1850: Alternative Divergence [AH][IC]

by **Alt Div Admin** » Sat Jan 06, 2018 7:23 am

1850 : Alternative Divergence

IC THREAD

OOC//MAP 05.01.2018
[Regional Map Mode]

OP board
Elerian
Tracian Empire
Novacom
Old Tyrannia
Oscalantine

“Men make History, but not at the time he wishes.”

– Karl Marx__________________________________

But for the sake of argument, what if we could?

Be it a point of divergence or a whole new nation, what if we could make history EXACTLY at the point that we wish?

Hello and welcome to Another Alternative Divergence, an AH/AW RP where the world is your oyster to do whatever you wish. For the sake of continuity, the time now is 1855 C.E., and nations are expanding in a world not quite yet sobered by war for annihilation. What would be your vision of a world shaped by the nation that you call your own?

House rules for dispute settlement

If it is not on the app or prior post, it isn’t real
Don’t make wild assumptions if there wasn’t a prior “claims” to your fame.

Uniqueness = strength
Not saying that you should throw ducks at people and call it unique, but clever tactics would be awarded… and Iranian style of “million men army” and American style of “I throw my money at problems and things go away” will be punished. We are here to RP, not play a game of Risk, right?

Timeskips are announced by OP
The OP will decide the CURRENT year of the IC post. This will be updated in yearly intervals.

Assume IRL unless otherwise
We have A LOT of historical paradoxes… don’t mind the elephant in the room. Unless it is app played by RPer, all NPC nations have IRL values unless changed by the players. Similarly, all histories are also IRL unless changed… which by this time around probably has been fudged in every twist and turns.

Annexing Rule
If no RP-nation exists, assume IRL history at earliest possible point (i.e. Since Ottomans did not exist, Egypt would have to follow post-Napoleon Mamulks or something of that nature). Questions on this can be asked to OP for more direction.
Follow "Colonial Rule" (posted on the OOC) when directly annexing non-Centers-of-Modernization areas (see the [Regional Map] for details)
For lands in the Centers of Modernization that does not belong to any player, make your appropriate "invasion" post (always assume that a sovereign nation, RPC or NPC, exists in lands within Centers of Modernization) and wait 2 pages for any response.
If the claim goes uncontested for 2 pages, you may take up to 3 provinces this way.
If contested, follow procedures below detailing conflict between two players.
At any point that the annexation of territory is contested by another player in any ways, diplomacy and complete negotiation is the ONLY way to annex any land.
This can widely range between simple conference to draw out the map anew or escalation into wars.
If the contest escalates into a war, see "RP Battles" for more information.

RP Battles
Few things to keep in mind for fighting with another RPers.
In all seriousness, battles should be planned rather than spontaneous. However, there is no reason to not have spontaneous battles.
Tactics > Troop size. This applies regardless of size difference.
Admitting defeat will stack in your favor. There is a list, and we check them twice.

Firstly... unless it is a predetermined war over OOC as to who will win or lose... the OP board will be deciding who wins and who loses

That being said... here are factors that will determine who wins and who loses.

This is in the order of significance... with 1 being the primary factor to 5 being less important factor.
Diplomacy: Alliance = Less Attrition. Your supply lines are better established, your troops have morale boost since there is a friend in the battlefields, and your navy isn't as taxed covering ALL your colonies. IRL principle goes here. More participants would mean better war.
Military Strength/Weaknesses: I believe I have told EVERYONE that this is important, right? Well... I have been making a separate, off-line resource of everyone's military strengths and weaknesses when you make apps. The system will work like this: how you use your strength to your advantage and how you cover your weaknesses would put points to realism, and therefore earning my bias on the ruling. Now... for those who were jerks and didn't give me all too much information to work with, or have given me only numbers... you have an uphill battle against those who have MOUNTAIN of information ^^;;;
Previous Precedence: This is for fairness. If you lost a war/battle before, those points will be stacked towards your advantage. Therefore, a clever tactician can lose smaller battles to win points for a decisive battle that is to come. Similarly, a clever tactician can gobble up as much victory as possible, then make peace before "going bust." this aspect is also part of IRL wars after all, so I thought it should be involved... plus it makes everything kind of more fair ^^
Quality of Post: As I have been singing on about for quite a bit... quality = epic-win. Of course... quantity does not mean quality, so be careful not to overwrite when a few well-placed sentences would do. The quality I am referring to is how clever your tactics are... how you use your terrain, alliances, your own military, etc. to your advantage. Those who essentially "A-move," to quote a RTS terms, will be penalized.
Great Person: Basically your special generals and admirals. The event is already under way to give you that special someone, and it will only increase as many events comes. If these people are active in your IC posts (and not whipped out JUST for the war), then you will get advantage for having them participate in the battle. They are your aces, and they should have a lot of background surrounding them... which can be earned through your IC posts (ESPECIALLY DURING EVENTS). They will win battles, so please raise them with care ^^

by **Alt Div Admin** » Sat Jan 06, 2018 7:23 am

Accepted Nations - Updated 2018-01-06
Elerian - Great Xi (習王朝)
Remnants of Exilvania - The Holy Catholic Union of the Livonian and the Teutonic Knightly Orders
Plzen - Scandinavian Republic (Republikken Skandinavia)
Old Tyrannia - Dai Nippon Kaikoku (大日本海国)
The Ik Ka Ek Akai - Western Roman Empire(L'impero romano d'Occidente)
New Papan - Polish Commonwealth
The Traansval - Kingdom of the Eight United Netherlands (Koninkrijk van de Acht Verenigde Nederlanden)
Oscalantine - Most Serene Imperial States of Korea (대한제국)

Current Treaties and Alliances - Updated 2018-01-06

Recognized Great Persons - Updated 2018-01-06

Great Admirals are leaders of nation's navies. The higher the level of Great Admiral, the greater influence he or she will have in the field of battle just by his or her very presence.
[[Mary Sue]] [Level - LXXXXVIII] - Testlandia

by **Alt Div Admin** » Sat Jan 06, 2018 7:24 am

Current Events in Progress - Updated 2017-09-07

N//A

by **Alt Div Admin** » Sat Jan 06, 2018 7:24 am

[reserved... why is this account "inoffensive centrist democracy"? Should be "Corporate Bordello"]

by **Plzen** » Sun Jan 07, 2018 3:38 am

Republikken Skandinavia / Lýðveldið Skandinavíu
1850 år etter Kristi fødsel

The year was 1850. Coal-fired smoke filled the skies of great industrial cities that mass-produced prosperity for the consumption of the masses, banner and song filled the streets as politics extended to the general population for the first time, clippers raced across the southern seas bringing vast riches from the colonies, and the bright Scandinavian brother peoples proudly flew their red-and-gold banner from the top of the world... quite literally, in one way, for they held the lands of the north.

But those who hold the highest ground also have the furthest to fall.

The glorious and prosperous Scandinavian empire, built up by the steel and blood of the northern peoples, flickered like a dying candle against the winds of African and Asian regionalism, with the powerful Korean navy bearing down on the great gem of the empire: Java.

Trouble also brewed in Europe, as the "quick conquest" of Gotland that the previous administration envisioned went awry, and the war with the Teutonic-Livonian Catholic Order now enters its third year. Battleships fired at each other, with no end for the war in sight. The spread of enlightenment ideals have riled up the small German minority to Scandinavia's south, who now believe that they, too, should now be part of the newly-formed German state.

Even deep within Scandinavia's frontiers, life was not at all well. The liberal Scandinavian order, the freedoms gained in the Glorious Revolution of 1624, were threatened as outrage flared from both the left and the right. The religious reactionaries seeking to place a King on Scandinavia's throne clashed with the socialists dreaming of a dismantling of the Scandinavian state, not just on the ballot, but often enough also on the streets.

All this in a world where the nine million Scandinavians were being increasingly outnumbered in an ever-larger and interconnected world.

The problems were many, and solutions few. Those who hold the highest ground - it is they who have the furthest to fall.

But the deepest crises are also the times when the greatest glories are earned.

Free City of Batavia, Colonial State of Java, Scandinavian Realm,
1850 January 02, sunrise

"Idiots!"

Chairman of the Council Casper Henriksen threw the letter down on the floor. It was a thin sheet of paper, not even properly crumpled up. The letter fluttered down, leisurely. The sight enraged Casper even more.

"Idiots!"

He looked up at the other Councillors. A displeased expression coloured his face.

"Recruit from the general population of Java," he mockingly read, in a sing-song voice, "instead of limiting the Colonial Guard to the City populace."

Roger Raja chuckled. As the first and also the oldest Javan native to sit on the Council of the Javan State, he grew up in the suburbs of Batavia in the old days of the Colonial State, before the revised citizenship laws. He learned a long, long time ago not to expect too much sense or reason from Copenhagen. Simple solutions, elegant solutions that made sense to the bureaucrats that saw nothing except office walls in Christiansborg Palace simply did not work on the ground, where real problems affected real people.

"And, no doubt, they expect that our recruits will instantly speak perfect Scandinavians and will understand orders after, oh, three months' training. But maybe they're smarter than they look. After all, we'll be sending them out to rush the dastardly foe unarmed. Not worth giving those people proper training," Roger responded sarcastically.

"I understand the necessity of defending this island as well as anyone else," Casper idly commented. "We are surrounded by waters controlled by forces that could turn hostile against us at any moment. But just what do they expect us to do?"

The last word was punctuated with the slamming of a fist against his ornately decorated working desk.

"What, should we pray all night? Hey, who knows, maybe God will grant us machine guns and artillery pieces that Copenhagen isn't giving us. Oh, and maybe a few trained sergeants as well. Plus some barracks for them to sleep in."

Another member of the State Council massaged his temples.

Ever the practical man, Roger's mind was already spinning.

"Obviously more recruitment is out," he thought out loud. "Anybody outside of Batavia that speaks Scandinavian as well as we need them to isn't going to be desperate enough to want whatever wage it is the colonial guard pays these days, and we've already sapped Batavia of most people who meet our strict physical requirements. Relaxing our physical requirements will annoy Copenhagen to no end, so that's out, too. We do have some funds though, so... fortifications?"

"No point," Councillor Sigurd commented. "Batavia's already walled off properly. Improving on that is going to be a very long-term project. Copenhagen won't be satisfied with that. We need to do something quick and visible."

Chairman Casper sat up again.

"Alright, then just around the coastline. Build up a line of little forts - just like the ones that the Gold Coast is building up - to protect... I don't know. Natural harbours or something. We can make up a justification in the report. Those should be pretty visible."

Chairman Casper looked around. There was silence.

"...anyone opposed?"

Nobody was.

"Well, then. Let's get to work!"

Christiansborg Palace, København, Scandinavia,
1850 January 05

Honourable Representatives, respected Statsministre, and the upstanding citizens that have come to spectate the debate today, greetings.

There exists a reality in Scandinavia. A certain unfortunate reality. It is the reality of those unfortunate who have been left behind in prosperity, the oppressed that have been left behind in republicanism, and those brave who were sacrificed for war.

The reality is that in Scandinavia, while some rest in comfortable beds on the second floors of palaces, others cannot afford to even hang on to their little colonial shacks over the cold of winter. I do not hold the general belief that "liberty" means leaving each citizen to his own means, his own abilities, and his own affairs, that to be free means to be free of society's demands. I can point to those who go from door to door on the hopes of scouring a bit of bread - a victim of societal neglect. Those who fear the dawn of tomorrow, where unemployment, illness, and other disasters lurk - a victim of societal neglect.

The reality is that in Scandinavia, while a privileged few stand here in this room to argue for their beliefs and for their interests, others can influence the state only through their 3rd class vote granted to those without property, and cannot dream of standing here as a representative, for they cannot afford to be out of work for so long. The Republican ideal - that those affected by a decision must be those who choose to make it - is not yet accomplished in this country.

Scandinavia is a prosperous nation, capable of taking care of all, and yet what we see in this country is a neglect of the most vulnerable, to a staggering degree that defies belief!

Among good friends, there is no willingness to make minor slaves of others for personal gain. The more influential feel no particular compulsion to plunder the vulnerable, nor does one see a division of privilege. Good friendship is defined by helpfulness, solidarity, co-operation and consideration; it is by these traits that a good society must also choose to define itself by.

In order for Scandinavia to be a truly free state, a nation that the people can proudly call their own, there must be a grand societal rebalancing; the abolishment of all legal, sociocultural, financial, and geographical discrimination that today divide the citizenry into the oppressors and the oppressed, the privileged and the unfortunate, the powerful and the silent; an expansion, acceptance, and application of democratic principles, not just in politics, but also in the national economy and our national society!

It is by these principles that we have always stood, and it is these principles for which we will always strive for.

Thank you very much.

- Kaleva Ranta, unofficial leader of the Socialist Party of Scandinavia

Kiel, Danmark, Scandinavia,
1850 January 19th

"Deutsches Volk für den deutschen Staat!"

The rallying cry went up, and the cheering started up once more. The police stood, protecting City Hall from the clutches of these marauding bandits. The crowd moved, protesting for the cause of German nationalism.

"Return home! This riot is an illegal action!"

The Chief of the Constabulary didn't seriously expect the crowd to dissipate just with that, of course, although he would not have terribly minded that outcome either.

German nationalism - the idea that the North Germans of Holsten were incompatibly different from the Scandinavian nationalities of the north and therefore required a separate and autonomous administrative, cultural, and political identity - has been slowly broiling since the early 1700s, with the birth of the enlightenment and the rise of national identities across the European lands. As long as Germany remained just an idea, however, the situation was manageable. Very few people were willing to die for a nation that existed only on paper.

However, with the establishment of Germany - not the Germanies, or the German States, but Germany - the situation had fundamentally changed. One German state, for one German nation! The idea held appeal. The radical nationalists, that demanded the supposed "return" of the supposed "German lands" of Holsten and, sometimes, even Slesvig to Germany joined forces with the more moderate particularists that did not extend their demand beyond more autonomy for the German people in southern Scandinavia in filling the streets of Kiel.

The Chief of the Kiel Constabulary sighed. This was so annoying. Didn't these people have work to go to?

The State and Parliament of the Scandinavian Republic, however, seemed deaf to these demands. The conservatives, who have always found the modern ideas of decentralisation and nationalisation ridiculous, rejected the idea of autonomous provinces. The liberals, filled to the brim with Scandinavian nationalism, saw the German minority in Holsten as foreigners infesting Scandinavian lands, as opposed to Scandinavia occupying German lands.

The North Germans had no allies in the folketing. So, to the streets they flowed.

"It is hereby ordered," shouted the Chief of the Constabulary, "that you all immediately return to your residences! This is your final warning! We will open fire!"

The crowd ignored him.

And that, thought the Chief, was my third and final warning. I have fulfilled the requirements in accordance to protocol.

The Chief of the Constabulary raised his arm. The ring of policemen guarding City Hall raised their arms.

The Chief of the Constabulary brought down his arm. And smoke and terror filled the blood-soaked streets of Kiel.

Maybe this time they will learn, and stop rioting in the streets.

Kista barneskole, Stockholm, Scandinavia,
1850 January 20

"God morgen, class!"

"God morgen, Ms. Persson!"

Children, thought the teacher. God's gift to this world.

The ambitious barneskole programme, ambitiously pressed forwards by a coalition of liberals and socialists, now entered its fourth year of effect. Many of the schools established under this programme, like this one, was just one or two years old. And yet, the enthusiasm of its proponents and, occasionally, its teachers were unparalled.

We will build up a new and better Scandinavia, the slogan of the programme went. Its goal: every child in school by 1860.

Kista barneskole was one of the first schools built under this program. Getting proper education into this region, the Ministry of Development decided, was more important than in any other region. As the northern core of Scandinavian innovation, a centre of precision manufacturing and mechanical design, and the site of the Swedish Institution of Science and Technology, Kista hungered for educated men. The region already had one of the highest literacy rates in all of Scandinavia, beating even Roskilde or Sør-Bergen in census surveys. But a good minority of Kista still remained uneducated, and the Ministry was eager to fix this as soon as possible.

"Now, class, today we will start with Scandinavian grammar. Open your notebooks - yes, you too, Jan. I will be checking your notes later."

The curriculum was simple enough. These were basic institutions, designed to improve public literacy. They were not and were never intended to be great centres of learning and wisdom. Scandinavian reading and writing, then mathematics, introduction to civics, and a choice between Old Nordic, Finnish, or Latin. The entire curriculum covered only six years - eight for the extended program, but for those who otherwise would have no schooling at all, it was quite an improvement.

Literacy and numeracy. The core tenets of an upstanding citizen of the industrial era.

"Jan! Sit down! You should have gone to the bathroom in your break! You are not going anywhere now!"

...even if, sometimes, the students didn't understand that. The barneskole programme faced opposition from every corner of society. The strong regional accents and dialects in the Scandinavian lands, which made it so difficult to teach standard Scandinavian. The thinly-populated and poorly-developed provinces of the north and the east, which made it so difficult for the budding youth to find a way to reach their nearest school. Often enough, the more reactionary elements of society that thought that women should listen, not read.

Ms. Persson raised her switch and Jan, reluctantly, sat down. The lesson had begun and the children would learn, whether anyone wanted them to or not.

Scandinavia would be led into the modern era, dragged kicking and screaming if that was what it took.

Aarhus, Danmark, Scandinavia
1850 January 23rd

See the smoke rise to the skies,
Hear the roar from every factory!
The powers that are now will soon no longer fit,
Soon all the chains will break.

The passenger car arrived at Aarhus station. The Aarhus - Aalborg line was the oldest line of rails in Scandinavia, being nearly twenty years old, and the station's look matched its age. Although future generations might look at the station and consider its aesthetics to be early industrial, not out of place in 1850, the people of these times, with a finer eye for fashion and art of the age in which they lived, saw the station as quaintly distinctive.

The city had come quite far from the town that once sat here making a meager living out of fishing and commerce through the Danish Belts. Around the railway station there was a certain hustle and bustle that characterised the hearts of great cities. People went about their businesses in streets cluttered by horse-driven carriages. A tram line was under construction that would connect the train station to the city harbour, but this would not be active for at least a couple more years.

We will not retreat again
To small farmholds and cottage industries!
Always forwards, forwards, and forwards, comrades!
We will build a new society.

A short carriage ride away from the train station was the Aarhus industrial district. Sitting right in the middle of Scandinavia's most productive farmlands and pastures, Aarhus' food manufacturing industry was famous. Although some enterprising men were building up a nascent metallurgy industry to process Swedish ores into the beams and bars that were so heavily in demand by northern Germania's cities and many workshops for civilian trinkets dotted the city, it was still pasteurised milk, canned seafood and meat, soup base, and preserved cattle that made Aarhus' industrial district a living and its many thousands of workers their daily wage.

The sprawling industrial district, as well as the city's many inhabitants, required energy, and since the invention of the steam engine energy meant coal. Every week, clippers arrived from Ny Sjælland, from Vinland, and from Canton with their cargo holds filled with these black jewels. There would be barges from Poland as well, in better times, but since 1848 the war in the Baltic had shut down commerce in that sea. Smoke filled the air above the city, before being blown away by the winds. Some dreamed of a return to the older, cleaner days, but the price of progress was what it was.

