naseer interrupted, "My word is final and that is my choice now leave and ready the troops at once!"

"Yes my Sultan..." Replied the Generals as the left the building once more either heads hung or heads held high either way they must do their bidding.

6th of May, 1881

Arish, Sinai Peninsula, Judea

General Suleiman Amal had been put in command of the troops heading towards Port Fuad, this had been his first command, and the first command of war Judea had given in nearly 70 years, truely a great honor it was, it scared Suleiman, or Sul as his friends called him, to death. Being put in command of troops was one thing but willingly sending them to their deaths was another. So many men could die and it be all his fault, all those men who had families who would morn for days at their Husband's or son's passing... Suleiman had grew up in a community outside Arish and had attended school eventually he had impressed a teacher who advised him to continue his studies but instead he joined the military and came to where he was now, a man who couldn't do what his superiors told him to do. Finally after hours of pondering on what would happen to him and his men he finally ordered the men to advance to Fuad as he looked South and saw the diminishing trail of the Cavalry Detachment their fate was unknown and probably end up better than his men and him. Looking over the troops Sul saw many were eager for action, "They were doing their duty" something Sul couldn't understand...

"Why willingly advance to death?" He said aloud, he would never be able to answer his own question as him and his men continued onward through the Desert.

From the Sultanate of Judea

To those who it may concern in the Sultanate of Egypt and the Greater World

We would like to inform you that the States of the Sultanate of Egypt and the Sultanate of Judea a state of war exist until peace is restored and or negotiated favorable to both sides. We cite our reason being that for to long have Sunni Muslims have been mistreated in your domain and the recent instability existing in your nation at the time of this declaration. See you on the Battlefield.

Signed,
Sultan Naseer Hassen, Defender of the Islamic Faith, Sultan of Judea, Emir of Acre, Emir of Jerusalem, Emir of Syria, Emir of Adana, Emir of the Sinai, Emir of Jordan, Protector of the people of Judea, and Syria

From the Sultanate of Judea

To those who it may concern in the Nestorian Empire, Kingdom of Pontus, and the Kingdom of Afghanistan

We would like to ask you all to attend a Conference to discuss disputes between our nations causing great misfortune and mistreatment among all of our populations. As well we wish to see Stability returned to the area as well as discuss our spheres of influence in the area as currently their is conflict of interests in several areas across the Middle East. We would also like to discuss the recent Afghan Opium trade and the War in Egypt.

Signed,
Sultan Naseer Hassen, Defender of the Islamic Faith, Sultan of Judea, Emir of Acre, Emir of Jerusalem, Emir of Syria, Emir of Adana, Emir of the Sinai, Emir of Jordan, Protector of the people of Judea, and Syria

by **Valentir** » Wed Dec 24, 2014 1:12 am

Amsterdam, Holland, Kingdom of the United Provinces and Belgium

Chapter 1: The Winds of Change
29th of April, the Year of our Lord, 1881

It was another hectic day in Parliament, her halls once again filled with aggressive shouting and anger. Prime Minister Haak de Klerk sat in his chair, tired and near the breaking point. It was clear to him that his coalition was dead, and that his hold on parliament was gone, but this still didn't stop the useless conflict between the coalition parties. The Socialists and Progressives were at from dawn till dusk, and the liberals sat quietly, waiting for the inevitable. Of course they weren't the only ones who sat quietly, waiting. The other parties in Parliament were also making moves. The New Conservatives and National People's Union had formed together into one large party, and were already planning for the new elections. The Catholic People's Party dissolved, and joined the Republican Party, which was considering joining the Conservative Alliance. These changes in Parliament occurring in Parliament would be the dawn of a new era, and the end of an old one.

For the next few hours the Parliament building was in complete turmoil as news began to spread between the politicians of the coalitions collapse. The electoral office was particularly in shock, and began to organize a new election immediately. The meeting hall where the coalition was assembled became extremely busy, with messengers entering leaving by the hour. Soon the other parties were sending in people to keep their party leaders updated. It was not too long after all this that the King arrived, to oversee the chaos of Parliament.

Parliamentary Emergency Meeting, circa 1881

New Imperialism - AH RP v 2.1 [IC]

WIP

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