Tales of Two Horizons IC-Open

by **The Industrial States of Columbia** » Tue Oct 13, 2015 8:07 pm

1835 AH RP
Links: OOC | Map | Number Map
Lesser Links: Factbook | Maps Thread | Theme

OP Board:
- OP – The Industrial States of Columbia
- Vice-OP - Senkaku
- Co-OP's - Liecthenbourg|The Kingdom of Glitter | Sveltlana

OP Directives:

Forward...

RP Description:

This world has changed. Where once one horizon was seen as the boundaries of the known world, now there have been two. In the west, England challenged the behemoth of Spain and emerged victorious, bloodying the Iberian mainland into civil conflict and claiming Brasil as her own. The Portuguese left their war torn home to seek better fortunes in the colonies, capitalizing on England's reduced influence in North America to expand into the southern portions of continent. The French too have maintained influence in the New World. Though they have lost Nova Gallia to revolution, French Louisiana remains a font of potential riches. To the north the Kalmar union survived and evolved, once a tool of Denmark now of Sweden, after Gustavus Adolphus claimed the throne. In the east, though Constantinople still fell, the fires of Byzantium remained, and alliance of Balkan states, Venetians and the Morean League drove back the invaders to the walls of Constantinople, before succumbing to petty rivalry and disbanding. The Mamluks have risen to fill the void left by the Ottoman caliphate of our time, biding their time to expand once more. In the far east, the Song have survived the inexorable tides of the former Mongol invaders, and have risen stronger than ever, basking in the fires of production and claiming far distant shores as their own. To the South, the Majapahit conquered and united Nusantara, expanding their lucrative trade and exotic goods far from their home islands. Japan watches warily across the seas, determined to resist the tides of the Song and other great powers by building an empire of their own in the Pacific.

The world has changed, and much change shall yet be seen. Will you build your nation from the ancient mists of time into the fires of industry in the East? In the West, shall you unify petty countries into an all conquering empire? Or shall you brave the New World, to seize riches and glory in wild and vast lands. The choice great leader, is yours...

Other Rules and Regulations Pertaining to the IC
1. Have at least two or three decent length paragraphs, time stamped with a date and locations for each story arc within the post.
2. Wars will be moved to a seperate thread, it is best to come to an agreed upon ending for each battle, but sometimes this cannot be the case. Conflicts will be resolved by me or other members of the OP council.
3. Time progression should be roughly 1 year every 3-4 pages. This will be adjusted depending on the needs of the rp.
4. Take care when dating your posts, they should be no more than a couple weeks ahead of a preceding post, or up to five days behind.
5. No reserved posts. Post what you have, post like you mean it.

by **The Kingdom of Glitter** » Wed Oct 14, 2015 6:01 pm

The Columbian Federation

Chapter 1 - Don't Cry for Me Louisiane

3 January 1835
Manhattan D.C.
White House

"It is unacceptable!" President von Johansen shouted as he slammed his fist onto a map of the North American continent. "The French are preventing us from expanding our borders to the Pacific. Our frontier is near reaching capacity. I would know, I am from Washington!"

Members of his cabinet stood around the room glaring at the president. The once prosperous relationship with France that Jeffersonians - the forefathers of the Johansens - forged was under attack. The move from republic to monarchy left a lasting impact on the Columbians. Many became distrustful of Paris and the relationship was strictly maintained to keep the British at bay. However, relations with the British were warming. von Johansen had a personal bias against the French, planted in him by his father - an immigrant from he Prussian ruled Rhineland - from a young age.

The first to speak was the Secretary of State, Louis McLane. "Sir, are you proposing we go to war with France?"

The president shifted his attention. "No, not yet. I am far more pragmatic than that. We must send a letter to our friends in Paris asking to purchase the Louisiane Colony from them."

"And if they refuse our offer?" Lewis Cass, the Secretary of War, said in reply.

"At the same time we send word to London and Berlin, and perhaps even Novos Começos. Hesperia could prove to be a viable ally, and our cordial relationship with them sets a precedent for their involvement. Besides, more manpower is always welcome."

"Are you sure this is a path you wish to take? Could we even beat back a French invasion?" Secretary McLane asked.

"We've beaten the British twice, and our forefathers beat the French in handfuls of colonial conflicts." Vice President Van Buren said. "We can defeat France."

"With the backing of the British - specifically the Royal Navy - the French will have a difficult time reinforcing their garrisons in Louisiane. The Prussians would open a much more dire European front, forcing the French to divert their resources away from our shores. Hesperia would be able to reinforce us, allowing us to beat the French back to their ships." Cass said.

"Quite so, Cass. This is why you are my Secretary of War - always two steps ahead of the game." von Johansen replied. "So gentlemen, are we agreed?" He looked around the room and watched as his cabinet unanimously agreed. "Then it is settled. Louis, I believe you have some letters to draft."

5 January 1835
Manhattan D.C.
Office of the State Department

The Columbian Federation

Addressed to His Majesty the King of France,

Your Majesty,
Upon a lengthy discussion between members of the governing administration of Columbia, it is been decided it would be in the interests of both of our nations for us to purchase the Louisiane Colony from your glorious nation. For decades our friendship as allies has thrived and the presence of French soldiers on our continent was never questioned. However, times have changed. While we are aware those in Paris are our faithful allies, we are most concerned about the presence of any European power on our borders.

Likewise, it is no secret that the French holdings around our world are no laughing matter. Surely the riches of the Far East and the Orient would prove much more viable than the desolate, rolling plains of North America. The French population of this territory would be treated just as any other Columbian, something we as a nation are able to guarantee you.

I implore that you consider this offer, and hope that we will soon be discussing the price of purchase.

May God be with you.

Most sincerely,
Louis McLane
Secretary of State of Columbia

The Columbian Federation

Addressed to His Majesty the King of the United Kingdom, His Majesty the King of Prussia, and His Majesty the King of Hesperia,

Sirs,
For far too long the French have managed to cling onto their expansive presence on the North American continent. The instability and rash tendencies of this nation are no secret, and in recent decades the French have posed the biggest threat since Biblical times. Furthermore, it is no secret that your nations are no friends of those in Paris. While currently the Columbian Federation is aligned with France, we recognize the threat they pose to global stability.

It is for that reason that I write to you. I have been asked by my President to secure the backing of your nations in a potential war against France. Your participation would forever be remembered, and you would be rewarded accordingly. The time for war is approaching, and I must implore you consider this call to arms.

May God be with you.

Most sincerely,
Louis McLane
Secretary of State of Columbia

by **Sveltlana** » Wed Oct 14, 2015 10:32 pm

Segunda República Mexicana
Second Mexican Empire/Second Mexican Republic

-THEME-

1. A Beautiful Republic
8 January 1835

Federal District, Mexico
Mexican Congress
8 January 1835

Maximilian I has delivered the following address to the fully-convened Mexican Houses of Representatives:

“Here we are assembled, my senators, representatives, to promulgate the Second Mexican Republic. The government of this nation will be such that it will be a federal republic, constituting the aforementioned subdivisions. I altogether believe that this is for the better — when the citizens of a polity disagree with the management of their government, then I firmly believe that that is cause for considerable concern. Known in the conflict that has sprouted in this fair country, and tired and wary of the fighting that has been occurring for the better part of four years now, I stand here before you to recognize that I acknowledge the needs and desires of this people—whom I shall henceforth call my subjects nevermore.

“Yet this is not a cause for tragedy. This is not the Waterloo of this country, nor is it the breaking point of myself. On the complete contrary, I am wholeheartedly prepared to accept these the yearnings of the Mexican people. I indicate in the affirmative: This tenderment of the government to the will and management of the people I do by my own personal will. I am under no threat whatsoever, nor am I afflicted by any peril; there is no blackmail or artifice of secrecy levied against me, and considerably limited are the resources that my enemies would currently field against me to forcibly depose me from this position that you, gentlemen—the people of this country—approved of myself through a democratic referendum.

“Nevertheless, the people have changed their mind. This is acceptable. I, too, change my mind. I too am human, and I too recognize that the resolutions I made in antiquity may no longer be acceptable to mineself in the future. I shall not be obstreperous in the face of this change. On the contrary, I endorse this operation by the people of this nation to best represent their interests. I assure you all, my fine gentlemen, that under such duress I would not be hesitant to do the same. Yet, be wary that I recognize not that I have done ill to this nation—I have behaved in a way that is remarkably fitting for a well-educated gentleman such as myself from a good family. I shall never recognize dishonour upon my name, nor that of my house. As Emperor, I have done much and struggled long for this country to advance, and enjoy great prosperity. Across my breast is transversal the honour that I have brought to myself and my family as Emperor of this fair country.

“And who, my fellow Mexicans, for I now count myself as a part of this great and noble people, would be sufficiently dead at heart so as to fail to rejoice in this occasion? What man would be impartial before the joyous and euphoric celebrations of an entire nation? What man, either chimeral and delusional at heart, or stone and dead in being, would be unemotional in such an occasion? Yea, I do shed a manly tear in the face of such celebration. May this second republic which we now promulgate, assembled here in this munificent parliament house, last for as long as the volcanoes that since time immemorial have decorated this ancient country: Popocatépetl and Iztaccíhuatl.

“But how can a nation be complete without recognising its past history, and its future potential? We are a nation of immigrants, established upon the ruins of a glorious yet barbaric people—the material of legends and women’s novels—to now sire this fair country. But those barbaric peoples are, after all, our forerunners. They tilled the land and erected great monuments many years before us; the Great Pyramid of Teotihuacán was raised many centuries before the Palacio de Bellas Artes, or my former palace—now the Presidential Palace—which has only been completed yesteryear. We must follow the steps of our ancestors to continue to restore this fair land to prestige and power.

“Yea, for in those days, who would stand against the Mexica? Or to the intellectual tenacity of the Maya, who constructed observatories to study the firmament far before our teachers did? Far before Galileo created his famous optical device, far before Newton perfected it—this primitive people was already busy with the cataloguing of the heavens. We must continue the military pursuits of the Mexica, lords of Middle America, and the intellectual pursuits of their brother people the Maya—Mexico must have a renaissance of power and culture just as the days of the Empire begin to depart with dusk entirely, and the hopes of the Republic grow ever with the shining rays of dawn.

“But our eyes stretch out to the people of this nation, too. For we are plagued by illiteracy, and the ills of the lack of knowledge. And how can a nation progress if her people know nothing? We must strive, gentlemen, to enact reforms that will bring our fair country ever closer to its stated goals of joining the great powers currently at the helm of the Western, civilised world, and, with them, spread the pulchritudinous ideals of Civilisation and Christianity to those barren corners of the world were desolate, miserable souls lack any knowledge of the finer principles of existence.

“And we also behold poverty. Disparity—there is disparity in this nation. The wealthy hacendados, the landed rich, are also those that hold the greatest amount of riches in this nation. We must strive to equate this difference, gentlemen. Let Scandinavia be our model, and let us be a country where all—regardless of ethnicity—can emerge triumphant regardless of their condition and their societal status, as well as producing a hearty family. For what other is the purpose of life but that of enjoying that most beauteous of gifts, the opportunity to create a healthy family?

“Indeed, let us construct an edifice that, unlike many of our predecessors, will stand the test of time. And we can only do this by promoting internal stability. We are one people—we are all Mexican. I applaud any man who recognizes such a thing. I applaud those who received me into this culture. And, finally, I applaud this hospitable and warm culture in itself: a culture centered around the act of selflessly giving. A true achievement, gaudeamus Igitur.

“And now, thusly, for good or bad, better or worse, this fair nation will once again have her democracy. The rule of the people, to be restored to this nation, is no easy endeavour. And, as if all of this were not already a Herculean task, work of epic proportions, relations with other nations, allied or enemy, must be normalized, restored to their accorded conditions before the movement for the democratic reformation of this nation. France and Austria are of interest: the French have vast holdings in our proximity, and Austria is friendly to our nation—of course, because of su servidor. Yet I take no pride in this. I am a man of reality, although oftentimes I fall into the category of the quixotic—family ties can prove useful to a man in many occasions.

“I will thus not amaze or perplex my listeners by hereby announcing my candidacy for the newly-restituted presidency of this country. As all Mexicans would be aware, I am a man of apt credentials who has a reasonable and responsible perception of how the government should be managed. During my tenure as monarch of this nation, debt has decreased threefold, beneficial reforms were passed—all of this while the military grew in size and power. And we must have a solid militum to represent our interests in the Americas. Lest diplomacy fail, we must ever venture to accrue our much-deserved rewards from our righteous sphere of influence. And the northern indians, who have committed so many atrocities in the name of motherland—they must be defeated, once and for all, and contained in such a manner that they never again prove to be a threat to reasonable and civilised people.”

To the Foreign Relations Office of Columbia, Hesperia, the United Kingdom, France:

As the largest and most influential of our neighbours, I would hereby like to announce to you all first-handedly that, by my orders as Second Emperor of Mexico, the country over which I rule will in short order become a fully-fledged nad functional republic to function in accordance with the laws and provisions of a constitution to be drafted within the next few years.

As I am legitimately calling for such a move to continue, I am hereby requesting that you personally recognise the new republican government that will soon rule over Mexico.

I must reiterate that I am under no threats whatsoever to my mental, physical, or otherwise personal state. This resolution I have passed of my own free will after many days of thought.

Hopefully, relations will not have to be disrupted by this peaceful and measured transition of government. Even if relations are disrupted, we hope that a state of favourable diplomatic communication will be reestablished between our nations and embassies normalised within the near future.

Maximiliano de Habsburgo
Presidente de los Estados Unidos Mexicanos

On behalf of the President,
José Carlos Nepomuceno Espiridión de Ruiz
Minister of Foreign Affairs

Federal District, Mexico
Presidential Palace
21 January 1835

Hasty elections took place earlier this month. Maximilian von Habsburg ran against Ernesto Baltasar de Savienda Arellanes, of the Democratic Mexican party. The Liberal Mexicans' Party failed to submit a candidate in good order—they were thus hampered from participating in the election by a declaration of the newly-formed supreme court. However, Maximiliano invited Mr. Savienda Arellanes to be his vice president—an invitation that Mr. Savienda Arellanes eventually accepted.

In any case, Maximilian's sudden announcement that he would continue to play a role in Mexican politics shocked everyone to say the least. He had won a fair reputation as a charismatic and effective leader, despite the monarchy which he headed and people's despise for it. In any case, Maximilian had often been hailed by the press as a reformer in the guise of a royal. And he was, indeed, a royal—the brother of the current Kaiser of some important country far away in Europe across the Atlantic, a land most Mexicans were unfamiliar with.

Maximilian rapidly dedicated himself to the task of preparing Mexico's armies for operations. It is unknown what he might intend to do with this; nevertheless, the Mexican media has quoted him as repeatedly indicating that his plan for restoring peace to Mexico's north was to invade and secure the northern indian confederations, which were a haven for the Apaches that ventured so far south that on one occasion they crossed the Río Bravo and attacked Saltillo. This, of course, was completely unacceptable.

Maximilian's Secretary of State, Augusto Videllagaray rapidly, and somewhat controvertibly, announced his new plan for the redistribution of many lands across Mexico. Many rich hacendados will soon find themselves deprived of many of much of their large estates; poorer indians everywhere in the country will soon have land to call their own: land which they will be able to manage free from the influence of the landowners for many generations to come. The law will also call for plans to make the selling of this land back to the landowners illegal for the next twenty years, in an effort to avoid the situation returning back to the way it currently is.

Fénix, California Oriental
Fénix Capitol
28 January 1835

The President has travelled far to the north away from his chosen home — the bureaucrat-infested rat-hole that is Mexico City. The area around Mexico City is, of course, home to about three-eighths of the population of the country and as such is immensely important politically. When the president abandons that den of politicians, it can either signify one of two things — One, he wishes to advance his interests elsewhere with nations abroad, and Two: shady deals are occurring.

Well, if annexing a nation is considered an interest, a popular pastime, then Maximiliano chose the former.

Shady deals? Nothing an Austrian gentleman who spoke Spanish liek zhis would pursue.

In any case, the President went as far up north as El Paso to meet with the indian leaders. They send emissaries. It is widely rumoured that the meeting went sour — indeed, the president began his return to Mexico City only two days after the conferences. Perhaps more dramatically, it appears that the President was in a temper.

We all know that Maximilian is a calm, self-assured gentleman. Gentlemen don't go into fits.

In any case, our illustrious President shortly afterwards met with several ministers — to name a few, the Minister of Foreign Relations, the Minister of Economical Affairs, and the Minister of War. He met longest with the minister of war. Perhaps this is a portent of what is to come?

Federal District, Mexico
Presidential Palace
6 February 1835

The El Cuahutémoc was the first sixth-rate to enter service in the Mexican navy. After her construction, she sailed from Tampico to Acapulco, where she was inaugurated into the Mexican Navy with the corresponding honours. The President himself arrived to meet the new ship. She was to be the flagship of the newly-established Pacific fleet, a force tasked with representing Mexican military interests in that Ocean. As of now, it consisted singly of that ship and a couple of sloops of war, but nevertheless it was existent.

The opening of the Pacific Fleet correspondingly resulted in the increase of the port sizes of Acapulco and Vallarta. La Nao de la China, the merchant ships that brought Chinese goods into Mexico, had recently become overcrowded in the small ports—and still, interest in Oriental goods continued to grow. Maximilian considered dispatching a letter to the Chinese to inquire as to potential openings in commerce, and at a later date he would indeed deliver the Song an overture requesting Chinese acquiescence on the strict tariffs imposed on Western merchants.

Meanwhile, in other news, the Mexican Ejército Federal del Norte was placed at the ready in the north after President von Habsburg's meeting with Indian leaders. It appears that the diplomacy went sour. As of now, it is unclear whether the debacle between the indians and the United Mexican States will result in bitter conflict. Nevertheless, the activation of the Northern Army is a very tangible fact, and Maximilian may decide to push his conquests north to absorb the Indians entirely and normalise the peace and tranquility that was often ascribed in the days of yore to the frontier, away from the politics and philandering of Mexico City.

Federal District, Mexico
Presidential Palace
21 February 1835

War has sprung in the north:

To the Barbarous Bastards who reside in the North of Mexico, who know themselves by Heathen Names;
And who have often conducted operations of rape and murder against the inhabitants of this fair Mexican state, and have behaved themselves in manner most improper of civilised people, and who dedicate themselves to pursuits of lust and debauchery in manners most inauspicious:

Given the failure of a diplomatic brokering in the Conference of El Paso, and the hideous actions of the Confederations against Mexican citizens, which are well known in all corners of the world and are well documented in those other sources, and bear not mention in this document; Let it be known that on this day and henceforth until further notice there shall exist a STATE OF WAR between the Second Mexican Republic and the Confederations.

This conflict has begun with the purpose of installing sense and civilisation on your nations, which have thus far failed to hinder the attacks of your subjects on legitimate Mexican citizens; and we do bear evidence to suggest that in fact top executives of your corrupt nations have, indeed, and without shame or hindrance, Encouraged such despicable operations, which has been presented to the responsible courts both domestic and foreign.

It is therefore with no surprise that I wish upon you the most dastardly of days. May God spread his mercy upon you all.

PRESIDENT F. MAXIMILIANO José María DE HABSBURGO
President and Representative of the Mexican People

To the Foreign Relations Office of China:

Greetings,

As you are most likely well aware of, La Nao de la China has been a merchant expedition that has been bringing Chinese goods into Mexico since the 16th century.

Chinese goods, excellent in their artisanship and flawless masterpieces, continue to be a popular item of trend in this American nation.

Thus, I would deem it favourable that our two nations work together to encourage such trade, which will continue to bring wealth to both our states—continually in greater magnitudes nevertheless.

Thus, it is with frank amicability that I suggest that our two nations coordinate to reduce tariffs in such trade.

Maximiliano de Habsburgo
Presidente de los Estados Unidos Mexicanos

On behalf of the President,
José Carlos Nepomuceno Espiridión de Ruiz
Minister of Foreign Affairs

by **The Jonathanian States** » Thu Oct 15, 2015 5:07 am

__________________KÖNIGREICH PREUSSEN__________________

Prologue

Protocoll excerpt of the State Council meeting of the 22nd of February.

Minister-President von Wylich und Lottum:
The honorable precedessors of mine, Stein and Hardenberg, should not have recommended what they did.
Chief of Staff von Krauseneck:
You are as damn aware as I am that the Comission's reforms were what saved us, nay europe. I agree as much as with everybody else convened here that the Old Order is necessary and should be preserved, but Napoleon and his defeat is a fait accompli. As is the change in our military which ensured that we can speak here, free of the french yoke. And so is the Question becoming the national one.
von Wylich und Lottum:
Bah. Commoners.
Chief of Staff von Krauseneck:
Commoners in Paris dropped a monarch they didn't like and tossed europe into chaos. While some might claim the confederation has answered the question, both of us know very well that the ancient dualism can only continue so long without issues flaring up. There's also the Republic....