So listen closely, comrade,
Hear the machinery sing!
They sing of the end to the world's injustice,
They sing of our final victory.

There were truths in the cities. A truth that echoed from the roaring factories stamping out canned tuna by the millions, a truth that could be bought from the grocery stores selling the green of the Danish countryside, a truth that was imported by the ton on clippers sailing the world's greatest oceans, a truth discussed in the hallowed halls of learning and science, a truth that upstanding citizens stuffed into the ballot box in General Elections, and a truth that steams into Aarhus Central on wheels and rails.

The feeling of the times were undeniable. They could not be suppressed. There was only the war between the past and the future.

Change. Progress.

20km off the coast of Visby, the Baltic Sea,
1850 January 24th

January 24th, Captain Øystein Amundsen of the RFS Viborg wrote in his journal. Yet another day passes, and nothing of note happens in this flat and windy sea. The Teutons have neither surrendered, nor have they emerged from that fortress of theirs to battle. Having spent some seven months in our mission now, our crew is becoming weary and, to be fully honest, so am I.

I am not a strategic man, but it seems to me as a Captain in the frontlines that the war has reached something of a stalemate. By the assurances of the Admiralty given at the beginning of the war I should already have been home two years ago. Instead, my ship is pulled this war and that. A year, securing the Danish Belts, another year, guarding Stockholm, seven months near Visby...

Visby. That city and fortress still stares at me from across the narrow stretch of sea between our fleet and the shores of Gotland. Visby stares at me, mockingly, deriding me. It's just ten miles away, maybe fifteen, and yet to me it might as well be on the moon, as much as I can get to it. I do not understand. I myself have been here seven months. The blockade has been running for quite a while before I even got here, as well. How has the long war not sapped Gotland out of supplies? How is it not out of powder, cannonball, reinforcements, and chains? How do their maintain their frequent raids against our fleet? Do they have night runners, sneaking to the mainland in the darkness?

The rumour has it that the army is still refusing to commit their brigades towards a ground assault. In a sense, I can understand them. What few breaches we have made on the fortress walls remain minor, and an assault is likely to be bloody in both ships and men. And yet... perhaps it is selfish of me to think a return home worth it.

I miss my Jeanine. I have no doubt that she is living comfortably, back home in Karlskrona. The salary of a Captain should be enough to keep her and our two daughters in good health. But... does she miss me? It's been too long. Our youngest might even forget what I looked like, by the time I come back.

I wish for a speedy end to this war. A rapid victory for the Scandinavian Republic. I hope that the Teuton menace will be ground to dust, so that us true men of the Baltic can stay home besides the delicious food of our homeland and the laughter of our children.

But today, nothing of note happened.

by **Remnants of Exilvania** » Sun Jan 07, 2018 4:04 am

Heilige katholische Union der Livonischen und Teutonischen Ritterorden
Anno 1850

Budapest; Transylvanian Landmeister Konrad Hicksmacher

Slowly the horses came to a halt in front of the entrance to Buda Castle. There were nine of them, nine riders on nine horses, sporting the showy uniforms of the Pannonian Order as well as a standard bearing the twin-headed dragon. They all knew that while they made their way through the city, they had attracted enough attention for someone to inform the authorities and now here, at Buda Castle in the heart of the Hungarian Kingdom, they were sure to have all the attention they needed. The one rider who was at the head of the small group dismounted his horse and tossed the reigns to one of the knights. Two others also dismounted and followed him as he walked up to the entrance of Buda Castle.

This man who led the group was distinct from the others by not very much, the only thing giving away that he was special being a heavy chain around his neck sporting a black cross decorated with Onyx. This man was none other then Konrad Hicksmacher, the Hochmeister of the Pannonian Order as well as the designated Landmeister for the Union's Transylvanian territories. He was already a grey, old man, in his early 60s but nonetheless his stature and apparel demanded respect. One could feel that this man had once possessed great strength and that even now, with his body growing old and weary, he still was none you wanted to fight.

But what could have led the Hochmeister of the Pannonian Order to the court of his hungarian majesty? Well, it was the wish of the Hochmeister of the Teutonic Order of course. Hochmeister Helmut von Staufen had appointed his expert in hungarian matters to negotiate about a possible alliance with the hungarian king. And to be fair, this order fit very well into Konrad's plans who had urged the Order for decades to pursue closer bonds with the Kingdom of Hungary to ensure that the Burzenland would stay under some form of Order control.

When Konrad reached the entrance, he quickly made the symbol of the cross before his chest to greet the guards before stating:

"My name is Konrad Hicksmacher, Hochmeister of the Pannonian Order and Landmeister of Transylvania. I have been sent by my master, the Hochmeister of the Teutonic Order Helmut von Staufen, to negotiate with his hungarian majesty on behalf of the Holy Catholic Union of the Livonian and the Teutonic Knightly Orders. I would like to be introduced to either your king, your minister of foreign relations or anyone with a high enough governmental position to negotiate with me."

Warsaw; Laienbruder Thomas Soda

Brother Soda looked in awe at the tall buildings surrounding him. It was the first time that he was here, in the city of Warsaw. Before, he had always served his Komtur in Kulm and never really got out of there. Hence why he had been so surprised and very flattered when he had been approached by his Komtur with a task coming directly from the Ordenstressler Johann von der Buchenhheide himself. Afterall, he was nothing but a simple monk working for the administration in Kulm, speaking polish fluently and being generally well liked by the mostly polish local population. Suppose that was the reason why the trusted such a lowly monk such as him with such a grand task. He had to admit, it was actually quite a daunting task.

For two years the Scandinavia-Teutonic War had raged now and there was no end in sight yet. The economy of the Order was suffering greatly from the Scandinavian blockade of the Öresund. Trade had come to a nearly complete standstill.

But that was why he was now in Poland on a mission from god's faithful warriors. He was to seek out the proper polish authorities and approach them with monetary offers from the Teutonic Order. Actually, his coach driver had already brought him just in front of the governmental building he had been looking for so atleast he didn't have to worry about getting lost in the sprawling city. Clothed in his simply monk robes he walked up towards the entrance, greeting the guards with the sign of the cross and asking:

"Amen my sheep, may the lord guide you and protect you at all times. I am brother Soda, Thomas Soda, and I have been sent from the Teutonic Order to speak with your authorities."

Rome; Generalprokurator Horst von Strauben

Usually the Generalprokurator was the constant emissary of the Order for the Pope. The one who always represents the Order's interests for the Pope and transmitts the Pope's interests to the Order. But today it was different. Generalprokurator Horst had received a letter from his superior, the Hochmeister Hermann von Staufen, to seek out the Western Roman Empress Alessandra Udaina and engage with her in diplomatic negotiations. It was clear that only he would be chosen for such a task, seeing that he had spent the last two decades of his life here in Roman and was thus much more experienced in how to handle the Western Romans than any other the Hochmeister could've sent.

He was well known in Rome as the envoy of the Teutonic Order so usually certain doors opened for him without him even having to say his name. Besides, in the traditional garb of the order, wearing a white cloak with a black cross above it, he was easily recognizeable. He was a tower of a man with muscles like an ox and a sizeable manly moustache on his face. His red hair was well cut and short. Everyone in Rome, atleast in the governmental and ecclesiarchic districts, knew the towering knight with the big red moustache. But despite his fear inducing stature, he was actually a very kind and pious man. Hermann had chosen him as Generalprokurator exactly because of these wonderful character traits of his together with his great physical assets. He was a good enough man to gain the friendship of any who had taken the teachings of Christ seriously and he was also a strong enough man to defend himself should someone attack him...or the Pope for that matter.

Anyway, he too, just like his brothers in other countries right now, approached the guards of whatever bloody building he was in front of smiling and greeting them with the sign of the cross as he said:

"Amen gentlemen. I've been sent by my brother, the Hochmeister of the Teutonic Order, to engage in diplomatic negotiations with her imperial majesty Alessandra Udaina. Wanna lead me to her or should I lead myself if you let me through?"

Aaaaand he was also a pretty simple man.

by **New Papan** » Sun Jan 07, 2018 5:54 am

Rzeczpospolita Królestwa Polskiego

Polish Commonwealth
Ignacy Feliks Dobrzyński - Symphony No. 2

Weichselschloss, Ciechocinek, German Order. 2nd of January, 1850
The New Year's festivities had not seized, and so His Majesty's Regent could not concentrate. It was his duty to protect the Monarch, act in the best interests of both Poland and its Monarchy, which was proving more and more difficult as time went. Couldn't that ghastly commotion end? Sure, even he had imbibed a glass of Roman wine or two on the night of the new year, but the lavish partying was going overboard. The composer, Ignacy Feliks Dobrzyński had been invited by His Majesty who proved to be a man that appreciated fine music, but that could torment the Regent for days with his vigor. Even though His Majesty had been relieved of his responsiblities for a few days, Michał Czajkowski was swamped with work to be done.

Prince Michał Czajkowski,
His Majesty's Regent

The Government in Warsaw had no problems with taking on the Monarch's few powers, but was equally inclined to alleviate itself of responsibility by shoving it onto the Regency. The question at hand was a diplomatic one. Prime Minister Korneliusz Krasovsky had taken office last November, intent on setting in motion the construction of railways in Poland. The Polskie Koleje Państwowe had been founded a month before but despite room being made in the government's budget, there was not enough to start construction. Krasovsky had written to Czajkowski, imploring him to find a foreign loan. The Sejm had renounced the few loans from Polish banks as usury, and so the company lacked funds to start the building. Some equipment had been ordered, both imported and bought in Poland, and plans had been set up by the engineer Ernest Malinowski, who's work abroad had made him a promising choice for the position. Czajkowski realized that a loan of the size required could only come from abroad, and he was intent on seeking one with the help of royal contacts. Krasovsky had made it clear than anything but a construction at the scale of Malinowski's plan was unthinkable, and he had a liberal Sejm behind him intent on this modernizing project.

Prince Michał Czajkowski had previously represented the Crown as Minister to Constantinople, and saw the Roman Empire as a possible patron for the modernization of Poland. Appealing to the Orthodox Bishop in Lwów could be seen as desperate, so he thought it more appropriate to contact his replacement as chief diplomat there. Talks with the Emperor or his representatives and the National bank could prove a source of a majority of those funds. Additionally, seeking capital from the Dutch and the Western Romans for fractions of the funds could balance the larger loan. A payment plan of 10 years seemed appropriate, as the construction of the railway's key line connecting Warsaw with Bialystok and Vilna in the north and Lódz and Katowice in the south would be finished by half that time and could start paying for itself, or partially so at least.

Someone knocked on the door. "Enter", Michał had said only to be met by Dobrzyński. It turned out he was homebound, and wished to greet the Regent at work on his way out. They discussed some of his performances at Warsaw's Grand Theatre, and the King's wish to support Dobrzyński's lobbying for a Music Institute. Typical. They think I have any powers, and so they meet with me. He wished the composer a safe way home to Poland, and said that he hoped to see him on stage in a near future. Going back to work, Czajkowski wrote to the Ministers in Constantinople and Amsterdam, as well as His Majesty's uncle and representative in Rome, Stanisław Puzyna, the Count of Chełm.

Sandomierski Palace, Warsaw, Kingdom of Poland, Polish Commonwealth. 7th of January, 1850.

Sandomierski Palace
Prime Minister's offices
and official residence

The four Gendarmerie Force members guarding the entrance of the Sandomierski palace facing the Royal square were a bit startled by the monk approaching the building, but recognized him as the Teuton representative they were expecting when he presented himself. The guard captain knocked on the door which was opened immediately by a similarly dressed guard inside.

"Brother Soda, I will escort you to His Excellency the Prime Minister for your audience." The captain said, and did as such. The Sandomierski palace was extravagant. Decorated, furnished and with high ceilings, this was only one of hundreds of palaces of its kind in Poland. It was a monument to the lavish spending of royalty and nobility for centuries in Poland. After a three minute walk and ten minute wait, the guard captain opened the door to the Prime Minister's official office. They found him looking at the courtyard through one of the many high windows in the room, well-dressed and with orderly hair with the brightness of silver. He turned around a few seconds after the Teuton representative entered. First, Prime Minister Korneliusz Krasovsky met Brother Soda's eyes with his own. Then, he quickly examined him from a distance, chuckled and waved him over. He greeted Soda in fluent German, assuming this lowly monk of sorts wasn't versed in Polish.

"My name is Korneliusz Krasovsky, His Majesty Michal III's Prime Minister. Who am I conversing with? And... if I may be so frank, is this what Hochmeister von Staufen sends to meet with me?"

Polish Embassy, Amsterdam, Kingdom of the Eight United Netherlands. 12th of January, 1850.

Aleksander Wielopolski,
HM's Minister to the Netherlands

The Polish Embassy in Amsterdam was more than 200 years old, and had been renovated only a decade ago. It was a comfortable residence and office of Conservative politician and diplomat Aleksander Wielopolski, who's appointment had been a gesture of good will from the Liberal government of Prime Minister Krasovsky to the divided Sejm. As a staunch Monarchist, Wielopolski had argued for a return to Absolute Monarchy for years. He thought the divine rule of the Monarch was the only viable option for a stable political climate that Poland desperately needed. Ethnic, Religious and political divisions hadn't disappeared with the constitution of 1798, only eased the tensions those divisions brought. Economically, Wielopolski was in line with the Przywrócenie Narodowe faction, wanting an end to expensive government programs that would bring foreign debt to Poland and an adoption of the Laissez-Faire doctrine that had worked so well elsewhere. It was therefore hard for him to draft a letter urging the government of the Dutch Federation to provide a loan for the construction of Polish railways.He would not oppose a request from His Majesty's Regent himself however. Michał Czajkowski was a friend of his and had proven to be a uniting force in the country, taking over the duties of the Monarch while His Majesty Michał III would grow up into the King he was destined to become. The education provided by a statesman like Czajkowski would prove exactly what a Polish King needed, the strength to unite a divided Nation.

The Dutch had withheld a democratic form of government far longer than the Polish Commonwealth. It was a successful form of governing, Wielopolski did not deny it, but he thought it was far better suited the Dutch and not the Polish people. The Dutch had provided a place for them in the modern world by power at sea, the Polish by power on land. Even though the Dutch had competed with Scandinavians and Asian powers for that influence across the world, they were not the foremost. Neither was Poland, a shrunken state with a small army compared to its stronger neighbors at every quarter. Maybe the Dutch would have sympathy. Another possibility was their monetary gain, should they risk a loan for Poland. Christian ties weren't going to be an argument, despite the secularity accepted by all four major Churches in Poland.

Letters of similar fashion were sent to the governments in Rome and Constantinople by the respective ambassadors there.

Museum of Natural History, Jagiellonian University, Kraków

Felicjan Sypniewski,
Polish naturalist

The Nationalist government previously administering the nation from 1848 to last November under the Leadership of Prince Adam Jerzy Czartoryski had been determined to promote Polish culture and science. A year ago or so, funding had been approved for the opening of a museum of natural history, following a positive international response in the naturalist community to the work of Felicjan Sypniewski. The intention of hosting this museum in one of the Jagiellonian University's buildings was to promote the educated Polish youth to pursue scientific work, and recognize the important work of Sypniewski within his field of science. The museum was to open on the 3rd of March 1850, and so preparations in great detail were ongoing. Two exhibitions were to be hosted in the not too sizable building, one of bothany and one of zoology. The latter will mainly focus on entomology and malacology, but on the specific request of the young King, a stuffed Lion and Zebra from Africa have been ordered in a small "Exotic life" exhibition, together with collected plants of foreign countries.

The Polskie Towarzystwo Przyjaciół Nauk, or Polish Society of Science, has taken inspiration from museums in European countries for the founding of the natural history museum, making it one of the most modern institutions of its kind. Its members will hold lectures monthly at the museum, not only to present their work but to showcase the public how the scientific method works and how scientists operate. The King has been invited to the ceremonial opening of the museum. Felicjan Sypniewski and the curator of the museum will be there to greet the King and the public, most likely a good portion of Kraków either interested in seeing the young Monarch or possibly, getting a peak of the museum's interior on its first open day.

by **The Ik Ka Ek Akai** » Sun Jan 07, 2018 9:30 am

L'impero romano d'Occidente

"Rome has grown since its humble beginnings that it is now overwhelmed by its own greatness."

Roma

"Signora! A letter has arrived!" a furious knocking came upon her door- interrupting her siesta. Heaving a great sigh, she dragged herself out of her silken sheets and cushions, away from her oh-so fluffy mattress, slipped her feet into her boots, and started buttoning them up. The knocking refused to cease, at which point she yelled "Un attimo!" and hastened her buttoning a bit. Certainly, it was much more convenient than laces- but still took time. Finishing, she grabbed a quick shawl to cover herself a little better and opened the thick and dark wooden door to her chamber. The servant beyond handed her a simple note and scattered off. Closing the door and opening the curtains, Alessandra sat at something of a desk, or a vanity mirror that was closed, and opened the note. Holding a candle near for some extra light in her own shadow, she overlooked the note.

Intriguing, she thought, that the Poles would reach so far, and ask for so much- a business venture, it had seemed. Well, in her blood of Italians and Dalmatians and reaching all the way to the Patricians of Rome, mercantile tendencies seemed almost second-nature to her people, and to her- such management had been vital to keeping the modern Patricians happy, the state wealthy, and the crown influential. She sat there, then, contemplating the asking price and the ripple it might cause on the economy for the greater part of 15 minutes before she was struck by a blast of inspiration and conceived a brilliant idea- who in Rome held such vast wealth, but had no need? Il Papa would certainly contribute if it were to help his fellow Catholics?

Donning an outergarment of the classic Roman sort, the type that both the Constantinopolitan emperor and the Pope could equally appreciate, she was given the appearance of a vestal virgin, or perhaps closer to the habits of a nun? The two were so similar among the Italians that there was hardly a line that could be drawn. As she finished her attire with a simple pair of unperfumed leather gloves- such perfumes had been banned in the Vatican long ago as a vanity, she remembered a few years ago when she donned the very same attire to pose for a few portraits. One, painted by a German and a friend of hers, depicted her as a bondmaid in the attire- a dirty rag trapping her tongue, it was intended as a symbolic gesture. This German had been quite the revolutionary in his own right, moving to Rome in appreciation of the humanities, and in his painting wished to portray many messages- history and humanity among them, Rome was an ideal locale for his work. She smiled, remembering the fun chat that they had afterwards, and asking why she agreed to stand idle like such for so long. Fun memories, the whole.

