Last Long Mile - AH RP [IC]

by **The Kingdom of Glitter** » Sun Nov 15, 2015 12:45 pm

1901 AH RP
Links: OOC| Map | Number Map
Lesser Links: Factbook| [url]TBD[/url] | Theme

OP Board:
- OP - The Kingdom of Glitter
- Co-OP's - Liecthenbourg, The Jonathanian States

RP Description:

It is May of the year 1901, the beginning of a new era in a turbulent world. Conflict rage across the continents as nations and governments scramble to subdue one another. The latest crisis began in the Saxon capital of Dresden. A visit from the Crown Prince and Princess of Bavaria to a fellow member of the Germanic League resulted in their demise, as a Hanseatic pan-Germanic radical by the name of Hans Christian von Helsel took their very lives. von Helsel maintained close ties to the more radical members of the Hanseatic government and legislature and as a result Bavaria, the head of the Germanic League, has recently delivered an ultimatum: hand over the radicals or face war. The United Kingdom of Austria and Hungary has reassured its allies in Munich it will come to war on their behalf, bringing the onset of war much closer. The other two members of the Munich Pact: the Russian Republic - a nation forged by the medieval merchant republic of Novograd - and the Crown of Aragon have both remained silent and have yet to publicly state their intentions. However, the Russian Foreign Secretary has noticed the benefits of war with their rival, the Hanseatic League.

Across the channel the Britannic Empire rules over its global realm. Edinburgh - the capital of the nation - has become an international hub since the acquisition of the Britannic Raj. The nation was formed by Scotland - which had conquered Ulster in Ireland before the War of the Roses. During England's infamous civil war, the Scots invaded the English holdings in Ireland as well as Northern England with the help of the French. Eventually, a deal was made with Henry Tudor: the Scots would make him King of England if he would cede Cumbria, Northumberland, Yorkshire, and Lancashire. He accepted their offer and the dynasties were united with the Union of the Crowns in 1603, resulting in the House of Stuart-Tudor which still reigns today. Parliament is largely apathetic to the woes of the Continent, but the Prime Minister and much of his cabinet are not ready to let the Munich Pact dominant Europe. Meanwhile in France, another member of the Quadruple Alliance (a pact that supports the Hanseatic League), a sense of pride in the French identity remains high. Following Napoleon III's victory in the Franco-Bavarian War and the French acquisition of Alsace his rule remained unquestioned and upon his death in 1882 his son, Napoleon IV, rose to the French throne. Tensions between France and Aragon have been escalating over Algeria, with the French Minister of War posing to seize the Aragonese colony at all costs. The Italian Confederation is in a silent turmoil. An aging King and am ambitious Crown Prince have caused discord among the government. The King and the conservative factions wish for the Confederation to remain, while the Prince and the liberals support a centralized kingdom. The Iberians are faced with a problem new to them: nationalism. Riots broke out just two months ago in Madrid in support of Pan-Iberianism. The four Iberian nations are slowly faced with a large domestic challenge to their very sovereignty. The Balkans have heated up once more. The Balkan League, loosely modeled upon their Germanic counterpart, looks to the sickly Ottoman Empire once more. An uprising by the Bulgars came to an abrupt end last November, but the Serbs and their allies wish to see their Slavic brothers liberated - as do those in Moscow.

The situation in China has caused a panic among the world's premier powers. The fall of the Qing Dynasty in 1899 caused the Orient to descend into chaos as multiple factions rose from the now dead empire, each with their own agenda. The Republic of China - a powerful faction with Russian backing - seems poised to reunite the Han people. However, they face fierce resistance. The Japanese have begun their invasion of the Chinese states with the Jiangsu Republic in their search of resources their industry so desperately needs. The Japanese have received Britannic backing, as expected from their decade old friendship. The Japanese Prime Minister and the Britannic Ambassador to Japan hope to divide China between them, but the Orient will surely resist.

The Americas are far calmer than the Old World. The Mexicans have risen to dominant the hemisphere and proved they were able to contend with the European great powers following the Mexican-Castilian War. The Republic of Acadia is a industrial power in and of itself. The nation fought France in its bloody war of independence starting in 1777 and eventually received Britannic backing, ensuring their victory and inflicting such a catastrophic debt upon the French government that it lead to the French Revolution and subsequently the rise of Napoleon. The Atlantic Republic still wrestles with the issue of slavery. While slavery is de jure illegal, the enslavement of Afro-Americans is still very common and the national government does little to counter it. Tensions between the historical abolitionist government of Acadia have only increased in past years, creating a potentially hostile situation. To the south the Empire of Brazil stares across the Amazon at the Union of the Andes, a Jacobin dictatorship whose reign of terror has spanned decades.

Now it is time for you to take control. Can you guide a people through one of history's most turbulent times? Only time will tell.

Please do note post here unless accepted by The Kingdom of Glitter, The Jonathanian States or Liecthenbourg in the OOC[/quote]

Timescale
Each page is a duration of two months. Dating IC posts is encouraged, but it is not required. Should the timescale need o be adjusted, it can be done so accordingly by the OP Board.

RESERVED POSTS ARE STRONGLY DISCOURAGED

A Bavarian Ultimatum

26 May 1901
Munich, Bavaria

The Kingdom of Bavaria

The Bavarian government hereby demands from the Hanseatic state to formally and publicly condemn the "dangerous propaganda" against Bavaria and the Germanic League, the ultimate aim of which, it has been claimed, is to "detach from the Monarchy territories belonging to it". Moreover, Hamburg should "suppress by every means this criminal and terrorist propaganda".

Moreover, the Hanseatic government should
1. Suppress all publications which "incite hatred and contempt of the Bavarian Monarchy" and are "directed against its territorial integrity".
2. Dissolve the German nationalist organisation The People's Will and all other such societies in the Republic.
3. Eliminate without delay from schoolbooks and public documents all "propaganda against Bavaria".
4. Remove from the Hanseatic military and civil administration all officers and functionaries whose names the Bavarian Government will provide.
5. Accept in the Republic "representatives of the Bavarian Government" for the "suppression of subversive movements".
6. Bring to trial all accessories to the Crown Prince's assassination and allow "Bavarian delegates" (law enforcement officers) to take part in the investigations.
7. Arrest Major Nicolas Kahn and civil servant Jannik Nadler who were named as participants in the assassination plot.
8. Provide "explanations" to the Bavarian Government regarding "Hanseatic officials" who have expressed themselves in interviews "in terms of hostility to the Bavarian Government".
9. Notify the Bavarian Government "without delay" of the execution of the measures comprised in the ultimatum.

by **Krugmar** » Sun Nov 15, 2015 3:36 pm

Kingdom of Rumania
Trăiască Regele!

Chapter 1: Like father, like son.

27th May, 1901
Alexandru Ioan II
Palace of Culture (Iași)

"Dominus et Imperator." muttered Alexandru, lazily spinning a finely crafted globe seated upon a dark, ornate desk. The Royal Study was located on the first floor of the palace, nicknamed the 'Palace of Culture' due to the amount of artefacts and books pertaining to Vlach culture that lay within. It also had a few priceless recoveries from the days of the Roman Imperium, though this stockpile remained disappointingly low.

"Pardon sir?" inquired Dimitrie Sturdza, the Prime-Minister of Rumania who had been suddenly and curiously summoned to the palace. He rarely met with the monarch outside of the scheduled weekly appointment, which meant that there was to be a change of policy.

Alexandru Ioan I of Rumania

"Master and Commander, is that not what I am to the Rumanian and Bulgar peoples?" Alexandru replied, though his answer was equally as confusing as his earlier utterance.

"It is, though I must profess I am at a loss to your meaning sir." replied Dimitrie, knowing that Alexandru reacted well to civil honesty. Blunt criticism, however, was to be avoided at all costs.

"The Ottomans control half of my realm, my birthright. My father attempted to fight them for it twenty years ago and ended up abdicating due to his humiliating defeat. I do not wish for this to happen to me." said Alexandru, before pausing for a second and spinning the globe once more. "Yet our army has doubled in that time, and we have new allies in the Balkan League. We can crush the Ottomans in battle, but first I believe we should negotiate with the fiends." he stated.

"Yes, negotiation before action will give us justification. I will do my best to convince Parliament and the people, though I doubt we will find opposition except from the most severe of radicals." Dimitrie said, himself a member of the Romanian National Party, committed to the idea of a Greater Romania, through peace or war.

"Excellent, and I trust I am up to date on events in the world?" Alexandru inquired.

"You may be aware of the crisis brewing in the west, with the shooting of the Bavarian Prince." Dimitire replied, with Alexandru nodding. "I am unsure as to whether the crisis will be handled peacefully or resolved with war. War it seems is favoured by several of the greater powers, and this could perhaps be used to our advantage, though I think it wise to wait before intervening recklessly."

"I agree, I shall hold you from your duties no longer." Alexandru stated, politely dismissing his Prime-Minister. He waited a few minutes before lightly shouting "Costel, in here now, I need you to write some letters, and to send a message to my brother."

29th May, 1901
Dimitrie Cuza
Bánffy Palace (Cluj-Napoca)

The Palace of Bánffy had been transformed into a military headquarters, serving as the overall command f the entire Rumanian army. Iasi had been considered too close to Russia to function in this regard, and Cluj-Napoca was considered the alternate capital of Rumania, with the King taking residence in the city most winters.

Yet the usual resident was one Dimitrie Cuza, bastard son of Alexandru Ioan I, legitimised like his brother the King, and a Prince of Transylvania and General of the Rumanian army. The post of General was not merely an honorary one, he had worked his way through the commissioned ranks, though he had to admit the training from a young age and superb tutoring at the academy helped.

Marshal Culcer

"Prince Dimitrie, more news from his Majesty." said the Marshal of the Rumanian forces, Ioan Culcer, a stout man of fifty years with numerous badges adorning his coat.

"More? Already? Does he wish to know how many men can be raised for war again?" replied Dimitrie, sick of the almost constant requests from his brother to survey and pass on the state, supplies and strength of the army. Alexandru had becme obsessed in the past few years with conquest, battle and fulfilling their father's dream of a Greater Rumania.