Stadtschloss, Berlin, Königreich Preußen
Carl Friedrich, Count of Wylich and Lottum left the meeting annoyed. There was no way von Krauseneck could be in the right, could there? Surely Prussia could just stand on its on. Like it always did, and it would be Prussians leading it to glory, as they always did. That was what he would advise the king on the morrow. Preussen über alles and Gott mit uns, so it was and so it should and shall be. Austria may claim being an Emperor, but within the confederation it barely counted for anything. And the swiss... what did they matter, alpine folk both of them. But the Chief of Staff was not wrong with regards to the reforms, he knew firsthand. He was an army man once as well, he recalled how it was run before, and how it ran now.
The nearly 80 year old walked onward, exiting the building and looking for his coach for the way home. He had lived during the Prussian operations of '87 in the Netherlands. He was in the officer's college when in 1794 the Poles rebelled against their last partition of 1795. And yet... Jena. Austerlitz. The Grandduchy of Warsaw.
Entering his coach the man was filled with thoughts and questions, doubts, fears, and ideas, raised and inspired by his colleague. He sighed, and after making sure the driver knew were to go relaxed into his seat.

_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

23 of February
The King of Prussia, a man of great, proudly walked into the office. Already seated were his Minister-President, his Chief of Staff and Steward, his oldest son, his cabinet, the Fieldmarshalls, and other officials.
Seeing him enter, each of them rose from their seat, waiting for him to take his own. Taking his place at the head of the table, flanked by the Minister-President and his eldest, he sat down - giving the rest of the attending permission to do so themselves. Friedrich Wilhelm sighed. He remembered having seen the court as operated by his great-uncle, the hero of Prussia with no equal. Back then he had most definitely not imagined that running even a bit of that government would be a massive effort. It had taken him time both under his father's reign and in his own to realize that running the whole Kingdom on his own just was something no normal human would manage to do. A cough focused him back on reality, on the here and now. Prussia, Berlin, 23rd of February.....1836. His son, sharing his name, started speaking, "We have multiple issues to discuss with you, father. The first would be the Columbians."
"The Columbians?", asked the monarch, "What do the Columbians care for the Prussian lands..." He had been rather young when the Columbians declared their independence and from them until now had memory of only a handful of diplomatic interactions between the Kingdom and the young republic. "Well, your majesty,", the foreign minister answered his monarch, while motioning for a group of pages to hand him a map of North America, "they speak of the threat they present to global stability and the need to possibly contain them, asking for our backing of a potential war against France over the colonies of New France, Louisiane that is. They claim that our aid would both be appropriately rewarded and eternally remembered."
"Diplomatic talk. What can we in realistically expect?", the monarch replied quickly. "Gratitude for something between 2 and 10 years, probably, and then new President would probably replace the current one. As far as gains are concerned, what would Prussia even want? The West bank of the Rhine? Neuchatel? A corridor between those...."
"Your majesty", spoke up the Chief of Staff, "the costs of this war would not be worth these gains. The Columbians are setting us up as a bait, either we are defeated by France and Columbia can claim vis-a-vis France that it was a ploy and they are still allies, or after gruesome warfare we win, Columbia extracts the wide colonial swaths, while we take a thin strip of land that neither weakens them nor allows us any hope that they will not enter a pact with either the Habsburgers or Swiss. Our needle-gun might be powerful but it most definitely is not enough for us to defeat France on our own."
"Can we not expect a french punitive expedition into Columbia to release some pressure from our own troops?", asked Carl. "It should possibly noted that the President is Prussian to an extent, your majesty", added the foreign minister,"Andreas von Johansen, son of a Prussian emigrant from the Rhineland, though probably a protestant. I do not think he would harbor ill will or malevolent intent towards your kingdom."
"And yet his father did emigrate, so clearly he wasn't happy with Prussia.", countered the Minister of the interior, and then looking at von Wylich and Lottum added "They surely will deploy some troops overseas, but once we are in the war we cannot expect them to leave anything but a great majority for the defense of their...", he switched into french for three words,"'sacred french soil'". The Fieldmarshalls at this point all mentioned their agreement.
"So,", the monarch spoke up in the hopes of reaching a conclusion to this ever-expanding topic, "The President on the behalf of which this letter was sent is a Prussian, though his alignment towards us is unclear, his rule will be over latest in 10 years, and with high costs we might extract a few gains from this war?"

Murmurs of agreement came from all the members of the council, including those just previously most involved in the discussion. The Prince coughed and when he received the council's attention spoke up, "I think we should consider that it specifically says that we shall be rewarded accordingly, not that we shall receive a few lands you and I see as useful for Prussia. Maybe it would be useful to inquire, rather than decline absolutely. Who knows, he might have the benefit of Prussia at his heart, as well. We could always decline if we do not like the answer.

_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Count Carl had to admit discussion cooperation with Republican Columbia against the Vienna-installed Monarch, as French as he may be, hadn't been something he was too enthusiastic about. The Prince did find an elegant solution, nonetheless. A friendly inquiry should display the potential interest while also possibly hinting at the Prussian hesitation. It also meant that he would now have to rapidly face his uncertainty about von Krauseneck's points.
The people, unlike the world, didn't see an answer in the confederation, at least its current form, and while the question was still not a decisive issue, it remained in the consciousness of many. It has to be stalled as long as possible, part of him said, censorship and banishment should be used and other measures too, and order might resist two centuries or more. Yet Wilhelm's voice rang in his ears, his calls that only a "revolution from above" can prevent the people from performing it on their own, and that taking the initiative might be necessary for the former to happen under the Prussian crown, rather than by somebody else, or instead the second would happen. None of those he wanted.
"Well", he spoke - thoughts still rushing through his mind - "then we should move on to the next issue." 'Posen. Catholics. Jews. Finances. Military maintenance.' All of those alternatives buzzed through his mind and then disappeared in the half second before he continued,"The question of our. We should, at least within your majesties government, form a policy and opinion. To quote the poet, "What is the German's Faherland?", and what does Prussia think of it. We might not publicize this stance, but it should exist in time of need, if not for you then your heir", he nodded at the Prince, "or heir's heir."

Königreich Preußen

To Louis McLane, Secretary of State of Columbia

Greetings.
We have received your missive and forwarded it to his majesty. The King of Prussia took your message to heart, amongsts others after considering the identity of the President and the nature of France being the target of your demands.
After much thought and debate with his State council, his majesty has reached the conclusion that some of the things you mention within your letter are not specific or detailed enough for him to return to you a definite reply on your question.

Specifically, he wonders about if by "backing in a war" you mean a france-targeted full military alliance, to expire at the end of the war with the french, or merely some form of support. His majesty also inquires wishes to inquire in what would be considered an appropriate reward by yourself, as well as the nature of eternally memorable participation should the von Johansen government not do so as well.

Sincerely,
acting on behalf of and in the name of his majesty, Friedrich Wilhelm, third of his name, King of Prussia,
the royal Minister-President of Prussia,
Carl Friedrich Heinrich Graf von Wylich und Lottum

by **Kisinger** » Thu Oct 15, 2015 8:03 pm

Birodalom közül Magyarországon

Chapter 1: Securing the Borders

24th of February, 1835
Royal Palace
Pest, Province of Pest, Kingdom of Hungary, Empire of Hungary

In the brisk morning air of February, white glistening snow dotted the Royal Gardens. Through the snow and air walked a tall, and sturdy man with brown hair and eyes dawning a brown great coat with animal fur lining, and beside him stood another man of medium build and height wearing a very professional black suit. They were walking around the maze of flower plots and hedges, having a discussion that would change the course of Balkan and Hungarian History drastically. The tall man spoke "Külügyminiszter, how have you been this morning?" with the last word escaping steam came forth from his breathing. The man who had broken the silence was Emperor Simon Jagiellon X, aged 27 since he took the throne six years ago following the death of his father. He was the most powerful man in the Balkans, and he had the ambition to match, as he waited for a response, several things had became clear to him during the walk and thinking of the map of the Europe. The Serbian Empire had to hold a large population of Muslims within Bosnia, The Tsardom of Bulgaria must want the provinces of Thrace, and Eastern Macedonia, and the Greek Kingdom of Hellas, which Hungary viewed as a potential ally.

"I'm doing quite well my Emperor, and I'm sure you have as well?" The Minister of Foreign Affairs replied. "May I ask why you have summoned me today?" He asked nervously rubbing his hands together as he had not grown accustom to the harsh weather nor the Emperor's lack of wanting to be out doors. Looking around the dead garden sent chills down his spine, or he thought maybe it was the dreadful cold.

"We need to secure our Borders to the North, with Prussia, Russia, and Austria if at all possible. I want letters to be sent out at once; One to Prussia asking for an extension of a alliance if at all possible, and asking both Russia and Austria for Non-Aggression Treaties. Also, I wish for you to write another letter to the Commander of the Horvat Hasereg, General Zelin, using the utmost diplomatic wording and order him to march East from his camp to the Serbian border, and begin mustering the troops together, similar messages will be relayed to other commanders to head towards the Southern borders, am I clear?" The Emperor asked out of breath from the long list of orders he had given.

"Crystal Clear my Emperor" the Minister said as he quickly walked off without a word, he had heard their were talks earlier this month between the Emperor and the Army Commanders discussing plans on what to do in the coming years, this was more than likely another policy to be instituted for their plans in the coming days.

3rd of March, 1835
General Zelin's Tent
Kingdom of Croatia, Empire of Hungary

General Zelin of the Horvát Hadsereg reread his orders to move from the Venetian border, towards the Serbian border with "upmost haste" in order to force the Serbians to accept a new treaty which has been kept confidential. Zelin looked up to his second in command, General of the Artillery, Peter Pežk, "Peter, what do you make of these orders? Just another attempt at scaring the Serbians or are we actually going to demand from them for once? Either way, I doubt Serbia will accept it and I don't know how well we will be able to succeed with inexperienced troops except the Serbian Regulars." He looked to the map spread out on the table looking at the route drawn to the position in which High Command thought he would be best positioned and decided to deploy farther South towards The Coast.

"I do believe they mean it this time sir, they have never moved us this close to the border before and I fear we may go to war." Peter replied with a face of growing concern as he moved his hand to rest on his saber. "I fear we most complete this movements regardless of what our personal choices are, as they are from the Emperor himself." He said going over the orders once more to check their authenticity and what exactly they were.

"Send the orders toall commanders that we are moving at once, I'm afraid you are right and personal preference doesn't come before the Emperors wishes" he said with the threat of war now piercing the once gloomy veil that had hung over the commanders tent for months as they were now finally getting ready to launch an offensive hopefully by the end of Winter.

"I will at once sir." Peter left mounting his horse and riding back to his own tent to write the orders and hopefully this movement would prevent a war at the very least though it appeared very unlikely.

by **Senkaku** » Thu Oct 15, 2015 9:54 pm

Ten Thousand Years, Chapter One: Serpent's Whisper

Suddenly there came a tapping, as of someone gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door...

Dongjing
The Imperial Palace
Dragon Pavilion
January 9th
9:00 PM

An old man, bundled in furs, in a room that blazed with light, sipped tea as he strained his old eyes to look at the papers before him. Chen Zian was eighty-six, much older even than their illustrious and sage emperor, a respected and feared relic of the emperor's youth and the reign of his radiant and dearly-missed deceased father, who now sat at the right hand of the gods in Heaven.

Zian was increasingly worried he was more of a relic, now, than an effective leader- and now was a bad time for his own worries and frailties to be setting in. The emperor, while not as old as he was, was still becoming more easily tired by affairs of state, ensnared by the woman who had already been talked of as the Fifth Great Beauty. The imperial princes (and some of the princesses, too) all eyed their brother the Heir Designate hopefully, waiting for his seeming indifference to the workings of government to make way for their naked ambition. The Empress Yin sat piously in her palace in the countryside, refusing to engage in politics any longer and praying that Heaven would forgive them their many, many sins. Zian's potential successors were too numerous and too competitive, too desirous of power for power's sake, too corruptible. The steppes were restless, the western barbarians encroached from all five directions, and the empire continued to tick-tick-tick away, like a mechanical spring clock.
And he sat here, slowly going blind, spending his last days in a blaze of pointless, extravagant, ridiculous light, with only the vast inertia of an empire that had been propelled upwards long ago by greater men than he to carry his successors on when he was gone.

It was disturbing, and Zian always tried to force his mind to flit away from the vastness of the abyss he thought he saw opening up before them. A dynasty, a nation, set on its course by dead hands, which had not had their control wrested away by the living and looked not to ever face such an eventuality- he did not want to believe this.
But Chen Zian had spent his entire life being hurtled forwards by this steadily-slowing ship of destiny, driven by golden wind from Fusang and the winds of plenty from the Mekong, and the peasant's son in him could see- despite his decaying eyes- with frightening clarity.

He was determined, as his last days crept up around him, to seize back the course of China from the inevitable hand of fate- now only to figure out how.

He was interrupted, some time later, by a man.
The eunuch was plump, as many of his kind were, dressed in plain, flowing blue silk trimmed with fur to fend off the brisk air that flowed down onto Dongjing off of the steppe. He was a strange-looking man, this eunuch- foreign, to be sure, but from where, it was difficult to place. There was some Swahili in him, perhaps some Sinhalese, mixed with the more conventional, solid features of the Han.
An Bing was perhaps one of the very few men in the imperial court these days that the Chancellor could trust.
"My lord chancellor." The eunuch bowed deeply.
"What is it, Bing?"
"Word has come from Empress Yin, sir. I'm sorry to have been missing earlier- I was taken in my household earlier this morning and brought out to the country by whoever it was she sent to deliver her message."
Zian stiffened in his seat. "The Empress Yin? What was her message?"
"She only requested you go to the Huizong Gardens, after moonset tonight. Forgive me, sir, I believe I may have been drugged or I would have investigated further."
The Chancellor smirked, sitting back in his seat. "I would expect no less from the Lady Jen," he chuckled, referring to the Empress as she had been called before her ascension to the imperial throne.

Dongjing
Huizong Gardens
1:01 AM

The most beautiful gardens in the world, enduring for seven hundred years, were pitch-black save for the earthbound orange stars of the occasional lamp or torch. The shadow-black arms of trees snared the stars above, whispering in the night breeze as hungry ghosts roamed the darknened skies and stirred the air.
A woman was sitting in a pavilion, watching as a single orange pinprick slowly made its way down the path. The Empress Yin was fifty-one, her once-famous figure growing stouter, her face still retaining vestiges of the great beauty that once graced it.
She was also not supposed to be in the capital. The Empress Yin had been effectively banished three years ago, to a religious retreat near Zhoukou, as the Precious Consort's star had appeared and risen in the imperial court. She had remained there, quietly, out of the way, listening in silent sadness to the reports from court and praying that Heaven would show the way to their leaders.
Evidently, it had not, and she decided that she had been patient long enough.

She snapped her fingers, and the guard accompanying her struck a match, lighting the single oil lamp hanging from the pavilion's roof. The wavering orange star heading towards the elegant rosewood structure paused, flickering alone in the darkness.
"I hope you have someone with you, at least, Chancellor," she called softly. Despite the batterings time and the years had inflicted on her face and body, the Empress's voice retained its silvery, alluring tone that it had had even in her heyday, back when she and the Emperor had been young and glorious.
The Chancellor's voice had not- it was rough and gravelly with age, and the weight of a lifetime of service to the greatest empire in the history of the world.
"My old eyes can find the way to the Oriole Pavilion at any time of day, my lady," he said, and she could practically see his faint smile.
"As you see fit, but if you fall and lay on the path all night you have only yourself to blame. Come in, Chancellor." She pulled her furs a little tighter as he came to the front of the pavilion and shuffled up the stairs.
"There are some benefits to age, you know," he said, chuckling. "For example, I can stay awake until the late hours without trouble."
She laughed quietly. "Very true."
Below them, down the hill, the Huizong Emperor's Lake of Eternal Tranquility reflected a tapestry of stars, obscured here and there where puffs of ghostly night breeze had etched a thousand tiny dark crescents into the surface.
"I must confess, your radiance, I am surprised to find you in the capital yourself," Zian said evenly.
She waved a hand dismissively, her face hidden by the shadows of the flickering, faint light. "I left this morning from Zhoukou. I'm supposedly going to some temple outside here, some relic or something discovered. I don't know." She raised an eyebrow at the look of surprise on Zian's face. "Sitting in a nunnery for two and a half years thanks to a provincial whore from the southwest has somewhat lessened the fires of my piety, Zian," she said bitterly.
He said nothing, calmly taking a seat. "Well, now that I am here, what can I help you with, my lady?"

The Empress's teeth gleamed in the soft, flickering light, the grim smile of a lioness who has just lined up her prey and is about to spring. "I am so glad you asked, Chancellor."

Dongjing
Lantai
2:19 AM

Zhen Lifen, the Precious Consort, the Beloved of Heaven, the woman they called the Fifth Great Beauty who had bewitched an emperor and a nation, who had risen from nothing to quite possibly have the balance of the known world resting on her slender shoulders, was now in the belly of the beast.
The soundproofed cells of Lantai stopped all of the screams, but Lifen was under no illusions as to what happened behind the heavy doors she now walked past. At her side, Liu struggled to keep pace, though her cousin was at least a head taller than her.
"Could you at least tell me why we're here?" Liu said, rubbing his eyes. She paused in her strides, inhaling, and gave him a look that could have frozen liquid steel.
"We are here, cousin, because unfortunately one of your indiscretions has been noted by someone. And you have apparently taken a rather significant risk, based on what I have learned."
Liu sighed. "Lifen, please, what in the name of Heaven is this about?"
She muttered under her breath as they continued, counting, and suddenly stopped again, turning to her left. A key appeared in the Precious Consort's hand, dull grey steel of the type used for all the cells of the Censorate's headquarters, and she stepped forward to slot it into place.

The door clicked open, and swung aside, revealing a hideous sight.

A man had been stretched on a slightly tilted stone slab, bound at the wrists and ankles. He was naked, shaved, and here and there patches of skin had been removed- around the genitals, armpits, the backs of the kneecaps. There were incisions on one arm where the interrogator had evidently been clipping tendons, and burn marks scored the abdomen and had obliterated one of his nipples. Bruises bloomed like evil blue flowers all across the man's skin, and bamboo slats had been driven under his fingernails- except his left pinkie, which had been smashed by a hammer. A foot press was in the corner of the room, and his left foot was bruised, bones clearly broken within. Occasionally a faint keening noise was emitted from this destroyed creature, but mostly he remained still.
Liu turned around and threw up on the spot. Lifen sneered at him, her lip curling.
"This is what happens when you fuck Nusantaran spies, cousin. Do you know who had been watching you go see him? Do you?" She slapped him, raising his head up from the floor.
Liu cringed, turning his face away. "Lifen, cousin, please, for the gods' sakes just kill him!"
"An Bing and the Censorate had him under surveillance!" she said shrilly. "You are lucky I made sure that they had no records of you visiting him, or your shot at the Chancellery would be over by now!"
"Lifen!" Liu looked fit to burst into tears. His cousin made a disgusted face and picked up a heavy iron poker from the array of torture implements on the wall, taking two powerful strides and smashing it down on the man's head.
Liu gave a little shriek, turning away, as blood misted through the room. The Precious Consort, her face carved out of ice, strode over and grabbed him by the ear, whispering.
"Cousin, I brought you here to bring glory to our family and because I thought you could do good things not for me, but for the empire. If you didn't want to see a man sliced to death, maybe you oughtn't have picked a southron spy as your peach-biting boy of choice." She pulled on his ear forcefully, whispering more quietly after his whimper subsided.

"I cannot protect you from these things, cousin. If we are to guide the empire, you will have to be more discreet. Understand?"
Liu swallowed, composing himself. "My apologies, cousin."
She released his ear. "I am sorry I could not save him, but breaking the Censorate's grasp on such a trivial matter would have cast me in suspicion."
Liu sat down, leaning against the wall as blood pooled on the floor a few feet away.
"He was just another whore anyways," he said with a sigh. "I truly didn't know he was a spy. But-"
"No buts, Liu. We decided we wanted to change Dongjing, didn't we? To change China, to change the world? Well, it starts with things like this. You need to start being more careful. Shifting the course of an empire is rather difficult if you hang out bait for the jackals to nip at your heels."

所撰的大宋

To whom it may concern in the government of Moxige,

The Song Dynasty has always valued international trade and commerce as a key element in any right-thinking and stable society, and we recognize that Moxigeren merchants have always been respectful of our ways and customs. However, our glorious Datong Emperor, may he live and rule for ten thousand years, must also factor in considerations of state and society. China, with the favor of the gods, has been granted all that she requires within her own borders, and does not rely on barbarian states to east or west for goods of any sort. The Emperor also has a sacred duty to the people to ensure that the imperial treasury, which is fed in large part by the very same tariffs you speak of, remains full so that he may properly care for his people.

In short, our glorious Emperor has indicated that he would be willing to consider any specific proposals set forward by your government, but that they may not necessarily be accepted.

China also notes, with some dismay, the choice of your nation to attack the East Desert tribes to your north. While these unfortunates have frequently strayed from the path of right-thinking obedience to the emperor and to more civilized peoples, we feel in some way responsible for them, and hope that Moxige will show restraint in its actions against them.