Walking the halls, adorned by rays of light, she realized that she was to depart in this attire, and that this attire felt so relatively free compared to typical formal wear. In this, walking was made easy, skirts were slim, and the whole outfit was relatively light- a standard formal dress by contrast was generally quite clunky and needed years of practice to learn how to walk in, and that's not to mention the heat that the layers brought on- there's a reason perfumed gloves were so popular, after all. Stepping beyond the doors of the palace, she made her way by horse to the Vatican. While walking was more humble, the city of Rome was a behemoth and for concerns of time, as this was not intended to be a daytrip as much as a simple visit, such transportation was necessary.

Arriving at the gates of the Vatican, and meeting the guard outside, she dismounted and gently led her horse to them. "Buongiorno" she said softly, and showed them her sealing ring- an aquila single-headed eagle surrounded by a wreath. Understanding the signet as a mark of her authority, they took her horse for keeping and allowed her inside. Walking gently and tenderly among the medieval stones of the area, viewing each Rinascimento statue with appreciation, each column coming to form the basilica, she was told by the guards at the gate to simply wait outside. So she did, standing alone on a quiet day in the Vatican, appreciating all the art that had come to fruition by the rebirth of central authority, the restoration of the Roman will, and the resolve of the Roman people.

The Pope soon came to meet her. She did a simple curtsy, "Il Papa" she uttered as she did so, to which he raised her up once more and smiled.

"It is always good to see you, Alessandra." he stated, "How fares the empire?"

"That is what I mean to discuss with you, Papa. The Empire does well, but the Catholic people are in need."

"This is distressing Cesara, what do you mean?"

"The Lord of Poland has approached me, and has asked for a sizable charitable donation to help his people. He tells that he has enlisted a master engineer to improve the infrastructure of the land, that his people may travel safely and with due rapidity to their duties. I wish to help him, Papa, but I fear that the amount he asks may harm my own people if I donate it. Oh, wise Papa, may I trouble you so in good faith to relieve me of some burden, and to aid in my donation that we may meet his need together, and with your blessing that I may send this charity to the faithful of Poland?"

"My, that is quite the request! How much does he ask?"

"One million and eight hundred thousand z...zel...sla...Polish money."

The pope thought long. It was by no means a small request, and though his faith in the Cesara was strong, he knew with great clarity the burden it might incur to the Italians if he denied. At the same time, it would also diminish the Papal treasury very significantly to cover even half of it- after all, indulgences were but a shadow of their former self, tithe seemed to trickle in less and less by the decade, and charitable donations were instead being hoarded by the greedy to provide ever-increasing grandeur to their personal estates. He turned away from her and stared at his gilded Basilica, and released a sigh. Feeling worried, Alessandra kept herself utterly quiet as he turned once again to face her.

Placing his hand on her shoulder, he stated, "So it shall be. I shall cover a portion of your debt so long as the funding goes to help good Catholics abroad."

"Grazie! Grazie, Papa!"

The two spent a few more minutes discussing their recent events, their duties, and bid one another farewell. Alessandra reclaimed her horse from the guard and made her way back to her palace, and hopefully back to her siesta. Just as she began to abandon her vestal garments, however, another visitor arrived. Checking the clock, was it too late for a siesta? There was no set time, after all, more of a general understanding really. Peering out her window to see who it was at the front gate, she saw the distinctive monastic cloak of German knights.

"Interesante..."

Realizing that her vestal garments might, just perhaps, be a suitable thing to wear- she also considered the more cumbersome Western attire that he might be expecting. She was, to him, almost certainly a noble moreso than a holy leader- but he was a monk, was he not? She sat for a few minutes trying to choose which appearance to present, which would leave the stronger impression for the encounter? Her time was running thin, clearly, so she grabbed the vestal garments and tossed them on once more, and began rushing her way to the throne room to meet the knight.

The knight, meanwhile, would be allowed in wordlessly, and offered a plate of olives or a small cup of wine to help ease his wait. "Apologies, signore, but the empress is simply readying herself," he would be told a few times. After about ten minutes, at last an armored guard would step into the room. With elaborately decorated plate, gilded floral patterns over the whole breastplate and with a small lion head poking out at the top, and wielding an obviously ceremonial pike, he guard spoke, "The Cesara is ready to see you now."

He would be led, then, into the throne room, past many lovely paintings of various Italian places and people- a good few including Alessandra herself in various attires. At last the throne room would open, where seated upon the ivory throne of Maximian she was- wearing her vestal robes and shawl and her head properly covered in their fashion, with her simple but soft leather gloves, and her button-up boots just barely peeking out through the bottom of her attire. "Salute, Generalprokurator," she began, butchering the pronunciation of his title with the addition of long vowels and trilled consonants, "sono Cesara Alessandra Udina Belisaria dei Romani." This was, above all, a formality- her full name in proper Italian and with the titles of Cesara and Belisaria placed as they were back when the peninsula actually spoke Latin and considered Roman naming customs to be of great importance. The use of 'Udina' being only a proper translation, and she made note duly- "Though you may call me Signora Udaina", wherein her surname her in proper Dalmatian form seemed devoid of long vowels entirely, "Or, if you prefer, Alessandra."

by **Remnants of Exilvania** » Sun Jan 07, 2018 4:24 pm

Heilige katholische Union der Livonischen und Teutonischen Ritterorden
Anno 1850

Warsaw; Laienbruder Thomas Soda

"Before the Lord we are all the same, Prime Minister Krasovsky. But excuse me, I was not supposed to meet a Prime Minister, lest a Prime Minister is nowadays responsible for managing construction and infrastructure."

, the monk kept a friendly expression on his face while answering in perfect polish. An old man who couldn't hurt a fly, that was what he looked and sounded like. And to be fair, that was what he was. Hell, he even was a pretty naive man, the surprise when Krasovsky introduced himself as the Prime Minister clearly written all over his wrinkled face. But oh well, a Prime Minister it was then. From how Mr. Krasovsky looked, he was surely a friendly and devout christian who would pass on what he was supposed to grant the correct authorities.

Or maybe not? The monk had noted the lavish decorations adorning the building both inside and outside and while he was used to decorations, he knew that unlike in the Order, these were not made for the glory of the lord. Maybe these people were in bitter need for some penance? Well, with a stern look he offered his hand to Krasovsky for a handshake while saying:

"Thomas Soda is my name. I am a brother of the Teutonic Order, sent here from the Commandry of Kulm by the Ordenstressler of the Teutonic Order. Say my dear misguided sheep, would you like to repent? God does not look kindly upon us if we overindulge in worldly pleasures and fall into decadence. Do not let the sacrifice of Christ go to waste! Please, reassure me that you are of pure heart and soul so that my mind can rest easy, knowing that I have passed my mission on to a good man and a true believer of the lord!"

Rome; Generalprokurator Horst von Strauben

Generalprokurator Horst thanked the servants bringing him refreshments. He took some of the offered olives but refused to take the wine. He was not allowed to drink it. He was a patient man, he could wait for the empress. Hell, it was an empress, he would't even mind if she let him wait here for an entire week. But luckily she let him wait for only ten minutes. Then a metall plated clown appeared to escort him to her majesty. With a slight hint of amusement Horst looked over the armour of the guard, over the ornate and finely crafted patterns and decorations. While kind of attracting his ire because he didn't particularly believe that fancy deocrations helped in battle, he also had to admit that he was admiring the skill of the Roman craftsmen who had created the breastplate.

Following the guard Horst took his time to look at the pictures wich were presenting themselves to him on his way to the throne room. Her majesty was looking good on them. All of them had been made by very good painters. Every person, every location, they all looked very good. Horst himself had once tried himself at art...but ultimately sucked at it but he still found out just how much time and effort it took to make a simple picture.

Anyway, in the end he finally got into the throne room and quickly fell to his knee and bowed his head before the Empress. When he stood up again, he slowly walked towards her, coming to a stop just before her throne where he then fell onto his knees yet again and took her hand, which he kissed onto its gloved back. He then backed of again to a respectful distance before responding with words rather than actions:

"You honour me by granting me some of your valuable time and attention."

Looking at her slightly insecure he added:

"Since you allowed it, I shall refer to you as Alessandra, if that is alright with you your majesty?

Now, we both know that this is not just a courtesy visit. The brother Hochmeister has sent me to you for he wishes to establish better relations with the Western Roman Empire. He appeals to our common faith and beliefs in order to create a new alliance. I am sorry if I may have presented this a bit badly but I am not great with words your majesty."

Madrid; Schäffer Harald Meckermann

The journey to Madrid had been long. They had had to cross the german lands, the frankish lands, the Pyrenees and the Spanish Highlands to get here. But all journeys eventually come to an end. And Schäffer Harald was very grateful for that. He knew that he could soon expect some refreshments, which he was yearning for in this heat. He wasn't used to it at all, coming from all the way fromt he Baltic Sea down here. But why was he here? A Schäffer was one of the regular diplomats of the Teutonic Order and they were sent whereever the Order needed them to negotiate. It was no different with Harald Meckermann. Anyway, why negotiate with the faraway Spaniards?

Well, that was what the Spaniards were going to find out soon enough. The Schäffer's coach was guided through the streets of Madrid by cooperative locals, who received shiny amber in return. Amber, for the Teutons it was nearly like a currency. But only nearly. Anyway, after a while they reached the governmental building they had been aiming for all along and the coach as well as its escort of 16 fully armed knights of the Teutonic Order came to a stop as well. The journey had been a long one and through many dangerous places so he had been provided with a fairly large and high quality escort. All of them wore the standard white and black garb of the Order and remained atop their high horses while Harald left his coach. Only then did four of them dismount and follow him to the entrance of the government building he was walking towards.

When he approached the guards, he made the sign of the cross in front of his chest before adressing them:

"Amen. We have traveled for a long time and wish to see your superiors for the purposes of diplomatic negotiations. We are from the Holy Catholic Union of the Livonian and the Teutonic Knightly Orders and were sent by the Hochmeister."

Visby; Landsoberst Sven Erikson

2 years now. 2 years had the fortress of Visby stood against its enemies Two years had it survived shelling by enemy ships. The strong walls and intricate layers of defenses had withstood the Scandinavia bombardment for a long time and for an equally long time had the batteries of the fortress responded, sending shots back at the ships sitting out there on the sea. But over the years less and less batteries had answered the scandinavian barrages and right now Landsoberst Sven Erikson watched as the last magazine for the artillery that had not yet been destroyed or emptied, was finally emptied. He followed the cannon crew to their cannon, watched them load it, aim it at one of the scandinavian ships before firing the cannon. And that was it. The last answer of fortress Visby.

Sven had no illusions as to what would happen once the Scandinavians found out that they wouldn't be firing back anymore. They had played it safe for two years, they could surely play it safe for a few more weeks. And weeks were all it would take to reduce the fortress city of Visby to nothing but a pile of smouldering rubble. With nothing to return fire, the Scandinavian ships could easily come close and open fire upon the city. Sven closed his eyes and prayed to god. He prayed for the souls of the nearly 20.000 people who were living in this city. Maybe he should send them out onto the countryside? Spread them out? No, the city still offered the greatest protection if the enemy should decide to attack. Anywhere outside the city and enemy troops would have a field day with them. It was testament to the Gutes' loyalty and boldness that many of them still lived outside and worked the fields to feed the city and the whole island. Then again, the Scandinavians had not yet shot at the farmers so maybe they were indeed the safer location.

Troubled by all these question, Sven Erikson once again looked over parapet of the battery fort he was standing on. He could see the enemy ships out there. It was completely up to them if he would evacuate the city or not. But he, the 2.000 men of the Landsknecht garrison as well as the roughly 3.000 volunteers and other currently jobless able bodied people whom he had conscripted for the defense of the island would make their last stand here. He just had to snicker at the thought of that. The Landsknechte were not known to be the greatest military force around and he had no illusions concerning his conscripts/volunteers. They were too young or too old, inexperienced and worst of all, he had lacked the guns to arm them. Even if he utilized the fortress to his advantage, with the multiple existing breaches, the massive shortage of gunpowder and the general quality of troops, he did not except to last for more than 12 hours should the city be attacked by regular forces.

by **The Traansval** » Sun Jan 07, 2018 6:39 pm

Outside the Royal Palace of Amsterdam (Koninklijk Paleis Amsterdam)
Kingdom of the Eight United Netherlands
January 25th, 1850

There was a sound in the air. A sound that William was trying to pinpoint. He recognized the sound of the drums that beat in unison, the sound of the trumpets bellowing out their tunes. He even recognized the sound of Dutch Boots stamping into the ground, and the sound of hoofs clopping on the cobblestone streets. He even recognized the annoyed huff of his wife as she sat, practically bored beside him. But there was one sound he didn't recognize. It almost like what he'd hear at an opera when four of the singers would sing together creating a single united sound out of multiple different ones.

It was the sound of the people, William realized. The sound of Merchant's hawking goods, of men and women crowding the sides of the streets cheering on the soldiers as they marched. The sound of little boys putting a feather in their caps and pretending to be the soldiers they knew they would grow up to be. All of it seemed to come together like a symphony in front of him, and it was glorious.

William the Sixteenth sat in an ornate chair, its cushion made of the finest material in all the land, set up on one of the balconies of his Palace. His son, William, sat at his left watching the procession with interest. His wife, who he'd learned to loathe, sat at his right with a polite fake smile. Just wishing for her husband to drop dead so she could become regent for their son. She couldn't care for the Military, nor her husband's politics.

It was January 25th, the anniversary of the Peace of Munster, which marked the independence of the Netherlands. To celebrate, William had declared a national holiday, and parades were scheduled to take place all day. These all weren't fun and game thought, these served a purpose. William had only been crowned King of the Netherlands in 1849, less than a few months ago. He needed to assert his power, and show he wasn't a weak king like William XV. These parades would show the world that the Netherlands was not a nation to be trifled with. However, organizing it had been a monumental affair, which showed William the problems with the Army. Many times he had to deal with Drunk and disorderly soldiers and, sometimes, even officers. It was embarrassing; it had taken a full month to get a few Regiments together for the parades, imagine if they had to go to war...

Still, no one knew that. As far as the world and the Dutch people knew, the Dutch Army was in perfect fighting condition, and William wanted it kept that way.

The Kinds Study, inside the Royal Palace
January 26th, 1850

"The Polish want what now?" The King inquired, putting down a sheaf of papers on last years taxes. A smell of coffee permeated the room, with was lined with bookshelves filled to the brim with works written by the great philosophers and scientists of the Enlightenment and works dating back to the Classical era. A few select of the Kings bountiful art collect also filled the room, with a painting commissioned of him resting behind his desk squarely between two bookshelves.

In front of him was the Cabinet of Ministers; the heads of the various Ministries of the Dutch Government. Each had been appointed when he rose to government including his chief advisor, Minister-President Thorbecke. Thorbecke was currently seated across from his desk, holding in his hands the message that had been sent to the King.

"A Loan, your Majesty. Much like the one we gave the Americans during their revolution. It seems the Polish are attempting to build rail networks to better industrialize, and they seek our monetary help in the form of a loan..." Thorbecke said, looking over the piece of parchment in his hand. "Or, at the very least that's what Minister Wielopolski had conveyed to us."

"Wielopolski, he's a staunch monarchist is he not? I might be a good idea to get him and the Polish in our good graces. How much does the loan call for?" The King said, laying back in his chair while he stroked his beard thoughtfully. It was an old habit from his time as Prince of Orange, one he had yet to outgrow.

"1.4 million zloty," Thorbecke said perfectly.

"In Guilders man, what will it cost us in Guilders?" The King inquired, not at all familiar with the Polish currency. He wasn't even sure if he could pronounce the damn thing. Thorbecke, being much more knowledgeable on the subject, looked through a folder of papers before coming to the one he wanted. Handing it to the king, he said "Approximately 1.5 Million Guilders your Majesty." Thorbecke said, "The Polish are also offering to give us a percentage of the profits from the rail company they intend to fund" he added.

William looked it over, before nodding his head. "It would be good to bring the Polish into our good graces, it may come in handy if we were to come into conflict with the Catholics. I'll draft a letter, I want it sent to the Embassy in Warsaw posthaste. This meeting is adjourned gentlemen." he said, waving his hand to usher the Ministers out. He had writing to do.

by **Heidi Girl of the Alps** » Sun Jan 07, 2018 6:53 pm

The Iberian Confederation
El Reino España
National Palace,
Madrid

There was hardly ever any trouble finding foreigners in the national capital. The country had territories across the ocean and traders from across Europe and Africa who would often make their businesses here. There was no doubt Iberia acted as the crossroads for many travelers- its geographic position granted it access to the Atlantic and Mediterranean- and from Lisbon one could travel to Northern Europe or Southern Europe. It was also the southernmost positioned nation in Europe, and Iberian ports would often be the first taste of Europe many foreigners would get. But despite all the foreign visitors in the country, Viceroy Jose Olivares only had interest in a few today.

From the windows of the National Palace of Madrid, Olivares spoke with his advisors on matters of foreign diplomacy. With him was the Minister of the State, the Minister of War, and the Minister of the Navy- along with the Leader of the Upper Cortez Majority Ramon Constanza. Olivares was reticent of conflict. He wanted a small, quick and cheap war. Escalation was not in the national interest of the nation-or his party for that matter. The Liberals had taken power from the Conservatives just 3 years ago. If they entered a war and it went awry, then it would be clear that the Liberals would undoubtedly loose power. However, if a war did go well, it would certainly be good for the Liberals and would ensure re-election for years to come.

Olivares skepticism was tempered by his hawkish advisors. The Minister of the Navy Marco Antonio Saliz was confident in his navies ability to take on any aggression from potential enemies. “I have due confidence that our fleet can handle just a few brigands on ships Don Jose.” Saliz moved to a global map with pawns and ships placed on it in a fashion not dissimilar to a board game. He continued- “Our Navy has been fighting Vandal piracy for centuries, our men will not be deterred by the naval forces of another heretical nation. Our Cazadores are well and ready to fight for their nation, as they have been fighting the poor Africans to their east. And if our Cazadors are not up to this task, then there are men here who would die for our country...”

` The minister of War Don Angel Diaz winced at the Navy ministers statement. “Are you suggesting we should involve the Peninsular army to satisfy your ambitions..? If you want our support you will have to be fully cooperative with us to gain victory.” Saliz raised his nose at Diaz’s rebuttal. How could someone so spineless be the minister of war? - he thought. Perhaps it was Saliz’s youth which made him more passionate, but someone of Diaz’s age and experience should surely be more amenable to this proposal? Before he could open his mouth to respond, a door knocked the rooms door. All the men looked towards the door, wherein a guard opened the door to receive a slip of paper. The guard took the paper and handed it to the Minister of State, who opened it without haste. After a moment, he broke the silence. “I am sorry gentlemen, but we have no more time to discuss this matter. We will be able to deliberate on this later, but we have other matters of the state that are currently more urging. The statesman nodded at Viceroy Olivares and the two excused themselves as the meeting ended. As the Viceroy and other minsters shuffled out the doors, the Majority leader Don Constanza gave him a glance before laving the room. Saliz was indignant due to the circumstances on which the meeting had ended, but he had no choice but to wait for his next opportunity to persuade them to his particular “solutions.”