"No, he wishes for us to prepare to assemble the armies, and to reinforce the Wallachian border. We are also to review Plan Caesar, and Plan Augustus, and to create a new plan in the event that the war goes negatively." replied the Marshal, who seemed strangely alive and optimistic. He had been only a young colonel during the humiliating defeat of '81, and perhaps now was his chance to thrash the Ottomans and restore the honour of the army.

"Oh, very good. We shall begin work on Plan... Hannibal, immediately." Dimitrie stated, knowing that his brother, an obsessive scholar of Roman history, would likely understand and enjoy the reference.

The Marshal nodded, and followed the Prince's lead, despite his holding of the senior post. It was a strange relationship between them, both being superior in rank in certain criteria. Often they found it easier to simply work together, and shoulder the burdens placed upon them by Alexandru equally.

Letters

From His Majesty's Royal Secretariat, to the Ruling Body of the Ottoman Empire

His Majesty extends his greetings, and wishes for good health upon the Sultan and his family.

His Majesty believes most strongly in coming to a peaceful negotiation for the surrendering of the Wallachian Principality, of which is populated by his fellow countrymen and subjects, the Rumanian people.

His Majesty also wishes for the State of Bulgaria, and the peoples who call themselves the Bulgars and worship according to Orthodox Christian rites, to be released from the Empire and placed under his protection.

In return, His Majesty shall be contented to remain at peace and friendship with the Empire, and shall do his utmost to convince his fellow members of the Balkan League to remain at peace. In the event of war between the Empire and the League, His Majesty shall remain neutral.

If these conditions are not met, then His Majesty and the people of Rumania will have to seek alternate ways in which to liberate these states and peoples.

signed, Costel Pirvu, Royal Under-Secretary,
on behalf of, Alexandru Ioan II, King of the Rumanians and Bulgarians

From His Majesty's Royal Secretariat, to the Ruling Body of the Russian Republic

His Majesty extends a warm greeting to the Supreme Soviet and the Russian people.

Rumanian ambitions in gaining the Wallachian and Bulgar territories are well known throughout the world, and His Majesty has decided to once again attempt a peaceful negotiation for the territories. Unfortunately he fears that the Ottoman Empire will prove unresponsive to his pleas, and will opt for a war which they cannot win.

Therefore, His Majesty wishes to know if he, and the Balkan League, have the full backing and support of the Russian Republic in the likely conflict. His Majesty only has ambitions for the Wallachian and Bulgar territories, and would concede to many Russian demands concerning territory, especially in Anatolia and the Middle East, of which he has little interest in.

signed, Costel Pirvu, Royal Under-Secretary,
on behalf of, Alexandru Ioan II, King of the Rumanians and Bulgarians

by **Liecthenbourg** » Sun Nov 15, 2015 4:06 pm

Império do Brasil

Independência ou Morte!

Chapter I: A New Term

Pedro II,
Emperor of Brazil

Rio de Janeiro, Empire of Brazil
May 26th, 1901.

The steam train chugged forcefully, powerfully and also gracefully along the large tracks into Rio. The steel beast cut across the city with power, prestige and dominance. Plumes of black smoke, so familiar in the industrialised nations as that of that burning coal, rose into the sky of Rio - being caught by the breeze and blown across the mighty metropolis. Within the cabins, sitting alongside the common folk of Brazil, those whom used the train for quick movement, sat Pedro. His insistence to sit alongside his people had been a habit he had picked up early in his reign - so much so his return to Brazil after the fateful coup had him tour the entire nation's cities by train, and he had sat alongside his people the entire way. Now he did the same, returning to Rio after a short visit to Sao Paulo to conduct some business. Like a tender father he reclined back onto the rather plain seating arrangements of the train, a cup of coffee graciously placed at his table. The people crowded around him and he did not mind. One person or family at a time he heard their stories, whatever they wanted to tell them. He shook the arms of the men and the boys, hugged the girls and the women and shared his vast breakfast with the people. Occasionally he would read a story from the newspaper he was reading to those whom could not read for themselves. Literacy was an issue that the monarch had tried to tackle, and he had to admit the successes were good, great even, but not everyone had benefited yet.

The locomotive came to a stop at Central do Brasil, the most important train station and hub in Rio, and by extent, in Brazil. Here the monarch said his goodbyes to the other patrons upon the cabins and began to travel, with the assistance of a walking stick, towards the General Assembly. Brazil itself was in election today, something made very simple with the advent of the rails and steam and the telegraph and telephone to travel and communicate. But that was not what was so awe inspiring by this particular election. No. This election was to be the first in Brazil, and most likely the world, where women entered the voting booths and stations and cast their votes alongside their male counterparts. Women of any class - as long as she was over twenty, like the men, she could vote for whomever she wanted. Because of this, Pedro made it a note to visit some of these booths. He wished to see his work, and that of his daughter, unfold into beauty. A small tear descended down the cheek of the Emperor as he strode out of the station and he viewed Rio in its splendour and marvel. It was going to be a good day indeed.

And so the Emperor continued his walk. People waved and he waved back, he waved and the people waved as well. He strode as defiantly as he could, aiming to use the walking stick a little less than he needed to, to try to show the people that he was still the Magnanimous man they adored. He knew they would still adore him if he was sickly and at the deathbed, but for as long as he could walk he knew he needed to do it with the strength of the man he had been all those years ago. Tugging at his waistcoat, the Emperor of Brazil continued his stroll. After purchasing a small piece of confectionery near a pier he stood and watched the sea, smiling and nodding at passer-bys. Just as he was about to turn, a group of women approached him from one of the nearby designated voting stations. They were plainly dressed, especially in comparison to the fine suit worn by Pedro.

"Hello." the Monarch of Brazil began, taking their hands one by one and planting a brief kiss upon each. The reactions were rather awkward and unsure, for they were never expecting this but the Emperor merely smiled and nodded politely at each of their greetings in turn to him.

One of them finally spoke of something other than a morning greeting, the weather or vague attempts at trying to understand the state's affairs. "We'd... just like to thank you, your majesty, your grace, for giving us the opportunity to vote. We've just come out from doing so, and well, we feel... like we can make a change, but then we think we aren't all like you."

"Madame." Pedro began. "Never sell yourself so short, as to demean yourself to a point of hopelessness. There was a point where I, your Emperor, was in this state. And only one group of people changed my ideas to do something about it, to continue to fight the good fight. The people of Brazil, my children."

Soft murmurs of glee and gladness followed the remark. "Thank you, your grace..."

"No." the Magnanimous shook his head ever so quaintly. "Thank you."

The Imperial Palace, Empire of Brazil
June 1st, 1901

"Father! Father! Have you heard the news!"

Pedro was sat in his study, his fingers clutching the arm rests of his luxurious armchair - a product of the tropical woods of Brazil. He sat solemnly, in thought, starting at a large portrait of the Virgin Mary with the infant Christ on her lap. It was a glorious painting, an imposing painting, and one that humbled the staunchly Catholic man to his very core as he gazed upon its beauty. It had put him in such a trance that he hadn't heard the voice of his daughter, Isabel, nor her fast paced footsteps impacting against the marble-tiled floor as she approached the study. Little distracted the monarch, but this portrait had a habit of doing so. Since the death of his wife, Teresa, Pedro had come to appreciate the picture more and more. He mentally slapped himself for comparing his wife to the glory of Maria, but it was done from time to time.

The doors to his study were pushed open forcefully, but were luckily halted from impacting any of the furnishings because of the little hooks that had found themselves placed on several hoops along the door frame. In stepped Isabel, clutching a newspaper in her hands. She inspected the room, noting its fine furnishings. Despite the time she had spent in the palace she rarely entered her father's studies, deeming it as distracting and not her position to intrude on his dealings. That did not stop her this time. She peered around the armchair, and an eyebrow rose on her forehead.

"Father?"

The reply was a low grumble. "Mhm...?"

The Princess unfurled the newspaper, showing him the headline. The Emperor's head turned from the portrait, slowly and he began to examine the document most peculiarly.

"Oh. The elections are over, how could I have forgotten." Pedro mumbled, particularly to himself and he handed it back to his daughter.

"The Progressive Party is still in power. Father! This is good news! We all expected it to turn out very badly due to the granting of the rights of voting to women - we all assumed that that would've provoked extreme reactionary sentiments and it would see a conservative party in the reigns."

"Yes... you are right. Quite." he inhaled sharply, fiddling with a small pocket watch. "It will be most worthwhile working with Venceslau Brás, he's a good man."

Isabel narrowed her eyes slightly, kissing her father on the forehead. "I'll be out in Rio for today, take care will you."

"I will, Isabel. I will." with that, Isabel departed and Pedro began to stare at the portrait once more.

by **The Kingdom of Glitter** » Sun Nov 15, 2015 4:40 pm

The Italian Confederation
La Confederazione Italiana

Chapter 1 - A Silent Storm

27 May 1901
Rome, Sardinia-Lombardia
Palazzo del Quirinale

King Umberto strolled through the famous gardens of his hime - the Palazzo del Quirinale. The gardens were almost as beautiful as the palace, a centuries old ornate residence built for Pope Gregory XIII. It was a beautiful spring day and the King lied to start them in the solidarity of his gardens. He was walking arm-in-arm with his Queen, Leopoldina of Brazil. The two had been married for nearly thirty five years now and together had a small but powerful issue. Next in line for the throne was Vittorio Alberto, Prince of Piedmont and Prince of Naples. They also two daughters. The Queen was rather quiet and her devotion to her husband was unquestionable. However, her political ambitions were well known to many in he royal circle. She had been a powerful voice since her marriage, but in recent years had grown silent. She wished to keep her support for her son and his ambitions to centralize the Confederation silent and as a result her involvement in government affairs and politics had come to a close. The royal couple turned a corner and saw the Crown Prince approaching them.

"Good morning Mother, Father." he said as he reached his parents.