POST SUMMARY:

-Welcome to the Song Imperial Court! More will be introduced later as I get into intrigue gear.
-The Chancellor Chen Zian is going blind, but is doing his best to balance the imperial court for the sake of stability. He may have found a powerful ally in his quest to change the empire's seemingly irreversible course of imperceptibly slow decline in the Empress Yin, who has returned from isolation in Zhoukou to secretly once again interfere in court affairs.
-Empress Yin has returned from her religious exile in Zhoukou in secret to make a play to push out the Precious Consort, Zhen Lifen, and restore herself to power.
-Zhen Lifen has shielded her cousin Zhen Liu, a candidate for the post of chancellor when Zian dies, from a scandal that could have resulted from him sleeping with a man known to the Censorate as a Nusantaran spy. She is trying to exhort him to be more careful, as she (actually like the Chancellor) wants to try and reverse the empire's seeming listlessness.
-A Nusantaran spy (who the Censorate actually also knows has been selling information to Russia) in Dongjing has been arrested, interrogated, and killed.
-Letter to Mexico saying "eh mebbe".

by **Terminus Alpha** » Fri Oct 16, 2015 7:36 am

A Lovely Day for A Stroll for Two.

Novos Começos
Union Palace, Legislative Wing, "Grande Salão de Colunas"

The representatives of the Union had finished filing into the Grand Hall of Columns, discarding their usual fanciful dress clothes for the plain cotton garbs that were more effective at handling the natural heat of Hesperia. The were seated around the "Horseshoe" where their office - the Diplomatic Advisory Board - met when summoned by the King or any of the royal family. The "Horseshoe" itself was nothing more than a group of three rectangular tables that had been dressed as though the were one, giving the appearance of a horseshoe. Upon the white table, papers had been laid out by the servants prior to the delegates arrival. As they settled into their seats, the King took his seat at the center of the room.

"Gentlemen, I believe you understand why I have summoned you. Our Anglo neighbors to the north have requested our assistance in a war against France."

"Should we inform them of our designs upon the lands along the southern Mississippi?" asked one of the delegates

"I fully intend to, with your support."

To:The Columbian Federal Diplomatic Office
From:The Hesperian Diplomatic Ministry

We agree with your suggestion of a possible co-belligerence against France, but for our assistance in this possible war, we must inform you that we have designs upon the lands that border the Mississippi. The portion we wish to lay claim to is the southern portion of colonial Louisiana, including the port of New Orleans and ending at the point at which the Mississippi and Ohio diverge. If this does not come to war, we would be more than happy to purchase the lands from you for a reasonable price.

by **Liecthenbourg** » Fri Oct 16, 2015 12:23 pm

The United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland

Dieu et Mon Droit

Chapter I: Dealings in the East and West.

William Lamb,
2nd Viscount Melbourne

The Houses of Parliament, London,
21st February
William Lamb sighed a weary sigh. Much had changed over the past year. A Whig Man, through and through, disagreements with his Majesty King William had led to Lamb being dismissed by the monarch, only for the Tory Robert Peel to take his stead in the matter. When Peel had failed to secure a majority just a month prior, William recalled Lamb as was the proper course of action for the circumstance. Now he did not have the House of Commons as his meeting point for his ministers - that had been destroyed alongside much of the Houses of Parliament during the October 1834 Fire - and the MPs had resorted to using the Lesser Hall for the time being.

It was a modest accommodation, surely. The needs of the MPs however had resulted in the old roof having been replaced and the entire furnishings being replaced by more sophisticated and worthy pieces of furniture. Green seats adorned the Hall, a plethora of grand chandeliers hung above and portraits decorated the oaken walls all across the chamber. It was a good time, however. The start of a new year, a Whig Dominated Lower House and the United Kingdom was continuing to distance itself from the rest of Europe in both an imperial and economic perspective.

British Columbia provided a great access to timber, so much so recent Acts passed by the parliament had opened these up for a ship building industry that was to begin in the relatively minor port city of Vancouver. British New Zealand, as opposed to Dutch New Zealand, was also a new fledgling colony and debates would rage across parliament whether or not to continue appropriating the current funds, more funds or less funds. Many had argued its mere presence was a snub at the Dutch whom had claimed - and held most of - the continent the British had dubbed 'Australia'. Others dismissed this as fear mongering; the Dutch and British had remained friends since time memorial; save the few instances of an Anglo-Dutch war. Lamb concluded that was besides the point.

Resting his hands upon his podium with his fingers clutching around the edges, the Prime Minister of the United Kingdom leaned forward and let out a breath. "Viscount Temple reports that he received letters at his desk post the morrow." The Whigs and Tories nodded in response. Lamb nodded to his Foreign Secretary whom stood up post haste, moving his hands from the incessant fiddling of his waist coat's golden buttons and reached into one of the inner pockets of the pomp and proper piece of attire. He flicked open the folded document, beginning to read.

"This one first is from Columbia." Temple began. "It reads: For far too long the French have managed to cling onto their expansive presence on the North American continent. The instability and rash tendencies of this nation are no secret, and in recent decades the French have posed the biggest threat since Biblical times. Furthermore, it is no secret that your nations are no friends of those in Paris. While currently the Columbian Federation is aligned with France, we recognize the threat they pose to not only democracy but global stability. It is for that reason that I write to you. I have been asked by my President to secure the backing of your nations in a potential war against France. Your participation would forever be remembered, and you would be rewarded accordingly. The time for war is approaching, and I must implore you consider this call to arms. May God be with you." With that, Temple gave an almost silent cough before the House of Commons began to bicker amongst themselves about the best course of action.

"The French may be rapscallions, but the 'Columbians' are traitors!" a Tory called earning a nod from several more extreme members of the Whigs and several Tories alike.

"This is a great deal for us!" another called. "France is the only nation upon the European Continent in which can even ever hope of reaching the pedestal that Britannia has built for herself. Let us not forget the days of Napoleon Bonaparte, the French, will always rise back up upon their feet when give the chance. Not even being thrown into the pit of Hell and being reborn as a questionably motivated Republic could halt the ever constant and passionate nature of the French: To conquer the world."

"But this would also strengthen Columbia in the American continent; by helping them gain the French lands of Louisiana their territory will grow much larger and they will gain a much needed access into the Pacific Coast. This poses a major threat to British Columbia, which encompasses healthy portions of that section of the North American Continent. Let us also not ignore the letter is addressed to our ally, Prussia. It is no secret amongst the British Ministers that our alliance with Prussia only serves to counter balance the possible emergence of another French Hegemony. What if, say, the Prussians were to win in a land war? Whom does the bell toll for upon the continent of Europe then? French interests and that of our own, as France will spite us and Prussia will be blessed with a dominance only seen before by the times of the Bonaparte."

"We are failing to see the bigger picture; an engagement of France is just what is needed. Long has it been known that the presence of France and Iberia in India has long been a thorn in our sides; this war with France could potentially give us the perfect reasoning to assault the lands they own. It is in our best interests." Lamb interjected. "It is also good to note this war may not even go forward, it depends entirely on the response to France and the potentiality of selling the land to Columbia."

With that the House nodded.

From: The Office of Foreign Secretary Henry John Temple, 3rd Viscount Palmerston
To: The Office of Secretary of State Louis McLane

Sir,
The letter that was penned to our most Gracious Sovereign in regards to the event in which the French refuse to sell you the colony of Louisiana - which we have assumed is your intention due to the mention of the French holdings on the North American Continent - has been well received in the House of Commons. Britain will stand ready to assist you. Let it be known however that is done in British interests not because we have developed a sense of duty or emotion towards our former colonials and that it serves in the interests of the British Empire to curb the power of the French Kingdom at every turn it can be deemed imaginable.

May God Bless You,
Henry John Temple, 3rd Viscount Palmerston, Acting in the Interests of His Majesty, King William IV.

From: The Office of Foreign Secretary Henry John Temple, 3rd Viscount Palmerston
To: His Majesty, Stadtholder William I

Your Majesty,
It is well known across both our nations that the nation conglomerate that comprises of the isles of Indonesia and northern Australia have plagued both Dutch and British interests in the South Seas for quite some time. It is because of this context and our historic friendship that I suggest we take a pre-emptive strike on these people to remove their influences from Australia and to divide the isles of Indonesia amongst ourselves to cut out their irrational middle-man like behaviour on the selling of spices to the European Market.

May God Bless You,
Henry John Temple, 3rd Viscount Palmerston, Acting in the Interests of His Majesty, King William IV and in the Interests of the British Admiralty, Military, Public and Politicians.

Delhi, British India
3rd March

William Bentinck
Governor-General of India

Governor-General William Bentinck sat in his residence in Delhi. To call it majestic would be an understatement. The British East India Company made every Governor General one of the more wealthy individuals on the sub-continent. Here he sat, living like King William back home, dining on exotic foods with as many servants as he could imagine. He was a man of staunch and decisive action. Many times had he penned letters back to his 'superiors' in the homeland asking for more troops, officers, weapons. All were needed. The Army of India was a behemoth, some 1,500,000 men ready to serve the company and the princely states in all matters that the Empire required of them.

Bentinck was an odd character. Part of his ambition derived from his wishes to see what he called barbaric practices. The Indian custom of making a widow burn in her husband's funeral pyre, child marriage, polygamy and the rigid caste system all disturbed him to some extent or another. It was here that he had employed Raja Ram Mohan Roy, regarded as a social reformer by the British Colonialists to help him in his struggle to act against each of these fields. They had been quite successful, meeting little resistance via the acts themselves. However, Bentinck and Mohan were targeted by reactionaries and 'freedom fighters' as being individuals whom would have no qualms with destroying Indian heritage. This stemmed from a rather unfortunate archaeological expedition headed by the Governor General, which in turn damaged an artefact from the era of Akbar the Great.

Regardless, Bentinck was proud of what he had achieved. These barbaric practices were offensive to the western ways in which he had been raised and little did Mohan believe would be justifiable about the old Indian 'superstitious ways'. However, there were several obstacles that Bentinck had noted. Countless hours he had spent following his financial management of company funds. This so called 'Sikh Empire' stood in the way of British interests in Central Asia, and their coastal neighbours to the South prevented more access to ports and trading coasts that the Company could profit from. This would not do. Following his successes in domestic India, which really only had been finalised in the mid section of the previous year, the Governor General had penned a letter back to Britain.

And today had been the day he received his reply. Bursting through the palatial doors early in the morning came a courier and Bentinck was awoken by the sounds of his maid ringing the morning bell signalling breakfast. Up and swiftly had the Governor read the contents of the letter once he had awoken and now all he could do was smile as he penned the final letter in this series of messages that would reshape the subcontinent.

From: The Office of Governor General William Bentinck
To: The Princely States Under the Supervision of the United Kingdom

Princes,
It is high time that this 'Sikh Empire' is dealt with in the name of the East India Company. You are to muster your men, those of the British Indian Army and prepare upon the instructions that will be progressively handed out as the war begins to be conducted. Failure to do as instructed will be seen as a breach of the agreement between the British Empire and your respective states.

Through the Grace of God,
Governor General William Bentinck.

From: The Office of Governor General William Bentinck
To: The Monarch of the Sikh Empire

To Whomever It Is You Indeed Are,
Britain is no longer appeased by your existence and your nation will become assimilated into British India. Your 'Sikh Empire' is a slight to the preservation of British India and the expansion the Empire wishes to continue into Central Asia which you currently partly block, it will no longer be sufficient to simply leave Imperial Holdings along. Your resistance will be futile.

Thus, this is an official declaration of war between the British Empire and the Sikh Empire. I look forward to meeting you in person when we are signing your annexation.

Through the Grace of God,
Governor General William Bentinck.

by **Caltarania** » Fri Oct 16, 2015 12:52 pm

Kingdom of Hellas
Βασίλειον τῆς Ἑλλάδος
Vasílion tis Elládos

Chapter 1 - Alexandrine the Great

Theme: "Winds of Ithaca"

Athens, Hellas
January 10th 1835

Theodoros Kolokotronis,
Hero of Morea

"Eleftheria i Thanatos!" The now somewhat sacred words rang in Kolokotronis' head. The scars of that bloody war of independence never seem to leave him alone. With his head ringing with cannon shot and battle cries, Theodoros Kolokotronis walked down the halls of the Philadelphopalati, the royal palace located in Athens' city centre. The large structure had been inhabited by Queen Alexandrine of Hellas for nearly six years now, as she had ruled Hellas as an absolute monarch. Of course, she was not the sole administrator of the country, looking over it, spending some sort of "mana" in order to improve the nation as a whole; that'd be ludicrous! No, no, she had an entire government - a sort of cabinet - dedicated to helping her run the nation. That being said, the Queen was of Prussian origin, and in true German tradition, she had near absolute rule over the nation when push came to shove.

Theodoros Kolokotronis, known to many as the 'Hero of Morea', was the Minister of War in this government, and was rushing to advise the Queen in the next session of her governmental meetings. Theodoros approached the large doors behind which the meeting had already begun. In his own, blunt fashion, he shoved open the doors with his surprisingly strong shoulder bone, and then took his seat beside the other ministers. In the room were only the most important ministers; the Prime Minister Spyridon Trikoupis, Minister of Foreign Affairs Alexandros Mavrokordatos, Minister of the Treasury Andreas Zaimis and Minister of the Interior Constantine Kanaris. This cabinet was sometimes known as the 'Gathering of Heroes' in reference to the fact that nearly all the ministers present had, in some part, participated in the Second Independence War.

"Apologies for my lateness, you Majesty." Theodoros remarked. "I am growing older, and it is becoming harder for me to quickly assemble whenever you call a snap meeting." he explained. Queen Alexandrine smiled, and then spoke. "Do not let it worry you, Hero of Morea. You honour us with your presence, and honour your country with your service." Alexandrine then began the meeting. "Ministers, I have convened you here due to a great problem facing our nation; the oppression of Greek-speaking peoples outside of our realm. We cannot allow them to continue living under foreign rule while their motherland beckons for them to join her." she exclaimed, patriotically. Alexandros Mavrokordatos, the Minister of Foreign Affairs, was the first to speak. "I agree completely your Majesty, yet I fear that we are not in a stable enough diplomatic position to make such demands from our neighbours." he said, confidently.

Then Prime Minister Trikoupis spoke up. "You speak to us of whom? The Venetians see us as nothing more than gold mines, the Serbs and Bulgarians see us as an extra piece to the mess that is the Balkan jigsaw, the Epirusians see our own Epirus as the false one and the Turks are still hostile to the fact that our very nation exists. We have no allies in our neighbours, minister, only enemies." Theodoros then spoke up. "If we are to repatriate these territories, we will have to have strong backing. I suggest that we approach Hungary, Prussia, Britain and the Mamelukes before we do anything too rash, in order to ensure their support if we were to attempt such a move. Hopefully, this diplomatic pressure would simply force our neighbours to cede us the lands in question without a fight, but I fear that will not be so." he said, before taking a sip of wine. "Do it." Queen Alexandrine said, as the Minister of Foreign Affairs rushed to his feet in order to write an onslaught of letters.

From the Ministry of Foreign Affairs of the
Kingdom of Hellas

Dear William IV, Glorious King of the United Kingdom, Friedrich Wilhelm III, Grand King of Prussia, Simon Jagiellon X, Holy King of Hungary and Mansour Saladini, Caliph of Islam and Sultan of the Mamluk Caliphate,

As friends and allies of the Kingdom of Hellas, it is my greatest honour and deepest regret to inquire about whether or not your Highnesses' governments would be willing and able to support our Kingdom in the face of Venetian, Turkish and Epirusian tyranny. As of present, many Greeks live under foreign rule, in lands such as Crete, Thrace and south Epirus. These Greeks long for repatriation with the motherland, and we will - in time - demand that these foreign occupants deliver to us these territories back to the Greek homeland, so that we may deliver unto these Greeks the homeland which they deserve. We dearly hope that your great and glorious highnesses will support us in this effort, by providing diplomatic and, if necessary, military support against these false despots and foreign occupants. In return, our Kingdom would be in your eternal gratitude.

Yours Sincerely,

Ministry of Foreign Affairs of the Kingdom of Hellas,
Minister of Foreign Affairs Alexandros Mavrokordatos,
Representative of Her Majesty Queen Alexandrine I of the Kingdom of Hellas

by **Conwy-Shire** » Fri Oct 16, 2015 9:51 pm

Kingdom of the Two Sicilies
Regno d'e Ddoje Sicilie
Regnu dî Dui Sicili

Chapter 1 - "Where there once was may stand anew"

Palace of Portici,
Mezzogiorno, Two Sicilies (10th Jan)

The serving of breakfast sat cold and untouched by Ferdinand's hand as the King of the two Sicilies sat, tense and alert. The imposing doors on the opposite side of the room had not moved for a solid half-hour, but Ferdinand remembered how hurried the exit of the manservant was. Now the king was content to wait, studying the intricately painted doors as he waited. The 10th of January, the words reverberated in Ferdinand's head, and for a very good reason. The First Sicilian Council of Deputies had been elected - the enfranchised of Sicily had spoken, and now it was for the King to gazette his new advisors into a new office and a new mandate. It was certainly news any man would wait for.

Ferdinand jumped in his seat as the white-gold doors opened with a hollow rumbling. He was lucky that the morning room of the Palazzo Portici was empty, and so his embarrassing shock went unnoticed. The pattering of the manservants feet echoed in the vaulted room, starting at a soft crescendo and slowing down as he neared his king. A shaking letter was handed to Ferdinand, propelled by an equally shaky arm proffered by the servant. A simple nod towards the door was all the quivering servant needed, bowing as Ferdinand dismissed him. The silence in the hall was as complete as it had been all morning, and after the doors came together once more with a muffled thud, the king turned his attention to the letter.

Inside, a list of names lay scrawled upon spare paper. The note from the king's informant inside the electoral commission was by no means akin to the grand missives which formed the diplomatic lifeblood of Europe, but the crude list inside was just as important as a letter of marque to Ferdinand, a man who wished to remain King after this democratic experiment played out. Ferrando Albasini, Abramo di Taranto, Virgilio Zummo, Alfonso di Girgenti, and Fulberto Vincelli. Whilst there were no concrete political organisations, Ferdinand knew each of the men to be monarchists - and for that he breathed a heavy sigh of relief.

The papers fell to the table as the King pushed the matter from his mind, replaced by more worldly matters; chief among them being the cold platter of food in front of him.

Neapolitan Rail Station,
Mezzogiorno, Two Siciles (12th Jan)

It had taken two days before the new Council of Deputies had assembled in Napoli, travelling from all corners of the kingdom. The fact that all five Councillors came from an adminstrative province of the Kingdom, bar Tripoli, was a condition Ferdinand had understood little, but he assumed the liberals who had pressured him into this thought it a neat trick to unify themselves... they were wrong. Today, Ferdinand awaited the arrival of the Sicilian Deputy-elect, Virgilio Zummo, whilst the other four deputies acquainted themselves to the Town Hall of Napoli. The king was ensconced in a black carriage, a typical sight on the Neapolitan thoroughfare - sometimes it payed to not be recognised. The black locomotive had pulled up a mere minute ago, and Ferdinand was left to straighten his black great-coat as orderlies rushed to set down the stairs from the passenger carriage.

A small crowd had gathered on the train station, distinguished as Neapolitan lazzaroni by their clothes and the incessant cheering no decent citizen of Naples could accomplish. The lazzaroni had been instrumental in the fall of the Parthenopean republic nearly thirty years ago, and whilst their abject poverty disgusted Ferdinand in many ways, their support of the absolute monarchy always brought a slight smile to Ferdinand's face. Now they supported a different man, however; a man from the working class, who had founded a small textile business in Palermo before joining the army for the Napoleonic wars. The fact that Zummo had been a commanding officer in the various Neapolitan risings - revolts spearheaded by the lazzaroni - was not lost to the mob, whose cheering redoubled as the silver-haired deputy-elect stepped off the main passenger carriage.

It took a few long minutes for Zummo to wade his way through the jubilant crowd, weighed down by the press of unwashed bodies. Seeing the lone carriage opposite the station the Deputy-elect made his way across the street, singling it out amongst the standard black transports lining the street by way of the royal livery displayed by the guards riding on the outside of the carriage. As Zummo got closer, the King peered out of the glass window to take a mental profile of the man. Standing shorter than average, and wielding a limp stressed on the right leg confirmed the reports of his military past, although a slight paunch could be seen pushing against the confines of his buttoned coat.

Ferdinand unhinged the door to the carriage, letting it swing out slow enough so as not the shock anyone. Zummo, his eyes still downcast, finally looked up for the first time since he stepped onto the station platform - revealing a pair of squinting eyes which peered out from under a modest black tall-hat. Ferdinand had never seen squinting eyes go so wide as when Zummo recognised the occupant, removing his foot from the carriage stirrup to bow on the tightly-cobbled road.

"Your majesty" he intoned, pulling himself back up from the gesture. "What an honour and surprise you pose."
Ferdinand merely smiled, waving Zummo into the carriage, before closing the door behind the plump deputy. Turning back to the now-seated Sicilian, a wolfish smile spread across Ferdinand's face.