El Reino España
National Palace,
Madrid

Don Pablo and Olivares made haste to the first floor, to greet their new visitors. The Livonian diplomats had been escorted indoors to the national Palace’s large entry atrium. Don Pablo, the Secretary of state was the first to formally welcome the Iberian capital- Bienvenidos. He extended his hand for a handshake- an action the Livonian diplomat seemed to be reluctant to participate in. But nonetheless, the two exchanged their greetings before the same was awkwardly repeated with Don Olivares, the Viceroy. After a few minutes of formal introductions, drinks were brought to quench the Livonians thirst from their journey. Following this, they were guided upstairs to a room in the 2nd floor where diplomatic matters could be discussed. Pablo Allendes let the guests enter first, before following behind them. They all took a seat around a large square table akin to a modestly sized dining table attended by servants and maids, and more drinks were offered to the guests and the hosts. As they all sat down, Olivares and Pablo were joined by another group of men, the Foreign representative to the Livonians, his concierge, the Vicerys personal secretary, and the Minister of War. The relevant officials took a seat, while others simply stood behind them. When everything settled down, Olivares was the one who spoke first.

“I hope we all feel settled down for the time being. Now if I remember correctly, you gentlemen are from the far away lands in the Baltics. I am honored to be in the presence of men of such high esteem, but to what do I owe your graceful presence Gentlemen?”

Iberian Argentina
Santa Cruz Province
Frontier Post 19

Wagons loaded with supplies were bustling by Brigadier General Antonio Lopez. A large caravan of settlers was heading south and west- towards a land called the Magallanes, after the Explorer Fernando Magellan, who had discovered the region before even the Incas knew of its existence. As such, Madrid had declared the land rightfully Iberian. This declaration reached Buenos Aires quickly, wherein just under two thousand settlers took advantage of the land grants being gifted in the region. The military was instructed to aid the settlers however possible.

However, despite the promises of “free land”, it was almost like a cruel joke for most, as the land was barren and frozen. These brave settlers were few, and to accompany them to a new land was only one brigade of Citizen soldiers raised only months ago for this purpose. Lopez’s brigade, was to accompany the travelers to set up a military presence in the region, and convert or “solve” the natives by whatever means necessary. However, even native presence was scarce as the land was wholly inhospitable for those who did not have the resolve to survive there. Another brigade- a Cazador brigade, manned the outpost which was once the frontier of the La Plata colony of Iberia. But now, Lopez’s citizen guard and the settlers he was assigned to protect was now treading into new territory. Would they be able to accomplish their task? Who knows. But what is known is that his task would not be easy, and this decision could make- or break his career. As the last caravan passed through the outposts gates, the 1st Citizen Guard Brigade mobilized. The soldiers marched behind the caravan, westward towards.

"Onwards men, we dont have all day!", commanded Lopez. He was mounted on his horse, so marching was something that was not customary for a man of his rank to do. With him was Liuetenant Colonel Daniel Olverado, his second in command. Like Lopez, he had also attended the Military Academy at Toledo. However, he was to command another half of the army, which would head south towards Puntos Arenas, a naval station which was already settled temporarily. These were the commands of the commanders of Buenos Aires, ones he disagreed with. But he had no choice but to follow this explicit order. A few hours would pass, until the last column of the brigade passed through the outpost. As they passed, the Cazadors saluted the brave men heading west. A final honor that would go a long way for the Citizen guard morale.

by **Plzen** » Mon Jan 08, 2018 4:58 am

Republikken Skandinavia / Lýðveldið Skandinavíu
1850 år etter Kristi fødsel

20 kilometers off the coast of Visby, Baltic Sea,
1850 February 09th

So, thought Captain Øystein Amundsen, to the end, Supreme Command relies on its ships and not its soldiers.

The message - order, rather - from Supreme Command crumpled under his large hands.

The Captain agreed that it was time to make a serious assault on Visby. The fortress has not shot a single shell in the last two weeks, and the various provocations made by the Scandinavian Navy went unanswered. This was the moment that he has been waiting for for months. Visby was finally out of gunpowder, or shells, or whatever. It was out of something. But...

Why not the Army?

...Scandinavian Supreme Command was playing things safe. Again. It was dressed in flowery language and elaborate paragraphs, but the essence of the order was clear. Shell Visby, leave nothing of the fortress except dust and ashes, then destroy as much of the city's residential and commercial districts as was required to get Gotland to fly the white flag of truce and surrender. Only then would the marines land on the island - not even as an assault, but only as an occupation force.

In short, the Captain thought, Supreme Command wants me to open fire against twenty thousand unarmed Germans. May God have mercy on our souls.

The Captain was a pious believer. He offered his prayers to the heavens every morning and every evening, paid his dues in full every year, and he wondered whether it would be enough to wash away what he was about to order.

We'll be conquering a devastated island with a destroyed city, ruined roads, blocked harbours, and a small population of questionable loyalty. What was the point of this war again?

But just as the Captain was a pious believer, he was also a loyal officer of the Scandinavian Navy, the pride of the nation and the jewel of its peoples' labours. He sighed. He just wanted to go home again. He wanted to see Jeanine again. And the fastest way home was right through the enemy.

He ordered the ship to steam towards Visby. There was a city to burn.

Scandinavian Mission to Amsterdam, the Netherlands
1850 February 14th

Honoured Minister-President of the Kingdom of the Eight United Netherlands, Johan Rudoplh Thorbecke,

Greetings. I hope this missive finds you and your nation in health and prosperity.

For so many years, the Scandinavian Republic and the Eight United Netherlands have faced each other's fleets across the open oceans of this small globe as rivals, struggling to secure valuable colonies for the glory of our nation and people before the other could. In the East Indies, in South America, or in the southern seas, the Scandinavian and the Dutch viewed each other with naught more than hostility.

However, it is the considered opinion of the State and Parliament of the Scandinavian Republic that the time is prime to set aside our petty nationalistic struggles in favour of seeing greater causes that our two great nations share. With the increasing hostility of the close-minded Oriental powers against our growing colonial presence in the East Indies, our two peoples must rally together in defense of Christendom for the glory of European learning and civilisation under the omniscient eye of God. Our contentions against each other must not be permitted to slow the drumbeat of civilisation and innovation that all Europe shares.

For this purpose it is my pleasure and honour to invite His Majesty's Government of the Netherlands to consider a military alliance between our two nations under the one true God. The exact specifics of such an alliance can be discussed in greater detail at a later date by a venue more convenient, but the Scandinavian Republic is considering pledging both parties to the security of our overseas colonies against anti-European forces and permitting both parties to make use of each other's naval facilities to obtain greater flexibility in wartime.

I and the State and Parliament of the Scandinavian Republic eagerly await your response.

Signed,

Þórir Elías Albertsson,
The Ambassador of the Scandinavian Republic in Amsterdam,

In the name and by the authority of:

Rasmus Kierkegård,
Chancellor of the Scandinavian Republic

On this Day the 14th of February 1850

by **Sveya** » Mon Jan 08, 2018 8:20 am

Pálás na Ríoga, Cill Chainnigh
Royal Palace, Kilkenny
January 21, 1850

The carriage slowed to a stop at the foot of the palace steps. The crunch of the pale red gravel beneath the wheels ceased as they did, and the horses in front let out a thankful snort sensing that their journey had come to an end. A servant dressed in dark blue livery opened the door and bowed as the Earl of Tír Chonaill stepped out. He was a commanding figure, tall for an Irishman, and broad about the shoulders. As Minister for War he was technically in civilian position and so not permitted to wear his cavalry officer's uniform. What he did wear though was a deep green coat of a remarkably similar cut, with its tails flicking at his calves as he climbed the steps to the Palace entrance.

Inside he was met with a grand open reception, high-ceilinged and flooded with light from an array of vast upper windows. Stood by a doorway just to the right was another servant in similar garb to the ones outside. The servant made a light bow and indicated to the direction from where he came, "His Majesty is expecting you in his study, sire, if you would." He turned and made for the Earl to follow.

The lower study was one of many, but it was the one favoured by King Oisín. Not so large as to feel empty when working alone, yet not so small so he could still host a guest or a private meeting. It was where he was to be found more often than not. The outer wall was dominated by two tall windows overlooking the gardens that allowed great pillars of light to enter the room. Two side walls featured bookcases that ran almost floor to ceiling, and contained volumes on all manner of subjects from law or military history, to philosophy, theology, and discourses on economics. Behind a mammoth lump of ornate dark oak that served as a desk sat His Royal Majesty the King of Ireland and all her territories, Oisín. He looked up from his work as the door was opened, and the servant proclaimed the arrival of the Minister of War and the Earl of Tír Chonaill, Eamonn Ó Dochartaigh.

"Go raibh maith agát, Diarmuid," the King replied, "that'll be all for now." With that the servant took his leave, and left the pair alone. "Good to see you again, Eamonn, do sit down." The Earl did as his sovereign bid and perched himself down on one of the chairs across the desk. The pair were old friends, and so made light conversation inquiring after the health and progress each others families before getting stuck down to real business. One particular issue of note was the Earl's son, his eldest and supposed heir, who had disappeared over a year prior. He had left a letter telling his family he had decided to travel, but made no mention of where or for how long, and he only wrote periodically to say that he was still alive and well. It had caused the Earl himself no end of worry. "The boy just has a taste for adventure, Eamonn. As far as I remember so did you in your youth." A knowing glace was thrown the minister's way before the two shared a laugh. "Now, Africa I believe was the trouble spot you mentioned. What seems to be the issue?" King Oisín finally asked.

"The Gambia, sire." The minister replied "It's always been a thorn as you well know, and we well know that the bloody Vandals are arming the local tribes and helping them along. We need more troops in the area if we're to maintain the place, nevermind expanding."

The King sat back exasperated and let out a sigh. "More troops, more troops, more troops. That's all I ever hear out of the bloody generals. How many men do they think this country has?" The was a short pause before he continued. "How many are requested?"

"General Ó Gonghail asks for five thousand." Eamonn said stiffly.

"He bloody well knows he's not getting five thousand, bloody git." The King blurted. Another sigh, some thought, finally decision. "I'll sign off on one thousand, to be taken from the Expiditionary Force. General Ó Lochlainn got signed off on a thousand just the other week as well. I authored the capture of Duaolo in the Camaroon's territory in the same document. The troops won't arrive for a few weeks yet but he's drawing forces from the islands to launch a landing ..." he trailed off as he looked at the date on his desk calendar, "... tomorrow. God willing it'll go smoothly. By the advice I got the city is open for the taking."

The minister shifted in his seat a fraction. "God willing. I hear the same, the settlement is soft, but we are not the only ones with interest in the region. No doubt there are Scandinavian and Iberian nationals operating there as well, we'll have to be careful not to set off an incident with either of them."

"Quite right, but we can't always worry about stepping on toes. Now, if that's all it's late and I'm growing rather hungry. Will you be staying for dinner?"

"No, I'm sorry to refuse you, sire, but I couldn't. My wife would have me strangled if I missed another evening at home."

Cranach Nua, Inis Níamh Aengus
New Crana, Saint Aengus Island
January 22, 1850

The men of Clúntia Company gathered in formation within the small parade ground of An Dún Rua, The Red Fort, a bastion fort commanding the port town of New Crana. With the morning sun at his back the company commander, Captain Ó Craig, stood atop the battlement steps addressing his men.

"Today is the day, lads. I'm sure many of you have waited for it. The day when you can at last earn some honour for yourselves, and for your families." Despite his reputation, earned as it was, as a rising commander, he was not the greatest for making a rousing speech. He went on a bit, telling the men in no uncertain terms that they should be heading for action, but giving no hint or clue as to where that action might be.

"With that," he finished, "I leave you all now to your own devices. We shall assemble at the docks square at noon precisely, where will we board the transport RLÉ Roisín. Any man who shows up drunk shall have his days wages docked, and severe cases will result in a lashing. Failure to arrive at noon shall be taken as an attempt at desertion, and will be punished accordingly." He let the message sink in for a moment before calling, "Dismissed!" The men relaxed and almost immediately the courtyard went up in a great roar of chatter and speculation as the men guessed at where they would be deployed. Near the back, privates Fergal and Marc were stood next to each other as always.

"Shall we head into town, Marc?! asked Fergal. "If we are to die later I think I'd very much like one last taste of a coffee." Marc muttered his agreeance among some words about last taste of the old poitín.

The pair found themselves sitting outside a small coffeehouse near the docks a short while later. It was not a far walk from the fort, but in the rising heat as noon approached, and with the humidity thickening the relief of a seat was tremendous. They put their packs down on the ground beside them and leaned their muskets against the wall. The coffee was a penny a cup, but it was strong and surprisingly delightful despite the heat of the day. The two men lounged on the wicker chairs with seemingly not a care in the world.

"Where d'you think we'll be off to then, for serious?" asked Marc without moving himself from his slouch.

"Continent most like," replied Fergal in a similar lazy fashion, "Gambia seems to be a trouble spot if you believe the papers. Our lads there get all the excitement." The pair talked idly for the time, two common class men discussing the greater concerns of colonial rule, military affairs, and international politics, all as if they had a clue. Before long it was time then to assemble at the docks, and so reluctantly they left their perch to the call of duty.

The small square at the dockyard was jam packed with busy shiphands and sailors, traders and tradespeople all besides the soldiery, but most of all, slaves. New Crana was the processing point of almost all the Gaelic led slave raids along the Central African coast. Thousands of Africans every week passed through here on their way to markets in the Americas or Europe. The trade and practice of slavery was banned on the home island itself, and so when they arrived here originally it was the first time many of the soldiers had set eyes on one. It was a great source of wonder in the beginning, but now it was as mundane as porridge. The commotion was cut by a sharp whistle that screamed through the air and brought it all to a halt. The civilian crowd got a right startle as the men formed up in haste, assembling in rows almost shoulder to shoulder.

"Saighdiúirí na tÁrm Ríoga na hÉireann," a raspy yet booming voice called out, "your unit commanders will now call the roles, and soon you shall board the ship to depart for your destination."

"Where are we off to?" The call come from among the ranks. It was met an interested rumble from the crowd. It was the question on everyone's mind. "We have a right to know!" came the second call, then a third, "Tell us!" The chatter from the assembled men grew louder for a brief moment before the captain brought them to heel with another whistle.

"Alright, alright. We shall be sailing for the mainland. Just across the water a few hours away is the town of Douala, in the Camaroons territory. Currently it is under disputed control, and home to all manner of lawlessness, barbary, and perversion." A low rumble of approval and devious chuckles came from the company, but was shut down as the Captain raised his hand. "We have been ordered by His Majesty the King to step in and bring the light of God and Gaelic civilisation to the city, and to the greater region as a whole." Fergal threw a sideways glance at Marc, a smug smile breaking out on his face.

A few hours later the company was aboard the transport ship, and joined by another from Saint Thomas' Island. The transports were supported by two ships each, forty and fifty gunners, to accompany them to Douala. It made for an operational fleet of six ships in all, large enough for the capture of a town with reportedly less than seven thousand inhabitants. Aboard the Ríoga Long Éireannach Roisín Fergal and Marc had found themselves a comfortable spot below deck, complete with a barrel between them to use as a table. Marc was scrawling out a letter to send to his family back home as nearly all the men were. When he noticed Fergal was not following suit, he suddenly remembered he had never seen him write letters home, and questioned him on it.

"Why d'you not write your family, Fergal, d'you not have any?"

"None that terribly concern me." He took a solemn look upon his face, and seemed to retreat into thought for a bit. Feeling he had struck a bad chord and unsure how to proceed, Marc just simply lowered his eyes and attempted to get back to his writing, but after a few moments had passed, Fergal spoke up again. "Marc, can I let you in on a secret? You must promise not to tell anyone though."

"Aye, go on then, what is it?"

"No, seriously, not a soul. Swear it."

"Alright, I swear, I swear it, not a soul. Now go on, what is it?"

Fergal hesitated for a heartbeat, but then came out with it. "My name isn't Fergal MacDiarmuid." He could see the confused contortion of Marc's face twist as he tried to make sense of what he'd been told. "It's Ferghail Ó Dochartaigh", he finished. At first Marc didn't react, then he just began to laugh.

"Bollocks. You talk like you're a cut above the rest of us aye but that doesn't make you a bloody Earl." Fergal's expression never changed, but there was a shift in his eyes, and suddenly Marc knew he wasn't joking. "What you're serious? Your the son of Eamonn Ó Dochartaigh, the Minister for War? What the bleedin' hell are you doing here? Shouldn't you be in the cavalry, or, or, or the Guards, or fuck, anything besides here?"

"To be honest with you, Marc, I couldn't think of anything so shit as to be in the cavalry, or the Guards, or to be a bloody officer. It might seem all well and good but you haven't had to spend your life around those high-society pricks. This," he gestured around him, "this is where I belong." Marc looked at him as if he had just grown a second head.

"Form up, lads!" the moment was broken by, "twenty minutes to disembark!"

by **New Papan** » Mon Jan 08, 2018 10:00 am

Rzeczpospolita Królestwa Polskiego

Polish Commonwealth
Jan Engel - Polska muzyka 2 poł. XVIII

Sandomierski Palace, Warsaw, Kingdom of Poland, Polish Commonwealth. 7th of January, 1850.

"I interpreted this as a diplomatic matter of state... clearly there must have been confusion." The men shook hands, the Prime Minister with surprising vigor. "You are welcome to sit down anyways, Brother Soda". Krasovsky opened his palm and gestured it towards a comfortable armchair. He was impressed by the monk's well-spoken Polish.

"You are mistaken in that managing construction and infrastructure is on my table. It is formally an initiative of mine, yes, but the Sejm couldn't possibly accept giving me any such responsibility. I am merely the representative of the will of the public, conveying the intentions of the elected representatives of the Sejm to His Royal Majesty. They store me in this palace of kings, true as you say, a symbol of the decadence that fell upon the nobility of this nation for centuries, while they fought against each other for the crown. For the desire of wealth is the root of evils, is it not a saying of the Lord? Yet it is Ordenstressler who has sent you here. I'm intrigued as to what the purpose of this visit is. You should know that Poland values its relation with the Order, and that I could be conversing with you as well as with His Excellency the Hochmeister. I am of humble beginnings myself, if that is of any interest to you. In the days of an older Polish Kingdom, during my early years, men like myself could not work their way up. Our world has come far for such an opportunity to arise, that the highest public servant elected in this nation is the son of the owner of a small farm." Krasovsky had taken a seat by now.

"You ask about my Christian faith, and if I wish to repent. Here I am, confessing to vanity and whining with a Teuton monk. I hope you shall take that as a token of good faith. We're all children of Christ, as you say."

Marshal of the Sejm's offices, Warsaw, Kingdom of Poland, Polish Commonwealth. 14th of February, 1850.