"Good morning Vittorio." the Queen replied. "A pleasure to see you as always."

"Yes of course it is." the King said to both his wife and his son.

The Prince gave his mother a look she quickly understood. "I shall leave you two boys to chat. I fancy a cup of tea, hopefully Yolanda and Maria do as well." the Queen said. Her husband kissed her hand before she departed.

"Now it is just us, Vittorio." Umberto said.

"Quite indeed." his son replied. A tenseness had descended upon them and filled the void behind by the Queen. The two had a rocky relationship. Umberto was of an old breed, a vocal supporter of the status quo Confederation and a strong opponent of the Partito Democratico. His son was ambitious and was eager to take the throne. He was a powerful ally of the Partito Democratico and a proponent of centralization. With the King's growing age and his heir's growing influence, the scene was always set for a collision between the two. "I was hoping to discuss the Bavarian situation with you." the Prince said.

Vittorio Albert,
Prince of Piedmont,
Prince of Naples

"There is nothing to discuss, my son." the King replied as he began to walk through the gardens once more. "I am the President of the Confederation and do not have to discuss such things with you."

"You are a fool not to." the Prince said in reply. "War is on the horizon, Father. If you continue to be an arrogant old git Italy will be devoured."

"Devoured by who? The Austrians?! Pah! We haven beaten them twice before, and we shall a third time." Umberto scoffed.

"It is not just the Austrians we face this time. We are up against the whole of the Munich Pact should the Hansa refuse the demands of the Bavarians. We cannot stand against the Austrians and the Russians. We are the front, Father." Vittorio replied almost frantically, deeply frustrated by what he saw as his father's blindness and ineptness when it came to foreign policy.

"And we have the French to ensure we do not fall. We will be fine." the King said, brushing away his son's concerns.

"You are a daft old man." the Prince replied.

The King quickly spun around, staring directly at his son. "A man that happens to be your father. I am the reason you came into this world - do not forget that. The Lord says you should honor me, yet you do not. However, it is no surprise you do not listen to His word. It is not as if the Count of Viterbo is a well kept secret."

"You turn to religion yet you imprison the Pope to the Vatican! You surround the Vicar of Christ with your soldiers, yet you feel you are still holy!" Vittorio laughed. "No one mourns the wicked father. If you continue to act as a fool, and as a barrier to progress, Italy will not remember you favorably."

"At least Italy will remember me! I am king two times over, and what are you? A bitter son waiting for his father to die?" the King said in reply.

"A bitter son who will be the King of Italy." the Prince smiled.

"No such title exists, my son. You must be confused." the King scoffed arrogantly.

"As I said before, Father. You are just a barrier to progress, and when you are gone progress shall commence." the Prince replied.

"Unfortunately my time to entertain you has come to an end, Vittorio. I have important affairs I must attend to, while you just have your Count. Send him my regards." the King chuckled as he made his way into the Palace.

"You will see, Father. Just you wait." the Prince mumbled to himself before leaving for his chambers.

by **Jaslandia** » Sun Nov 15, 2015 8:31 pm

Belweder Palace, Warsaw, Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth
May 27, 1901

The Prime Minister of Poland-Lithuania slouched over his desk. He rubbed his forehead as he carefully looked over paper after paper. “I just don’t know what to do,” Prime Minister Jan Rządkowski muttered.

Rządkowski was a military man by profession, having become known early in his career; while a student at the Commonwealth Staff College, he became known for a dissertation which comprehensively explained a proposal to reform and modernize the Commonwealth Army. Rządkowski quickly moved through the ranks, enacting his reform program as he went with wild success. In 1894, Rządkowski entered politics at the urging of Conservative Party leaders. The former general rose to become party leader, and under Rządkowski’s leadership, the Conservatives became a big-tent party for both moderates and conservatives, leading to Conservative victory and Rządkowski becoming Prime Minister in the 1900 elections.

Jan Rządkowski as a General

“I just don’t know what to do,” Rządkowski repeated.

“What do you mean, sir?” the Prime Minister’s adviser Charles asked.

“The assassination of that damn Bavarian prince!” the Prime Minister exclaimed. “The Bavarian ambassador already asked us to issue a statement of support, and if the Russians get involved, they’ll want us to get involved too. Heck, I wouldn’t be surprised if bloody Aragon asked us to get involved!”

“And what’s the problem?”

“It’s Austria, Charles!” Prime Minister Rządkowski exclaimed. “They’re in the Munich Pact with Russia and Bavaria, and we’ve been playing nice to Austria for years, but now we need to put our foot down! We can’t possibly support Austria in a war while they hold Krakow! At the same time, if we don’t support Austria, then we’d have to refrain from supporting Russia and Bavaria. This whole alliance system is damn confusing!”

“I think I have an idea that can resolve this issue,” Charles replied.

“Well, speak up man!”

“We make our support of the Munich Pact contingent on Austria ceding Krakow to us. If Austria says yes, then we get Krakow and join the Munich Pact. If Austria says no, we go public and reveal our proposal to the other Pact members. If they really want our support, then Aragon, Bavaria, and Russia will put pressure on Austria to cede us Krakow. If that still doesn’t work, we drop subtle hints that we’re considering allying with France and the Hansa and scare the Pact into giving us what we want."

Prime Minister Jan Rządkowski rubbed his chin. “I like the way you think, Charles. I’ll send out a letter to Austria with your proposal. Then we shall wait and see.”

Leuchtenberg Palace, Warsaw, Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth
May 27, 1901

While the Prime Minister dealt with foreign conflict, the Polish royals dealt with family conflicts. King Eugeniusz I was 54-years old, and growing sickly. Eugeniusz was little loved by the people, being seen as a wannabe autocrat; the monarch constantly inserted himself into political debates, and constantly threatened to dismiss a Prime Minister against the wishes of the Sejm (the King never acted on his threats, believing it would cause the Sejm to press for Eugeniusz’s removal).

Eugeniusz’s younger brother and heir, Prince Jerzy, was the King’s exact opposite. Athletic and healthy at 49-years old, Jerzy was a liberal, who supported the constitutional monarchy of the Commonwealth, and pledged to abstain from politics in all but the most extreme circumstances. The people loved Prince Jerzy, which caused conflict between the heir and the unpopular King.

Eugeniusz I

Today, the two of them were meeting privately for breakfast. They were to discuss the death of the Bavarian Crown Prince and Princess, and the implications of their deaths. Just after 9 AM, Jerzy entered the King’s family dining room.

“It is good to see you again, Eugeniusz,” Jerzy awkwardly began.

“Likewise, Jerzy,” the King replied. “Please, sit. Our food is almost ready.”

“So,” the Prince said as he sat down, “you wanted to talk about the… incident in Dresden?”

“I will cut to the chase, Jerzy. We may be on the verge of war. Bavaria has issued an ultimatum to the Hansa, Russia may come to Bavaria’s aid, and we’re stuck in the middle. Rządkowski will deal with the political aspect, but the two of us need to prepare for both peace and war if Poland is to survive.”

“And, what exactly do you suggest we do?”

Eugeniusz I sighed. “We need to work together here. A war could be devastating, so even while we try to pursue peace, we can’t just sit back and assume we can avoid war. I will meet with the military leaders to help prepare for mobilizing and organizing our forces. I want you to work with Foreign Minister Roman Dmowski and get in contact with the governments of Bavaria, Austria-Hungary, and the Hansa. We must try to defuse the situation, and if that doesn’t work, we must be ready for war.”

Prince Jerzy nodded. “I never thought I’d say this, but you’re right. We need to be prepared no matter what happens. This is a grave crisis, and we should put our personal feuds aside.”

“Especially if there’s a war. Then we’ll definitely need to present a united front.”

“True, true.” Jerzy leaned over and extended his hand to his brother. “You have a deal, Eugeniusz. I can only hope our efforts will be enough.”

“They must be, Jerzy," the King said as he shook the Prince's hand. "They have to be enough for the sake of the Commonwealth’s survival.”

by **Lunas Legion** » Mon Nov 16, 2015 1:04 pm

Union State of Mexico

Chapultepec Castle, May 27th 1901

Señor Presedente De la Barra smiled slightly as he scribbled his signature onto the Seventh Statehood Act. It was raining outside; not a heavy rain, but a mild dripping on the castle's windows which he had grown used to in his time here.

"All done, Presidente?" Vice-Presedente Jeter asked as he closed the door to Barra's study. It was a large room; a pair of windows dominated one wall, facing out over Mexico city, while the other two were covered with paintings of various statesmen. One of Santa Anna featured prominently in the middle, sitting directly above Barra at his desk.

"For now, Mr Jeter. And you know to call me Mr Barra when we're not in public."

"Sorry, sir. Difficult habit to break. Thoughts on getting it through the Senate and Cabinet, Mr Barra?"

"Shouldn't be too difficult. Our own Liberal Party can count on 103 in the Senate and 16 in the Cabinet. We can rely on the Imperials to support it as well, with their 2 Cabinet seats and 5 in the Senate. The Frontier Party will back us as well, with their 10 in the Cabinet. With the Nationalist Conservative caucus probably defecting to us, we can get it through the Cabinet. Your thoughts on the Senate, Mr Jeter?"

"With ourselves, the Imperials, and the Frontier Party, we have a majority there as well. Narrow, but a majority nonetheless. As long as we and our allies keep discipline, the act will pass. Shall I deliver it to the Senate for them to look over in the reading?"

"Feel free, Mr Jeter." Barra handed the block of paper. "Try not to get too wet out there."

Palacio Nacional, May 27th 1901

"Order, order!" Jeter roared over the squabbling Senators, slamming his hammer on the edge of his parapet. "I shall have order!" He took a deep breath, and let the chamber calm. The debate had raged for two hours so far in the Senate, since the President's proposal to admit the Philippines as two full states had reached the floor. The main opposition had come from the so-called 'traditional' conservatives, who held the more southern states of Mexico itself, with some backing from the isolationist wing of the Union Party, which held the 'four corners' states. But against the full force of the Liberal Party, the nationalist and pro-military Frontier Party, and the small but extremely well-entrenched Imperial Party in Guatemala, as well as the nationalist wig of the Conservatives, the opposition never really stood a chance.