"I apologise if I caused you misadventure - but we have much to talk about..."

Later that day,
Neapolitan City Hall, Napoli

The Map Room was by no means opulent. The fact that it had remained untouched and gathering dust was not lost to Ferdinand as he ushered Virgilio into the room. Four men awaited the pair inside - the four deputies of the Mezzogiorno administrative districts, and none of them looked entirely impressed. White drapes covered cabinets and tables throughout the extensive chamber, whilst thick curtains curtailed the flow of light into the room from the noon-day sun. It would not do.

Ushering a thickset manservant from the doorway, Ferdinand was almost disgusted by the state of affairs. "Off with these drapes, throw open the curtains - now, I dare say; and I'll be wanting to have a word with the man responsible for this mess," pausing for breath, the king raised his voice so that the other deputies could hear his one-sided conversation with the wincing manservant.

"This room is not currently fit to house piglets, let alone the foremost men of the Sicilian State." A covert glance over at the deputies affirmed Ferdinand's suspicions of their self-worth, two had surreptitiously puffed up their chests with self-importance, whilst a cruel smirk played on the face of a third, and the fourth was scanning the carved wooden panels of the darkened room with his nose held high in disdain. Zummo was perhaps the most composed, a slight look of concern creased his brow at the responses of his new colleagues.

Noting that the mood could turn stale at any moment, Ferdinand motioned for the Deputies to move.
"Come, my goodsirs,"he asked. "Let us retire to a more suitable locale whilst the Map Room is... refurbished." Grumbling, the deputies exited the chamber; one, Fulberto Vincelli, wiping his nose with vigour - no doubt a reaction to the dust that had previously encompassed him. They fled to the antechamber, setting down at a nondescript table overlooking a side street below, before Ferdinand spoke again.

"Friends, it is good that you could join us so soon, with Zummo recently-arrived, I believe that we can discuss some preliminary affairs of state - and one dire situation once the Map Room has been cleaned - before your inauguration procession tomorrow."

He paused, conducting his thoughts. Seated at his right hand was Zummo, the eager Sicilian with which Ferdinand had just spent a carriage-ride discussing with. The Sicilian deputy was certainly geared to ministering war, his experience in the Napoleonic Coalitions proved that, and whilst no mention of a solid post was made, Zummo and Ferdinand had both made it clear to each other that if such a position as a minister for war were to be created, Virgilio Zummo was the man for the job. By stark contrast, on the King's left was a man cut from a much different mould. beaked and pruned, the Deputy of Apulia - Abramo di Taranto - looked very much like a bird of prey. Born to the port-city's aristocracy, di Taranto was earmarked by Francis, the King's father, for administrative honours. A back-room meeting the night previous had confirmed that assessment to Ferdinand, who had set out to unravel the mystery of the Tarantine nobleman. Whilst Francis I had earmarked Abramo for honours, Ferdinand now bookmarked him for the Administrative leadership of the government.

Across the table sat two opposites to the formidable men at Ferdinand's flanks. Both were businessmen by trade, and whilst the Calabrian Deputy owned a wine estate compared to the Abruzzi Deputy's grape-press, both were accustomed, if not prominent in the cut-throat world of Italian economics. Alfonso di Girgenti, a former Sicilian turned Calabrian viticulturalist, was by far more interested in Infrastructure, and his appraisal of the Napoli-Reggio-Calabrian railroad had softened Ferdinand's somewhat cautious temperament to the quirky Calabrian. His counterpart, Fulberto Vincelli, was an avid market-man, and in the two days the Abruzzi Deputy had spent since his uneventful journey from Abruzzo Ferdinand had noticed the plump man spend each morning in the Galleria Umberto, browsing wares and noting the mean price of general goods in the city on a scrap of spare parchment. The man was undoubtedly geared to Economics, and that was where both Ferdinand and Fulberto were content with the Abruzzi Deputy staying.

The last deputy was perhaps the least known to Ferdinand - an enigma compounded by the fact that this Deputy was elected from Ferdinand's home region - Campania. Not much was known of Ferrando Albasini, and any length of investigation into his past revealed little more than the life of a hardworking textile Artisan, even if his works were famous amongst the lower classes of the country. Whilst meeting with the other four Deputies had yielded results, the midday stroll Ferdinand took with Ferrando through the Piazza del Plebiscito only revealed to the king that Ferrando was a well-connected man amongst the people of Campania, the majority of whom warmly greeted the solemn Neapolitan Deputy with a familiarity bordering on attachment. There had been no talk of commissions or ministries with the Campanian - and so Ferdinand mentally assigned him to Foreign Affairs - a post soon to be worked tirelessly into the ground.

In the Map Room,
Neapolitan City Hall, Napoli

The six men had finally been re-admitted to the Map Room, now transformed into a gallery of dazzling sights. The windows had been uncovered and thrown open, and through them wafted a myriad of noises from the commons below. Ferdinand had no time for the shouting of hawkers now, however, as he moved to the final topic of that day's gathering of Deputies.

"Gentlemen, let us now move to the most dire of tragedies," he began, motioning for the Deputies to gather around a map of the Balkans. "In days of yore my forebears - the Kings of Sicily; were great men. Titans of combat and the art of diplomacy, from the Normans to the Hohenstaufen, Angevins and Trastamera, the Mediterranean bowed to their colossal presence."

Fulberto Vincelli cleared his throat meaningfully, but a slicing glare from Abramo silenced the deputy of economics - before Ferdinand's rhetoric continued.

"Our claims were honoured by Christendom - those very claims forged with the blood and sweat of Sicilian souls. Amongst the titles handed down is one not used for centuries, a style unheard of since Charles d'Anjou, the first of his name and line, brought certain neighbours into our realm. I speak of the King of the Albanians; and I speak of my right to it.

That Epirus now stands where Albania once stood is a testament to the power of time, yet time is not untouchable; we document and we record, our histories are long and extensive - and where there once was may stand anew."

It was Ferrando's turn to chime in now, seeing where the king was heading, "You want war between our states; that is what I am hearing."

"It is not war, goodsir," Ferdinand retorted. "It is a reclamation of Sicilian land, the fact that the Albanian Crown has not left the Sicilian inheritance is proof of my claim. Italians and Albanians inhabit that realm, living side-by-side with the Greeks. Whilst I hold no enmity towards the Greeks, their failure to hold Constantine's city against a fractured and flawed heathen-state bewilders me to this day.

If there are any here who still hold to the ideal that the Epirote should hold the power of life or death over fellow Italians and our de jure cousins the Albanians, let them speak here." Ferdinand was close to elation when no one spoke up, he had won this Council over - they were his. With the Deputies in tow, they retired for the night, leaving the plans for the conquest of Albania to those better suited.

Royal Missive
of the Kingdom of the Two Sicilies
as expressed by Ferdinand II de Bourbon, King of the Two Sicilies

Fair tidings to thee, Imperial Majesty,
The kingdom of Sicily has long remained tentatively by the wayside - watching the world stream by in a raucous of noise and colour. We have seen empires rise and fall, dynasties including those of our own nation struggle for eminence in this cruel world, and we have learnt much in our observance. Foremost amongst these observances conclude that the Hungarian people, in their strength and tenacity, have remained a constant in Europe's long and prestigious history.

From Pest to Constantine's city the Hungarian people have sacrificed their all for the maintenance of the catholic and upright world, receiving scant thanks from those neighbouring states you have inadvertently protected. Whilst this is a herculean feat in itself, the ability of the Hungarian Empire to govern with such obedience to the laws of god and the land resonates strongly with the Sicilian people, and whilst we have not been as warm in contact until this point, we wish to change that unfortunate spell for the better.

The kingdom of the two Siciles would like to formally extend it's recognition, firstly of your defence of Europe in the face of Islam, as well as the endless hordes of Russia. Sicily admires your ability to survive, and thrive - leading to the following proposition. Sicily would like to form a defensive alliance with the Hungarian Empire, forming a bond upon which we may rely on each other in matters of national defence so as to cement ourselves in Europe for many centuries to come. Secondly, and in light of certain movements noticed internationally on the Hungarian-Serb frontier, we would appreciate Hungarian recognition of our dynastic claim to Albania promulgated by the feats and rule of Charles d'Anjou, one of the fathers of the Sicilian state.

We understand Hungary itself has explicit ambitions in the Balkans, and to this end we would compromise on our claim to Albania - now foolishly named Epirus - by redirecting half of its yearly tax revenue in compensation per year as well as dedicating a Balkan Army Group to Hungarian interests in the region and beyond.

If the Hungarian Crown has any counter-proposal or issue with the above proposal the Sicilian Crown would be willing in the utmost to hear the words of their honourable neighbour by sea.

In Royal Regard,
King Ferdinand II de Bourbon - king of the Two Sicilies, and by the grace of god, Angevin-King of the Albanians

Royal Missive
of the Kingdom of the Two Sicilies
as expressed by Ferdinand II de Bourbon, King of the Two Sicilies

To the honoured Caliph of Aegyptus and her empire,
The kingdom of the two Sicilies would like to send her warmest greetings - hoping that we each have the forbearance and tolerance to see past our religious differences. Both of our nations have suffered under the yoke of foreign rule - namely that of the dastardly Frenchmen. Our nations also share a willingness to advance technologically, socially and economically; all of this leading to Sicily's determination of the below proposal.

The Sicilian crown would like to establish firm trading relations with the Mamluk Empire, and to this end we would like to designate the port of Messina duty-free for Mamluk traders - with the hope that the same designation may fall upon a Mamluk port for Sicilian traders. The flow of goods from both of our nations will undoubtedly allow for the circulation of a wider range of resources and goods, increasing both domestic happiness and international relation. Through this agreement Sicily hopes to foster better relations with its neighbour in Africa, a goal also furthered by the second proposition of this missive.

Sicily would secondly appreciate the recognition of her rightful ownership to Albania - now named Epirus for fear of our claims. The Albanian peoples had been a part of the Sicilian crown since 1272, with the creation of the Albanian crown by our royal predecessor, Charles d'Anjou. Mamluk support in this issue would lend further weight in this issue against the instability of the region - and would remove a heavy weight from the conscience of the Sicilian people. This proposition would also be coupled with a cessation of possible antagonisms and border incidents between the people of Sicilian Triploitania and Mamluk Benghazi, an end most likely achieved by a demarcation and solidification of our current borders in ratified treaty.

The two Sicilies thanks the most holy Caliph for lending us his ear,
In Royal Regard,
King Ferdinand II de Bourbon - king of the Two Sicilies, and by the grace of god, Angevin-King of the Albanians

Lecce Regimental Camp,
Mezzogiorno, Two Sicilies (1st Mar)

A light-hearted fanfare signalled the end of Joseph's guard shift, along with the impending darkness of dusk. Muddied boots carried the young Neapolitan man to his mess tent, trudging along the gravelled pathway of the Regimental camp at Lecce. All around him veterans and greenbloods alike shared their evening meals from communal cookfires near the centre of the encampment. Volunteers from Apulia had been streaming into the recruitment office, some chasing the pension, whilst others enlisted out of pride.

Both types were fools, Joseph knew. War was not for the light-hearted, and whilst he did not doubt the morale and camaraderie enjoyed by those volunteers, they would certainly be sick of it by the end. Perhaps they wouldn't be, but the thought held little traction in the Neapolitan's cynical mind. A sudden wave of inertia overcame him, killing any desire to attend the evening mess tent. Turning for the sleeping quarters of the 2nd Foot Guard, Joseph set off once more, he had boots to clean, a musket to polish and cot to rest in - frankly, this was the life for him.

by **Senkaku** » Fri Oct 16, 2015 10:30 pm

WORK IN MOTHERFUCKING PROGRESS RIGHT HERE

Ten Thousand Years, Chapter Two: The Jackals of Dongjing

This thing all things devours: birds, beasts, trees, flowers; gnaws iron, bites steel; grinds hard stones to meal; slays king, ruins town, and beats high mountain down.

Dongjing
The Imperial Palace
Dragon Pavilion
February 17th

Even in daylight, the Chancellery was filled with light. Every lamp was lit, candles and crystal mirrors placed all around, the decorations of gold and gems glinting in the extravagant radiance. Some staffers and lower-level bureaucrats had taken to wearing the darkened glasses of the type that judges sometimes wore, not to hide their expressions but simply so they could see past the glare.
A new type of radiance was entering the Chancellery now.

Xi Shi sinks fish
Wang Zhaojun entice birds falling
Diaochan eclipses the moon
Yang Guifei shames flowers

Zhen Lifen dulls pearls

The Precious Consort had arrived in a palanquin, unannounced and unexpected, in the middle of the afternoon. It had been unseasonably warm today, in Dongjing, and the forbidden city and the city outside were bustling with people enjoying the spring warmth. She ascended the Longting Pavilion's outer steps without the aid of the palanquin, heading to the highest level and brushing off the few bureaucrats who tried to stop her.

An Bing was breathing hard when he entered Zian's office.
"Sir..."
Zian turned towards him, perceiving alarm in his blurry, dim, distant face. "What is it, Bing?"
"Sir, Zhen Lifen is coming to see you."
"The Precious Consort is coming to see me? When?"
A lovely voice that had always eerily reminded him of the Empress Yin's came from the door at the other end of the office. "Now suits me, Chancellor Chen. Or shall I come back later?"
An Bing turned, bowing, and Zian rose to bow as well. "We are honored to have you here, my lady," the Chancellor said graciously. "Is there any way this one can be of assistance?"
"I would like to talk to you, Chancellor," Lifen said simply, stepping through the doorway. She shot a glance at An Bing. "Perhaps Censor An could leave us?"
"Of course." Zian nodded at Bing, who bowed again and exited, closing the door behind him. The Precious Consort came over to the Chancellor's desk, sitting down in a chair on the opposite side.
"Please, Chancellor, sit." She smiled graciously, and Zian, despite his knowledge of the woman sitting across from him, felt a little glow that he had been able to make this beautiful creature smile.
"What would you care to talk about with your humble servant, my lady?", he said evenly.
"I feel I have been remiss in my duties to learn more about the governance of the realm. I have been honored with the favor of the Son of Heaven for three years, now, and even on occasion supported certain members of the court in certain goals, but I know little about how this empire is truly ruled."
"By the will of the Son of Heaven," Zian intoned.
"Of course," Lifen said delicately, and paused. "May we speak very frankly here, Chancellor?"
"I am not in a habit of airing my private conversations to the wide world," the Chancellor said cautiously.
"Good," she said briskly. "I think you want much the same thing as me, actually. We can both see the imperial court is more interested in their personal lives than with running the empire. My beloved, wise though he is, is no longer young, and the affairs of state tire him more easily than they did in his youth. Chancellor Chen, I want a man who can help me to try and... and..." she sighed in frustration.
"Change course?"
"Yes. Because the Son of Heaven can only do so much."
Zian smiled. "Well, my lady, where would like to begin?"

Daijizhuang
Huaiyang County
Zhoukou Prefecture
February 18th

Lion met with Fox for est. 2 hrs. yesterday. Do not know what was discussed. Seemed in good mood after, as did Fox. Possible protection for Weasel being discussed? The Admiral will be disappointed if so. Concern seems warranted, at the least. Will send any further information I find.

-Bing

"So glad to see you again, Chun," the Empress said with a smile. The old man bowed again.
"Radiant empress, your humble servant is honored that you have seen fit to call upon him."
Yin leaned back in her seat a little, regarding Liang Chun over a steaming cup of tea. In his youth, he had been one of the bright stars of the imperial court- a jinshi graduate who had risen to become a general, carrying out several successful campaigns in Fusang against local tribes, then an admiral fighting Japanese and Nusantaran pirates everywhere from the South China Sea to Penglai, then returning to court to write prolifically in a wide variety of subjects. He still held an honorary post as commander of around 6,000 men garrisoning Taikang County, to the north of here.
He had also, before the arrival of the Precious Consort, the exile of the Empress, and his own retirement, been one of the closest allies of the Empress Yin.
"What can I do for you, illustrious lady?"
"Do you still have any contacts in the capital, Chun?"
"A few men and women I write with and sometimes see, and the merchant company that supplies my household with fresh fruit. Why?"
"I want a certain type of man. A man with a very particular skillset." She sipped her tea.
Chun gave her a slightly worried look. "I may be able to put you in touch with one I know, I think."

Dongjing
Tieta Lake Park
The Iron Pagoda
February 21st

Early spring drew people to Kaifeng's parks in droves. Commoners, from the lowliest beggars and street orphans, to middle-class merchants, and even dukes and lords and high-ranking courtiers and magistrates came out to enjoy the breath of warmth that now filled the air.
Among them was the Precious Consort. Lifen's palanquin was meandering past the Iron Pagoda now, heading back towards the palace after a pleasant few hours with some of her ladies, even having talked to some common citizens of the realm. It had been a pleasant excursion, and now she was (very unusually) almost moved to write a poem about the way the afternoon sun glanced off of the Iron Pagoda's bricks.

Before she could decide whether or not she would, when she returned to the palace, a great force picked her up and hurled her from her palanquin, skidding across rough ground and tearing her silk, throwing her hair and jewelry into disarray. There was an enormous noise and she was suddenly blinded by a instantly-descending fog, through which now there was only the dark pillar of the pagoda visible. Something hit her ankle and she felt a horrid burning sting, staggering away from the smoke and the screams she could now hear filtering in through her ears. Her right ear hurt, too- she raised a hand and looked at it, appalled, when it came away bloody.
Some time later, the Imperial Guards who had rushed to the scene found the Precious Consort, scratched, her clothes torn and hair disheveled, bleeding from her ear and a cut on her ankle where a piece of shrapnel had wounded her, sitting with her back against the Iron Pagoda.

She was whisked back to the palace as all of Tieta Lake Park was shut down, and the Emperor was informed.

No one could say what would happen next, but soon everyone in Dongjing knew that the full wrath of the Son of Heaven had been incurred.

The Imperial Palace
Hall of Infinite Splendor

The Datong Emperor sat on the Dragon Throne as if he had been carved out of granite, his eyes narrowed in anger. Emperors did not have to hide the fury that they felt, and he certainly was making no effort to disguise his.
"We have called this audience," he said, his voice booming through the vast throne room, "to review exactly how an assassin's bomb came to nearly take the life of our beloved consort Zhen Lifen. Chief Censor Zhang, you will explain why the Censorate so utterly failed to detect this plot, I am sure."
Zhang Tai was like a mirror-smooth lake, without any trace of emotion on his narrow face as he sank to his knees and pressed his forehead to the ground. "Radiant lord, truly, your humble servant has failed you. I have no excuse for this unspeakable failing on my part and the Censorate's."
The emperor gritted his teeth. "Can no one here explain how a bomb was planted not fifty feet from her palanquin?"

A tall, slightly plump eunuch stepped forward from the rows of courtiers filling the room, also kowtowing.
"Radiant lord, this one may be able to shed some light on what has happened here."
The emperor's eyes flicked over to him, dark, hard, questioning. "Do inform us, Censor An," he snapped.
"August lord, glorious emperor- this one, in his lack of foresight, could not have imagined such a thing would occur when he discovered it. But... a certain man with cut sleeves," he said carefully, "a man from Nusantara... Radiance, this one, I discovered, was an agent of the southrons, sent to infiltrate Dongjing."
"What is the significance of this?", the Emperor said, sitting up a little. Across the aisle, nearer to the throne, Zhen Liu was slowly turning white.
"Radiant lord, before he was mysteriously killed, the Censorate received intelligence that he may have consorted with Vice-Chancellor Zhen," An Bing said gravely.

The room went utterly silent as Datong slowly turned a gaze of tiger-like intensity on Liu.
"Is this true, Vice-Chancellor?", he said softly.
The Vice-Chancellor only sank to his knees and pressed his forehead to the ground. Zian took a deep breath and called softly from where he stood by the throne.
"Guards, hold Vice-Chancellor Zhen at the Emperor's pleasure," he said gravely.

There was a long pause as the Vice-Chancellor was led from the room, and then the emperor spoke again.
"Vice-Chancellor Zhen will be stripped of his offices and returned to the Zhen family estate in Hunan. All his other properties are to be forfeit to the crown. Grand Admiral Shen, you will send word to Guangzhou and Manila to mobilize the South Sea Fleet. Chancellor, you will instruct the Hanoi Viceroy to order the Viet to mobilize their fleet on the Mekong Delta. We must assume that this attack was an attempt to destabilize the court before an attack and prepare for the worst."

As people flowed out of the imperial throne room, among them were some of the Datong Emperor's dozens of children- specifically, the Imperial Triplets, as they were called. Prince Song, Prince Yinjin, and Princess Meilin were among the Emperor's younger children, at just nineteen.
"He wasn't even there," Meilin whispered to her brothers as they hurried out of the throne room.
"He must've been, Father wouldn't let him skip something like this," Song objected.
"She's right," his brother Yinjin said, shaking his head. "I would've told you before, but I had to hurry here. My man in Lantai said he was out working on his pagoda by the Northern Gates."
"So he just missed us getting ready for war with the southrons?", Song said, making a face. "Right hand to the gods, I never thought Father would give him this much free rein."
"Gang will do whatever he wants to do," Meilin said in a tone of disgust. "And he will continue to when he is Emperor."
"Do you think we should, then?", Yinjin said softly, stopping in the hallway to look between both of them.