Prince Adam Jerzy Czartoryski, Marshal
of the Sejm of the Polish Commonwealth

Prince Adam Jerzy Czartoryski, Marshal of the Sejm and thrice Prime Minister of Poland in the conservative cabinets 1808-11, 1819-26 and most recently, 1845-49. Now, he chaired the Sejm for a sixth term as Marshal, and simultaneously His Majesty's counselor for diplomacy, a position he had held during most of the reign of King Michał II, and retained after his tragic death six years ago. His organized conservative party, the Przywrócenie Narodowe faction now only had the backing of a third of the electorate, but Czartoryski's elder statesman status, experience and conciliatory efforts for the sake of stability had won him the position of Marshal once again. The two liberal factions which formed a majority government, the moderate Wolność under Prime Minister Korneliusz Krasovsky and nationalist Futuryści under General Ignacy Prądzyński had many differences politically, but agreed on one thing most of all, that they should have control of the government. Considering that the church and military leadership largely favored the conservative wing, control of the executive government was something Czartoryski could concede. He had served three kings in his lifetime. Michał II had been respected, well-liked and open to new ideas. He adapted to Poland's new constitution, took on the role as ceremonial head of the Commonwealth and listened to his advisors. God took a great man from Poland when King Michał II succumbed to his stomach ulcer. And so he had been succeeded by his eldest son, ten years old at the time, and God knew he was a challenge for a man who tried to teach him to do well. His Majesty King Michał III had a habit of obsessions. Sometimes it was foods with foreign spices that the Royal court had to import from Scandinavian trade companies at insultingly high prices to be able to serve. Other times it was clothes, of silk or other strange textiles and made by expensive luxury producers in the Mediterranean regions. He had seen to it that the winter residence, Weichselschloss had been renovated and refurbished after his taste, and bought a black sea Yacht for visits to Constantinople and the Polish Royalty's Estate there. His Majesty's Regent, Michał Czajkowski, was a skilled diplomat but not a reasonable man to Czartoryski's taste. He hadn't taught any valuable lessons in frugality to the young King, nor in statesmanship.

The business of the day for the Marshal of the Sejm was approving the committee of the interior's budget of the year, following the opening of the Sejm three days before and the start of busy weeks. The foreign ministry had received approval for a sizable loan from the Dutch government and another one from the Western Roman Empire and Papacy. This capital meant that work on the National Polish railway system could begin, and the committee had reckoned that the loans of 1,400,000 and 1,800,00 złoty respectively could fund material, equipment and railway workers for two years. Their long-term budgetary analysis also suggested that a railway line at a distance of 75 miles could be operational within 20 months, and start generating a profit within its first active year. A payment plan for both loans had been set up as well, and shared with Dutch and Roman-Papal representatives of the governmental shareholders. Since the latter loan had been acquired in the spirit of Catholic ties, interest rates would have been appropriate, and so a larger share of 8% of the ownership and profit was offered to the Western Roman Empire and Papacy. The payment plan on the Dutch loan was easy to find funds to, smaller austerity measures in government would increase the payment on an annual basis. The payment plan to the Western Roman Empire and Papacy was based on predicted government profits from the first railway, and was therefore more dependent on economic growth and the construction process.

Royal Castle of Warsaw, official residence of the King

Czartoryski had personally negotiated the first loans for the building with the First Bank of Poland and smaller banks run by the Jewish communities mainly in Kraków and Warsaw. Additional private loans from wealthy nobles averaging 5,000 zł each had been enough to approve the construction in the Sejm, order Ernest Malinowski to draw up plans as he saw fit and import the material needed. The construction was going to employ thousands of Poles, Lithuanians and Ruthenians for a decade, but only a fraction of them after. He knew that there were plans in the radical liberal camp to have the army construct the railway, have them pay for themselves so to speak. Appealing to the Regent had helped and Krasovsky seemed opposed to it, but Czartoryski was suspicious nevertheless.

by **Yurizlansia** » Mon Jan 08, 2018 4:12 pm

Buda Castle, Budapest, Empire of Hungary

The Hungarian Prime Minister was summoned to the Castle of the Hungarian Emperors, an honor that is normally not bestowed upon Prime Ministers, who usually sent a royal proxy in their place, but it was different for Vlad Hunyad, descendent of Janos Hunyadi, the great Hungarian warrior of centuries past. However, he was not called here for a friendly reason, as he and the hungarian Emperor had been childhood friends, but instead for a reason of diplomacy. As Prime Minister, it was his job to set up alliances with other powers with similar interests, and it would be the job of the Minister of Foreign Affairs to make sure the alliances remained stable, and in good condition. Nonetheless, the tall, slender Vlad Hunyadi ordered the guard regiment to allow the dignitary of the Teutonic Order to be allowed into the castle, and invited into a large anteroom.

When the two parties arrived in the anteroom, chosen specifically because of the portrait of Saint Stephen I, the man who converted Hungary to Roman Catholicism, the negotiations began. The Hochmeister of the Pannonian order was greeted cordially by Vlad Hunyad, who knew that for Hungary to survive and thrive it would have to emerge from its period of diplomatic isolation. Hoping the portrait of the Catholic saint put the 60 something year old Hochmeister in a good mood, he began the conversation.

“Greetings Hochmeister Hicksmacher, I hope that God has blessed you on this day. I hear that you wish to discuss matters with someone of a high political standing within the Empire. I am the current Prime Minister of the Empire, and because of this, any negotiations between our two nations will take place through me, as the Diet will have to approve the treaty between our two nations. After we discuss whatever it is you wish, I can take you to the Emperor, and you may take up residence in the castle for a few days, if you find it necessary. But I digress, what is it you wish to discuss?” Hoping he had not bored the Hochmeister, he waited for him to discuss whatever he wished.

Honved Headquarters in Slovakia, Bratislav, Kingdom of Slovakia

Honved, or Homeland Defense as it is officially called in Hungary were a group of ragtag militia whose only job was to quell unrest, and prevent outlaws from taking over the countryside. Ever since the Constitution was signed, the nobles within the Kingdom of Slovakia demanded that they receive as much autonomy as Bruzenland, an area in the location near Transylvania and Wallachia. The Emperor of Hungary, also the King of Slovakia did not want this to occur, of course, so he mobilized the Honved within the Kingdom of Slovakia. The commander of the Honved was a Slovakian himself, Lieutenant Aurel Biely. Biely was fiercely loyal to the Hungarian crown, but was quite incompetent, and it is fairly obvious that he was chosen almost exclusively for his loyalty, and Slovakian heritage.

Due to his lack of skill, unrest in the Kingdom of Slovakia was quite violent. There was talk of a revolution against the authorities in the area, and inflammatory publications were common place, particularly in the city of Bratislava. Bratislava was a small city for a capital, and reflected the conflict between agriculture and industry within the Empire of Hungary. Most people who lived in the city worked in the Eastern Quarter, which contained several factories, including a munitions factory that employed most of the citizens, but just outside the town was a fertile landscape were farmers grew their crops, and sent them to town to be sold. Most Slovakian farmers supported Hungary’s control due to the physiocratic focus in the government, but many of the industrial workers did not support the actions of the Hungarian states.

Due to its importance for possible war efforts, the munitions factory was heavily guarded by Honved troops, and due to their leader’s incompetence, few were surprised when the guards to the munitions factory failed to do anything as a group of Slovak patriots broke into the factory, and set off a small explosive device. The device did not do much damage to the factory, but it would severely decrease its production for some time, and was a direct challenge to Hungarian authority in the region. Lieutenant Biely quickly sent a wire to the Imperial Palace in Budapest, informing the Minister for Security of the incident. The lieutenant went to the scene, and after interrogating the Honved guards, and some local civilians, he found out that the criminals had left the area, and hid in a residential area just outside of the East Quarter.

“Men, fall in with me, we are going to find those ruffians, and hang them as an example to everyone else.” After saying this uninspiring speech, the Lieutenant took around 30 men and headed towards the residential area in a disorderly fashion, typical of the Honved. They came upon an old man walking on the street, and an interesting counter ensued.

“You. Yes you, over there. Come here at once!” The lieutenant ordered. “Have you seen two youths with brown hair, and a ruddy complexion running through here? They would have come from the direction of the munition factory.”

“I have not seen any one by this description I am afraid.” There was a long silence as the Lieutenant grew angry. Before the man could do anything, the Lieutenant pulled out his sword, and stabbed him, and left him on the ground for dead.

“Sergeant Kovács send for reinforcements. We will round up all of the men in this area, and find out who the criminals are once and for all.” Thanks to the Lieutenants pride, arrogance, and incompetence, Hungarian hegemony was once again put on display, angering Slovak nationalists throughout the Empire.

by **The Traansval** » Mon Jan 08, 2018 9:12 pm

Royal Palace of Amsterdam
Holland, the Kingdom of the Eight United Netherlands
January 29th, 1850

"An Alliance you say?" the King inquired. The daily meetings of the Cabinet seemed to be getting more interesting by the minute. However, instead of the informal setting of the Kings Study at the last impromptu meeting, today the King and his Ministers met in the official Cabinet Hall. The Hall was a grand affair; the walls were vaulted and seemed to reach up to the heavens themselves. This was only further solidified as fact by the great murals that adorned the hall's ceiling, commissioned by King William the III they depicted scenes of what could only be described as heaven. However, below these works of art, sat men. Not Angels, but men.

"Yes, your Majesty. The message arrived a few days ago from the Scandinavian Embassy. It appears the Scandinavians wish to "bury the hatchet", as it is, and form a military alliance." Thorbecke said, looking down at the message which had arrived on his desk with a big fat Scandinavian seal on it. "Sir, this is just what we've been looking for. We all know that the Franks have been out for Dutch Blood since the revolution, and our old aging forts can only do so much to augment our Army which is vastly outnumbered by the Francoise forces. An alliance with the Scandinavians, who might I mention are one of the only fellow Protestant Nations left in Europe, could mean that we would stand a chance against the Franks." Minister of War Joannes Josephus van Mulken said, ranting slightly. His hatred of the Franks was well known and was only rivaled by his patriotism.

"You forget the fact, Minister, that the Scandinavian Republic is currently at war with the Teutons. This Alliance is obviously a ploy by their government to recruit allies to use as fodder in their war. They're too afraid of losing their men, so instead, they just use their ships to bombard the Knights; and now they want to recruit foreigners to fight their wars for them. This alliance would plunge the Netherlands into war, something that we've been trying to avoid since the Revolution. Our Forts and Men will hold against the Franks, but not if we incur the wrath of the Germans." said Minister of Foreign Affairs Klaas Langevoort, who was an ardent isolationist and pacifist.

Arguing soon permeated the air of the Cabinet Hall as the Ministers all split into two factions; those who opposed the alliance and those who supported it. All the yelling was starting to get on the King's nerves, and he was about to explode and have these fools arrested when he noticed Thorbecke. The man had not voiced an opinion and did not partake in the political battle unfolding over the oak table. Instead, he sat calmly, observing.

"What say you Thorbecke. What would you counsel your King to do?" King William inquired, leaving a hushed whisper over the room as all eyes rested on the Minister-President. Thorbecke raised a hand to his mouth, coughing once to clear his throat. "Well sir, I believe that a decision of this magnitude should not be decided over the words of a telegram. I suggest that instead of putting the ink to the parchment, we consult with the Scandinavians, face to face." the aged Liberal said, sitting back in his chair satisfied as the cabinet all looked at each other.

"Yes... Yes. A State Visit to Scandinavia. I shall meet with their President face to face and discuss the alliance. We shall arrange it post haste, excuse me men but I must pack" The King said, rising from his seat and making for the door.

"B-But sir, we've more business to attend to!", these words originating from the mouth of a Jan-Pieter Hellwich, Secretary of the Navy, who along with the Secretary of the Army were subordinates of the Minister of war. He was a meak man, a contrast to the bulwark that was the Minister of War, but while his outward appearance and demeanor would lead many to think him a weak man, the King knew from experience that Hellwich was the best man to run the bureaucracy of the navy. "The Naval Reform Programs still need your review and authorization sir," Hellwich said, pointing at the stack of papers in front of the Kings seat.

"Ah, I'll attend to it later Minister Hellwich. Good Day Gent-"

"Sir, the Army Reform Program also needs your approval," said Adriaan Engelvaart, Secretary of War.

"The Railway project to connect Amsterdam to Brussels also needs your Majestys seal," said Gerrit-Jan van der Wulp, Minister of Economic Affairs.

"The authorization to move men of the 14th Line Regiment and 4th KNIL Regiments to begin colonies in Madagascar and the Congo River (respectively)" said Henry Morton Stanely, the Kings Minister of Colonial Affairs.

The King stood steaming, looking at his Ministers like they were his worst enemies. "You wish my Seal do you, you wish my approval do you! HOW DARE YOU BE SO INSOLENT TO DEMAND MY SEAL!" The King stormed over, taking the stamp holding his seal and wildly jabbing it into the papers. A quickly scrawled signature here and there, and finally, he slammed the pen into the desk, its metal tip sticking into the wood. "WELL GENTLEMEN, THERE IS MY APPROVAL. IF I AM STOPPED ONE MORE TIME, I SHALL HAVE THE MAN HANGED!" he said, storming out of the roof leaving the room an eerie quiet.

Charleroi, "the Black Country"
Wallonia, Kingdom of the Eight United Netherlands
January 29th, 1850

"Oi, keep that coal coming boy!" cried the conductor as he looked out the side of the train, checking his watch to once more check that he was indeed not late. The man was a perfectionist, and couldn't stand being even a second late. Everything had to be on time, and it was Pieter van de Perre's job to make sure the train ran in general. He was a coal boy, at the age of Eighteen he'd long been out of school, and had taken up this job to help his family make ends meet. His father held the same occupation as every other man in Charleroi; Coal Miners. They didn't call it the Black Country for nothing, the area held some of the richest coal veins in all of Wallonia, only rivaled by those near the border with the Frankish Rhineland.

But Pieter saw what happened to the Coal Miners, including his Da. Lung Problems, the miners got them so often the Medical Colleges all had research clinics set up to study them, like mice. Not to mention the risk of a tunnel collapse; his Uncle Albert had died in one when Pieter was Sixteen, he remembered seeing the rescue teams working day and night, only to find the bodies of the men.

Pieter shook the image from his head, and stabbed his shovel into the pile of loose coals, and then dropping them into the furnace underneath the controls. He had vowed long ago to never work in the mines and had done his best in his schooling. But money was tight, and you didn't get into university without money. So, he took a job on the railroads, the second most important occupation in the Black Country. After all, someone had to take all that coal from the mines and take it to the factories and the steamships.

A sound of screeching echoed in Pieters' ears, as he soon realized that in his daydreaming they'd arrived at the stationed. He put his shovel down, took off his coal dust covered gloves and hopped off the locomotive. He had a few guilders in his pocket, he could probably pick up something to drink.

"Are you Pieter van de Perre?"

The sound of a rather deep voice saying his name startled Pieter. He turned around to see a man in a tall blue Dutch Army uniform standing over him, a shief of papers tucked over one arm and a photo in his right hand, which he seemed to be comparing to Pieter. "Yes Sir, I'm Pieter van de Perre. What business do you have with me?" Pieter said, looking cautiously at the man.

The man, who Pieter by now assumed to be an officer, smirked. An action which caused the thick, grey bush the man probably called mustache to twitch and wiggle like a dachshund. The man stuffed the photo into his pocket, took the shief of papers out and opened it, balancing it with one hand while the other searched through furiously. Finally, the man seemed to find the paper he was looking for and handed it to Pieter.

"Pieter van de Perre, you've been selected for conscription into the Royal Army of the Netherlands. You have forty-eight hours to pay for your replacement or report to Charleroi Barracks. If you fail to do either, you may face charges of desertion. Good day."

by **The Ik Ka Ek Akai** » Tue Jan 09, 2018 8:24 am

"Buonamente." She replied with a slight smile. She took the time, just a brief moment, to truly observe the monk before her- figuring each detail. He had been in the country for a very fair period, but the two had never made a proper correspondence before. No, it had always been through some intermediary or another, and particularly through mutual Papal contact. Aye, that was an issue, wasn't it? No matter how much the Empire would try, even if the Pope had become subject to the Empire, these military orders would never be loyal to anyone except the Pope. Were she to make an alliance, would it then place her too far under the Pope's will? Her honor bound to the alliance, and the ally's honor bound to the Pope, it seemed like it could prove potentially dangerous. To say nothing of the aid she had just sent Poland!

Indeed, quite the trap she now found herself in. "Well, signore," she began, "While I am always dedicated to doing what I can to aid the righteous cause of il Papa as much as I can, I regret to say that in military matters I must discuss with the court in Constantinople- we are as two sides of a coin in such regard. I can say, though, that you will have my unofficial support and I am certain that, so long as you spread your righteous cause in good faith, my people would be willing to volunteer in your wars until an agreement with the Greek court is struck. I am...sorry that I could not give you a definite answer any sooner."

She looked at the monk again, contemplating the situation. While her own military was indeed her own, the cooperation of the two empires was a strong factor in their mutual benefit and survival. She did not have the heart to tell him of the aid she had sent to Poland, knowing that the two bordering states almost certainly had some tension between them. Alessandra walked a fine line with each action she took, balancing the appeasement of outside authorities like the Pope with the benefit of her country and, moreover, herself. Just as Poland expected to pay its money back, the Pope was under the belief that it was a charitable donation. While she may include him in the repayment scheme- that would perhaps make him quite happy, the shares would stay with her. After all, anything less would be usury, and good Catholics do none of the sort! No, the Pope was not a businessman or a secular leader, and keeping the shares would both increase her own national profit and reinforce the reliance the Pope held on Italy for many things. He was a wealthy man, but the future of the institution was diminishing, and the more he needed the Empire to do things for him, the better she could keep control. The Latin Rite may lack Caesaropapism, but through such means could she retain the splendor of her empire and its role in the world, and preserve the stability and prosperity of those within.

"I hope you do not question my dedication to your cause, but you must understand the formalities that this requires in the old system of Mare Nostrum."

by **Sveya** » Tue Jan 09, 2018 11:16 am

Dún Níamh Íosaf, An Críoch Gaeilge na Bhrasaíl
Fort Saint Joseph, Territory of Gaelic Brazil
03 February, 1850

The chapel bells rang out the chime of noon as from all around people flocked to God's house. Merchants, traders, settlers, slave runners, and street children alike crammed into the building, spilling out the front door and the side entrances to the street, straining to hear the priest's words. The heat of the South American climate was already a pain for most Gaelic settlers, but when they all congregated together like this it was even worse, despite the high ceilings and cold stone walls.

The service was conducted in Gaelic, with some flourishing touches here and there of the language of the Church itself, Latin. Communion was offered and administered, and when the flock had received their Body of Christ the shepherd bid them to offer peace to one another, to leave this house in peace, to lift up their hearts and give thanks to the Lord, and to go about their good Christian lives, spreading the faith and good will of the Church of Rome.