After silence filled the room, Jeter shouted once again. "Division!" With that shout, the members split off, filing outside the room before moving to either the 'aye' or 'nay' rooms adjacent to the foyer, eagle-eyed clerks and party whips checking everything was in order and no one who didn't make a big point of it rebelled.

After a few minutes of tallying, the Senate refilled the chamber before Jeter read out the votes.

"Aye, 136. Nay, 84. The motion carries. Clark, transfer this bill to the Cabinet for them to peruse and vote on within the next two weeks."

by **Caltarania** » Mon Nov 16, 2015 1:58 pm

Confederated Commonwealths of the Atlantic

Chapter 1 - Winds of Change

Theme: "Over the Hills and Far Away"

Jackson Plantation, Virginia
May 30th 1901

Henry Ossian Flipper,
C. 1885

"This nation was built upon the backs of slave labour!" he cried "Upon our backs, comrades!" These remarks were met with great acclaim by the crowd that had gathered to hear them. He went by the name of Henry Ossian Flipper, and had become somewhat of a messiah for those slaves that dreamed of freeing themselves from their chains. He had escaped from his master aged 10, and through the Underground Railway had made his way to Acadia as a free man of color. He soon became extremely interested in military affairs, and - after working in all variety of jobs - applied for a military scholarship at Pointe à l'Ouest. Though initially rejected, he was soon able to find his way in, as he impressed the school's board after showing his surprisingly great existing knowledge of military command. He became the first African-American to graduate from a military school in 1877, aged 21.

"Yet there is hope, my brothers and sisters! Past the horizon I see a world in which the slave can tear off his chains and live a life among the free!" he exclaimed, to the cheers of the slave crowds below. "We must stand together and demand our rights, for it is our right as men to do so!" he added, to yet more cheers. As the cheering continued, one of the guards who worked upon the plantation approached the crowds of slaves. "That's quite enough!" he said, pushing himself through the crowds. "Back to work, all of ya'. This cotton ain't gon' pick itself." The slaves then picked up their tools, yet they did not return to work. Instead, they cried of freedom, and refused to work. As the guards pulled their rifles out to put down the revolt, Henry quickly took action. He lifted his pistol and aimed it at the main guard.

"Our day has arrived, brothers and sisters! The hour is here, the stage is set. Now is time for us to seize our freedom!" he shouted, as he pulled the trigger of his pistol, causing the head guard to fall to his knees. Flipper then leaped down from his soapbox and ran forward to the front of the slaves, unsheathing his sabre. "With me, now! Now, with me!" he echoed, as he charged forward, followed by the slaves, armed with their work tools. The remaining guards - who had by this point amassed, and numbered no more than ten - held their ground, firing in unison at the advancing rebels, yet it proved a futile endeavor, as the much larger group of slaves soon reached them, with Henry Ossian Flipper himself drawing the first blood from the guards, as the rest of the slaves soon took the lives of the others. The Slave Rebellion had begun.

Atlanta, Georgia
June 5th 1901

City of Atlanta,
C. 1890

"Pay us a sixpence more! Pay us a sixpence more!" the workers chanted, as they downed tools and went on one of the first strikes in the history of the Confederated Commonwealths. The strike had been organised by newly-formed trade unions in Atlanta, one of the few cities in the CCA to have received some mild form of industrialisation. Factories and mills had sprung up across the city, with men and women from across Georgia - and indeed the CCA as a whole - flocking to the city in search of work. The factory owners had been - until now - able to extort the remarkably low costs of production in the CCA, with it's minimal tax laws and low-paid workforce. Up until now, most workers had been paid less than enough to survive, and had been driven to starvation, and as such the unions began to demand a sixpence more for nearly all industrial laborers in the city of Atlanta.

The factory owners, however, would not budge, and instead demanded that the union leaders be apprehended by Atlantican authorities under the Protection of Public and Commercial Order Act, which had in 1880 made unions de jure illegal. Instead of a swift arrest and the resumption of normal work, however, the unions rallied many of the industrial workers of Atlanta, and blocked the streets as they now demanded increased pay, better working conditions and shorter working hours. Indeed, it seemed that the labour movement - absent for fifty years - had finally arisen, and was holding the employers to ransom. "Pay us a sixpence more! Pay us a sixpence more!" they chanted again, yet then the roads fell silent, and the unmistakable sound of the marching of soldiers could be heard. The rhythmic, patterned noise was spine-crushing, and it soon became clear that the Georgian state government planned to put the strike down by force. Many of the workers - aware of their new predicament - quickly dispersed, running into their homes and the buildings on either side of the street, eager to escape from the bayonets of the boys in blue. Others, though, stood their ground. As the column of soldiers turned onto the main street, the workers raised their red flags and signs up high, and began signing the Internationale.

"Arise, ye prisoners of starvation! Arise, ye wretched of the earth!" they sang, as they gradually formed a line to hold back the advancing soldiers. With each line they sung, their voices rose in unison, and many of those that had at first run returned to the strikers. "For justice thunders condemnation: A better world's in birth!" they chanted, as the marching soldiers drew closer to them. "No more tradition's chains shall bind us; Arise, ye slaves, no more in thrall!" sang they all, as their voices rose and more workers were drawn back to the street. The workers armed themselves with words and song, shielding themselves from the soldiers with ideals of camaraderie and unity. "The earth shall rise on new foundations: We have been nought, we shall be all!" The workers created a shield of skin and flesh, a wall of blood and bone, and as the soldiers marched onward, they continued to raise their voices. "'Tis the final conflict; Let each stand in his place. The International working class, Shall be the human race! 'Tis the final conflict; Let each stand in his place. The International working class, Shall be the human race!" as the soldiers drew closer, many of them recognised the faces among the crowd; brothers, sisters, fathers, mothers. Would the soldiers shoot upon their own? We would soon know, as the march came to a halt, and the Colonel of the regiment ordered the men to present their arms. Yet they did not lift them. "PRESENT ARMS." he screeched once more, as again no arms were raised. Before the Colonel could speak again, he was shot by a man at the front of the column. It seemed that the workers had been spared on this day.

by **Southern Babylonia** » Mon Nov 16, 2015 7:00 pm

Rouantelezh Breizh

Kentoc'h mervel eget bezañ saotret

Chapter 1: Stormclouds Gather

May 28, 1901
House of Commons, Rennes

"Order! Order!" The House Speaker's plea finally began to lower the volume in the chamber. As the shouting and jeering from the excited parliamentarians ground to a halt, he re-adjusted his robes and cleared his throat, before declaring:

"The House will hear the Member of Parliament from Cap-Sizun, Mr. Salomon Lagadec."

The member's name provoked no cheers or boos from his peers, only a few puzzled murmurs. Salomon Lagadec was a virtual unknown, a young National Party MP from a rural constituency in the westernmost part of the kingdom, elected by a handful of votes in last autumn's elections. And yet, for the next minute, he commanded their attention. Standing up from his seat in the opposition backbench, he picked up a newspaper on his desk and began to address the House.

"My dear colleagues," the young Nationalist began, "I hold in my hand an edition of The Brest Tribune, a paper known for its quality coverage of world events and thrilling accounts of happenings in the colonies."

Salomon Lagadec, MP, Cap-Sizun

This view of the Tribune's editorial standard was met with nods and approving mumbles from the other Nationalist MPs around him, quite contrary to the snickers and chuckles which came from the government benches. It was a common opinion among the ruling Liberal Party's supporters that the paper was largely sensationalist, jingoistic, and ultimately meant to shill for the National Party's platform. Nevertheless, sensing that even the Liberal MPs could be swung by his reasoning, Lagadec continued:

"This latest edition, published last Tuesday, contains an article detailing the account of a mission in the Congo, which, for the last year, has been attempting to bring salvation and civilisation to a tribe of savages deep in the jungle. Father Hoel, leader of the mission, writes: 'While we have created schools with the aim of teaching their children reading, writing, and basic arithmetic, the adults remain stubbornly illiterate, encouraged to keep their distance from us by the village elders.'"

At this quote, Lagadec's co-partisans scowled and jeered, not at their colleague, but at the African elders for having the audacity to refuse assimilation. Spurred on by his fellow Nationalists, the young MP delivered his blow:

"And it is these barbarians, these backwards pagans, who Mr. Leroy seeks to grant Breton citizenship! Mr. Speaker, under what pretence should we entrust these savages with the rights and responsibilities of a citizen, when their children are more equipped to understand civilisation than their adult men?"

Sitting back down, he received thunderous applause from the rest of the National Party caucus, countered only by a few incomprehensible shouts from the government benches. He straightened his tie, put away his copy of the Tribune, and smirked to himself. For a first speech, he thought, It could've been worse.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Yann Leroy, Prime Minister

It was a pleasant Friday afternoon. The sun, bright but not oppressive in its warmth, shone down through the branches of the acacia trees in the Royal Gardens. Having shed his overcoat, Yann Leroy, Prime Minister of Brittany, had come to take a stroll with Alan IV, King of the Bretons, at the young monarch's behest. Sitting on a bench in the shade, waiting for His Majesty to arrive, the prime minister had almost begun to enjoy himself. Unfortunately, it seemed that the king would want to talk politics. Now he arrived, likewise in casual attire, though appearing not entirely relaxed. Leroy stood up to greet his sovereign.

"Ah, Your Majesty," he nodded, "always a pleasure to see you after a long day in the House."

The king relaxed his expression into a smile and shook his prime minister's hand. "Likewise," he affirmed, then gestured towards the nearby pond. "Shall we?"

With a nod, the prime minister assented, and they set on a light stroll around the garden.

"A lively day in the House, too, I hear," the king said. "Who's this Lagadec fellow anyway?"

"Salomon Lagadec," The prime minister replied, with a tinge of contempt for the name he uttered, "is nothing more than a young upstart with no connections in parliament. I'm quite certain we need not fear him."