"Chancellor Chen will be dead in five years or so," Song said heavily. "Gang will be on the throne within ten and responsible for most of the government whenever Chen dies, since I doubt Li Chao or Father will be able to step up to the plate."
Meilin looked down. "So do we plot against our own brother, or do what we know is right for the empire?"
Yinjin took a deep breath.
"At the least, perhaps we should ensure Gang has a council of regents to... free him to his other inclinations."
Song let out a breath. "Yes. That's better... better than the other way."

POST SUMMARY:

-Prince Song, Princess Meilin, and Prince Yinjin are plotting against their older brother Crown Prince Gang.
-Zhen Liu has been disgraced in the light of revelations provided by An Bing, and the Precious Consort has been forced to abandon him to exile in Hunan.
-The Chancellor and the Precious Consort have met in the Dragon Pavilion to talk and have found more in common than might be expected.
-The Emperor has ordered the Censorate to search extensively for Nusantaran spies in light of the nameless man in the Censorate being discovered to have compromised the Precious Consort's cousin, and sent word to mobilize the Luzon and Guangdong Fleets, as well as the Vietnamese fleet on the Mekong Delta.
-Empress Yin may be slightly suspicious of the Chancellor and is continuing her machinations against Zhen Lifen.
-The Precious Consort has narrowly evaded a bomb attack travelling through Dongjing by unknown assailants.

by **Elepis** » Sat Oct 17, 2015 2:02 am

The Mameluke Caliphate of Egypt and the Levant
Imperial City of Cairo

Chapter 1: “Why do you dress me in borrowed robes?”-Macbeth

Cairo Citadel, Imperial City of Cario, Egypt
January 15th, 1835 CE

I hate dust

Caliph of all Islam, Sultan of the Mameluke Empire, al-Mansour Seif al-Din Qalawun Saladini, skimmed the surface of his window sill. The ridges of his finger were covered in a light blanket of dust, turning his finger a light tone of grey, barely visible in the glaring light of the room. It was not the cleaning maids' fault but the construction work taking place on the building which caused the endless stream of dust. The building work Cairo Citadel was expected to be completed one year from now, after almost a decade of construction it would be completed. Funds had to be managed tightly, with only very few going to wasting on commodities like the Citadel, and most going to building infrastructure and arming the military, as well as creating factories and plantations to provide work for the population.

Since Ali, the grandfather of Saladini, had came to power, over a three decades ago now, the weapons manufacturing industry had really taken speed, new factories in Cairo and Alexandria were producing 2,000 rifles per month and shipyards along the coast had built and finished a new Egyptian fleet, resplendent with ten mighty first rate ships-of-the-line. The cultivation of the Nile Delta, the Euphrates and Tigris had also provided another new source of money and employment, with vast cotton plantations growing up around the swamps. Ali had stopped foreign companies from take control of the plantations and new factories and instead nationalized them, making sure the profits stayed in Egypt instead of London or Paris.

The current Caliph-Sultan, Mansour Saladini, looked up from the his newly completed palace in the Citadel and surveyed the building work. The new mosque growing int he heart of the Citadel was the main source of the dust. The mosque was being built in memory of Saladini's father, Ibrahim, who had died in 1832. Ibrahim should have been Caliph now instead of the twenty eight year old Saladini. However Ibrahim, along with his father, Ali, had drowned three years ago off the coast of Sinai as their ship pulled out of the small port of Aqaba. Thus the twenty five year old Mansour Saladini had first been crowned in Cario as Sultan of all Egypt, and then a week later, crowned Caliph of all Islam in the Grand Mosque at Mecca, within sight of the holy Kabbah.

He turned inside, closing the shutter and placing a piece of Italian Parmesan cheese in his mouth as he heard footsteps approaching. The door opened and a White Guardsman entered. He wore the light white tunic and trouser, light blue shirt and black fez of the elite guards and had an English made Percussion Cap rifle slung over one shoulder. The White Guards were an elite unit of Dragoons, who, along with the Mameluke Guards, were responsible for guarding the Sultan. He bowed and announced the arrival of an Imperial Messenger. The Caliph-Sultan nodded, signalling that the messenger should enter, then sat in a small camping chair next to an open window, the sounds of people shouting in the market below the Citadel filling his ears.

The young man entered, took off his blue fez and bowed to the Caliph, kissing his hand as he did so. The messenger stood, straitening the yellow tunic of his organization and handed the Caliph to letters, newly arrived from Alexandria. He bowed again and took four steps away from his monarch.

The first letter the Caliph looked at was sealed with the blue wax of the Kingdom of Hellas, on it was imprinted the cross of the Greek Orthodox religion. Egypt and Hellas had a mixed relationship. They both despised the Sultanate of Rum and both disliked the continued influence of Venice in the eastern Mediterranean which meant they were brought together by a bond of de facto military support. However there was also a dark side to their history. From the Greek point of view, the Caliph-Sultan was the infidel oppressor of good Greeks and Christians, particularly in regards to Cyprus and Jerusalem. From the Egyptian perspective, Greek rebels had massacred thousands of innocent Muslim across what would become Hellas, purely because of their faith. Saladini, being the Caliph of all Islam, obviously took massive offence to this and many important clerics routinely demanded revenge, or at least an apology by the Greeks. Despite this, Egypt and Hellas stilled considered each other friends, if not outright allies, because of their shared goals for the region.

The letter was from one Alexandros Mavrokordatos, a Minister in the government of Queen Alexandrine. It, in short, was asking for military support against Rum, Venice and Epirus. The Caliph smiled at this, Rum was the Caliphate's oldest and most powerful enemy, getting rid of Rum would open up a period of Egyptian prosperity not seen since the days of Ramesses the Great. Breaking the power of Venice would also be beneficial to Egypt, although the Caliph was ensure what gain he would get from warring against the barbarians of Epirus. Still, he took up his pen and began to write.

From: The Mameluke Caliphate of Egypt and the Levant
To: The Office of Alexandros Mavrokordatos

Greetings,
As you well know Egypt has had a long history of violence with the Sultanate of Rum, and, to a lesser extent, the Republic of Venice. Thus, it has been decided by myself and by the Imperial Council, that Egypt will back you in seeking to reclaim the lands you consider rightfully yours that are currently held by either Rum or Venice. If you go to war with Rum, or Rum attacks your own nations, Egypt will invade Rum from the south with a force numbering over 50,000 soldiers (the exact size of the force will vary depending on conditions within Empire) . If for any reason you are losing your war against Rum, Egypt will be willing to supply soldiers and ships to shore up your front as well.

If your nation wars against Venice, Egypt will aide you with ships and soldiers as well, however Egyptian intervention in a conflict against Venice would be markedly smaller as at present the Caliphate does not share a land border with the Republic. On the subject of Eprius, I do not know what help Egypt could supply as their country is far away from our heartlands. However any help we can give, we will give.

Thus I propose a deal:
A) Both nations will agree to military help if either goes to war against Rum or Venice
B) A mutual defensive alliance
C) In the event of war with Rum, Egypt will be given all of Anatolia currently held by the Sultanate, bar those that have a majority Greek population which shall go to your nation of Hellas
D) Free trade shall be established between Hellas and Egypt
E) The Queen of Hellas, or the Foreign Minister will publicly apologies for the unjust massacre of Muslim civilians during the War of Independence
F) Egypt will sell the island of Cyprus to Greece as a gesture of good will (I will leave it to you to name a price)

May Allah Bless You,
Caliph of all Islam, Sultan of Egypt and the Levant, Caliph-Sultan al-Mansour Seif al-Din Qalawun Saladini.

The second letter was from the Kingdom of the Two Sicilies, his proposition was an interesting one. In return for Egyptian recognition on his claim to Epirus, he would open up a port of Sicily to free trade with Egypt. He was also willing to solidify the border between Sicilian and Egyptian held Libya. Being friendly with Sicily would carry some benefits. Sicily was perhaps the most powerful Italian state and had an important position in the centre of the Mediterranean with a respectable navy and vast trading fleet. However, agreeing to the proposition of the Bourbon King would mean compromising Egypt's relationship with Greece, and at present good relations with Greece were far more important to Egypt than good relations with Sicily.

From: The Mameluke Caliphate of Egypt and the Levant
To: The Office of the King of Sicily

Greetings,
I am very pleased to have heard from your royal self and I can assure you Egypt wants only good relations with the Kingdom of Sicily. I am very pleased to hear of your plans to open Messina to Egyptian traders. In return, Egypt shall open up the ports of Benghazi and Beirut to Sicilian traders. I also agree to your plan to end the low level, cross border conflict in Libya.

However, unfortunately I cannot agree to recognize yourself as the King of Epirus at present as this would conflict with deals we already have with other allies in the region.

May Allah Bless You,
Caliph of all Islam, Sultan of Egypt and the Levant, Caliph-Sultan al-Mansour Seif al-Din Qalawun Saladini.

by **Altito Asmoro** » Sat Oct 17, 2015 8:05 pm

The Ever Triumphant Empire of Nusantara

The Nusantara empire has grown far and beyond the Majapahit empire, even beyond. What should be done now is the fact that Song is a threat to Nusantara

WIP

by **Alleniana** » Sun Oct 18, 2015 2:58 am

RES PVBLICA HELVETICA

An ElectionP1 429

A small house on the outskirts of Freiburg im Breisgau, Stand Breisgau, Schweizerische Republik
26th January, MDCCCXXXV Anno Domini

The man looked at the needle.

"Click",
the needle went.

"Click",
another needle went.

The man turned to the side, bent over, and wrote "R/21".

"Click, click, click, click".

The man bent over again, and wrote "M/15".

R/21, M/15, L/14, I/11, T/23, H/10, D/6, D/6, F/8, C/5, C/5, ß/4, S/22, ß/4, ... R/21, O/17, A/1, ... R/21, U/24, A/1, ..... I/11, A/1

Legislative Assembly Main Elections
Republican - 15
Liberal - 11
Traditionalist - 10
Democratic - 6
Federalist - 5
Catholic - 4
Swiss Reformed - 4
Romansh - 1
Rural - 1
Legislative Assembly Italian Tyrol Elections
Italian - 1

After one last study of the result paper, making sure that everything was correct, the painfully quiet room turned into a banging, thrashing, cracking whirlwind, as he roughly folded the paper, stuffing it into his pocket while pacing across the room. He pulled his jacket off the hook, threw the dust cover over the machine, grabbed the circle of jingling keys, smacked a delicate lever on the wall and burst out of the door, taking but a second to lock it and shake the handle to ensure its steadfastness before sprinting off down the cobbles. A maid looked out above the windowsill she was dusting, quizzically following the dishevelling man's haste, before returning to her work a few seconds later.

"Bert, Bertie, Berto! Here it is, here it is!"
"What, quick, come here! Give it to me!"
The paper almost ripped as he tore it from his pocket, placing it in the other man's inked, leathery hands. He didn't even take the time to open it and read it, but simply turned and jumped a step to a table, strewn with barren cylinders and the little curved letter pieces that fit into them. He laid the letter flat and took up one of the smaller cylinders, with already some letters pre-prepared in the top and sides, then, eyes flicking back and forth with measured familiarity, began to click the little tiles into place.

The messenger caught his breath, hands on knees, listening to the clicking and his breathing in the otherwise greasily silent room.

"What was the Chancellor's middle name again? Johann something?"
"Yes, yes, Johann Schmitz. Hans Johann Schmitz," the telegrapher replied.

"Done", came the signal to nobody in particular, and the printer inserted the cylinder, after a cursory spinning inspection, into the jobbing press. The messenger, by now, recovered, watched the man begin to spin the pedals, treading, churning out a whole pile of inked sheets. The machine still amazed him even then, though obviously not the printer.

A knock came at the door. "That'll be the paper boys, let them in."

He ambled to the door, and indeed, was a handful of teenage boys, bags and baskets ready.

"Over here, take... fifty each, charge a schilling... no, don't charge extra, but shout loud, and they'll come running. Big news. The election. You're all here? Good, no tardy ones. Come on, take them."

Each came up in turn and counted out fifty from the stack, and by the time they were done, the printer had already dismounted and walked through to the back, to get more paper.

"Go on, the paper isn't going to sell itself!"

They dispersed into the streets of Freiburg im Breisgau, barking at the top of their lungs. Back in the shop, the messenger had left, and the printer was treading out a new batch of papers. Of newspapers.

by **Liecthenbourg** » Sun Oct 18, 2015 5:42 am

The United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland

Dieu et Mon Droit

Chapter 2: Of Company, Crown and Conroy

A self portrait of Victoria
Drawn during her trips across Britain

Holkham Hall, Norfolk
March 4th, 1835

Victoria hated this. These trips were pointless to her. She'd scream and rage within herself, calling on God to curse her mother and Sir John Conroy for their oppressive attitude towards her. All day everyday, she was boxed and regulated to within an inch of her life. It became a monotonous hell of a childhood. Lessons, short periods of relaxation, lessons. Day in day out. It bothered her immensely. No childhood friends for they were all deemed 'undesirables' by her mother and the Lord. And now here she was, at a familial stay at Holkham Hall in Norfolk with a dozen people she knew only through occasional correspondence and few meetings and and half a dozen people she'd never even met before, let alone knew anything of their person.

She forced a smile to her face and stepped out of the carriage. Sir Conroy, ever the gentleman in public, chivalrously assisted her in stepping down onto the cobbled road and she repaid him in kind with a clearly obvious fake smile. He scowled and she merely continued walking, leaving the equerry of the Duchess of Kent alone. "Fetch my bags for me, if you could do please, Sir." She called to him as she approached the rest of her entourage. The gathering was plentiful and large, yet she only knew one of the individuals present well enough: her uncle, William, King.

"It is good to see you, your Majesty." She performed a graceful courtesy, picking up her dress in a manner most ladylike.

At that, William scoffed and waved her off most un-sovereign like.

"Victoria, my name is William and I expect you to use it." A small smile spread across his lips and it was only then Victoria noticed how weary the man looked. His eye sockets were powered, intensively, clearly at some intention to remove the black rings beginning to form around them, his face creased when his lips extended or parted and his cheeks were beginning to become rather hollow. This was not the man she could recall having seen a few years prior, nor the one captured in the few portraits she had seen. Despite their friendlessness, Victoria knew there was a little animosity between her uncle and herself. Ever since their trips earlier, specifically the ones to Malvern Hills, she had seen him scowl and frown at how the people welcomed her. It had dawned on her early on that William saw her more as a rival than his heir and she tried her best to avoid these trips. Her mother did not oblige.

Just as Victoria was about to continue, a hand placed itself on her shoulder. It was a feeling she despised with every fibre of her being. It was control. She clenched her teeth slightly, clasping her hands together.

"Hello, mother." Was all she said. William gave a quick glance at the two and furrowed his brow.

"Come dear." Mary Louise Victoria told her daughter. "We have much to do, much to do indeed."

"Leave her be, woman." William declared, grabbing onto the German woman's hand and prying it off the shoulder of his niece.

"Your Majesty, I would please request you leave par-" William raised his hand in a stopping gesture and Victoria merely shook her head.

"Uncle, its fine tru-" The King of Britain, Ireland and Hanover raised his hand in refusal again. The heir presumptive took note and saw within the man that was King a determination that she could associate with the stories she had heard and the portraits she had witnessed. Here she saw the man whom had fought in the Americas, ascended the throne and battled with Whig and Tory alike in Parliament attempting to impose his ideas on them before being battled back by the staunch will of the people's support of the Whigs.

William's glance returned to the German Princess. "I would highly suggest you leave Victoria be for the duration of this trip. Allow her freedom of reign, or God so help me I will see you sent packing back to Saxe-Coburg-Saalfeld faster than you can say 'Achtung' . You may have been married to my brother, but he's long gone and the rumours circling you are disgusting. Go, out of my sight."

"Your Majesty, I implore you please!"

"I hope to live to the day Victoria reaches 18, so you will never be regent of this country!" With that, the individuals nearby had heard the King's outburst but played it so as if they had paid no mind. Quickly and under watchful gaze, the Princess Victoria of Saxe-Coburg-Saalfeld clutched the edges of her dress and parted from her daughter and her brother in law. With that dealt with, William gave another weary and tired smile to his niece and began to personally give her a tour of the Country House, the Hall of Holkham.

After the tour, as Monarch and Heir stepped down the illustrious stairs of the Marble Hall, Dash, Victoria's Charles Spaniel, began a barking frenzy and its little legs went into a scurry as it descended down the stairs, ahead of William and Victoria. Both looked up, startled, and saw that the tiny dog was circling the legs of another individual. He was a tall lad, lean, but well bit - every conception of Germanic identity could be seen in this man - dark haired, with piercing brown eyes. He knelt down, scratching the dog on its quaint head and sent it scurrying back to Victoria, whom gave a smile - a genuine one - to this newcomer.

"Victoria?" William interjected. "May I introduce you to Frederick Wilhelm of Prussia, grandson of the Prussian King. He is serving as my ward."

Victoria smiled as the German took her hand in a very gentlemanly fashion, placing a kiss on her fingers. Perhaps this trip wont be so bad after all.

The East India House, London

Lahore, Sikh Empire
11th March

The sun of the Indian Subcontinent was a painful one indeed. Friedrich von Hohenzollern, Captain of the Hanoverian Regiment of India, - one of the most respected regiments in the British Armed Forces - wiped his brow with a damp cloth and exhaled greatly. He took a swig from his water canister, before continuing to march in tune with his men. Like their British counterparts the staunch and stalwart men of Hanover were dressed in red, a contrast to the mixed and match uniforms of the Company Soldiers - many of whom wore red, but not as deep as that of the proper British soldiers - and the princely states' troops, a vast array of oranges, greens and purples. Gurkhas, too, were in the British force but the Hanoverian could not see any from his position as the holder of the rear guard.

The gargantuan army of India was somewhat 1,750,000 men strong if the most recent censuses could be taken as accurate, which they generally were. Ever since Bentinck's declaration of war a mass mobilisation had begun across India. The troops closest to the Sikh Empire were up and around first and all the rest had become a ripple effect of grand proportions. Whilst it was not expected that all the 1,750,000 men would be needed to be used to assault the Empire, the British and Princes knew the Sikh were hardy warriors indeed. 'Tough buggers', as they had been described by one of the Company Officials coming along with the army. This group, the army moving to assault the important city of Lahore was known as The Army of Delhi. The Army of Bengal, it had been heard, was already marching towards the besieged town of Dehradun to relieve it and then strike into Kashmir, to complete the two pronged attack favoured by the organisers of the affair.

Friedrich's Hanoverians were a respected bunch. To the Company soldiers whom would mutter about how Germans were here in British land, they would respond by tapping the cuffs on their arms with the word GIBRALTAR proudly sown into them. This particularly Hanoverian Regiment had also been the one that had served during the Great Siege of Gibraltar decades prior, and the honour of such a heritage was kept well preserved by her new additions that had learned of the triumph. Just as the Hanoverian was about to give it another glance and smile happily, a horseman rode by with eagerness and speed. The man was blowing his bugle, giving the call for battle formations. Friedrich clenched his teeth, called the order and the Hanoverians turned to form their battle lines. The assault on Lahore had begun, and the cannon signalled the battle cries of the opening of this orchestra of war.

A painting of the hills of Fraser Canyon

The Confluence of the Fraser and Thompson Rivers, Canadian Wilderness, British Claimed Canada
27th March, 1835

Canada was an untamed land. Rolling hills, forests as old as time and animals aplenty that filled the forests with sounds of life and flourish. British Columbia, as it was called, was a fledgling colony. Vancouver had a few thousand people living in it at best, many hopeful colonialists whom sought to make plenty of profit in the Lumber business. Others were those whom sought to start anew, in a new land of emptiness - where one could make a name for themselves through merit and hard work, not the entrenchment of classes found in Europe.

One of these hardy individuals was Lachlan McDougall, a Scots born man whom boarded the ship Valiant straight to Vancouver when he came of age. He was an adventurous lad, burly and homely too. And now he found himself exploring the Canadian Wilderness with little more than a dog as a companion. He trekked all day, marking paths out for future travellers. He did have accommodation aplenty in Vancouver, but his true employment was the underhand employment the British Governor had given him to survey the land for more suitable colonies to expand British influence. Whilst British claims of Canada drove straight through its heartland and towards the Hudson Bay, little had been done to further this claim - many even believed Canada was a lost cause - and Canada slowly but surely became less important to the eyes of British Ministers whilst South Africa, New Zealand and other areas grew.

Crunch

Crunch

His boots and his trekking stick would always make that relatively soothing sound against the dirt paths one could navigate. Churning against the leaves and the rocks. Little else made much of a noticeable sound, save the chirping of birds, the growls of animals and the whooshing of rivers. Which he had indeed begun to hear. He deduced it must've been either the Fraser or the Thompson, he knew from his cartography that both carved the landscape relatively nearby. And, being human as he was, he went to investigate not only to satisfy his curiosity but also to quench his thirst and cool down with a bathe, that he looked forward to.