Father MacSaíbh led the congregation from the building out onto the street, shaking hands and bidding those important members of society a good day as they left. Countess Síobhan approached him dressed in the typical colonial fashion, a short sleeved silken dress much looser than those seen at court back home, it helped with the climate but was met with scorn by some of the more conservative of society. Something about a lack of decency whatever they had meant by that. She fanned at her face to stifle the humidity, blowing her red curls slightly.

"A wonderful service Father as always, but I do say we shall need a bigger church soon, it was positively bursting today."

"Yes indeed, Countess, you are quite right. The brotherhood of Dominicans has done excellent work here in bringing the local, eh," he hesitated in trying to find the correct term, but the Countess was on it before he.

"Savages," she giggled, still fanning herself, "oh it's quite alright, Father, I shan't hold it against you. But I must speak with you further about hosting a dinner at our estate. It would be an excellent opportunity to raise some money for a new church, and if the Dominican brothers are to keep up their good work we shall need it as soon as possible."

"Certainly," he agreed, half distracted by the dispersing crowd wanting his attention, "it sounds like a marvelous idea, Countess."

She smiled and bid him goodbye before turning in search of her husband. Much to her dismay she found him bribing a trio of native street children to say a rude phrase. He laughed holding the coin out above them as they tried to wrap their tongues around the strange sounds, barely a word of Gaelic between them. "Maitiu!" she gasped, "Come now, get away from them before you catch a dreaded pox or something, and stop teasing them, we must go."

"Oh, alright" he conceded before tossing the coin to them. They scampered off happily with it.

For Visorrey Jose Olivares of the United Confederation of Spain, Portugal, and Aragon,

I, Oisín I, King of Ireland, of Brazil, and protector of Equatorial Africa, write to you with great respect in the hopes that you may cordially receive an official diplomatic envoy of the Irish Kingdom, sent at my behest. The respectable Tiarna (Lord) Séarlas Ó Ceallaigh shall be arriving in the port of Lisbon, God willing, no more than a week after this letter has found you, from where he will travel to Madrid. Tiarna Ó Ceallaigh, who shall be attended by a small delegation and personal bodyguard, has been given my Royal leave to negotiate with government of the Confederation on behalf of Ireland on the matter of naval cooperation.

I trust that as fellow Catholics you shall receive these representatives of Ireland with the respect with which an Iberian delegation would be met with in Ireland.

With kind regards,
King Oisín I Ó Concobhair

El Reino España
National Palace,
Madrid

Almost a week to the day after the letter arrived Tiarna Séarlas Ó Ceallaigh approached the palace gates sat atop a powerful, shining black Irish Draught, followed closely by six other riders. Contrary to its name, the horse was not just a rough breed suited to pulling heavy farm equipment, but through centuries of mixing with nimbler and lighter breeds it was now favoured by many for its ease of handling, striking size, and surprising sportiness. The beast gave a snort and a gentle shake of its head as Séarlas reigned her to a stop, calling out to the palace guard in Spanish. "I come on behalf of His Royal Majesty King Oisín of Ireland. I believe the palace is expecting me."

Behind him the six other riders consisted of two junior diplomats wrapped in rich green riding cloaks, and four guardsmen in full drab of Na Fianna, the elite cavalry guard of the Irish army, complete with polished cuirasses glinting in the sunlight and tall feathered helmets. Their muskets were under lock and key back on the baggage cart though they still had their pistols strapped about their person, and sabres by their hip. The baggage cart for the time being was kept tastefully out of sight.

Bhárdúl, An Ghaimbia
Banjul, The Gambia
07 February, 1850

As the administrative capital of the Gambian colony Bhárdúl was naturally a busy little town. Practically everything that the Kingdom extracted from the region had to pass through here, with cargoes being inspected and valued for the proper levy of tax. Timber, nuts, and in no small part slaves made up the bulk of exports here, with little else of interest coming in significant quantities. So it was that Bradeach Square, the main market square and assembly point of the town, was often not too extravagant an affair even on the main trading days such as today. Still, stalls full of exotic fruits and vegetables were to be found all over, along with a few selling craft items like woven blankets, earthenware, woodcrafts and the like, with a designated corner for slavers to bid on captive lots. A far cry from the bustling arcades at Cork, Galway, or Dublin, or indeed those of the mighty Romans.

As the mundane Thursday morning carried on, the towns inhabitants out to socialise and shop, the had no idea of the trouble that was brewing. From further up the coast in the Senegalese lands, a small fleet of boats had set out earlier that morning, before the suns rays even had a chance to light the land. A hundred or more natives rowing with furious intent. Many armed with muskets no doubt supplied by the Vandal Kingdom, the rest with sword and spear. They had timed their raid well, reaching the town now at its busiest hour. The long beach provided the perfect landing ground, and as the small crafts ploughed into the soft sand the warriors leaped from their hulls weapons in hand. Just a few meters away the thick tree line hid the town from their view, and the town's from them. They ran towards it.

On the other side the treeline had been cleared back slightly from the town. Across the green, the huddled buildings of Bhárdúl. The market square was not far behind that, all in all just a few hundred meters from the party of marauders. They charged. Past the houses and shops they charged. Down the streets to the market they charged, until they were met by a crowd of white faces. In a great cough of smoke and sulphur the muskets spat their lead balls. Shouts of panic were met with screams of pain, both met in turn with the war cry of the killers. They charged again swords in hand. Blood and entrails were spilled on the cobblestones and dirt. Few among the colonials were armed to return fire save the odd distinguished gentleman. Patrolling soldiers rushed to sound of the carnage only to be greeted with lead and steel and death the same as all else.

By now though the garrison at the fort had been alerted. More soldiers rushed from the gates muskets in hand and bayonets fixed. It would take them all of seven minutes to run to the scene of the massacre, all the while the air filled with gunfire and smoke, screams and cries. From around corners the marauders appeared. Firing potshots down the street at the charging soldiers. Every face and limb that revealed itself was met with a volley of lead and gunsmoke. The company had divided itself and raced down every near street. Townspeople cowered inside whichever building proved closest, projectiles crashing through windows and wooden walls. Shots rang out all across the town for close to twenty minutes. Panicked screams gave way to ordered shouts and barked commands. The raiders were now on the run. Their numbers dwindled to two dozen or less, they ran back to the cover of the trees, chased every step of the way by the swarm of green uniforms. As they tried desperately to push their boats back into the water volley after volley ripped into them. Splinters of flying wood filled the air around them, until not one was left standing. As they coughed and bled, and rolled on the wet sand, the last thing that many of them seen was a white face standing over them, and a bayonet being thrust into their chest.

by **Remnants of Exilvania** » Tue Jan 09, 2018 6:25 pm

Heilige katholische Union der Livonischen und Teutonischen Ritterorden
Anno 1850

Warsaw; Laienbruder Thomas Soda

Brother Soda closed his eyes for a minute, an expression of peace coming over his face. Yes, he had found a good soul. Surely this man, this servant of the people would do what he would tell him to do. With a relieved sigh brother Soda let himself fall onto an armchair. He indulged for a second in thoughts about just how incredibly comfortable this armchair was for a man such as him who was more used to hard work and hard chairs made of wood but then reminded himself of his task and opened his eyes again before retrieving the document he had brought with him from among his priestly robes. After checking it, he handed it over to Krasovsky.
The document was quite heavy and closed with a heavy wax seal, bearing the mark of the Union. Meanwhile Brother Soda recited what his Komtur had told him from the Ordenstressler:

"As you know, the Orders have been at war for two years now. With the war making the Baltic Sea nearly impassable, the Orders have come into relatively dire economic straits. We are thus looking to improve land trade with our neighbours. While searching for such opportunities, the Ordenstressler has come across your plans for the constructioon of more rails. He, speaking for the entirety of the Orders, would like to grant you a gift of 2 million złoty which should be used for the construction of your railway network. He calls it a gift to improve our relations and our trade.

Of course, he also expects something else in return although not of monetary nature. Currently within the Order we too are constructing a railway. We aim to expand the line Stettin-Kolberg towards Danzig. Work has already begun from Danzig towards Kolberg and from Kolberg towards Danzig. However, we would wish to expand the line even more. We dream for a railway line Stettin-Kolberg-Danzig-Warsaw. Would you be opposed to beginning work on such a line from your end while we come from our end?"

If Krasovsky would break the seal, he would indeed find the document to contain an order to pay out the sum of 2 million złoty to anyone who would show this document to the Ministry of Finances in Königsberg. As well as the order to destroy the document once it had been shown. It had everything there, the signature of the Ordenstressler, the signature of the Hochmeister as well as the stamp of the Generalkapitel.

Madrid; Schäffer Harald Meckermann

After the somewhat weird greeting, Schäffer Harald followed the Iberians into the building. When they were offered drinks and refreshments, he immediately rushed to them, thanked the servant who brought them and god for the appearance of the servant int he first place and downed several drinks to quench the incredible thirst he had. His knights on the other hand were more modest, taking maybe a single drink and sipping from it, a slight hint of repugnance on their faces when seeing the behaviour of Harald. But he was their commander on this mission and these always had their own special privileges. When the new group of people arrived, Harald of course recognized the Iberian foreign representative to the Order and quickly rose to greet him very friendly and his concierge as gallantly as was to be expected from a knight. The other newcomers he merely exchanged firm handshakes with. Seemed to be the preferred for of greeting here. He then sat down again and waited for the Iberians to open the negotiations which Mr. Olivares of course promptly did, just asking for a response:

"War. War plain and simple. Mind you, not with you of course. But as you probably know, we have been at war for the last two years with the Scandinavian Republic. And it has come to some sort of a stalemate, with neither side being capable of controlling the Baltic Sea. Yet they still manage to maintain a blockade around Gotland. Before I left for my epic journey towards Madrid, the latest news we got from Gotland stated that they were running out of ammunition and would probably soon face the main assault of the Scandinavians. Praise be to the bold smugglers who make the exchange of messages even possible and gratitude to Konrad von Wallenrode for keeping some of the Victalian Brothers alife if they promised to serve the Order loyally.

Anyways, the current stalemate is not at all in our favour. It is quite a drain on our purse. And we have come to accept that we can not decisively break this war. And as such it could go on nearly forever. However, this is where you come into play. We are looking for allies among our brothers in faith to aid us in this war as well as to protect each other in future wars. Your involvement could bring an end to this war and I am sure that in the peace treaty you will find some worthy spoils of war for yourself."

Visby; Landsoberst Sven Erikson

Sven instinctively ducked when he heard the whistling sound of yet another cannonball heading his way. Still, it was an unnecessary gesture. This shot too flew far above them before landing somewhere in the city, causing further destruction. The hellish bombardment had started two hours ago and by now Sven was sure that the Scandinavians weren't planning to keep just a single stone standing on the other. This did really embitter him. As one of the Gutes, Sven Erikson had been born and raised on the island and always considered the Scandinavians as friends or some sort of relatives, atleast in his youth. But now it was clear, that these relatives did not care wether or not they shed the blood of their brothers. Lucky for them, after their intentions had become clearer after half an hour of bombardment, he had evacuated whoever he could find within the city that was not part of the forces amassed for defense. Many of them had families in the countryside so they would find refuge with them.

In the distance he could hear a great explosion and suddenly the earth shook below him just fromt he size of it. Looking up, he could see massive clouds of fire and smoke rising on the other side of the city, fire raining down from the heavens as if Hell itself was descending upon them. He silently cursed. The Scandinavians had hit the Eastern Magazine and apparently scored a very lucky hit. The magazine had been hit already years ago, making it inaccessible but he had been assured that there was only little ammunition left in there so he had not bothered with opening the magazine again. Now it was clear that he had been lied to, these fools simply didn't want to do construction work back then and now they paid the price. The ammunition in that magazine which just exploded could have easily lasted for another month or two.

With a sigh he made his final decision. With a wave of his hand, he ordered his vice, the Landsoberstleutnant Björne Stögert, to come to him. The man, who had just reappeared from wherever he had been running around again immediately came running in a bent position and with his hands above his head to shield it from possible rubble or anything falling from the sky. Once he was there, Sven grabbed him by the colour and screamed into his ears in order to get heard over the sound of the barrage:

"Visby is lost. The enemy will raze it to the ground and we will not stand a chance. I will not be responsible for the death of all these innocents under my command. Go and spread the word in the city that everyone is to abandon his or her position and to leave the city. The shall seek refuge with their families. They and their families should thank me for it and I doubt anyone would resist this order after seeing this madness. If someone is stubborn you know what to do."

Sven could see in Björne's eyes that he was rather happy to hear those words but he also seemed worried and asked:

"Ja, Oberst! But-but what about you?"

Sven let go off him and looked over the city. More than half of it was burning, mainly due tot he explosion of the magazine and the fire was spreading quickly. Then he looked out onto the sea, seeing the ships in the darkness, seeing the flashes of light everytime a cannon was fired and shook his fist at them angrily.

"A captain goes down with his ship. A commander goes down with his army...or with his fortress."

"But-but sir, you don't need to! You can come with us! Flee!"

, the Oberstleutnant sqeaked but Sven only shook his head and sad with a sad voice:

"No. As the commander of the Defense of Gotland, this stain on my honour is too great. I cannot forgive myself for the loss of Visby and the entirety of Gotland with it. No, I must die here, together with the Teutonic rule over my home."

The Oberstleutnant, although he still looked like he wanted to say something, backed of reluctantly before turning around and running down from the fort they had been in, down into the city. He was screaming from the top of his lungs, commanding the people to abandon their positions, yelling for them to go home. A good man, he thought.

But it looked like life wasn't just going to let go off him so easily. As he stood there, atop the battlements of the fort, he suddenly thought that he heard someone shout his name behind him. Of course that couldn't be true as everyone should have left their positions by now so he ignored it. Besides, he couldn't be sure, maybe his ears were playing a trick on him? Making him believe that the flames sung his name? Were they calling him? Was it his fate to burn together with his city? Well, actually, it seemed like he hadn't imagined anything as he could suddenly feel a hand on his boot. Looking down, he saw the fine hand of a woman, stained with blood which she had smeared all over his boot. Why did that hand seem so familiar to him? Wait, why in god's name was there still someone else than him in the city?!?

This prompted him to turn around abruptly and what he saw shocked him so much that he took a few steps backwards...and then he nearly lost his footing and would have almost fallen into the cold water of the Baltic Sea below the fortifications. In front of him, in a simple dress which was stained with blood, more and more gushing forth from a deep wound in her side which she was holding with her hands, stood a very familiar woman. No, not just familiar, it was who had been dearest to him. It was his pregnant wife Irmgard. What was she doing here? He had told her to go to the farm of his parents and stay there untill everything was over? With a scream he jumped down from the battlements and held her in his arms, looking at her and at her wound in disbelief.

"Irmgard! How?!? Why!?!"

But she only put on a weak smile, her life clearly already fading away from her. Slowly her trembling bloody hand reached up to his face and touched his cheek, caressing it.

"Fin----ally I've found.............you. St----upid man, must..............you always............play the hero?"

He took her hand, tears streaming down his face, mixing with the blood which she had smeared onto his check and dropping down onto his clean white uniform. Yes, indeed, he was like a hero in shining white uniform. And he had tried to be brave and bold and face death. But now...she was dying, he could see that and the deep wound...he already knew that their child was dead.

"Irmgard...why? I told you to stay with my parents! To be safe! To raise our daughter and-"

But she cut him short by placing her bloody finger on his lips, saying weakly:

"Psssht.......what good is life.......without you? What......is growing up........without your father? What is..........a german life under scandina-----vian occupation? No, I couldn't..........stay there.

Now....listen...I didn't come.......here just because.......of this. A smuggler has.......made it past.....the blockade. He is.......in the cove.....where you........confessed your love....to me. Please.........no, don't interrupt me...... My strength...........is fading................. Just listen. I wanted to............go with you, to..........resume our life on the mainland.........but as you can see I will not be capable..........of this anymore. Please............escape. Atleast...........you must............live. You must continue. For............Gotland, for...........Visby, ..............for us.........."

Her gaze, even while she still spoke, became glassy, simply staring and while she spoke she got quieter and quieter but the crying Sven who held her in is hands and cradled her could understand everything as he had literally gotten so close that she was nearly spitting blood into his ear. Hence why he noticed very quickly when she had finally passed away as he couldn't feel her warm breath in his ear anymore nor new blood being spat in there. He sat there for another couple minutes before slowly, as if in trance, standing up and walking down from the walls. Like a zombie he walked through the burning city, not caring about the heat or the danger. Was it a miracle or god's protection that led him out of the city unscathed?

Anyway, the relatively faithful Oberstleutnant Björne had been waiting outside of the city with two horses. Seeing the state his superior was in, he wordlessly gave him the reigns of one of the horses before riding along him to their destination. And Sven Erikson, although still seemingly in trance, made it to the cove on the other side of the island. And indeed there was a small ship. Black sails, no light. Light and fast. The Captain was a smuggler, clothed in dark clothes too and had been expecting them. Once they both were onboard, leaving behind the horses, the smuggler covered them in their bright white uniforms with dark blankets before setting sail. They made it successfully off the island with their Captain. Maybe the fact that he was constantly kissing a small crucifix and praying to god helped? Or was it just his expertise? No idea really but they made it.

Budapest; Transylvanian Landmeister Konrad Hicksmacher

Konrad Hicksmacher was indeed already in a good mood when he arrived at Buda Castle. That mood only got better when he noticed the attention to detail of the Hungarians as well as their obvious effort to put him into this good mood. It meant that the negotiations would talk with a positive mood on both sides which Konrad preferred. He was too old to still get enraged and if he would have done so, he probably would've suffered from a heart attack. With a big smile on his face he placed his hand on the shoulder of Vlad before drawing him into a tight embrace. Maybe not the best idea since he was still wearing his cuirass. Anyway, he let go off Vlad again and laughed heartily, saying shortly thereafter:

"Ahahahaha! Rarely has an old man such as me received so much respect and attention from a high standing younger man like yourself. Thank you very much. It warms my old heart to see this and only re-enforces my belief in humanity.

But it seems as if digression is infectuous. I apologize for that. The Hochmeister has sent me on this mission to establish cordial relations with your nation, Prime Minister Hunyad."

Whispering with a knowing and friendly smile he added:

"And of course he seeks to form a defensive alliance between our brothers in faith. With protestants to the west and orthodox to the east, we must band together and form a bulwark of catholicism to weather the storms of the future."

Rome; Generalprokurator Horst von Strauben

"Oh please do not worry your majesty. I should apologize instead for daring to ask for any such thing from you. A lowly brother such as I will always accept your decision and will never demand anything from you."

, for some odd reason, Horst believed that he had in some way offended the empress. He bowed deeply before her and then stood up again and placed her hand within his massive palms. Almost pleading he told her:

"Please do not be angry with me. I am but a human and as such I will make mistakes. Please, allow me to make it up for you."

by **Plzen** » Wed Jan 10, 2018 7:21 am

Stockholm, Scandinavia,
1850 February 13th

"A most lovely morning, your Majesty," greeted Chancellor Rasmus Kierkegård of the Scandinavian Republic. "I see that you are up bright and early as always."