"Perhaps you are right, Mr. Leroy," the monarch declared, "but personally, I like to keep an eye out for young upstarts. My grandfather was once considered an upstart, but all it took was a revolution, and -poof!- he became King of the Bretons."

The prime minister chuckled. "Your majesty may have a point," he answered, "but I don't think you need fear for your throne just yet."

The king gave a hearty laugh, mostly for courtesy's sake. "To be sure, you're right," he concluded. "But alas, I have come to you on another matter."

Alan IV, King of the Bretons

"Have you heard the news from Germany?" the monarch asked. Having meant it as a rhetorical point, he continued: "As a result of the Dresden incident, the Bavarian king has sent the Hanseatics and ultimatum: essentially, to suppress all persons and opinions opposing Bavarian interests, or face war."

At this, the prime minister scoffed. "Sire, you know as well as I do that the Republic is most unlikely to accept such terms. I may venture to say that to truly remove all barriers to Bavarian Ambitions, the Hanseatic state would have to disintegrate."

"Indeed," the king replied. "And if they will not bend, the Bavarian king will want to see them break. Surely, you understand what this means?"

"Of course," Leroy replied. "It means war."

The king paused. They had reached the far end of the pond. After a moment of heavy silence, he inquired:

"Do you understand the implications of such a war, Mr. Leroy? If Bavaria declares war, the Munich Pact will almost certainly be dragged in. The French and British are bound to respond to an attack on the Hansa, as are the Italians. Such a pan-continental war, Sir, is a rare and bloody occurrence."

The prime minister nodded in assent. "In that event, Sire, it would be foolish not to take a side."

"Clearly," the king agreed. "but with whom?"

It took the prime minister slightly aback that there was any doubt in his liege's mind. "Y-Your Majesty," he stammered, "forgive me, but I cannot help but feel it a moot point. Britain is, by any man's account, our natural ally, and we cannot afford to face a land invasion by France."

"Those are important points," the king acknowledged, "but consider this: the Hanseatic trade power in the East Indies had crippled our ability to break into the Chinese markets for decades now, and with the current state of their colonies in Africa, it would not surprise me if they had designs on those areas of the interior, areas which our Congo also borders, which were not accorded to any state in the Berlin Conference. And our ability to fortify the home border is greater than ever. Though it is a risk and a radical turn, we have more to gain in siding with the Bavarians."

"That may be true," the prime minister retorted, "but we also have far more to lose."

An awkward pause followed. Though Leroy found the king's vision most tempting, he couldn't see how it was the greater choice for the Breton people. A defeat to the Munich Pact may mean heavy debts, possibly the loss of the colonies. A loss to the neighbouring allies could result in subordination, possibly annexation. The king was the first to break the silence:

"I think we can conclude, Mr. Prime Minister, that this matter requires further consideration. I am afraid I must attend a luncheon now; I wish you goodday."

"Likewise, Sire," the prime minister replied, turning to face his sovereign and bowing slightly before heading off to fetch his overcoat.

As he strolled back along the opposite side of the pond, he shook his head. I knew him to be a fellow Liberal after my tastes, he muttered. But what use is a Liberal who craves power more than reform?

by **Senkaku** » Mon Nov 16, 2015 10:58 pm

Zhonghua Minguo
Revolution, Chapter One: Whistling Death

A National Revolutionary Army column, marching north from Hangzhou.

"Burn them all. God will know his own."

May 30th, 1901
Eastern Task Force
1st Combined Army
Lake Tai
Yangtze River Delta
Hangzhou Military Region

Cannonfire thundered as if the gods were threatening to crack the very sky with their beating, clouds of smoke billowing up from the National Revolutionary Army's guns as they pounded the pathetic, bedraggled forces of the Jiangsu Republic. The fledgling republic was under attack from every side as the 1st Combined Army began its northward march. The 1st and 2nd Group Armies, along with a horde of Republican Guard, were marching along the shore of Lake Tai and streaming across the lake in small boats and ships, while the 3rd Group Army and even more Republican Guardsmen proceeded to the east, north directly towards the mighty city that was the capital of independent Jiangsu: glorious Nanjing, with its vast walls and hundreds of thousands of citizens.
Zhi Jianling was among the Republican Guardsmen sweeping across Lake Tai on an agglomeration of misfit junks and fishing vessels, a member of the Righteous and Harmonious Fists. He was unique among his unit in that he had a Mauser repeating rifle- he'd taken it from a dead Jiangsu soldier as they'd swept through Huzhou just two weeks ago, who'd probably himself gotten it from a dead National Revolutionary Army trooper. Jianling now, though, was making good use of it- picking off Jiangsu soldiers from one of their pitifully few boats that had come forth to resist them. The Mauser gave another crack and jet of powdersmoke, and on the old, creaky Qing war junk an enemy soldier suddenly gave a choked scream and clutched at his throat, gargling on a river of his own blood as he staggered once, then twice, and then crashed through the makeshift, rotten railing and plunged into the lake's bottomless green depths with hardly a splash.
Yi Chao, the leader of their village's Boxers, fired his own gun- an old Qing gun, which he'd used in the Green Standard Army when he'd campaigned for ten years in Xinjiang against the Hui rebels for the Guangxu Emperor. His weapon was old and simple- but they were not terribly far away from the Jiangsu ship now. Compared to Jianling's Mauser it spewed a fountain of smoke, choking them all in a sulfurous cloud and deafening them with a tremendous roar.

On the junk, a man's chest disappeared in an explosion of red as a lead ball the size of a lychee smashed his ribcage to splinters and punched out the other side. He didn't make a sound as he vanished below the railing- but now Chao swore and ducked behind the makeshift shields they'd put up along the side of the boat as protection as the enemy responded with a hail of gunfire and arrows. Jianling stuck his rifle between the shields and fired half-blind, watching through a narrow slit as men dropped like flies before him.
There was a dull thud from the back of the boat, and the entire unwieldy fishing craft lurched to the right, heading straight for the war junk. Jianling looked back, surprised, and his eyes widened in shock.
Sima Zhenjin, their tiller-man, was slumped across the steering handle, the top of his skull a gaping pink ruin of gleaming bone, liquefied brains dripping with his blood onto the deck. Someone tried to pull him off the tiller, but his grip was as strong and true in death as it ever had been in life.
Chao's voice boomed over the thunder of the cannons, reaching through the swirling smoke with a supernatural authority and resounding across the water.
"Looks like we're going to have to board them!", he roared at them. A few men grabbed some bamboo poles, halberds, spears, daggers, even ropes and a chain whip- anything that could help them scale the junk's sides and swarm onto her fairly low deck.
An instant before the fishing boat plowed into the war junk's rotten side, Chao's voice thundered out again, competing with the roar of the gods for their attention.
"For the Republic and the Middle Kingdom!"

Fifteen minutes later, they were in the single small rowboat that had been aboard the junk, watching the unfortunate ship burn furiously as it took on water from the hole their other boat had left. It had been a rout- the already panicking Jiangsu sailors had lost their wits at the sight of men scaling their ship's sides with daggers or vaulting over the side with spears and poles. The decisive point had been when Jianling had lashed upwards with a chain whip, biting deep into the stomach of one of the enemies and then slamming him like a living grappling iron into the ship's rail. He'd then shimmed up the steel chain, finishing the man off with a blow to the neck, and Yi Chao's thunderous musket had gone off again, blasting the captain's head completely off and over the side.
The ship was beginning to heel over as they caught the last Jiangsu soldier, sobbing in a haze of pain from a wound on his arm for mercy. Chao had taken his head off with a single powerful stroke from his sword. After that, all they had to do was smash one of the kerosene lamps in one of the ship's hold and lower their rowboat as the stricken vessel blazed up- a truly glorious funeral pyre for Zhenjin, all agreed.

One day later
Suzhou
Zhuozhengyuan
Headquarters of the Eastern Task Force

Song Xian's feet crunched on shattered masonry and porcelain as the Republican general strode powerfully through what had, in a former life, been among the most beautiful Ming Dynasty gardens in the world and the headquarters of the Jiangsu Republic's Lake Tai Army. Cannonfire and rockets had reduced much of the beautiful landscaping to so much rubble, burying exotic plants and emptying koi ponds with tremendous blasts. The gardens had only been stormed a few hours ago, as the 1st Combined Army's troops had swarmed into Suzhou through the shattered ruin their artillery had made of the Panmen Gate.
Xian kicked a corpse's arm aside as he continued walking. He noted, slightly disinterestedly, as the whole body rolled into the water, that the man was wearing an old Qing officer's uniform, modified with the heraldry of a senior Jiangsu officer.
Evidently they did not have time to evacuate. Not surprising, we have moved with the speed that such a weight of numbers creates.

There was movement ahead, in one of the half-destroyed, burning pagodas. Xian assumed it was an NRA soldier- until a shot rang out and one of the men behind him splashed into the half-empty pond.
"Get down!," General Song called, drawing his pistol. His soldiers crouched as well as a Jiangsu boy, clutching a Remington, poked his head out of the pagoda to see what was going on.
The general stood up and shot him in the face.
"Spread out and kill anyone else still hiding," he called to the soldiers with him. "Bring in some more boys to unload all our files and shit."

"Latest briefing from Wuhan and Supreme Command, sir", a lieutenant said to Xian some time later, as he sat in a relatively intact pagoda sipping some tea. He took the file, nodding to indicate he was dismissed.

Collated reports as of this morning, May the 31st of 1901, indicate the following is the operational situation broadly across our operational theaters in various rebellious provinces.
1st Combined Army: Suzhou has been successfully surrounded, while Wuxi is currently invested by the Eastern theater. Changzhou will likely be reached and invested by the Western prong within one day. Security Directorate indicates that rebel forces are falling back in poor order towards Zhenjiang to prepare for a defense of Nanjing that will involve, if not much in the way of spirit, then significant numbers of enemy troops. Security Directorate operatives are also engaged in Yangzhou to potentially create a threat behind enemy lines. Be ready for further briefings from the Security Directorate.