As he emerged from the brush, he was slightly perplexed. It was a confluence of the rivers, or that is what he assumed. He drew forth his map from his rucksack, carefully charting down and drawing a brief sketch of this geographic detail. Soon, he folded the parchment neatly, put it into his rucksack and grabbed a goatskin sack. Entering the water at boot depth, after prodding it carefully with his trekking stick, he began to fill his flask with water. As he sealed it once more and prepared to remove his clothing to bathe properly, a shimmer caught his eye. He looked once more, furrowing his brow before running a hand across his auburn beard. His hand dove into the water, causing ripples to gracefully wave away. He pulled his hand out after he was certain he was holding onto what he had seen and washed the bits of dirt obscuring his vision entirely. He held it up to the sun, awestruck.

Gold.

From: The Office of Foreign Secretary Henry John Temple, 3rd Viscount Palmerston
To: The Office of Foreign Secretary Alexandros Mavrokordatos

Sir,
Whilst the plight of the Greeks is a terrible thing that had ached the hearts of philosophers and economists across Britain, whom view the Classical States of Greece with pomp and splendour and wish to help recreate the glory of Athens, Britain cannot commit herself to a military venture to aid you against Venetians, Turks and Epirusians at this moment in time. However, Britain will be able to support the Greek cause diplomatically and give her blessing to the Greeks in the events that Venice or the barbaric Turks from the steppes seek to cause harm to the Greek Nation we helped so graciously create. It may be possible for the fleet at Malta to provide our diplomatic words with the support of cannon, but far flung campaigns with ground troops may not be expected. Regardless, Britain will stand ready to assist you in any way she can.

May God Bless You,
Henry John Temple, 3rd Viscount Palmerston, Acting in the Interests of His Majesty, King William IV.

From: The Office of Foreign Secretary Henry John Temple, 3rd Viscount Palmerston
To: The Office of His Most Gracious Sovereign, King Ferdinand II de Bourbon

Your Grace,
Britain has always looked upon the Italian Peoples favourably; for your peninsula brought the world the much needed nation of Rome: They whom brought us under their wing, made us great and nurtured us to become the nations Europe has today. Whilst the Royal Navy would be absolutely pleased to fight ship-by-ship with their Italian Brethren, and we do highly approve of your suggestion of joint naval defences of the Mediterranean, we do not see it as a necessary thing you require your navy to commit to. We find it it may be better to keep your navy to protect your own shores against hostile attack from your fellow Italian States.

Additionally, whilst Britain would consider a defensive alliance our current relations with the Kingdom of Catalonia may be conflicting with yours. It is known in the British Parliament that your two nations do not see eye-to-eye on all issues, and such an alliance may make our Catalonia Compatriots look at us unfavourably.

I am sure you understand,

May God Bless You,
Henry John Temple, 3rd Viscount Palmerston, Acting in the Interests of His Majesty, King William IV.

by **Caltarania** » Sun Oct 18, 2015 6:26 am

Kingdom of Hellas
Βασίλειον τῆς Ἑλλάδος
Vasílion tis Elládos

Chapter 2 - Love is a Serious Mental Disease

Theme: "Day at the Market"

Athens, Hellas
February 22nd 1835

Alexandrine I,
Queen of Hellas

Alexandrine sat in her throne within her palace. She had ordered it named the Philadelphopalati upon her accession; the old name bored her, for they merely called it 'the Royal Palace', and that simply would not do. The young queen still remembered life before she became reigning monarch of one of Europe's newest - and oldest - states. It was a rather quick affair. She was simply told one day that she had been chosen to become Queen of Hellas, as decided at the Treaty of Budapest. In a matter of days, she was already on her way to Hellas, aged only 26. She could admit, now, that she was worried and nervous about becoming reigning absolute monarch of an entire country; she had thought previously that the only way she could have been called Queen was if she married a King.

Yet those days are now in the past, and in the present Alexandrine had more pressing concerns; namely her court. As Alexandrine reigned with absolute power, she felt it only fair that she open up court in order to hear the demands of the commoners, as was custom many centuries ago in Europe. So, therefore, she sat in her throne as commoner after commoner came to address her, with issues ranging from missing sheep to questions of constitutional reform. It bored her immensely. She sat through it, however, as she felt it was her duty as Queen of Hellas. Today's session, however, had a slight divergence from normal, as she noticed that among the commoners was also a man of noble birth. He was a rather old man - though clearly a wealthy one if his attire was any indication - who walked with a slight limp that appeared to have been caused more by battle than old age. As it came to his turn to address the queen, he bowed before her and then announced himself and his intent.

"Greetings, your Majesty." he said, formally, as most noblemen did. "My name is Nicholas Mavrocordatos, father of the Minister of Foreign Affairs, and I have come to ask for your hand in marriage." he said, to shock from around the court. Alexandrine herself was also surprised. Before she had her chance to speak, Mavrokordatos' servants were hauling in opulent goods and large bags of riches. "I do not come empty-handed." he said, smugly. Alexandrine readied herself to speak. "I thank you for your offer, and the gifts which you bring with it, yet fear that - in the short-term - I must respectfully decline." she said, to yet more shock from the court. Mavrokordatos scowled, ordered his servants to gather the goods they had hauled in, and stormed out of the room. Alexandrine sat back in her throne, as Prime Minister Spyridon Trikoupis rushed up to her. "With all due respect, your Majesty, have you gone mad?!" he exclaimed, albeit quietly. "The Mavrokordatos family is one of the richest families in Hellas, and yet you refuse his offer of marriage, at a time when our Kingdom is drawing closer to debt!" he said.

Alexandrine confidently replied. "I will not marry a man thrice my age and five times my size - who believes he can have me due to his vast wealth - unless he at least tries to win me over. I am a Queen, Prime Minister, not a harlot." Spyridon sunk his head. "No, your Majesty, a harlot would bring our kingdom much needed income." he muttered under his breath. Queen Alexandrine ignored him. "In addition, what will your Foreign Minister think of this, your Majesty? You rejected his father's offer of marriage!" he said. "He will forgive me, lest I take away his post." Alexandrine replied. As the day of court drew to a close, night fell upon Athens. Alexandrine - flanked by her Spartan guards - left her palace for a short walk around the gardens. It was truly beautiful, with plants and flowers and trees from foreign and exotic lands, with grass as green as a freshly-picked Granny Smith. Suddenly, out of nowhere, a knife flew past the Queen's face, gently grazing her locks and cutting a few strands of hair from them. Her guards quickly jumped to attention, as one helped her to the ground and covered her with his body, and as the others looked for the culprit. After a few minutes of standing around, the guards reasoned that the culprit had escaped. One of them picked up the knife and noticed it had a letter attached to it, which read "the Mavrokordatos' send their regards".

Dear Father

Father, I am in deep shock. Last night an attempt was made on my life, and if the truth matches my belief, then the Mavrokordatos family are engaged in a plot that would take my life from me. I fear for my life, and for my Kingdom, for if I fall, who should take my place as Queen? I urge you to denounce these petty plotters and their conspirators, so that I may be once again safe. For the sake of myself and the the sake of Hellas, I hope that you will support me in my endeavour to rout-out these traitors and bring them to justice.

Yours Faithfully,

Alexy

From the Ministry of Foreign Affairs of the
Kingdom of Hellas

Dear Mansour Saladini, Caliph of Islam and Sultan of the Mamluk Caliphate,

It greatly pleases us that our two grand states can have such a cooperative and mutually fruitful relationship. We now feel safe from the war mongering Turks and the expansionist Venetians, thanks to your nation's assured support. In regards to your proposed deal, there are areas in which we wish to amend. Below we will established our own, edited proposal for the future prosperity of our two states.

A) Both nations will agree to military help if either goes to war against Rum or Venice.
B) A mutual defensive alliance will be signed between the two states.
C) In the event of war with Rum, the Sultanate's territory will be split thusly, as shown on this map.
D) Free trade shall be established between Hellas and Egypt.
E) Alexandros Mavrokordatos, Minister of Foreign Affairs, will publicly apologise for the unjust massacre of Muslim civilians during the War of Independence.
F) Egypt will sell the island of Cyprus to Greece as a gesture of good will, for £2,500.
G) Should Izmir return to Greek hands, a small fleet of Mamluke ships will be given docking rights in exchange for yearly rent to the Kingdom of Hellas.

Yours Sincerely,

Ministry of Foreign Affairs of the Kingdom of Hellas,
Minister of Foreign Affairs Alexandros Mavrokordatos,
Representative of Her Majesty Queen Alexandrine I of the Kingdom of Hellas

by **Kisinger** » Sun Oct 18, 2015 7:24 am

Birodalom közül Magyarországon

Chapter 2: A Proposal

25th of February, 1835
Royal Palace
Pest, Province of Pest, Kingdom of Hungary, Empire of Hungary

Simon confidently walked forward speaking to his brother, Peter III, "Peter, how are you and your wife doing these days?" Peter smiled, "Quite well Simon quite well, I'm sad to hear you have not married yet brother." Simon simply smiled taping at the ground with his cane smiling, he hadn't thought of marrying, he had been raised to rule and had been doing as such hadn't given any thought to a family.

"Hm, I suppose I could try and court a lady, the current actions for the next three months are already in place.." Simon wondered who though. who would want to talk to him let alone get along with his business like demeanor and his devotion to his job as Emperor. Peter looked to him chuckling, "Brother, it's been right in front of you, the Queen of Hellas obviously! It could possibly secure your ties, and possibly push out the Prussians."

Simon nodded, "I suppose, if you'll excuse me while I go write a letter." He smiled looking at him. "Of course, we can talk another time. Just don't be an idiot about it." He said chuckling. Simon smiled nodded and quickly walked off thinking of how to phrase the letter and how to properly introduce himself."

by **Relikai** » Sun Oct 18, 2015 9:26 am

The United Kingdom of the Netherlands.

The Diplomatic Office

From: The Office of Foreign Secretary Henry John Temple, 3rd Viscount Palmerston
To: His Majesty, Stadtholder William I

Your Majesty,
It is well known across both our nations that the nation conglomerate that comprises of the isles of Indonesia and northern Australia have plagued both Dutch and British interests in the South Seas for quite some time. It is because of this context and our historic friendship that I suggest we take a pre-emptive strike on these people to remove their influences from Australia and to divide the isles of Indonesia amongst ourselves to cut out their irrational middle-man like behaviour on the selling of spices to the European Market.

May God Bless You,
Henry John Temple, 3rd Viscount Palmerston, Acting in the Interests of His Majesty, King William IV and in the Interests of the British Admiralty, Military, Public and Politicians.

From: His Majesty, Stadtholder William I
To: The Office of Foreign Secretary Henry John Temple, 3rd Viscount Palmerston

Sent 1 March, 1835.

Dear Sir,
The threat to Dutch holdings is as real as they are to yours. A pre-emptive strike would be a good proposition with the British standing by us in a bid to expand into the global markets. The Dutch fleets based in Australia are already prepared to fend off any attack, and the standing army also prepared to make a push for the remnants of northern Australia. Should our campaign be a success and we are able to force them into ceding territories, the Dutch will definitely honour the contributions of the British.

If this plan is sealed in agreement, we allow the British fleet to deploy from Dutch Guinea and Dutch Australia.

May God Bless You,
Stadtholder William I, of the United Kingdom of the Netherlands.

Sealing the letter in a scroll, William I stood and watched the setting sun. The breaking off of Belgium still weighed heavily in his mind, and the threat facing Dutch Australia has become a reality. The Army of Neuhollande is well trained and equipped, but lacking in numbers should they get attacked in force. The Fleet is in better shape, having a good history of combating pirates and rogue privateers.

"Is Marcel de Vrij here?" William I asked an aide. The general of the Holland Guard, a relative of the famous de Vrij family who founded Australia, is no soft handed gentleman. He has demanded a place in the Colonial Fleet during a run towards Neuhollande, and established himself through leading a platoon against several skirmishes with hostile natives.

"Sir, Marcel de Vrij, Hollande Guard of Your Majesty, answering your call." Marcel reported a moment later. His office was down the corridor, overlooking a yard where the Haag's Guard trains.

"Marcel, the British might be willing to aid us against the rising threat Neuhollande face. Are there any Guard companies which can be transported over?"

"Sir. I have 400 men able to redeploy to anywhere we want. That is five companies. I have already plotted the cost for transportation to the furthest location, and they fall within the operating budget. I am willing to personally lead the Guard to Neuhollande. The Colonel of the Guard, Julian van Helsen, is more than adequate to take my place to defend the Homeland."

William sighed. Marcel was one of the best commanders and leaders of the Dutch Army, and for the protection of the Homeland, keeping him here would be the best option for national security. However, in this era of colonialism, what is home? Holland, whose factories require so much resources, or Neuhollande, where people are flocking to for space and promise, which they the Dutch are willing to go to war with?

"Marcel de Vrij, this is a hard decision, but I accept your proposal. Lead our men to Neuhollande, and take command of the Army of Neuhollande. Do our nation proud."

Neuhollande

February 12, 1835

The colonists, each one armed with a musket and standing in line formation, fired their weapons at a group of training dummies set up themselves. The militia of Neuhollande, comprising of labourers and farmers, trained hard under the supervision of Colonial Stadtholder Remian Woost. Discipline is key, they say. Holding one's fire until the enemy is within effective range, and being able to fire two shots per minute is an achievement for the militia. The line infantry can fire three, same as the dragoons.

The Navy's pride remained anchored off the coast. The RDNS (Royal Dutch Navy Ship) Amsterdam, a 108-gun Ship of the Line, the flagship of Neuhollande. After clearing pirates from the local seas, the Navy has been concentrating their efforts in maintaining order and Dutch influence across Neuhollande and Guinea. With the fleet and marines, Remian hoped that they would be able to challenge the barbaric empire which has antagonized them for long. Several months ago, Remian has sent out a message for Amsterdam, of northern aggression. Himself itching for action against the savages to secure Neuhollande and the neighbouring lands for himself, Remian has also brought forward his regiments, and would be ready to march at his call for war.

by **Elepis** » Sun Oct 18, 2015 9:30 am

The Mameluke Caliphate of Egypt and the Levant
Imperial City of Cairo

Chapter 2: “Fair is Foul and Foul is Fair”-Macbeth

Cairo Citadel, Imperial City of Cario, Egypt
February 25th, 1835 CE

"So..." said the Sultan, sitting on the Emerald Throne which was itself raise on a dais at the end of the vast Throne Room. In front of the Sultan stood hundreds of assembled couriers, advisers, petitioners and merchants, all wanting the Caliph-Sultan's attention. The room was divided in two, nobles on the right and commoners on the left. Between the right and left wings of the hall stood a lines of White Guards on the left and a line of red coated, turbaned, Mameluke Guards on the right, rifles slanted against their shoulders and feet pointed a right angles. This was the day the Imperial Court was held and everything in the gold and marble plated throne room was designed to overawe visitors, from the crystal pillars to the silver encrusted battle scenes on the walls.

"The Governor of Alexandria is dead?" the leader of the Muslim family said, drumming his fingers on the side of his throne. "Yes sire" said the dusty and tired out messenger who had traveled from the northwestern port metropolis of Alexandria the same day "The elders of the city beg that your Imperial Highness chose a new Governor". The messenger looked down at his feet as he spoke, afraid to look the Caliph of all Islam and the Sultan of all Egypt in the eye.

"This is an important decision to make. Alexandria is the largest city in the Empire and the third most important after the Imperial City and the Holy City" said the Caliph-Sultan, the Imperial City being Cairo, founded on the ancient ruins of Memphis. The Holy City was, of cause, Mecca itself.

"Alexandria controls the trade routes in to and out of the heart of the Empire, and is the gateway to Cairo itself" the Sultan continued "It is the linchpin of the Egypt Province, any attacker from Europe would most likely strike though Alexandria."

The Caliph-Sultan looked down from his throne at his Imperial Council, sat on stool at the bottom of the raised dais. "Grand Vizier, do you have any suggestions?"

The thin, snake like figure of the Grand Vizier stood and bowed low to Saladini. "I would recommend Naser al-Sisi sire. He served for many years as your Minister of the Treasury, if you appointed him as Governor, Alexandria would prosper for as long it remained under his jurisdiction."

"I think not, Grand Vizier" said the Sultan "Al-Sisi is an old man, even older than you and me." The "you and me" part of the Sultan's sentence was a joke, the Caliph was only twenty eight years old. "If appointed him, we would be having this discussion again in a couple of years. Besides, I have recently met with Naser and he seems to be enjoying his retirement in Damascus, far away from this nest of vipers.". The Sultan looked to his left "Field Marshal, do you have an opinion on the matter?"

The short, muscled figure of the Field Marshal stood from his stool and bowed to the Shah "Sire, I would suggest Hosni al-Samirah. He is a rising star in your Army, a very able commander, young and loyal too."

Saladini shook he head "No, noble Field Marshal, he has little experience of government and besides, we need him in Afghanistan at the moment."

"Sire, if I may" came a voice form below the throne. The Viceroy of Egypt, the forty year old Fasil Assada stepped forward and bowed to the Caliph-Sultan. "I would suggest Karim Zand. He is just finished his term of governance as Governor of Jerusalem, a city just as important as Alexandria and his loyalty is beyond question. He combines the good points of both the previous suggestion with few of the bad and in my opinion would bring much prosperity Alexandria, as well as safeguarding it against attacks from the sea."

"Yes" the Sultan nodded at the suggestion from the Viceroy. He then turned to the messenger and said "Inform the Council of Alexandria the noble Karim Zand shall be their new Governor. I believe he is in Cairo today so he should be ready for his new post in no time". The Caliph-Sultan stood from his throne and exited the hall. He was followed by the gaggle of advisers that always accompanied him and once he had left the room, the hundreds of petitioners and courtiers did left too,though by the main entrance, hurried along by the imposing soldiers of the White and Mameluke Guards.

From: The Mameluke Caliphate of Egypt and the Levant
To: The Office of Queen of Hellas

Greetings,
Firstly, I am very saddened to hear of the attempt on your life. I hope you recover in full and catch the culprits. No one should be allowed to slash at another person, let alone their Queen. I would suggest looking to Rum or Venice for the attackers, Egypt has learnt over the centuries that there is no lengths the Sultans of Rum won't stoop too to achieve their dastardly goals.

Secondly, I am pleased to say that I agree to the terms your foreign minister outlined and I hop this brings in a new era of Hellenic-Egyptian friendship.

May Allah Bless You,
Caliph of all Islam, Sultan of Egypt and the Levant, Caliph-Sultan al-Mansour Seif al-Din Qalawun Saladini.

by **The Jonathanian States** » Sun Oct 18, 2015 10:36 am

__________________KÖNIGREICH PREUSSEN__________________

Was ist der deutschen Vaterland?

Stadtschloss, Berlin, Königreich Preußen^{January 15th - 1835}
"Does anybody have a good reason not to accept giving my daughter's government diplomatic support", Friedrich Wilhelm asked aloud. He was no great warrior king, but his reforms had brought Prussia forward. And after Greek independence he had expanded the reach of house Hohenzollern into the southern Balkans.
"Err.... it will surely harm our relations with Venice, Epirus, and the Rum-turks.", answered an official rather unenthusiastically.
"Only Venice,", countered the Minister-president, "of those three states, might be of concern. It would play them directly into the hands of the rivals."
"Bah", called the royal,"I'll be six feet under by the time pesky those Italians play a part in Alpine affairs.". He looked around, waiting for somebody to recommend him a a different path or to try and convince him to do what they preferred him to do. None of them any sign of wanting to speak, he then added, "Well, it is decided, then. I shall offer Queen Alexandrine of Greece our sincerest diplomatic assistance, as well as a possibility of more earthly support should it be required. We do have a large amount of our previous guns in storage, do we not?"
Not waiting for a response he stood up. And motioned to his courtiers their dismissal. He might be old, be he wasn't too senile to forget that. Or see it as an insult if they'd have risen against custom.
A voice, he recognized it as his minister of war, spoke up "Those are stored for potential future use in the Landsturm."
The monarch simply walked away, the only sign of him acknowledging the minister being a calm "Bish Bosh".

Königreich Preußen

To Alexandros Mavrokordatos, Minister of Foreign Affairs of her Majesty, Queen Alexandrine I of the Kingdom of Hellas

Greetings.
His majesty, the King of Prussia, Friedrich Wilhelm III, has instructed me to inform you and the Hellenic Queen that Prussia will most certainly back any such efforts of yours on the diplomatic stage, as well as that potentially support of a more material fashion may be considered.