The negotiations of State between the Netherlands and Scandinavia was now entering its fourth day. By now, the pattern was already well-established. Negotiations by morning, then a late lunch, a tour of Stockholm's historical, scientific, and cultural centres, then a banquet at some castle or another. Knowing this perfectly well, Chancellor Kierkegård motioned for his aide to bring him his papers.

The negotiations were, by all metrics, progressing smoothly. Scandinavia originally merely wanted an agreement that Scandinavia and the Netherlands would protect each other's colonies outside of Europe, but it appeared that the Netherlands was greatly concerned about the prospect of facing Frankish aggression and desired Scandinavian guarantees that Scandinavia would protect Dutch independence should things come to that.

Well, then. If it was guarantees the Netherlands wanted, guarantees the Chancellor of Scandinavia could promise them. Slowly but surely, the original proposal on the table was slowly morphing into something that resembled a general defensive alliance much more than it resembled a simple colonial security treaty.

"Now," continued the Chancellor, "I believe we are almost complete? Just a few final issues to go over and clarify..."

Surrounded by a gaggle of adjutants, the King of the Netherlands and the Chancellor of Scandinavia resumed their negotiations.

Code: Select all: The Treaty of Amicable Cooperation and Common Defense The Scandinavian Republic (henceforth Scandinavia), represented by Rasmus Kierkegård, Chancellor of the Republic, and the Kingdom of the Eight United Netherlands (henceforth the Netherlands), represented by His Majesty the King of the Netherlands, collectively the Parties, reminded of the necessity to defend the liberties of its peoples, the independence of its lands, and the shared values of Christian nation, with recognition of the difficulty of defending these core national principals as an independent actor that stands unaided in the harsh international stage, and with awareness of certain common external threats faced by both Parties against which a common defence may be organised, has arrived at and agreed to a common understanding as detailed. Article I For the purposes of this common understanding a declaration of war by one state entity, the aggressor, against another state entity, the defender, shall be defined as an event that satisfies one or more of the following definitions: a) a formal declaration, issued by the legitimate authority of the aggressor, declaring the aggressor and defender to be at a state of war, b) deliberate, persistent, and armed incursions by agents under the service of the aggressor into the internationally recognised sovereign territory of the defender, c) a use of the force of arms by a citizen of the aggressor against a citizen of the defender, sanctioned by the aggressor, in violation of the laws in effect at the site of the incident; Article II The Parties shall not issue a declaration of war against another Party; Article III Should a Party become a defender in a declaration of war, that Party shall have the privilege of issuing a request to the other Party and demand and thereafter obtain that Party's support in the defence of the independence, liberty, and territorial integrity of the defender Party and in the elimination of the aggressor's capability and willingness to continue the use of militant force against the defender Party by the following means: a) permitting the armed forces of the defender party access to roads and harbours of its sovereign territory, b) provision of the strength of its own armed forces, c) the exchange of intelligence regarding the aggressor, d) diplomatic condemnation of the aggressor's activities; Article IV This present treaty is to be ratified by the governing authorities of both Parties as soon as possible, and in any case not less than 60 days after the signing of this document, after which the formal exchange of ratification will take place through both Parties' respective missions to the other Party, at which point this treaty will be considered to have entered into force; Article V This present treaty is to be signed in duplicate in both the Dutch and Scandinavian languages; the texts are in absolute conformity, and both copies are to be considered equally valid.

Off the coast of Visby, Baltic Sea,
1850 February 23rd

Before the carefully watching eyes of Captain Øystein Amundsen, Visby didn't burn. Didn't, because after two weeks of intensive bombardment by a good portion of the Scandinavian European Fleet, whatever there was to burn in Visby was already scorched off the island days ago. Although most of the stone or cement buildings were still intact and the outlines of what was clearly a settlement was still visible from the coast, it was clear that Visby was now more ruin than city. Nobody but the street rats lived there anymore, the Captain suspected.

The fortress of Visby itself, where most of the initial waves of bombardments were focused, was almost completely gone. Nothing was left of the fortress walls except a stone fence dividing the rubble that fell inside the fortress from the rubble than fell outside the fortress.

It's been two weeks. A fortnight is enough.

"Cease fire," whispered the Captain. "Cease fire!"

The First Mate looked at him, as if he was mad.

"Captain," he reminded. "Our orders require us to shell Visby until such a moment as we..."

"...obtain a surrender, yeah, yeah. I know," the Captain responded. "But I'm also an officer in the Scandinavian Navy and I was educated for this sorts of things. Tell me, in your opinion, is there any point to continuing the bombardment of Visby?"

"...no, Captain."

"Well, there you have it, then. As an officer in the Scandinavian Navy I cannot reasonably waste ammunition and supplies against a target that has neither tactical nor strategic defensibility."

"..."

"Contact Navy Command at Karlskrona. Inform them that in my best opinion as a commissioned officer in the field, there is no further point in continuing this bombardment against Visby as mere bombardment from range is unlikely to obtain a surrender of Gotland's garrison" - what little of it is left, anyways - "and that whatever desirable effects a naval bombardment from range can be expected to achieve has already been achieved. Request that Navy Command order the marines to storm the island in an actual assault."

The First Mate saluted, and left the bridge to draft the letter. He accepted, if not necessarily the logic in the Captain's arguments or the reason in his decisions, then at least the great soul of the man who made them.

It wasn't until half an hour later that the ship next to his noticed the silent guns of the RFS Viborg, and questioned its Captain about it. A flurry of semaphore went between the two ships, as Captain Øystein Amundsen defended the reason in his actions.

Over the next three hours, one by one, the guns fell silent across the entire blockading fleet.

Scandinavian Mission to Iberia, Madrid,
1850 March 01th

In accordance with the instructions given to him from Copenhagen, the ambassador burned the night oil drafting a letter requesting an audience of the Iberian authorities.

Indeed, he thought, it is about time that the pirate menace that threatens peaceful commerce and transportation in the Atlantic Ocean be crushed once and for all, and what better partner to have for that task from the single worst European enemy of the nation from which most of those pirates originate?

Clearly co-operation between Iberia and Scandinavia on the topic of clearing the Atlantic of the pirate scourge held a lot of value... but the ambassador was uncertain what form, exactly, that co-operation would take. Clearly a military alliance of any sort was unsuitable, considering that the pirates were, technically, a nonstate entity and, supposedly, not sponsored by the Vandal authorities.

Perhaps just a series of joint operations? A combined stint between their two navies? In that case, it would be wise to also involve the Dutch, the Americans, and the English. All of them had a vested interest in clearing the Atlantic of threats to commercial prosperity. Was Copenhagen also planning to contact them, diplomatically? The ambassador was unsure.

In the end, my duty is to simply complete the work that is assigned to me. The happenings of other ambassadors is not a part of that.

The ambassador resumed his work.

by **The Traansval** » Fri Jan 12, 2018 4:55 am

Stockholm
Scandinavian Republic
13th of February, 1850

"It is indeed Chancellor, it is indeed. I find the task at hand keeps me more alert than normal sir."

The King was rather enjoying himself. He found the culture of his Protestant Brothers here in the far north to be the most engaging he'd seen in a long while. For four days now he'd spent negotiating this treaty while also trying to see as much as he could of Stockholm. His wife joined him when it was needed, and went off to find lovers when not. The King did much the same. Still, this wasn't a vacation, and William had taken on the responsibility and task of the treaty with zeal.

Through discussions, he and his envoys (including the Ambassador to Scandinavia) had turned a colonial defense pact into a alliance of mutual defense. William felt almost giddy with excitement; soon he'd have the night of the North backing him if the Franks ever decided to subjugate the Netherlands again. But, nothing was set in stone, but the treaty which had just been handed to him was certainly close.

"I find this treaties articles of the uptmost excellence Chancellor, however, I believe there are aspects of this alliance not outlined. My delegation and I have drafted two additional articles to be added. I request your review of them." King William XVI said, motioning for one of the delegations aids to hand over the specific revised treaty.

The Treaty of Amicable Cooperation and Common Defense

The Scandinavian Republic (henceforth Scandinavia), represented by Rasmus Kierkegård, Chancellor of the Republic, and the Kingdom of the Eight United Netherlands (henceforth the Netherlands), represented by His Majesty the King of the Netherlands, collectively the Parties, reminded of the necessity to defend the liberties of its peoples, the independence of its lands, and the shared values of Christian nation, with recognition of the difficulty of defending these core national principals as an independent actor that stands unaided in the harsh international stage, and with awareness of certain common external threats faced by both Parties against which a common defence may be organised, has arrived at and agreed to a common understanding as detailed.

Article I

For the purposes of this common understanding a declaration of war by one state entity, the aggressor, against another state entity, the defender, shall be defined as an event that satisfies one or more of the following definitions:
a) a formal declaration, issued by the legitimate authority of the aggressor, declaring the aggressor and defender to be at a state of war,
b) deliberate, persistent, and armed incursions by agents under the service of the aggressor into the internationally recognised sovereign territory of the defender,
c) a use of the force of arms by a citizen of the aggressor against a citizen of the defender, sanctioned by the aggressor, in violation of the laws in effect at the site of the incident;

Article II

The Parties shall not issue a declaration of war against another Party;

Article III

Should a Party become a defender in a declaration of war, that Party shall have the privilege of issuing a request to the other Party and demand and thereafter obtain that Party's support in the defence of the independence, liberty, and territorial integrity of the defender Party and in the elimination of the aggressor's capability and willingness to continue the use of militant force against the defender Party by the following means:
a) permitting the armed forces of the defender party access to roads and harbours of its sovereign territory,
b) provision of the strength of its own armed forces,
c) the exchange of intelligence regarding the aggressor,
d) diplomatic condemnation of the aggressor's activities;

Article IV

This present treaty is to be ratified by the governing authorities of both Parties as soon as possible, and in any case not less than 60 days after the signing of this document, after which the formal exchange of ratification will take place through both Parties' respective missions to the other Party, at which point this treaty will be considered to have entered into force;

Article V

This present treaty is to be signed in duplicate in both the Dutch and Scandinavian languages; the texts are in absolute conformity, and both copies are to be considered equally valid

Article VI

Let it be known that the Parties involved in this present treaty are empowered with the right to join a fellow party in a war which may be described as Agressive in nature in the part of a Party of this Treaty, with a Agressive War being defined as one in which the Provacations listed in the First Article apply to the actions of a Party Nationstate. However, the exercise of this right is left solely to the governing body of a Party nation, and shall be able to declare its non-military involvement in a fellow Party Members war without breaking the Treaty. Similarly, non-militaristic involvement is described as the nation breaking non of the provisions listed in the Forst Article detailing the definitions of Causations to War.

Article VII

Any nation whose sovereignty is recognized by all Parties to the Treaty are henceforth allowed to submit a request to become a signature of this treaty, thus binding them to a alliance with all Parties involved according to the Treaty. However, this request can only be accepted by a unanimous acceptance by the governing bodies of all Parties to the treaty.

"If his Chancellorship finds no fault with Articles VI and VII, then I find no obstacle or impediment to signing into existence the treaty that sits before us." King William stated, resting his back by laying back in the cushioned chair he had been furished with.

The Marine Etablissement, in Vlissingen
Holland Staat, Kingdom of the Eight United Netherlands
14th of February, 1850

Andre Lematt, was a conductor, and this was his Symphony. But alas there was no string section, no Woodwind in sight, and yet the most beautiful of sounds came from the Percussion Section. The sound of hammers striking nails, of saw teeth tearing into the white oak and of the yelling of Foremen. Foremen, like him. For this was not a concert hall; it was a shipyard.

Still, the sound of work was music to Andre's ears. The Wallonian had been raised by his Huguenot parents who had fled persecution by the Frankish Emperor. When he was of age he joined the Dutch Royal Navy, and served a tour on a Frigate before his term was up. His experience soon warned him work at the shipyard, where his military service had been put to good use in organizing and leading the workers.

For the most part, life was rather dull. A new ship hadn't been made in years, as the Royal Navy used ships that had been on it into service at the very beginning of the 19th century. Hell, most of them were older than Andre, a fact which was not lost on the Dutch Government. The ships old age also meant that they often needed repair; repair they more often than not got at the Marine Etablissment. Dull, but never idle. The men of the shipyard were all experienced repairing the ships of the Dutch Navy, and that experience earned them a reputation for quality.

Now, that quality could be put to work. A naval expansion program under King William XVI's Milirary Reform policy was well underway, and the flagship of the Naval Reform was Nine new ships. Six Fourth Rate Great Frigates and One First Rate were ordered by the navy to be constructed here in Vlissingen. The Six Great Frigates were of the new Holland Class, and used a unique design of overlapping segments aligned in three layers. Ok top of these, Two Steam Screw "Frigates" (technically sloops) were ordered. The Frigates and Steam Frigates were expected to be finished within four years while the First Rate a bit more so. Three of the Great Frigates and the First Rate (The HNLMS William XVI) were being constructed right in front of Andres eyes. And by god... they were Beautiful.

[b][/b

by **Oscalantine** » Fri Jan 12, 2018 5:26 am

Most Serene Imperial States of Korea

Viceroyalty of Chuk-Jae-Do,
Chuk-Jae Island, Viceroyal Residence.

There is a saying in Korea: all wealth flows through Chuk-Jae. Being the seat of power within the Korean colonial empire, the Island of Chuk-Jae, which literally translates into “celebration,” certainly always has a reason to celebrate. The small island serves as the region’s largest port, directing all trades to and from the region. It can be said that no trade comes into Asia without Chuk-Jae knowing it, and no trade leaves without Chuk-Jae’s consent.

Such a powerful trade hub has always been under the control of the Viceroy of Chuk-Jae-Do, the defacto ruler of all of Korea’s colonies, second most powerful man in the Most Serene Imperial States only to his Most Serene Imperial Majesty. Thusly, the Viceroyal Residence, a central estate overlooking the largest harbor in Chuk-Jae, has always had a line of people for formal or informal occasions to meet the Viceroy.

Today, however, the proverbial line is particular long. The Viceroy’s staff was busy serving teas and other amenities to guests in the large ball room within the estate, as the sizable guest room was already filled completely with merchants and bureaucrats waiting to meet the Viceroy. The confusion was in the air, as there was no particular reason for such a long wait. All that the staff could explain to the patient guests was that the Admiral of Second Imperial Fleet, Admiral Kim Maru (대한제국 제2함대 제독 김마루), came to Viceroyal Residence rather early in the morning, and has not came back out.

”Gakha(각하, meaning “Excellency” in Korean, honorific used to high-level bureaucrats or nobles)! Please reconsider!” the Admiral said as he slammed both his hands into the solid teak desk, spilling his cup of tea to the floor.

“Kim Maru-nim, this subject’s stands, no matter how much you wait, will not change.” Viceroy Kwon Dong-nyuc (대한제국 축제도 총독 권동녘) calmly replied as he sipped on his tea, unfazed by the exclamation of the admiral.

”Gakha understands that these barbarians in Java are fortifying against us, entrenching their ilk further into the island! Starving them out of their rathole is the only option!”

”And since Gakha does not understand the situation at hand, please allow this lowly official to inform Gakha: Gakha’s merchants have been running smuggles through our major checkpoints. There is no point for the Imperial Navy to control the flow of trades into Java if the merchants of Chuk-Jae-Do run the trade convoy for these Western Barbarians!”

”The directives from Ministry of War was clear: to prevent all efforts by these barbarians to further militarize the island of Java. Please, Gakha, allow us to do our job!”

Viceroy sat still, completely unabated by the admiral’s accusations. Subtleties have long since escaped the admiral, who was more than beyond frustrated as the Viceroy’s lack of cooperation. Under the orders of the State Council, the Ministry of War has directed the Second Imperial Fleet to control all trade going into Java, preventing the local colonial government of Scandinavia from fortifying the island any further. It was rather obvious from the shipping manifest that the island was gathering more materials to better help themselves against evident and looming presence of the Korean navy. In fact, the patrols of Second Imperial Fleet has been sailing ever closer to the island, coming close enough for the Cheonja-Chongtongs to be able to fire onto the coastal regions of the island.

Frustratingly, however, the Korean merchants have been assisting the Java’s supply woes. By sailing either side-by-side with Scandinavian ships or being hired to run through the quasi-blockade with their own ships, the merchants of Chuk-Jae-Do has been smuggling goods into Java, allowing the small colony to accomplish their goals on schedule. This, of course, frustrated the admiral whose noble bloodline never seen such an insubordination. How could these merchants ignore the directive from the Ministry of War of the Most Serene Imperial States, let along the State Council? Who were they to believe that they were above the law?

The Viceroy finally put down the cup as the admiral’s chest inflated and deflated in barely contained anger. Dong-Nyuc rested his eyes for a good second before opening them, glaring at the admiral that made even the battle-hardened officer flinch back into his seat.

”Kim Maru-nim, does my lord see the office of Viceroyalty blind?”

”No, I do not presu–“

”No, my lord, you did presume. You presumed that I would care for the State Council’s whims. When you leave, do look at how many people await me downstairs. Every morning, merchants, scholars, guild masters, pirates, and foreigners of all walks of life come to greet me. Each morning, they leave their shipping manifest and navigational records at my door, desperate to earn my favor.”

The Viceroy’s comments, although delivered as calmly as before, was devoid of all honorifics, addressing admiral of the Imperial Fleet as “you” and himself as “I.” The admiral sat, astonished by the passive anger expressed by the Viceroy, understanding fully what was to transpire.

”And what did you, bring to me on this day? Insults? Or perhaps you desire to slander the goodwill of the Chuk-Jae-Do? Will the admiralty pay the Ministry of Taxation when time comes for tributes?”

”No, this hum–“

”I tire of this conversation, admiral. You have taken up my entire morning for information that I already know, trying to convince me on a stands that I have already taken. I bid you farewell. The Viceroyalty will only abide by the direction of the Imperial Throne (황제부) and no others.”

The admiral opened his mouth as if to refute to the viceroy’s statements, but he closed his mouth without commenting further on the subject. Seeing that there was no way to undo the mistakes that he has made, the admiral stood up, bowed down fully to the viceroy before retreating out of the viceroy’s office.

Movements in the Chuk-Jae-Do

As soon as the Most Serene Imperial States knew that Scandinavian Java was fortifying against Korea, an action that is easily recognized by the accumulation of resources for fortification, the Second Imperial Fleet was tasked with preventing any resources that could be used for fortification to be heavily controlled. At this directive, the Second Imperial Fleet dispatched 5 Dae-Panoak-suen (대판옥선, Large-class Plated Roof Ships) followed by 10 Banpae-suen (방패선, Shield Ships) to seas near Java, creating a quasi-blockade and checking every convoy coming into the island regardless of nationality.