On other fronts: Hengyang continues to be a major obstacle to the Combined Army of Changsha. Artillery from the Combined Army of the Northwest is being sent to help break the city's resistance.
Wenzhou remains besieged, but the last blockade runners have been cut off by the completion of the newest batteries overlooking the Oujiang. State Council strongly urges caution against gweilo barbarian ships- extensive searches are to be undertaken by Zhenbei and Zhennan, this is preferable to bombardment of a western vessel. Japanese vessels are cleared to fire upon if necessary. Preparations for naval landings in Luoyuan Bay continue on the relevant nearby islands and in Zhoushan and Hangzhou.
Combined Army of the Northwest to continue preparations for a northern expedition against the Wang rebels.

Diplomatic Missive of the Republic of China
To whom it may concern in the government of the Empire of Japan

The Republic of China has noted, with no small measure of concern, Japan's recent incursion into Shandong and Jiangsu Provinces, where Japanese forces have both engaged in the admirable task of destroying rebels who yet plague the Republic of China and also less admirable tasks that seem to point to Japanese imperial ambitions in the Middle Kingdom. The Republic of China henceforth demands that Japan clarify the intent of its deployment into Chinese territory, so that the Republic may formulate a proper response to such an unorthodox action.

APPROVED BY THE INTERIM STATE COUNCIL

Diplomatic Missive of the Republic of China
To whom it may concern in the government of the Russian Republic

The Republic of China has long been aware of the troublesome situation that faces both Russia and China in Manchuria, Mongolia, and Xinjiang, which are currently under Russian occupation. The Republic of China, as a state not ruled by Manchus, sees room to negotiate on the issue of the status of Manchuria and Mongolia if certain guarantees are given by the Russian Republic, and wishes to inquire about the possibility of sending representatives to Moscow or Saint Petersburg to discuss these matters.

APPROVED BY THE INTERIM STATE COUNCIL

Diplomatic Missive of the Republic of China
To whom it may concern in the government of the Empire of France

In light of recent Japanese aggression towards China and various other threats towards the Republic, we reach out to France, the birthplace of the republican ideals of liberté, égalité, and fraternité. The Republic of China is currently engaged in the suppression of dangerous rebel forces along the border between ourselves and French territories in Indochina. French support, against this threat and others, would be a tremendous boon to efforts to restore peace to China, and the Republic proposes to send representatives to Saigon to discuss this matter with representatives of the French government.

APPROVED BY THE INTERIM STATE COUNCIL

POST SUMMARY:

-The 1st Combined Army's offensive against the YRD has begun. Suzhou has fallen, and Wuxi and Changzhou and both invested.
-The Combined Army of Changsha is marching up the Xiangjiang River, investing Hengyang, and is being reinforced by Metropolitan Army artillery to help them break the city's defenses.
-Wenzhou is under siege by the Combined Fujian Pacification Army, which has constructed rocket batteries overlooking the Oujiang River to halt all blockade runners. However, they are exercising caution against Western vessels, which are being stopped and searched by a pair of gunboats. Japanese vessels will receive no such politeness.
-[letters]

by **The Jonathanian States** » Tue Nov 17, 2015 1:52 pm

Vereinigte Republik der Hanse
United Republic of the Hansa

Chapter I - A breeze of the South

May 26-29 1901

Act One - News at dawn

House of the Republic, Hamburg, Hamburg, United Republic of the Hansa

An image of the Landungsbrücken in Hamburg, 1900

There was a marvelous view from the cabinet hall of the House of the Republic, and on most days Johann would have thoroughly enjoyed it.... The coaches riding through the the wide streets, people both rich and poor going along on their business, the beautiful buildings around the center of hanseatic governance, and in the distance the greatest port of the world, or at least so every person within the Republic would assure you. He himself knew that the Britannic Empire indeed had no port to compare, but Mexico, the union state far away in the western hemisphere, was likely to have a port just as grand. He himself had not visited, but many others had. Had he not taken up a career in politics and instead gone on to continue his father's business of trade and shipping he might have, he knew, but he was content with his own fate. He did hold the.... quite acceptable position of Chancellor of the Hanseatic Republic and Senatorial representative of Hamburg.

Snapping out of his day-dreaming he focused back on the hall. Between the rather large windows and across the hall in symmetrical positions hung standards of the republic, a common sight in most of the building.
From the ceiling, which was covered by a fresco that had at first been breathtaking, displaying a hanseatic peace against the danish kingdom many years ago, hung a grand chandelier.
To his left and right sat the ministers of the exterior and of defense, respectively. His gaze continuing along the table, across the table sat the Minister of the Interior, the Chief-of-Staff, and between them a few less significant ministers and the top brass of army and navy. And amongst all of these people, not a single one was in a good mood. Not long ago a man, Hans Christian von Helsel, shot the Austrian Crown Prince and his consort in the streets of Dresden. Tensions had shot up all across europe. In his mind Johann cursed that radical idiot for his stupidity. And twice more for getting caught and involving the Hanseatic government in this mess. It had taken a bit of investigation, but both the Bavarian embassy and hanseatic investigative services had discovered that he held ties with the DRP, the Deutschradikale Partei (german radical party). Too close ties.
As of now europe remained silent, unmoving, a few optimists saw in it that the crisis would simply pass, but most considered it the calm before the storm. Oh, how right they might have considered themselves.....

A knock on the broad pair of doors into the hall. Conversation stopped, all faces turning towards both the door and the Chancellor. He nodded towards the secretary at the door and a low bureaucrat entered, hastily walking towards the Chancellor.
"An urgent message, Mr Chancellor, from... the ambassador of Bavaria" Few of the people in the room had not expected to hear more from Bavaria since the immediate aftermath of the assassination, but none had know when it would arrive, let alone today.
Sighing before he stood up, the chancellor spoke, "I declare this meeting dismissed. The high cabinet is asked to join me to my office" Under the sound of murmurs the ministers of exterior, interior, and defense, all stood up and together with Johann left the room.
Once past the doors, the minister of foreign affairs, Karl Monetenmann, quickened his pace until he reached the chancellor. "Johann, how much time?"
Silently the man raised three fingers, and quickly hid them again.

As the powerful quartet entered the office, closing the doors behind them, the four men looked at each other. Johann moved towards his place at the desk, but then only leaned on it, looking at the city he so loved.
The city he feared he would be sending into the abyss of war. "Three days until there's war. Accepting their conditions...", angered he pushed the message onto the desk, for the others to read, "... is not an option."
One after the other the government officials read the letter, murmuring their approval. "I assume we shall immediately rally the Britannians, French, and Italians to our aid?", asked Karl?
"We shall. In fact, do so now. Inform them of the ultimatum, our intention to decline it, and that in three days we shall be at war. But most importantly, do so at the utmost secrecy. The Bavarians have given us time we can use against them. After that I'll need you to respond to the Bavarians."
Having finished the foreign affairs, the chancellor moved towards the minister of defense,"I want the General staff assembled here in three hours with their plans for war. ". At last, he turned to the interior minister, "Heinrich, I need you to help me now. I'll have to brief the assemblies joint about this development and I want you to help me have it be convincing."

Act 2 - Swords and Pens

House of the Republic, Hamburg, Hamburg, United Republic of the Hansa
....

by **The Kingdom of Glitter** » Tue Nov 17, 2015 2:34 pm

Random Events
29 May - 5 June

Bavaria

Following the Hanseatic rejection of the Bavarian issued ultimatum, King Otto summoned an emergency session of the Royal Bavarian Assembly and requested a declaration of war. In a unanimous vote the members of the unicameral body voted in favor of war with the Hansa, and a declaration of war was subsequently issued. Likewise, missives were sent to Vienna, St. Petersburg, and Barcelona requesting the aid of the Munich Pact.

The Kingdom of Bavaria

On this Day, the twenty ninth of May, in the Year of Our Lord Nineteen-Hundred and One, let it be known that a State of War now exists between the Hanseatic Republic and the Kingdom of Bavaria and her Germanic Allies.

Henceforth, as long as this war persists, the armies of the Kingdom of Bavaria and the Germanic League are to be fully mobilized. Prince Ludwig will act as the Commander-General of the Germanic Armies. Until the end, taxes and tributes shall be raised in an effort to support our soldiers in the field. Extra job posts are needed for filling by any willing volunteers for our medical, technological, military, and political needs.

This war shall continue, against the Hanseatic Republic, and any of her allies that our soldiers encounter in the field, until such a time as the government accepts the ultimatum issued by the Bavarian consuls to the Republic and the Republic admits defeat.

Austria-Hungary

Following the Bavarian declaration of war the Austrians were quick to declare war on the Hansa in support of their allies, as they had been a driving force behind the issuing of the ultimatum. A general mobilization was ordered and armies were prepared to not only fight the Hansa, but their Italian allies.

The United Kingdom of Austria and Hungary

To: Jan Rządkowski, Prime Minister of Poland-Lithuania
From: Franz Josef I, King of the Austrians and the Hungarians

Sir,

I find your tone both patronizing and offensive. My Kingdom occupies no such land, for the Grand Duchy of Cracow is rightful Austro-Hungarian land. As the Grand Duke of Cracow I have no intentions of abandoning my subjects in exchange for diplomatic support or monetary compensation.

The Munich Pact is a strong alliance that I took part in assembling. I will have you know that we do not need the help of a nation as backwards as yours. Austro-Hungarian forces will prove their worth on the field of battle, and you will quickly learn from your false assumptions about the power of both my nation and of my nation's allies.

I strongly urge you to stick to Polish affairs, and I shall remain involved in Austro-Hungarian affairs.

Signed Franz Josef I

Aragon

The Aragonese remained quiet at first and secretly reassured their allies in Munich that they would eventually join the war. The Aragonese began to mobilize their armies and organize defenses against France.