Sincerely,
acting on behalf of and in the name of his majesty, Friedrich Wilhelm, third of his name, King of Prussia,
the royal Minister-President of Prussia,
Carl Friedrich Heinrich Graf von Wylich und Lottum

Botanischer Garten, Berlin, Königreich Preußen^{28 of January - 1835}
"Do you think we should be concerned with the results?", Carl Friedrich asked his colleague, the minister of foreign affairs. He stepped forward, towards one of the plants, and read the plaque. "They are a rather republican coalition, that they are", confirmed the second gentleman, now reading the plaque himself, "Quite interesting this species, I say" "Doubtlessly. Now, those republicans of yours. They hopefully do not tend to significantly ask the peculiar question, do they?", replied the chief of government, while moving away from the plant they stood at to one a few species forward. He did give some of them a glance, but they didn't seem quite... right. "Not in a way that should disturb the peace of the lands, my friend", spoke the minister. Examining the species in front of him, seemingly a plant brought to the Botanic Garden from Africa, Carl admitted to both himself and his colleague that he did rather enjoy holding such meetings of government, at least when they were simple dialogue, in the garden. Watching a bird pass over his head, fly in a circle, and finally take rest on one of the many trees, he added,"As only befits their position. Make sure your connection to the ambassadors remains undisturbed, I believe both the king and his government would wish to be informed of any developments of note.". And with that, he walked off deeper into the garden, whistling a vaguely reminiscient and rather catchy tune.

Stadtschloss, Berlin, Königreich Preußen^{25th of February - 1835}
"No, no, no, no, no, no, no, damnit no!", shouted the king,"no, and once more, no!" He took a deep breath, then continuing, now in a calmer voice that did not make pages flee, "To do so would be treason to the German confederation, to the German people, and to our German self."
"That's the highest amount of times he sees himself as loyal to Germany", whispered an officer to an official sitting next to him, silently enough to be unnoticeable by the king, his comment being received with a chuckle by the fellow member of the State Council.
"What do we care for the czechs on lands of the Double-Crown of the Habsburgs, your majesty?", questioned von Wylich und Lottum, "Let the Hungarians be troubled with those lands."
"What do we care for them? Those are ancient lands of the German people, including one of the oldest German universities in Prague. Hundreds of thousands of Germans reside in Bohemia and Moravia."
"Have we taken a stance on the German question then", inquired the Chief of staff rather openly, "If your majesty is so determined to prevent Habsburg territory from falling to non-German hands?...."
"Oh, no, no, no. But in the inevitable day in the future that Germany will rise it shan't be in bits of pieces. And it without a doubt is treason to the purposes of the confederation, clearly alienating us from the other German states.", replied Frederick William III. After taking a long glance past all of the attending he added, "So much so that I even would dare ask if the Hungarians are cooperating with the Swiss or, somehow, the Habsburgs."
Anger visibly and audibly rising once more at the offer, the king merely rose from his set, with a quick gesture of his hand also dismissed the members.

Treason and intrigue all around him, Frederick, or Friedrich, knew. It was growing untenable. He knew his cabinet and council were loyal to him. His army would, if asked, followed him through the gates of hell, into the tundra of Siberia, and back. But outside of his great realm snakes and spiders crawled, plotting and scheming, preparing the downfall of the one realm to rule them all, and in the German crown to bind them. In the German crown to bind them? Maybe his council was right, maybe he should take a stance on the national question. He should, probably. It only made sense for him to do, leading the greatest and most glorious realm of German people. And some poles and others to, but they didn't matter in Prussia, did they?
Left he turned into a hallway, glancing around him, behind him, to the sides, he was alone, he was safe. But if the Hungarians dared so openly to give him these infamous demands.... and that Andreas asking him of dooming his fatherland...
A traitor, yes. But if it were one the Hungarians wouldn't have acted yet. No, no, many traitors. A whole ring of traitors was operating right under his nose, he knew it.
Opening the right door, crossing the room and leaving on the last door to the left he noticed palace guards standing watch. His truly loyal guards, who would protect him from everything. Yes, he was safe. Here in his home the traitors could not harm him, their minions dared not try infiltrate his home yet. Entering his Great bedchamber, he nodded at more guards at the entry, and headed for his bed. He just was overworked. Too much work for his already not young body, too much stress, he was getting too damn old for this shit. He would sleep now, and tomorrow things would make sense. Yes. Tomorrow all the evils would have faded away, and everything that did not would have a reasonable explanation found. Raising his blanket and then covering himself with it as he lay down he sighed.

Königreich Preußen

To Emperor Simon the Tenth of the Royal House of Jagiellon, Defender of Hungary, Defender of the Church of Hungary

Greetings.
After consultation with his State council of administration and army his majesty, the king of Prussia, Friedrich Wilhelm III, has reached the conclusion that he cannot accept your offer under the conditions giving. He wishes to explain that all of Bohemia has been, is, and always shall be proper German soil that he would not sacrifice, even were he to receive portions of it.

Sincerely,
acting on behalf of and in the name of his majesty, Friedrich Wilhelm, third of his name, King of Prussia,
the royal Minister-President of Prussia,
Carl Friedrich Heinrich Graf von Wylich und Lottum

_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Stadtschloss, Berlin, Königreich Preußen^{26th of February - 1835}
"WAR!", came the monarch's relentless call,"WAR and nothing else! Those bastards tried to kill my sweet Alexy! Rally the army, MOBILIZE THE LANDWEHR! TO WAR, DAMN YOU ALL"
"Your majesty, the Mavrokordatos family are a non-sovereign civilian entity with your daughter's realm..", Carl Friedrich tried to calm his monarch, in an especially soothing voice, "She has survived as we shall instill harsh measures, also..." "DAMN YOU, YOU SILLY BUREAUCRAT! YOU DAD'S A GUINEA PIG AND YOUR MOTHER SMELLS OF ROTTEN STRAWBERRIES. DON'T YOU DARE EVEN LOOK IN MY GENERAL DIRECTION! WAR! THOSE BASTARDS MUST BE KILLED", ranted the monarch, blood visibly swelling to his head. At this point he wasn't even seating, having instead stood up and violently been shaking and gesturing with his hands.
"They must be killed indeed, but we have not the ability to declare war on them, my king. They lack independent lands", tried the minister of foreign affairs, instead. He sighed, expecting his attempt to have been in vane.
"THEN FUCKING LAND THEM.", the now tomato-headed monarch turned towards his minister of the interior, "YOU. BUREAUCRAT! HAVE THOSE TRAITORS be given land in Prussia and their independent sovereignty be declared, SO THAT I CAN DECLARE WAR OF THEM! THAT HOUSE MUST BE BLOODILY WIPED OF THE FACE OF THIS EARTH.". He now noticed that some in the council were starting to whisper. Snakes. Rats. Spiders. He knew it. Had always known it. Traitors, all of them. Daughterkillers. "REMOVED FROM THIS WORLD. AND YOU ALL TOO! TRAITORS, ALL OF YOU! BEGONE YOU USELESS LOUTS! YOU RABBITS DEVOURING MY VERY FLESH AND SOUL!". Friedrich Wilhelm felt his breath growing weaker, his pulse rising. He stopped, remained silent for a bit.

His son suddenly stood up, and slowly walked towards him, hands raised. He felt the prince place his arms around him and then speak, "Father, you must be exhausted. It would make the most sense if you would now retreat to your chambers and take rest. Years of reforms and reigning have taken their toll on you.". He was about to object to his son's proposal, but more was added, "Worry not father, you know I have always cared for our dear Alexy. You know I love her, just as she loves us and I love you. Now go to rest, I shall take care of this."

Anger rose in the monarch's gut, but he suppressed it. He did feel tired and exhausted. So he just freed himself from his son's hold and stubbornly walked away. Passing the door into the hallway he saw guards. He could alert them. They would follow his order and arrest the whole council. No, no, shot. Shot on sight. And their families too, in case they were involved in the Hungaro-Columbian conspiracy. But who would support such a conspiracy? Why would the Columbians be involved, he thought to himself as he stood in the hallway.... Switzerland! Those dastardly republicans had called their radical friends from overseas and even hired the great traitor von Johansen to play a part in their scheme. But now he knew everything. He could have the pawns executed here and now, and the take care of the many heads of the hydra. He started waving towards the guards and was about to shout a command when he remembered, the conspirators had already infiltrated his palace and council, the troops must obviously already be theirs. He took his arm down and rushed into the first door across. Left, he ran. Rats, snakes, traitors. Right, he turned. Spiders, jackals, murders. Right once more, and surely by now nobody would be following him. He would have to find his way first into his chambers but then also back out, undetected, and somewhere else, somewhere safe. Greece, yes. His daughter ruled in Greece and she kept in contact with him through letters, so surely it was a fine and safe place in which the Queen's father would be accepted by all. But first, to his chambers. He couldn't escape the masses of his turncoat guards without at least his sabre.

To My dearest sister, Alexy

I wish father could answer you himself, but his state seems to be declining. I shall inform you more of it at a different, calmer, time.
Father's council has guaranteed me that a condemnation will be issued but I demanded of them to ensure your safety so I had them organize the deployment of the first half of the second Guard Division. The whole nine-thousand men of that troop, the most loyal to our family, best equipped, and best trained, should be on their way to your kingdom as we speak. I wish I could have them be there now already, or help in some other way, but I fear this is the only thing I can do for you from here.
Yours,
Fritz

by **Empire of Gibraltar** » Sun Oct 18, 2015 12:39 pm

The Qajar Dynasty of the Sublime State of Persia

Chapter 1: Yesterday, Today, and Forever, let the Qajar Dynasty live on!

Febuary 27, 1835
The Shah's Palace, The Capital of Persia, Tehran
Shah Mohammad Shah Qajar was currently in his large palace. He sat in his bedroom pondering where he could bring the Persian Empire. His choices could lead to the nation's glory, or the nation's destruction.
His thought was interrupted when a slave opened the door to his chamber, "My Shah, a man is here to see you, he goes by the name of Fareed Ibn Amman."
"Let him come in, but keep him in the throne room, until I have a chance to prepare myself." Shah Mohammad told the slave.
Shah stood up from his seat staring out the window, across the city of Tehran. He dressed himself in a nice robe, and the Kiani Crown, the symbol of the Qajar Dynasty, and opened his chamber door. He walked down the stairs into the throne room.
As he entered into the throne room, the man by the name of Fareed Ibn Amman bowed his head, and then lifted it again. "Hello my Shah, as you probably know my name is Fareed Ibn Amman, I'm a skilled diplomat, and I am requesting to help you my Shah. I hope you accept my services."
"I thank you Sir Amman, I may welcome you into my court, but first a test. I'm going to send you on a diplomatic envoy through Mesopotamia, and the Levant, to Cairo. You will at least for a small amount of time be our ambassador to Cairo. Do you accept this offer?"
"Thank you my Shah, I will gladly accept this position, just let me travel home and get ready for the trip." Amman turned and walked out of the Palace.

Fareed Ibn Amman's House, The Capital of Persia, Tehran
Amman walked through the bustling city, and walked through the doors of his house. He walked up to his wife, "My wife, I am being sent on a diplomatic envoy, by word of the Shah, to be the city of Cairo. I wish for you to stay here while I'm gone."
He then walked into his room, and grabbed a silk bag, and filled it with his most elegant, and exorbitant robes. As well, he grabbed his Sabre, and walked out of his house. Where a man in the clothes of the Imperial Guard, "Hello Sir Amman, I will be one of your guards on your caravan through the desert." He then pulled a map out of his robes, "We will take a caravan of carriages to Baghdad, before heading South to Basra, and the Persian Gulf coast. And taking a sailing ship around Arabia to Suez, before preparing another caravan, and heading into Cairo."
"Sir, when will we be setting off? I'm prepared to go at the moment."
"We will travel at sunrise tomorrow. Please be at the Palace before sunrise tomorrow." The man then walked away.
Amman then went back into his house, and layed into bed with his wife.

Febuary 28, 1835
He woke up at 5:00, and prepared himself, before grabbing his silk bag, and asked his servant to carry it to the Palace for him. When he met the Imperial Guard at the door to the palace he escorted Amman to the carriage, and told him to put his bags in one of the carriages, and to sit in the lead one. Amman decided to take out a book, and a map. He over looked the map once before the carriage set off, and took out his book, as the carriage started off.

That night, he arrived at Baghdad, where they stayed in a consulate in the city for the rest of the night. Before traveling to the Gulf, in the morning. And taking a sailing ship around Arabia, before traveling to Suez. And all the way to Cairo.

March 1,1835
The diplomatic-trade envoy had finally arrived in Cairo, the many Silks that had been brought were dropped off at the docks on the Nile. And the diplomatic envoy pulled up to the Imperial Palace. Amman walked into the Palace.

by **Senkaku** » Sun Oct 18, 2015 9:17 pm

WIP

Ten Thousand Years, Chapter Three: The Wrath of Heaven

I am the flail of God. If you had not created great sins, God would not have sent a punishment like me upon you.

The anger of emperors is a force that, throughout history, has changed the course of the world- often to the very great cost of a very large number of people. It is said that the Shichang Emperor would have spared the twin Mongol capitals of Dadu and Karakorum, had his younger brother the Prince Jen not been killed by a stray arrow leading Chinese troops towards Shanhai Pass.
Dadu was razed to the ground the next day, and not a man, woman, or child would ever walk out of the smoking, ghost-haunted, blood-drenched ruins that still stand there as a grim testament to the fury of the Son of Heaven. Even rebuilt Beiping would be moved several li east, to avoid invoking the wrath of the tens of thousands of hungry ghosts that were known to roam the ruins.

The true identity of the attacker of the Precious Consort was not important, when the Datong Emperor believed it to be a Nusantaran spy. He had ruled long and, for the most part, well, and had campaigned in his time against rebellious Borjigins and a prideful Khan of Samarqand.
In Guangdong, Fujian, Luzon, and the Mekong Delta, hosts now gathered to exact imperial revenge for the attempt on the life of his beloved. 23 baochuan, 217 fuchuan, 106 troop transports, 89 horse ships, 97 paddle wheel ships, 32 water tankers, 61 supply ships, and 87 louchuan had been assembled from the great South Seas Fleet- squadrons from anywhere between Quanzhou, Hainan, and Luzon. This massive fleet immediately began mobilizing as Dongjing sent orders by messenger bird and express military couriers, loading up thousands of troops.

In the Mekong Delta, meanwhile, the Vietnamese had put together a host of several hundred of their Đại Hiệu cruisers and little mông đồng gunboats, along with various assorted transport craft, and marshaled their own soldiers from the ranks of the teeming peasantry of the Delta, assembling their own fleet around Saigon.

The gods, in their follies and pettiness, do not always let the course of the world run straight or true, or fairly.

South China Sea
Dajingyu 1
March 13th

It had taken a month of constant, frenetic effort since Dongjing's not-entirely-unexpected orders to assemble the huge fleet that Admiral Lin Zuolin now stood at the head of. Hundreds of Chinese vessels had rendezvoused at Guangzhou in preparation for their voyage south, packed with troops and munitions, to bring the will of Heaven to the ignorant southron barbarians.
Now, in an awesome display of the power and majesty of the Song, they sailed. The mighty nine-masted baochuan dominated the smaller ships around them, their red sails visible from the horizon they smoothly sliced towards. Around them, smaller five-masted fuchuan- large ships, by most standards- seemed like darting mosquitoes, nimbly maneuvering around the vast warships that were the pride and glory of the Chinese fleet.
Beside the sailing ships, the louchuan were peculiar-looking, to say the least. They were not nearly so tall, without huge red sails protruding majestically towards Heaven, and their squarelike shapes seemed at odds with both the graceful, long, raptoresque lines of the other warships and simple nature- how could such vessels even float, much less sail around at sea with the fleet?
Yet behind their wheels, there was a trail of white water, as they lashed their way through the sea in front of them. Some belched sooty smoke from smokestacks rendered like dragon's heads, but in others, oxen were hard at work, grinding away at wheels to bestir these peculiar and deadly vessels. And they were deadly, too- louchuan were slow, but their rocket batteries and assembled artillery were both heavier and more numerous even than the mighty baochuan.
Smaller paddle-wheel ships and war junks nipped between the main surface combatants even in the way that the fuchuan scurried before the wakes of the baochuan. However, not all the ships they flew before and clustered around were heavily-armed warships- any fleet, particularly an invasion force such as this one, needs supply ships and transports. Hundreds had been assembled for this force, carrying thousands of troops as well as food, water, horses, gunpowder, shells, bullets, and every conceivable need a campaigning army could have.

Not all of the invasion fleet's ships were in his fleet, of course- his was only the main one. Smaller forces would be invading the Nusantaran possessions south of Luzon, while their Vietnamese auxiliaries and a few of their own ships would take care of Borneo.

Admiral Lin thought his heart might burst with pride as he looked out at the fleet all around him from the Dajingyu 1's bridge deck.

He knew that, were he the unfortunate Nusantaran admiral who would have to face him in battle, his heart might be bursting in fear rather than pride.

March 27th
Java Sea

Throughout the day of March 27th, the stunning power of the Middle Kingdom was about to strike a mighty blow against their southern neighbor. For centuries, China had tried to peacefully win over the hearts and minds of Nusantara, tolerating their follies in the Indian Ocean and occasionally correcting them with small wars when they became too defiant. They had found an unhappy, but workable peace, based off of their mutual interest in the lucrative sale of their many goods to the ever-covetous western barbarians and the wide world.
But Nusantara, in all those years, had not ever been suspected of attempting to assassinate the most beloved concubine of the Emperor.

Very, very early that morning, around four, the Vietnamese fleet would land at Sarawak- 129 Đại Hiệu, scores of mông đồng gunboats, and 26 Chinese ships as well, putting ashore 62,000 men. Under the command of the Vietnamese Admiral Nguyen, they were to secure Sarawak and then march against Pontianak and Banjarmasin, eventually securing all of Borneo from the Nusantarans. Some of the boats were scattered, and some had even foundered on their way across the South China Sea (especially the small mông đồng)- but by the end of the day, the army had formed up just downriver of Kuching. The Vietnamese gunboats began moving upriver to provide more artillery support, raining fire and rockets down on the Nusantaran garrison.
Later that day, the main Chinese fleet appeared like the host of some mighty sea god off of Java's northern coast. They had stayed in much better formation than their Vietnamese auxiliaries, though like them a few ships had been scattered or had foundered, and landed a few troops on Pulau Belitung (and other small islands) the day before to secure the route to the mainland behind them.
The fleet appeared on the horizon north of Tegal that afternoon, in the stunning heat as thunderheads began to blossom over the Java Sea. The people of the city had doubtless been warned by now that the Chinese fleet was coming- plenty of fishermen had seen them, and while most had not escaped, a few had doubtless evaded the Chinese scouts and pickets in the last day or two. After all, the seas around Java were always crowded.

As soon as they came within range, rockets and bombs began falling on Tegal, and explosions began to bloom among houses, in the marina, along the city's fortifications. It took another hour for the full fleet to assemble into landing formation and close the distance to shore, during which the rocket and cannon fire steadily increased. The louchuan were sent forward, with their shallower drafts and heavy firepower, to cover the landings. As the transports came up behind the, they put down waves of small boats, filled with marines, which were shielded by heavy cannon and rocket fire from the louchuan.
The first wave began swarming ashore, covered by more rocket fire from the baochuan that lurked further back, and some of the fuchuan began trying to cut in close to bombard the Nusantaran defenders who were holding out most valiantly against wave after wave of Chinese marines.
Once most of the coast and suitable landing areas were secure, the transports began sending a constant stream of boats- no longer filled with marines, but now with normal Imperial Army soldiers. The Chinese numbers seemed unstoppable- and as they landed, the marines and Army troops came to their own defense with intense musketry and light field artillery fire.

As evening set in, huge plumes of smoke were rising over the embattled city of Tegal, and by the time the sun was all the way down, 104,000 Chinese soldiers were ashore and ready to bring the wrath of Heaven down on the heads of the southron barbarians.

Proclamation of the Great Song Empire

Let all around the wide world who read this edict tremble before the majesty of His Radiance, the Son of Heaven, and studiously obey his will! May Datong reign ten thousand years, and may the glorious Song Dynasty endure ten thousand more!

Our radiant emperor, in his infinite wisdom, has seen fit to make war upon the southron barbarians of Yìnní in light of their barbarous attempts against his beloved Precious Consort, their long defiance of the will of the bearers of the Mandate of Heaven, their barbaric ways, and their general taking of liberties and uncouth conduct. The South Seas Pacification Fleet, under the command of Admirals Lin Zuolin and Chang Xian, and the Auxiliary Pacification Fleet under Admirals Nguyen Hoang and Xi Zhengcai, shall henceforth assume responsibility for pacifying these barbaric lands and establishing secure control for the Son of Heaven to thereafter properly govern them and bring civilization to their peoples.

by **Yaana Noore** » Mon Oct 19, 2015 4:29 pm

26th February 1835, Tuileries Palace

"Hmm..." King Louis Philippe stared at the map, his finger casually resting on New France, the territory that the Columbian Federation had wished to purchase. "I have no interest in America," he admitted, giving a glance to Algeria. "However let us not allow that to hinder the fee. But I do believe we must sell."

"I agree, Your Majesty." Said the President of the Council, de Broglie. "However we must exercise caution. The land is far more valuable to them than us, they desire to reach the Pacific. If we refuse or prove difficult to negotiate... They may try and take it."