However, this plan of blockade was largely thwarted by the merchants of Chuk-Jae-Do, who would sail close to the Scandinavian ships. Further adding to the frustration of the Imperial Navy, the merchants have also been aiding the Scandinavian colony by providing supplies to the colonies and disregarding the directives from the Imperial Navy. Although the Ministry of War was notified of the situation, there was very little that the ministry could do: the colonial governance of Chuk-Jae-Do was clear on the fact that the trade between Scandinavia was vital to the growth of the Korean colonies in order to meet the tributary demands of Ministry of Taxation. The Viceroy further noted in a rather enraged documentation back to the mainland stating that the Viceroyalty will continue its operations and will not discriminate between nationalities until the Imperial Throne provides a way to cover the losses resulting in what the Viceroy called “sudden and discriminating losses against the merchant guilds.”

In response to appease the Viceroy, the State Council directed further funds from the mainland to the colonial government, working closely with the Ministry of Works in creating fortifications for the major ports situated in Southern Sumatra. The State Council’s intention was to provide for work and labor to guilds that have been affected by the recent disturbance in trade. However, it was also clear the fortifying the ports in the area were an act of militarization in of itself, as these Southern Sumatran ports were originally built for a civilian use. In actuality, the Stat Council’s intention was, while still subtle, relatively clear: with ports in the region becoming more militarized and more under the direct control of the Imperial Navy, it was clearly intended as warning for both the Scandinavian authorities as well as the Viceroyalty that further attempts to cross the State Council’s wishes will be met with force.

Movements in the Mainland

With the trouble in the Viceroy, the State Council’s strength greatly diminished, as its move to once again pressure Javan government to submitting to Korean government was delayed. As a result, the annual request to submit and bow to the Most Serene Imperial Majesty was not sent out according to schedule. Naturally, the State Council, with the help of Ministry of War, beseeched the Emperor for reconsideration in what they called “reigning back the rebellious colonies,” but the Imperial Throne’s response was very clear: the Empire will uphold the sacred tradition of allowing the Viceroyalty complete autonomy.

While the Emperor’s intentions for keeping the low profile with the Viceroy seemed to be in good faith, and indeed, the two were brothers in everything but blood since early childhood in the Imperial Palace where the two grew up together under the same tutors, the Emperor’s reasons for not antagonizing the Viceroy was not without political reason. Despite boasting already significant navy within the Southeast Asia, the Most Serene Imperial States was always under subtle pressure from the rest of its oriental neighbors on any actions within their sphere of influence. For military action without their consent may antagonize the others against Korea, and war against another power in the Orient was the last thing that the Koreans would want.

In actuality, there were two reasons why the Ministry of Rites delayed their request to Java: one would have been inability of State Council to reign in the colonies, yes, but more important issue was a directive from the Imperial Throne (황제부) to connect with the Japanese government to expand on the ancient peace treaty drafted so many years ago. While the rationales for Scandinavian government to of the sudden fortify the island knowing full well that it will antagonize the Koreans are unknown, it is quite obvious that the Scandinavians are prepared to defend their colonies. While the Imperial Throne did not discourage the actions taken by the State Council, as certainly this is something that the Most Serene Imperial States must do, it was the intent of the Imperial Throne that appropriate actions should be taken before any major campaigns against Scandinavians can be taken.

With that in mind, the Imperial Throne has been working closely with the Ministry of Rites over documents which have been in place since the previous generation. Up to now, the Korean government’s stands with the Japanese were that of mutual neglect: neither would seek to go against one another for mutual benefit. However, with the West colonizing Asian lands right under both governments’ noses because technicality over which would constitute as “East” and “West” in 50-year-old document was something of a disgrace to Koreans. Thus, it was the intent of the Imperial Throne to reaffirm and expand on the current treaty into a form which would ensure that the two nations can firmly prosper together.

Further in the agendas of Imperial Throne was to appease the colonies. While the Viceroy’s rebellion was nothing to be lauded at, it was a sign from the Viceroy that the economic situation in Chuk-Jae-Do was not as sound as it once was. The Most Serene Imperial States’ politics did state that the Koreans refrain from trading with merchants from Dutch and Scandinavia whenever possible, which meant that the two most important trading partners in the West were completely blocked off as option for revenue. This was something that the Imperial Throne must resolve if it was to levy and further influence upon the merchants of Chuk-Jae-Do. Thus, the Ministry of Rites decided to overstep on the rights of Chuk-Jae-Do for the merchants’ benefit: to open a dialogue with a Western power as major source of Korea’s trade wealth.

To the subject of his Imperial Majesty,
Hear and Obey the degrees of His Most Serene Imperial Majesty:

To His Most Serene Imperial Majesty’s most loyal subject, the Viceroy of Chuk-Jae-Do Kwon Dong-Nyuc,

It is the decree of His Most Serene Imperial Majesty to prepare and supply for the journey of the three Ministers from the Ministry of Rites,

Whose mission is to carry a missive to the West to the Empire of Eastern Roma (동로마제국; fyi, Koreans tends to make up names for non-Oriental nations until the said national formally greets the Emperor and introduces the nation, Roman Empire not being an exception) concerning forging diplomatic ties with the Most Serene Imperial States.

Therefore, His Most Serene Imperial Majesty’s most loyal subject must formulate his own delegation,

To provide expertise as well as to represent the Viceroyalty of Chuk-Jae-Do and its needs.

His Most Serene Imperial Majesty fully believes in His most loyal servant’s capabilities,

And will allow His most loyal servant’s delegation from the Chuk-Jae-Do to lead the discussion in the Empire of Eastern Roma.

May you ever be of use to His Most Serene Imperial Majesty.

OFFICIAL DOCUMENT FROM MINISTRY OF RITES

To our most esteemed friend and our most valued ally, Dai Nippon Kaikoku,

My lords, the Ministry of Rites of the Most Serene Imperial States of Korea wishes to relay the message of our Most Serene Imperial Majesty:

It has been over fifty years since the two empires have agreed to paths of mutual benefit, peacefully dividing the lands that the two nations ought to have. However, since our split, for one reason or another, we decided not to colonize the lands between our two major hubs of respective colonies, to which the Western Barbarians have saw fit to invade into the lands which were rightfully ours.

While these barbarians have been allowed to roam free, the most recent turn of have clearly shown that they are not to be trusted. They have begun to fortify against us, ruining the lands that belong to all Asians.

My lords of Dai Nippon Kaikoku, it is the wishes of the Most Serene Imperial Majesty that our old pact is reaffirmed and expanded, providing a powerful bulwark against these interlopers once and for all, and to create a clearcut boundaries from which our two great nations can mutually cooperate to reject these barbarians from Asian lands that should only belong to Asians. My Most Serene Imperial Majesty has thusly requested that the Ministry of Rites to ascertain the dates and locations at which the delegations between the great nations to meet with each other to discuss the finer details in resolving this infestation once and for all.

Minister Chae Jun-bum,
First Seat of Ministry of Rites.

by **Yurizlansia** » Sat Jan 13, 2018 2:58 pm

Buda Castle, Budapest, Empire of Hungary

The conversation with the Landmeister was very friendly, much to the pleasure of the Prime Minister. After listening to the Landemister’s request, the Prime Minister need not think about much. Hungary had been diplomatically isolated, and the idea of getting a new ally to help relieve pressure on the border with the two Roman Empires sounded excellent for him. It was understood that the Teutonic Order had been at war with Scandinavia for some time now, so no large military commitments could be made, but still, surely the Diet would understand that the need to end the period of diplomatic isolation, and national security should take precedence over a conflict all the way in Northern Europe.
“Landmeister Hicksmacher, nothing will make me happier than to agree. This agreement will not only ensure God’s law survives the inevitable storm to come, but also increase the prestige of both of our nations. I will take this agreement to our Diet, and I am sure they will accept. I understand that your nation is at war, and I further understand that the nature of a defensive pact will ensure that Hungarian troops will not fight in your war, but Hungarian goods could be used to improve your war effort against the Protestant enemy. Our Empire has a large stockpile of wood as well as copper and iron. I am sure that if you would like, I could convince my government to begin exports to your nation. For a reduced cost of course.” The Prime Minister stopped talking. Hunyad was excited because this would be the first time in quite a while that Hungary may begin to use its influence for its own betterment.

While the Prime Minister was discussing the terms of friendship with the Landmeister, the developments in Slovakia were being sent to the Emperor via telegram. Angered already over the demands that had been sent by Slovakian and Romanian dignitaries earlier in the year, his anger only grew due to the way the situation was being handled. Presumably, only a few hours before, thirteen civilians were killed by Honved troops in Bratislava, and agitators were no doubt already taking advantage of the opportunity to label the Empire as bloodthirsty murderers. Because of this, the Emperor would likely have to commit some regular troops. He assigned one infantry regiment under the command of Százados Birdol, a lower-born officer who showed great promise during field exercises. He would be sent by rail to Bratislava, and arrive later in the week. He was also placed as the commander of the Honved in Bratislava should he need to use them.
After internal security matter were discussed, the economy was on the agenda. In an age where major powers were scrambling to build miles upon miles of rail, the Empire of Hungary did not want to fall behind in the train. There were already some rail lines connecting the capitals of the different subdivisions of the Empire, but beyond that, the rail department of the government was lacking funds. Thanks to this, mobilization on any front would take far too long , and by that time, strategic objectives could be lost before anything could be done about it. The Emperor met with the Minister of the Economy and the Minister of the Interior to discuss the construction of railways. The Emperor spoke first.

“Each day I watch as our enemies, and those who seek to destroy us grow more powerful, more deadly. Their mouths water at the thought of taking our land, and enriching themselves from our treasury. What do we do about it? Nothing! We allow ourselves to fall behind the rest of the world, and while we do this, the existence of our nation is threatened. We need to act, and act now. Last field exercise, we determined that it could take longer than one month for our armies to be fully mobilized, and more than that to get all of our supplies in order. The best way to remedy this situations is to construct railroads throughout the nation so our armies can mobilize much quicker.”

“I understand what you are saying, but the simple fact remains that there aren’t sufficient funds for the Rail Department to use without neglecting already existing railroads.” The Minister of the Economy said this with a degree of nervousness due to the emotional instability of the Emperor. He looked to the Minister of the Interior. Hoping for some support.

“The finance Minister has a point. Our Rail Department is lacking in funds. We have to consider the cost of clearing miles upon miles of forest, building rails on uneven terrain. We would need a significant boost in funding. I do agree with your protests Your Highness, but in order to fix these problems we need more funding, and in order to do it, we need to approach the Diet.” The Minister of the Interior finished his speech mentioning the Diet to remind the Emperor were those kind of powers lie. After some more discussion, it was decided that a new plan would be taken to the Diet where an undetermined amount of money would be directed from the Department of Religious affairs, and the Department of Espionage to allow a new fund to construct new railways.

by **Elerian** » Sun Jan 14, 2018 6:56 pm

Almost since its inception, Xi China had a curious system of two capital cities. Many outsiders would not understand this. Why garrison this one prefecture with a force dwarfing that guarding the true political leadership and government infrastructure in Nanjing? The answer lay in the Chinese belief that their Emperor was a Tian Zi, a living god. A backward belief in the modern world, but nonetheless a treasured notion continuously passed down since the antiquated Zhou. The Emperor’s status was already near enough to godlike, and few dared to go against his word.

None dared. The shame would be immense, cascading down to affect not only oneself but also one's entire family. There was no use for official punishments, for the shame and society would crush them all the same. His word was absolute. Even if the Emperor was by intents and purposes only nineteen years old. This was the part outsiders completely misunderstood time and again. It was wrong to contradict His Imperial Majesty, but by no means was he unquestionable. He was in fact still mortal, and only the gods and spirits were unquestionable.

Nanjing is the Imperial Capital of the Greater Empire of China. But farther South lies the Hangzhou Imperial Palace situated just north of Lin’an, or Hangzhou. Here resides the ruling elite of the population. Perhaps not the most wealthy, but those in the greatest social standing. Many of these included the Emperor’s extended family, plutocrats, religious leaders, high-ranking military officers, retired politicians, and also the associates of the Emperor, invited by Him personally. The rest were servants and their families, though most of these were made up of the local Imperial Army garrison and the elite Imperial Guard. Living in or around the Hangzhou Imperial Palace was a privilege that few had. The privileged few who could breathe the same air and stand on the same soil as His Imperial Majesty Himself.

The Emperor Yazhu, Son of Heaven, Enlightened One, Eternal Leader of the Middle Kingdom, Amaranthine Leader of all Imperial Domains, so on and so forth, was the nephew of the late Emperor Xuiying. Yazhu had been fourteen when the man died, one of the three children in the line of succession. But also the Eldest. The middle one, six years his junior, was Jingwei, who was infamous within the Imperial Palace for his poor temperament. The youngest was Xu Ching-Yun, just a year younger than Jingwei, forever living in his brother’s shadows.

Yazhu himself was rather unique where Imperial sovereigns were concerned. He was the first since Emperor An of Jin to be born with a notable physical disability. He had been born with greatly impaired eyesight. With limited use of his sight, Yazhu was said to "See no Evil". This was of course taken from the Nipponese maxim of the Three Wise Monkeys, "see no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil". In many circles this made him more pure than his siblings and other contenders for the throne, such as his many cousins.

Despite the preference given to him by many, Yazhu had yet to prove himself an effective leader. His poor eyesight only made things more difficult, as almost all documents had to be read aloud for him. Despite his shortcomings, Yazhu had diligently spent many hours with his advisors working to overcome these setbacks and determine policy. And, as he grows more accustomed to the position, it is said that, he will be molded into an effective Emperor. Though, only time will tell.

Man Plans, and God Laughs

With the rumbles of war echoing across the Maritime Southeast Asia, the Middle Kingdom stood as one of the few nations in the Orient not to have a stake in the conflict. Of these contenders, Chōsen, in conjunction with Wakoku, saw the encroachment of the Western Colonizers as a challenge to their regional supremacy. While on the other hand the United Provinces and Scandinavians were in the process of expanding their already established colonies. The Tsaardom Rusemaa, the only other power not involved in the southern conflict, stood as a rival to the Greater Chinese Empire in nearly every form, a situation only complicated by the long and nebulous border the two shared across Manchuria.

For centuries, the Western Pacific had been considered the dominion of the Chōsen and Nipponese, while the Middle Kingdom had been a middling naval power at best. The Celestial Empire had neither the energy nor will to challenge this previously, focusing instead on herself. Thus, their mastery of the West Pacific went unchallenged, but the rising power of the Western Imperialists served as a convenient distraction, and as the Chinese broke out of their isolation, their gaze turned towards the Seas. Conflict, the government of Xiang Ji believed, was inevitable. The only question that remained was the end result, and so, China returned to the world stage, playing the Great Game with limited results.

It was hoped that this would lead to great things to come, but wheels were in motion all around the globe . . .

by **The Frozen Forest** » Tue Jan 16, 2018 6:04 pm

Cusco, Tawantinsuyu

Cusco was not a place where peace reigned. Tokoyrikoq, government inspectors had to be called in to cull the growing support of the White Stone Movement. For three weeks they had combed through Cusco's slum district in search of the decagon shaped stone symbol of the Movement. Usually painted on the inside of ones home, just above their sleeping mat. It was a sign of conviction to the Movements members, unified by the danger of their radical views. Tokoyrikoq were allowed to search people's homes as per the decree of Incap Rantin. In three weeks of searching over 600 members were discovered. Those that were found were immediately put to death, earning the punishment of a traitor. With so many beheadings and so many more to come, the Incap Rantin was able to maintain his power over the City, giving him the legitimacy needed to hold control over the entire Nation.

It was always the poor districts that were searched. There was little point in searching the upper classes as they had immunity to anything that was found. Incap Rantin Atoqwaman was known to have know to make many mistakes but even he knew they danger of attacking the Upper Class. It was the leading Kuraka, the Generals which had put his family into power in the first place. They would have to be dealt with more discretely if they were found to be dangerous. There were of course plenty of interruptions caused by the searches, whereas packages and supplies weren't able to reach the residences of prominent leaders. It would have to be compensated for later, possibly with some sort of gift or exotic food. It had almost become customary ever since the emergence of European goods in Tawantinsuyu. Probably the most popular gift was a strong Roman or Iberian Horse. The Incap Rantin had a strong number of them, between 20 and 30 in his private stables in Nazca.

Atoqwaman would do anything to stay in power, that was abundantly clear. Whether it be giving foreign gifts or killing political dissidents. Even if the people were rioting in the streets he would never surrender voluntarily. The only way he would leave his position or the power it entailed was if he were dead, it was the reason so many assassination attempts were happening against his life. One way or another he always managed to evade death. When news arrived in Cusco that the Iberians were moving West, claiming the land there for their Empire he knew that it was time to finally challenge them.

He was currently visiting the Sapa-Inca in order to discuss matters of the state. Accompanying him were various Kuraka and retainers, those of vital importance to the state. The meeting was to be held in the Royal War-Chamber. It was an expansive wooden room designed in such a way that it could be easily defended during an attack. The wooden walls were thick enough that little vibration could escape, therefore it was soundproof. The meeting began easily enough with the Incap Rantin taking a seat on the opposite side of a large long, slim table across the length of the room. The Sapa-Inca sat wordlessly on the other end, his eyes watching the procession gather in the room. There was the customary exchange of gifts between them, a one hundred and fifty year old tradition. His gift to Sapa-Inca Manko Poma was a finely crafted golden bracelet. He received a pouch full of foreign Cinnamon.

"Iberian soldiers have claimed the land South of Tawantinsuyu. Their expansion is getting out of hand." Atoqwaman began the meeting, stating the obvious bluntly. "I intend to seek a meeting with one of their Representatives. I would like to take a quarter of your guard with me for protection." Again very bluntly stating his opinion. His opinion was law though, the Sapa-Inca knew that he could not protest and offered nothing but a short nod. "While i am gone i am asking my most trusted Kuraka to take over governance of the rest of the Empire. Until my return you will submit to his authority." Finally the Sapa-Inca spoke to defend himself "You would have my power challenged by a mere Kuraka? I am the Sapa-Inca! Surely i deserve more respect than that! If you intend to confine me here under a strongman, may i instead make a State-Visit to Korea? I've been meaning to for some time." Atoqwaman pounded his fist on the table roughly, his face contorting into a snarl before realization came over his face. "Alright, i grant my permission for your visit. When you return you will be responsible for overseeing the executions of White Stones here in Cusco. I want them to see that you are against their toxic rebellion." He flung himself from the table, whipping towards the door and disappearing down the hall.

The Sapa-Inca finished the tea he held before rising from his own chair. The Anka had already been prepared from such a journey, as he had intended to take it regardless of the Incap Rantins permission. Officially a simple State-Trip, possibly to meet foreign dignitaries and buy new pieces of art. He had used their paper money before, but had never brought it back. He simply traded his goods for the money and then used all he had available to purchase goods in the foreign country, anything he had left he donated to the local poor. he'd visited Europe twice and Asia thrice. He was looking forward to visiting Korea, as he had only been there once. He hoped to be able to meet with the Korean leader, then perhaps he could get assistance for his people in Tawantinsuyu.

1850: Alternative Divergence [AH][IC]

1850: Alternative Divergence [AH][IC]

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