Wang

Lon Wang, the Emperor of the Chinese faction by the same name, ordered an invasion of the Republic of China following the discovery of the Republic's offensive against Jiangsu. A full mobilization has been ordered and the nation's vast armies have crossed the Republic's borders, preparing for all out war.

by **Bering** » Tue Nov 17, 2015 4:25 pm

Le Havre, Second French Empure
29 May 1901

The Flotte Manches, The Sleeve Fleet, was without a doubt the smallest of the Empire’s home fleets. Once it had been of prime importance as a defender of the coast of France against the Britannian menace. However, time had changed the politics of the Sleeve (English Channel), Now the archenemy was the best friend and the fleet was without purpose, especially after losing Brittany.

However, its commander, Amiral Valéry Legrand had ensured that the fleet would not become a useless entity. Instead it had become the forefront of innovation for the Navy testing out new tactics and technology. Today was one of the days to prove the importance of the fleet.

Commissioned in June of last year, the Requin was among the first submarines to enter service under any nation. It had entered service a little under a year ago and was tentatively attached to the fleet as a support vessel. Now it was undergoing one last trial after a year of service to see if it would be allowed to officially enter the Navy.

The Requin had just finished it’s final attack run and was surfacing. Capitaine de vaisseau Alain Joubert turned expectantly to his audience, The Emperor of France himself along with Cabinet Chief Auguste and Naval Minister Harman.

“Well, your majesty, what are your thoughts on the Requin“ Joubert asked.

“I found it to be a most incredible contraption.” Napoleon responded, smiling like a young school boy.

“A waste of money.” Auguste interjected.

“But sir…” Joubert began.

“But nothing, this money could be better spent elsewhere.”

“I disagree Gaston.” Napoleon said.

“Your majesty?” Auguste looked surprised.

“This is a wonderful machine and I am sure it is the way of the future in the same way that the Car is. I fully support creating more of them.” Napoleon said, beaming to Joubert.

The captain nodded gracefully, he had spent a great deal of his own time and effort in arranging this trial as a last push to get the machine approved.

Whatever the Prime Minister was about to say was cut off by a military officer bursting into the door.

Harman spoke for the first time to chastise the officer “We are in the middle of an important meeting, you cannot just burst in here as you desire.”

“I apologize sirs, but I have news.”

“Well? Spit it out!” Auguste demanded.

“War between Bavaria and The Hansa will commence soon, the Hansa have replied in the negative and the Bavarians have declared war.” The officer said.

All of the men in the room looked at one another, they had known this day would be coming, the letter from the Hansa had informed them as much. Still, it would now be time.

Napoleon was the first to recover, he turned to the young messenger. “Have my driver bring my car along.”

“Yes sir!” The man saluted and left.

The Emperor turned to Harman and Auguste. “Come, we must hurry to the capital and prepare for war.”

Joubert could have sworn the Emperor sounded almost giddy at the last part.

Ignoring the captain, the three men hurried out the door to their waiting car below.

French Empire

By order of the Emperor of France, Napoleon IV Bonaparte, The Empire is as of the first of June in the the year one thousand nine hundred and one, in a state of war against Bavaria and all other members of the German League that are currently at war with our ally, the Hanseatic League

Due to the unprovoked and irrational actions of the Kingdom of Bavaria. The Second Empire of France has no choice but to declare war of the Kingdom and all those who support it in this unwarranted war of aggression. We strongly advise any who would call the Kingdom an ally to seriously reconsider any support they may be inclined to give to Bavaria. This attack has broken the peace of Europe and Bavaria must be punished.

This war shows the clear intent of the Kingdom, when their extortion of their neighbors falls, they are quick to attack, even using the tragedy of the death of the nation's son to create a war that will kill many more good sons. If Bavaria truly wishes peace and revenge, it should do so at a table of negotiation, not the field of war. We hope that the other nations of Europe will see reason and not join Bavaria, but rather either remain neutral or join in the defense of an innocent nation being attacked for no purpose beyond the greed.

Strasbourg, Second Empire of France
2 June 1901

General d’armee Thomas Martel sighed to himself as he read the news.

“Goddamn Germans.” He muttered angrily.

“So what is our next move?” The sitting across from him inquired.

Sitting across from Thomas was his Chief of Staff, Colonel Saban Adalet. Saban was Ottoman, or rather his family had been before the invasion of Tunisia in 1869. Saban had been only eighteen when the French had taken over, but his Father, Kasim had been quick to make a deal with France. He had been given a position in the colonial administration in exchange for loyalty and paving the way for French rule. Saban had even served in the Bavarian War for his father where he had met the 30 years old Thomas a Commandant of the Regiment.

Saban had distinguished himself on the battlefield Thomas had taken the younger man under his wing. However, as a Muslim, Saban would never rise above the rank of Colonel in the Bonapartist Army. The Colonel was content with this, Thomas was not as content.

“We prepare the Army for war and wait for reinforcement before we strike. As the plan dictates.” Thomas replied.

“And what of Auguste? And the Emperor?” Auguste had been a vocal opponent of the Plan and Martel in general and the feeling was mutual. The only thing that protected the general was the fact that Martel was the Miracle at Stuttgart where Martel managed to save his division from a Bavarian ambush. If Auguste earned the Emperor’s ear, the plan would be scrapped in favor of foolish attacks.

The Emperor himself was also a problem. The Emperor was too eager for War, to prove himself as the next great Napoleon.

“We will deal with it when the time comes, send word to Charles and Thibault and ensure they are following orders." Technically the three Army generals were all equally ranked, however the General of the North commanded the largest army and was always the most senior, making him the de facto leader of the trio and thus of the Grand Armee.

Lyon, Second French Empire
2 June 1901

Gaspard Thibault quietly read his "suggestions" from Martel. He sighed as he finished the letter. He did not always agree with the Man, but on this occasion he agreed with the unspoken and unwritten apprehension toward the war. But he had his duty to France, and if he did well, many opportunities would be open to him.

He turned to his generals "Come! It is time to rouse the men, war is a foot. Rouse the garrisons and march for Italy."

His officers saluted and left to carry out their duties

Toulouse, Second French Empire
2 June 1901
Charles La Hire nodded at the notice sent from Thomas. His VIII and X Corps were both already in position, all that needed to be done was bring his IX Corps to bare as a reserve.

He smiled at his generals "Ready the divisions, we march for the border! Let not one foe enter our homeland!

Paris, Second French Empire
4 June 1901
The town was in an uproar over the announcement of war. Certainly there were few, if any, fans of Bavaria in Paris. But the enemies of Bonaparte outnumbered everyone else in the city. Many had not forgotten the slaughter of the short lived Republic of Paris that had risen up in protest of Napoleon III. The worst part was the anniversary of the fall of the Republic had been a short few days ago, adding fuel to the fire.

One such firebrand was speaking right now in front of the Arc de Triomphe. The man in question was Edmond Roux, the leader of the Parisian trade unions. Hated by the government, loved by the people, it was both the most dangerous and safest place for him. Out in the open, but with a sea of supporters to protect him from the police. Despite being a Thursday, the area around the Arc was packed.

"I ask once again! Are you not tired? Speak my brother and sisters! Are you not tired of the tyrant?" Roux yelled. The crowd dutifully shouted in agreement.

"I Know I am! There is no end to the injustice that Napoleon the worst will not thrust upon us. He and his industrial barons squeeze you dry Everyday! We have had to endure the Butcher of Paris being his top dog! And now the butcher wants to kill more of you! He wants you! your husbands! fathers! sons! to go to war and die for glory of their Empire!"

More shouts followed this exclamation.

"Where is the justice? Where is the right of Paris? I say no more! We shall send not one more son of Paris to fight in this war! Not one more body for Père Lachaise unless it is on our terms!"

In the very back of the ground stood Captain Daniel Martel, son of General Thomas Martel recently arrived from Indochina. He had spent several years putting down a revolt with other officers from his division. Now that the revolt had been put down, he had returned to France just in time to serve under his father in the war.

"What do you think?" Captain Gabin Perrault, a fellow returnee asked. Gabin and Thomas were from different battalions in the third brigade, but had served in the same battalion in the Indochinese revolt.

"I think many Parisians will not serve, but France is more than just Paris and the countryside will be quite willing to join against the Bavarians." Daniel offered. "But, the size of this crowd does not bode will for internal stability."

Daniel eyed the police officers standing at the far edge of the pavilion, eyeing the crowd, but not making any movements. Daniel was not sure if they were Republicans or just did not want to take on a crowd that large.

"I see."

"Daniel!" A voice shouted.

Daniel turned and saw a familiar man making his way out of the throng of people at the Arc. Leon Bourgeois, professor of law at the University of Paris and an old friend of Thomas Martel.

"Professor! How are you?"

"I am good, and you? How was Indochina?" His tone was neutral, but Daniel knew he did not approve of the suppression of Indochina. It was a key issue of contention between the professor and the senior Martel.

"I survived. And you? What are you doing here?" Though the question in hindsight seemed to be a poor one. Leon was a well known supporter of the Radical party, a front for the far-left republicans.

"Listening to the speech." The professor said. "Mr. Roux does know how to rile the crowd."

"Indeed he does. You are just listening? I would have thought you would be up there with him." The professor was known to be public in his views and a few had even tried to get Daniel and his father to stop associated with him. However, Leon had served under Thomas in the fifth brigade during the war. If there was one thing Thomas Martel was known for, it was loyalty to his men, current and former.

"For now." Leon said neutrally.

"You support this...man?" Gabin asked, clearly with another word in mind.

"That 'man' served in the Bavarian War and lost three brothers to it. He has more than suffered enough for this empire." Leon countered.

The look on Gabin's face told Daniel all he needed to know. Daniel interceded by placing himself between the two men, "well professor, we must hurry up and get our orders, good day!" He grabbed Gabin and ran off toward central command.

"Goodbye Daniel!" Leon waved goodbye as he disappeared into the crowd.

La Santé Prison, Second French Empire
5 June 1901
Warden Pierre Lamar was a very loyal Bonapartist. Because of this, he had all the troublemakers and threats to the Empire. The cell in front of him contained one such man, Hector Faure. Faure was and some say still is, the leader of the Republicans of France. The Republicans had long been divided between moderates who worked within the system and radicals who wanted to overthrow it. Faure brought them together and not in a good way.