"Our allies may declare war on us?" A smile played on his lips. "Do you think this, Talleyrand?"
"Not without support, but I expect they would ask for assistance. From the British and Hesperians. Perhaps the Iberians and Prussians. My preference would be towards keeping the territory if it was possible, but I do not see it as such."

"Anything that could unite Great Britain and Prussia against us is not viable." To which they all agreed. The majority were pro-British, but that meant displacing Prussia as their ally, to the French, anyway. "We will sell the territory." The King declared, though it had in reality been decided long before they had this discussion. "de Broglie, get into contact with Joseph Bonaparte, he will go to the Columbian capital to negotiate a deal with them, as long as they agree to give the French born there citizenship, and to not meddle in our affairs in Africa."

Africa was a discussion more up for debate. "The Aragonese occupy parts of Algeria, despite the French claim on the land. We need these territories."

"Take them." Was Maison, the Minister for War's first reaction. "They knew of the claim when they settled, what does it matter to them? Every second they spend occupying our territory is an insult. We demand them back, and if they refuse, we go to war over them."

"Without support?" Scoffed the Minister for Education, Guizot. "The Iberians or the Russians would not assist us, our relationship with the Austrians and Prussians is well known."

"Nobody would side with the Aragonese on the issue." He asserted confidently.

"The British may take issue if we were to declare war on Aragon." Louis Philippe suggested, shaking his head at the idea. "We cannot afford to harm our relations with the British, as much as I desire Algeria."

"Your Majesty," Implored the President. "There is another way. Contact the Aragonese, requesting the transfer of the Algerian territory. We will have contacted the British by then, and understand their stance. the Aragonese will likely refuse, but by this time we have the ear of the British. If they do not support us, offer to buy the territory instead, or have the British mediate. If we are supported, we could buy or conquer it. Whichever is cheaper."

"Estimate the cost for both, d'Argout." The King ordered, agreeing with his President of the Council. "That is the most effective strategy. Now we must simply reach out to the British."
"We were rivals under Bonaparte," snorted Talleyrand, renowned for his dislike of the former French Emperor. "With that tyrant gone, there is no greater opportunity to make peace with those across the channel."

"We need to draw them from the arms of the Prussians, to us." Thought Maison.

"Before they further their links with the Prussians."

"An alliance?"

"Or a royal marriage?"

"Preposterous!"

"Princess Victoria will soon be of marrying age, His Majesty can sit back and allow Princess Victoria to marry a Prussian if he wishes? Or he can get involved and assure an appropriate match for the future British Queen..." Tempted Talleyrand.

Edward's daughter, the heir to the British throne, marrying a Prussian? "No, that cannot do... There must be another candidate." Decided Louis Philippe.

"Prince François is of a similar age."

"They would never accept such a match." Laughed the King, he dismissed it out of hand.

"The Prince is a handsome, liberally educated man who is well read, and a Lieutenant in the Navy. We need not appeal to all of those in the Commons, we need him to appeal to Princess Victoria..." de Brogile attempted.

"Try if you wish - they will reject it. The future Queen does not marry a French prince." He soon changed the subject. "The Prussians cannot be allowed to prosper while we falter. They have plans for Germany, I know it, yet we lack a suitable ally to oppose them..." He mused to himself. "We do not get on with the Austrians... And the only force strong enough to even attempt to oppose Prussia, would be the Swiss."

To: The Office of Secretary of State Louis McLane
From: The Office of Victor de Broglie, President of the Council and Minister for Foreign Affairs

Monsieur,

After careful consideration, His Majesty has decided to agree to the sale of the territory proposed, despite their importance to the French economy, as to avoid restricting the expansion of our most trusted ally. New France Governor Joseph Bonaparte will come to Manhattan D.C. to discuss the terms of this transfer, namely the price. However his Majesty would like to request out of concern for his people that all French citizens born in the territory prior to the acquisition of it be given Columbian citizenship, and that the Columbian Federation agree to have no role in the colonising, or assisting another nation colonising the regions of North and Western Africa unless permission is granted by the French government.

Yours sincerely,

Victor de Broglie, President of the Council and Minister for Foreign Affairs, acting on the behalf of His Majesty, King of the French Louis Philippe I d'Orléans and the French people

To: The Office of Foreign Secretary Henry John Temple, 3rd Viscount Palmerston
From: The Office of Victor de Broglie, President of the Council and Minister for Foreign Affairs

Monsieur,

For far too long have our two nations opposed one another, both diplomatically and on the battlefield. We are the greatest of countries, wielding power and influence others can merely dream of. And yet have wasted our strength fighting, when we should have strive for a friendship between Great Britain and France, with the prospect of an alliance between us two superpowers. With colonial empires so great, we should use our might for the benefit of both, and together we cannot be rivaled.

His Majesty wishes to extend an offer to visit Paris in the month of July, to His Majesty King William, Queen Adelaide, and Princess Victoria, whose father King Louis Philippe shared the strongest of friendships with.

In addition it has been agreed upon by the French Government that the French Establishment in India be offered to you, the fee of which will be negotiated upon, on the condition that we convene to discuss the matters of Africa and Asia, to decide what is rightfully British and French territory respectively.

We hope to look forward to a cordial understanding between us, and the strongest of alliances.

Yours sincerely,

Victor de Broglie, President of the Council and Minister for Foreign Affairs, acting on the behalf of His Majesty, King of the French Louis Philippe I d'Orléans and the French people

by **The Kingdom of Glitter** » Mon Oct 19, 2015 4:31 pm

The Columbian Federation

Chapter 2 -Like Father, Like Son

5 March 1835
Manhattan D.C.
Office of the State Department

The Columbian Federation

Addressed to Mr. José Carlos Nepomuceno Espiridión de Ruiz, Minister of Foreign Affairs for Mexico

Sir,
We in Columbia are most pleased with the decision to transform Mexico into a fully functional republic, based upon the ideals of liberty, equality, and freedom. We eagerly await the proclamation of this new republic's constitution, and hereby offer our support as not only your neighbors but your friends. The government of the Columbian Federation will certainly recognize your nation's new government. We are glad this transition has happened peacefully and that President Maximiliano de Habsburgo has chosen what is truly best for his people.

We would like to invite a delegation of your choosing to represent the Second Mexican Republic at a conference to be held in Baltimore, Maryland later this year. We wish to discuss the terms of a potential alliance, trade, and general cooperation and relations between our nations.

May God be with you.

Most sincerely,
Louis McLane
Secretary of State of Columbia

The Columbian Federation

Addressed to His Highness the Minister-President of Prussia,

Your Highness,
We thank you for your kind consideration, but fortunately the French have agreed sell the Lousiane Colony to the Columbian government, therefor avoiding armed confrontation between the two nations. A high point in what will hopefully be an era of Franco-Columbian relations has now been reached, and we hereby state our loyalty to our allies in Paris.

May God be with you.

Most sincerely,
Louis McLane
Secretary of State of Columbia

The Columbian Federation

Addressed to Foreign Minister of Hesperia,

Sir,
We thank you for your kind consideration, but fortunately the French have agreed sell the Lousiane Colony to the Columbian government, therefor avoiding armed confrontation between the two nations. A high point in what will hopefully be an era of Franco-Columbian relations has now been reached, and we hereby state our loyalty to our allies in Paris.

Unfortunately, we are unwilling to sell any of the Lousiane Colony to your government. Lousiane offers Columbia an outlet to spread the ideals of liberty and democracy across our shared continent and we are unwilling to surrender the valuable port of New Orleans to a foreign government. Hopefully relations between our nations are unaffected by this decision.

May God be with you.

Most sincerely,
Louis McLane
Secretary of State of Columbia

The Columbian Federation

Addressed to Viscount Palmerston, Foreign Secretary of the United Kingdom,

Sir,
We thank you for your kind consideration, but fortunately the French have agreed sell the Lousiane Colony to the Columbian government, therefor avoiding armed confrontation between the two nations. A high point in what will hopefully be an era of Franco-Columbian relations has now been reached, and we hereby state our loyalty to our allies in Paris.

May God be with you.

Most sincerely,
Louis McLane
Secretary of State of Columbia

The Columbian Federation

Addressed to Victor de Broglie, Minister for Foreign Affairs for France

Sir,
We are thrilled to hear of His Majesty's most noble and wise decision to sell the Lousiane Colony to the Columbian Federation. We eagerly await the arrival of Governor Bonaparte in order to forge the contract confirming the purchase. We hope that an era of strong Franco-Columbian relations are now upon us.

His Majesty's request shall not be ignored, and all of the citizens of Lousiane shall be given citizenship upon the date of transfer. Likewise, we agree to take no part in the settlement of West Africa and hereby recognize France's legitimate claims to the region.

President von Johansen has asked that I write to you on his behalf with an inquiry for His Majesty. He requests an eligible bride, one of His Majesty's issue, for his son George Jefferson Washington. His son is twenty seven years of age and is often described as handsome. He is well educated and will soon be serving as the territorial governor of one of the new territories created out of the Louisiane Colony. Please use the highest of discretion when discussing this request.

May God be with you.

Most sincerely,
Louis McLane
Secretary of State of Columbia

9 March 1835
Manhattan D.C.
White House

As the only son of Columbia's Commander-in-Chief, George Jefferson von Johansen more than felt the weight of his father's office upon his shoulders. Aged twenty five, he was a young and well educated man. He grew up, like his father did, in Illinois. The shift from farm to capital occurred just as puberty had begun to make its presence known. As his father went almost instantly from farmer to congressman, George Jefferson found himself living in a new city that was far from similar to the quite plains of Illinois. Manhattan D.C. was one like no other. A sprawling commercial center that once served as a borough of New York City, Manhattan was the cosmopolitan city of any farm boy's dreams. Men of power lined the city streets, be they politicians or businessmen. The von Johansen family never returned to the rolling plains of the west, and instead took up residence in a manor fit for a king, at least that is how George Jefferson's grandparents would have viewed it. The couple immigrated from Prussia's Rhineland region before the War and quickly following the Peace of Paris and Columbian Victory moved west to what would soon become Illinois. From his father Andreas would inherent the family farm, a sprawling mass of property and crops. The von Johansens were simple folk and built what they considered their fortune entirely on their own. George Jefferson was still a young child when his beloved grandfather Friedrich von Johansen died, leaving all of his property to his only son - Andreas von Jefferson. The family farm was still in operation, the von Johansens simply no longer lived there.

He looked up from twiddling his thumbs and stared at the closed door before him. Behind it was his father, chatting with some businessmen in the fur industry. He was growing impatient with his father. The president had summoned him unexpectedly. While the two lived under the same white roof, they seldom spoke. George was seldom agreed with his father. It was a clash of two worlds, rural and urban. He was the typical East Coast Aristocrat his father sparred with in politics for decades. After completing secondary school he studied diplomacy at Princeton University, upon his fathers insistence. The president had high hopes for his son and often forced him to achieve goals George himself had no interest in. He sat starring, waiting. His attention quickly shifted from the door to the hanging portrait of George Washington, one of his namesakes. The man seen as the hero of Columbia starred him down. George Jefferson was always intimidated by the nation's first president. After all, he did leave rather big shoes to fill - something George Jefferson feared his father intended on forcing him to occupy. Voices began to approach the door and it quickly swung open. A large man came out, followed by the president.

"Thank you for visiting me today, Mr. Paine. Your voice has been heard." von Johansen said almost enthusiastically.

"No, thank you Mr. President." the man said before shaking the president's head and being shown out by a secretary.

The president's eyes shifted to his son, sitting right before him. "My son, I am very happy you chose to join me." he said reaching out to embrace his son.

"Hello father, I am glad you are finally here." George Jefferson said in reply.

"So how have you been?" the president inquired as he walked his son into his office, closing the door behind him.

"I have been well." he said as he starred at his father. The dark circles and bags around and under his father's old eyes had only continued to grow. von Johansen had been president for just over six years now, and his physique certainly showed it. His grey hair had grown white, and his skin continued to grow pale and wrinkle. Some of the younger aides had begun referring to him as the Banshee-in-Chief, but they were quickly reprimanded by their superiors, for if the president had caught wind of it his temper would have certainly been lost. The twenty seven year old looked up from his feet and at his father once more. "So why am I here?"

"Have you decided to run for the governorship of Illinois yet?" his father inquired.

George Jefferson sighed before answering. "Father I have told you plenty of times before, I am not running for governor. I have no desire to hold such an office."

Andreas von Johansen smiled."Well I have wonderful news, George!" the president exclaimed. George rolled his eyes as his father continued. "It is not well known yet, but we have will soon purchase the Lousiane Colony from the French and annex it as a territory."

"That is truly wonderful, father" he said in a monotone voice. interrupting the Commander-in-Chief

"If you had let me continue, my son, you would see why it is just that. I have spoken to those within the Department of State and we believe the southern most portion of the colony has a sufficient enough population to quickly become a state. For that reason it shall become a separate territory."

"And you are sharing this with me why?" George interrupted again.

"I will be appointing you as the territorial governor of the Orleans Territory. If you do not wish to run for governor, I shall make you one myself."

George grew frustrated, but knew not to show it. He was defeated by his father once more. The president was always several steps ahead of his son, and George thought he always seemed to be ready to pounce at any moment. Unfortunately for him, his father was one of Columbia's greatest pragmatists. He sighed once more. "Do you insist I serve as the governor of this new territory?"

"Of course I do. Besides, should you chose not to you would not only be committing treason against this country but your own father." he said with a chuckle, trying to make the situation more lighthearted. "You might decide you like it after a while, and it will certainly help you find a wife."

"A wife is something I do not need father. I diGed not need one last time you offered to find me one, and I do not need one now."

"You most certainly do. If you do not find one yourself, I will find one for you." his father said in reply.

"And what if I found myself a man instead? It is no secret I am more orientated towards them." George Jefferson said with a grin, thinking he had trapped his father.

"Of course it is not. I only caught you several times with another boy during your teenage years, and I am sure that only continued while you were at Princeton. To be frank, I do not care where your penis ends up as long as you have a wife. It helps not only this image of this family, but This country."

George knew he was once again cornered by his father, and was certainly taken aback by the answer he received.

"You are dismissed my son. I shall find you a wife soon enough." he said before his son got up and slammed the door behind him.

"Curses" George shouted. "Defeated once more."

11 March 1835
Manhattan D.C.
Office of the Department of War

"He wants us to do what?" the Secretary of the Navy Mahlon Dickerson inquired.

"He has asked that we draw up plans for all out war against Nova Gallia." Secretary of War Lewis Cass replied.

"I specifically meant the part about invading the land we claim as Franklin without a declaration of war." Dickerson said.

The Secretary of War circled the table and picked up the piece representing the Illinois Division of the Army of the West. "We would move the Illinois through the Wisconsin Territory to seize Franklin. The Nova Gallian region known as 'Sud de l'Ontario' is quite sparsely population. There is one Nova Gallian fort that we know of, once we secure that and the provincial seat, Cloquet, Franklin is ours."

"And what if the Nova Gallians do not approve of our invasion?"

"Franklin is Columbian land, we are simply ensuring our land is safe. However, we expect either a declaration of war from them or simpily a counter attack - at which point we will declare war on them." Cass said as he reached across the table, grabbing another piece. "The Michigan and Ohio Divisions will focus on seizing the Huron region and the population centers there. We will have the Northern Division of the Army of the East strike at Montreal and Ottawa in an attempt to divert attention and resources away from Quebec. At that time the Southern Division will move north to reinforce the Northern Division."

"And what role will the Navy play in this?" Dickerson asked.

"You will be tasked with seizing the ports of Nova Scotia quickly. Once that falls we will send both of our fleets to Quebec in order to take the city. The National Militia will be mobilized and the attachments to the Army of the East will accompany our fleets. When Quebec falls, Nova Gallia has no chance but to surrender." he said in reply. "However, we hope it does not come to this. But if it does, we will surely be able to secure Nova Scotia."

12 March 1835
Manhattan D.C.
Capitol Building

At the front of the stand at the center of the grand chamber that was home to the House of Representatives was Philemon Dickerson. A loyal member of the Liberty Party, he had served as Speaker of the House for the duration of the 23rd Congress, and would again serve for the 24th. He was forty seven years of age and hailed from New Jersey. He was rather young for a Speaker of the House, but his brother Mahlon's role in the von Johansen Administration hoisted him to the forefront of Liberty's politics. He waited almost endlessly as the votes were being tallied. A request from the White House was made for the creation of a new government branch called the Department of the Interior. Many of he Department of State's responsibilities would be transferred to this new department. The Secretary of the Interior would oversee the Columbian Federal Census, which was taken at the start of every decade, as well as relations with the Natives and colonial oversight. The pending purchase of the Louisiane Colony highlighted the need for a new department to handle the nation's internal matters. President von Johansen insisted upon the quick organization of several new territories from what would become the Louisiane Territory. He had already personally drew the borders for the Orleans Territory, home to the port city of New Orleans and a sizable portion of the Louisiane Colony's population.

Dickerson sighed as the clerk had begun to read the tally. He quickly came to an abrupt end. "The ayes have it, the motion to create the Department of the Interior has now been passed."

With that von Johansen was able to appoint his close ally in the Senate, Silas Wright, as the Secretary of the Interior. Upon his installation Wright instantly called for the creation for the National Territorial Committee and began to seek out viable candidates to help forge the borders von Johansen so desperately desired. Columbia's frontier had grown.

by **Relikai** » Tue Oct 20, 2015 1:28 am

The United Kingdom of the Netherlands

The Wall of Neuhollande: Chapter One - Neuhollande, Mars.

West Neuhollande, March 14, 1835

The regiments of the Neuhollande Guard stood at attention, with the Captain saluting Colonial Stadtholder Remian Woost. The Amsterdam is moored off the coast, with half of the Neuhollande Fleet gathered around it. The Sydnee, Brisbanne and Holven de Vrij, all three 90-gun warships, stood ready, with their marines on shore practicing for combat. 1835 was the year which Remian sought to stamp Dutch authority over the whole of Australia, and take several islands if possible too. He has no idea of the Dutch communique with Britain -that would come in half a month-, but William I himself has blessed Remian's position as Colonial Stadtholder, full autonomy for the good of the Dutch. It was for this reason that Remian was able to draw half of the reserve fleet from Amsterdam to Neuhollande, including the four mighty warships which form part of the core of his navy. His duty is to maintain the strength and power of Neuhollande, and to keep his city safe, Remian needed a Wall.

Dutch Order of Battle - Neuhollande Mars
The Western Army of Neuhollande - Remian Woost

2,500 Line Infantry, 200 Dragoons, 40 Field Artillery pieces, 40 Static Artillery Pieces.

The Eastern Army of Neuhollande - Venner can Helzen

1,500 Line Infantry, 200 Dragoons, 30 Field Artillery pieces, 20 Static Artillery Pieces.

The Army of Guinea - Jovirk Indi

500 Line Infantry, 50 Dragoons, 10 Field Artillery pieces. 500 Settlers

The Colonial March of Zeelande - Martins van der Frik

80 Line Infantry, 20 Dragoons, 400 Militiamen, 5 Field Artillery Pieces, 400 Settlers.

The Western Fleet of Neuhollande - Louis Roecoe

Ships of the Line - Amsterdam 108, Sydnee 96, Brisbanne 96, Holven de Vrij 96
Frigates - Saar 58, Martins 62, Hollande 58, Wilhem de Vrij 64, Ajax 58, Sparta 58

4 Sloops and 12 supply merchantmen.

The Eastern Fleet of Neuhollande - Francis Koeman

Ships of the Line - Wilheim I 108, Guinea 108, Zeelande 96
Frigates - Woost 54, Suriname 54, Edwin van Taraab 52, Edward van Taraab 54

6 Sloops and 18 supply merchantmen

He took stock of his marching force. The strategy has been laid out - The Western Colonial Army would skirt the coast and attack Nusantaran Australia, while the Western Fleet would cut off the Nusantaran navy from supplying and reinforcing them. The Eastern Colonial Army would mirror the Western Army's movements, hoping to meet each other at some point. Communications would be established and maintained by a force of three frigates, running escort, raider and runner missions between the Western Fleet and the East. The Eastern Fleet has a different strategy however, being told to ferry some troops stationed in Guinea to occupy several islands with a group of pioneers, before heading south with the bulk of Guinea's forces to either mop up any resistance in Australia, or open a new flank. The Eastern theatre would be commanded by Venner van Helzen, the formal general of the Neuhollande Army. It was his battle plan after all.

Almost the entire fleet has been mobilised for this attack, and the remainder would be up for extra duties, running patrol and preventing counter attacks. The four strongest frigates in Neuhollande are tasked for this duty. The commanders have spent weeks pouring over the plans since 1834 after several wars with the Nusantarans. This plan would create a wall, before further steps. It is all part of the Dutch philosophy, it was explained, that Neuhollande must be secure.

Strategic Map - Commencement of Attack - March 28, 1835

Tales of Two Horizons IC-Open

Tales of Two Horizons IC-Open

Persian IC: Chapter 1

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