He had been caught planning a coup and received life in prison. His execution was stayed out of fear that his death would cause another revolution.

Sitting in the corner, Faure was scruffy looking, wearing near rags, and a mane of wild hair. Everything about him said that he had been broken, but he still gave an air of authority. "Are you hear to tell me of the new war? The one against Bavaria."

Lamar was not surprised, Faure had someone on the inside, Lamar had spent years trying to find out who had been doing it. Lamar had never figured out how he did it or how to stop it. Despite weekly guard changes and monitoring of his cell, the man always knew. Many of the guards had become wary of the man, even though they were supposed to be in control.

"Yes, and it will be a repeat of the First Bavaria War!"

Faure decided to ignore Lamar. "I remember Bavaria, and Stuttgart. What a mess that was." The last part was said with a wistful smile as if he was remember something from that time. Something from before he had become a traitor to the state.

Lamar did not say anything at first. He often wondered what had changed Faure. At the age of fifteen the boy had lied about his age to serve in the army for the war. He had acquitted himself well in the war, even fighting at the Battle of Stuttgart as a part of the fifth brigade. However, after the war, something changed in the boy. He found company with republicans and radicals despite his friends and family saying he had never been very political as a boy.

Lamar finally found his voice, "It does not matter, it will change little for you. At the end of this one, you will be a prisoner and I your warden."

Faure merely smiled his annoying smile as if he knew something Lamar did not. "We shall see my friend. Perhaps our positions will be switched before the war is over." Faure began laughing in that mocking tone.

The guard used his baton to bang on the bars. "The prisoner will remain quiet!"

Lamar stopped him with a wave of his hand, "let the mad be mad. Good day, Mr. Faure."

Lamar walked down the hallway, Faure's laughter being the only thing that could be heard.

by **Caltarania** » Wed Nov 18, 2015 10:43 am

Confederated Commonwealths of the Atlantic

Chapter 2 - Executive Order 66

Theme: "War March Of The Priests"

Jackson, Virginia
June 7th 1901

President Thomas J. Jackson,
C. 1898

"...and the Slave Rebellion shall be foiled." the President announced. "The remaining slaves will be hunted down and defeated!" he added, with his comments being met by cheers and applause from Congress. "This 'Black Napoleon' is nothing more than a rebel and a traitor, working for our cowardly neighbours in Acadia, who would like to see our very state destroyed!" he said, to more applause from Congress. "Yet we must be vigorous and ruthless in our putting down of this rebellion, as we must ensure that the other slaves know their place. This outbreak of the horrid mental illness known as Drapetomania is a plague sent to our country due to our moral decay, and we must ensure that we - as God's men - remedy this situation through the crushing of this rebellion and the reconstruction of moral decency in our great state!" he then announced. "And in order to ensure that this rebellion is crushed, I ask this Congress to vest in me the power to act independently in order to ensure that my efforts to restore order to our great nation are not in vain. It is as a humble servant of God and our great nation that I ask this Congress to support Executive Order 66, which would allow me to carry out my duties as God's willing." Jackson announced, to a rousing applause from Congress.

Well, most of Congress that is. The incumbent National Democratic Party - which constituted about 70% of Congress due to the use of gerrymandering and stringent voting laws - was almost entirely in favour of the Executive Order, yet many in the opposition were skeptical. The largest opposition party - the Free Labour Party - saw the Executive Order as a means for the President to dismantle Congress and withhold elections, effectively establishing himself as a dictator. The opposition had reason to be worried, as this was the express purpose of the Executive Order. Jackson had grown incredibly tired of the bickering of Congress, and longed to centralize rule under him. The opposition of the FLP, however, would be in vain, as the Order would receive almost no objections from the majority of Congress, allowing President Jackson to become - in effect - the first dictator of the Confederated Commonwealths of the Atlantic. "So this is how liberty dies." murmured one congressman of the FLP as the rest of Congress cheered.

Atlanta, Georgia
June 9th 1901

Barricades of Atlanta,
C. 1901

Atlanta had fallen into chaos. The strike had escalated, and with the Commonwealth Militia units refusing to fire upon their family and friends, tensions only worsened. In order to attempt to put down the rebellion, the Georgian government had used it's influence over the 1st Georgia Sharpshooters to bring them to Atlanta, in an attempt to put down the strikers. Yet, now the strikers had not only the hammers and fists of the workers who were on strike, but also the rifles of the militia that had committed treason and had, therefore, no choice but to fight alongside the workers. In an attempt to prevent the advance of the returning forces of the state, the workers and militiamen had set up barricades across the city's shorter streets, in addition to a much larger main barricade on the main street. One of the defecting militia corporals - James O'Connor - stood guard on the barricade with a myriad of workers and soldiers.

"Why did you fuckers have to drag us into this?" O'Connor asked one of the striking workers. "It was you lot that didn't pull the trigger." one of them replied. "Though of course I am grateful for that... I don't quite fancy death." he added. He approached O'Connor, and held out his hand. He was an older man - no younger than fifty - with a diluted English accent. "The name's Samuel Gompers." he said. O'Connor shook his hand. "Corporal James O'Connor." he said, as he looked out once more across the barricades. "When do you think they'll come?" asked O'Connor. "Too soon." replied Gompers, as he pulled out his revolver and reloaded it. The old thing looked like it hadn't seen action in years. Gompers then spoke again. "One thing is for sure though, sir Corporal. We're all in this together now, all of us."

by **Krugmar** » Wed Nov 18, 2015 3:07 pm

Kingdom of Rumania
Trăiască Regele!

Chapter 2: It is not wise to open old wounds.

6th June, 1901
Alexandru Ioan II
Palace of Culture (Iași)

It was growing late in the palace, and still no reply had arrived from the Ottoman Empire. Though perhaps other nations would have mistaken this as a simple delay in communication, Alexandru understood how the Ottomans enjoyed diplomacy. His state, the Kingdom of Rumania, was illegal in their eyes and through the Principality of Moldova was supposed to be a vassal state, paying tribute in both wealth and arms. A reply would have recognised this independence de jure, rather than simply de facto.

"Costel, inform me of my royal prerogatives again" commanded Alexandru to his secretary, the small bookish man who had served him well for over fifteen years.

"All of them sir?" inquired Costel, holding back a sigh.

"No, only the ones pertaining to a military nature" Alexandru replied, leaning further back into his chair and staring intimidatingly at Costel.

"You are the Commander of the Rumanian military forces, given full discretion to who is appointed as the First Marshal and who are members of the General Headquarters. You are in complete control of military campaigns, operations and battles and may overrule any other commanding officer. You alone hold the power to declare war, and need not seek the advice of the parl-" Costel rattled on, jumping as Alexandru randomly jumped up and let out a shout of excitement.

"Yes! I will not be delayed by a parliament hungry for war, but scared of defeat. Costel, earlier today I discussed the war with the Prime-Minister and the other cabinet members and it was agreed that it is our only option. You are to send a declaration to the Ottoman Empire, and then the world, announcing that a state of war now exists. Then send word to General Headquarters, inform them that it is time to activate Plan Caesar." Alexandru excitedly shouted, before calming himself down and taking a seat once more.

Costel left the ornate study and travelled quickly to his own smaller, yet luxuriously decorated, office and began writing up the documents which would either save or doom Rumania. And they would have his name upon them, for all time.

6th June, 1901
Dimitrie Cuza
Bánffy Palace (Cluj-Napoca)

Dimitrie had travelled as fast as he could when the news reached him, leaving his family halfway through dinner to attend the War Cabinet emergency meeting. It was lucky that he hosted the General Headquarters within his own home, though it was a very large one at that and easy to become lost in. The west wing of the palace was reserved for his family, while the east wing hosted the military commanders who were unable to attain residence within Cluj-Napoca, or who were merely staying for a short period of time.

"Ah, Your Highness, you received the news I trust?" said the Marshal, Ioan Culcer.

"Indeed, I did not expect war to come this quickly, or so late at night" Dimitrie gasped, half from the surprise and half from the walk. Around the table were several generals of the Headquarters, and their subordinates, as well as several secretaries and assistants.

"Forgive us for starting in your absence, but we have already informed the Southern Division of the First Army that they are to move out at 8.00 AM and probe the Ottoman defences on the frontier. It is expected that the Ottoman front will collapse within the first week, we know that they have had problems in the Middle East, and the loss of Egypt has sapped much of their former military power." Culcer informed the prince.

"But they will regroup eventually, and send a large force to retake any gains that we have made." Dimitrie pointed out.

"But by the time they have mobilised a sufficient army we will have mobilised the Second Army and sent into combat. We are also expecting Rumanian militias to rise up in the various cities and countrysides, which will impede Ottoman communication and supply lines. We anticipate that Bucharest will be the main battleground of this conflict, which is why the Southern Division are to move as fast as they can to secure the city." Culcer continued.

"If any of our Balkan allies join us, then the Ottoman front will be further divided" added General Ivan Nemes, a tall and imposing man who had lost the use of his right eye due to a nasty training accident.

"Speed will be our initial advantage, but we must have the soldiers to win what will likely become attrition. Will the Third Army be mobilised?" Dimitrie inquired. He was always sceptical of plans that seemed overly simple and relied upon miraculous victory, though he was finding it difficult to imagine how the Ottomans could force the Rumanians back without taking extraordinary casualties.

"We will mobilise two divisions quickly, to join the assault, and mobilise the rest in preparation for Plan Augustus." replied Culcer, "though we are prepared to initiate an emergency mobilisation of the Fourth Army. General Draghici will oversee that aspect."

"Excellent, then we must send word to General Zaituc, and let the fires of hell be unleashed." Dimitrie spoke, a single bead of sweat running down his forehead, from excitement or fear, he could not tell.

7th June, 1901
Wadim Zaituc
Bran

"Tell me Simion, why did they not mobilise the Second Army a week ago?" General Zaituc asked his assistant, Lieutenant Simion Svura, a man whom Zaituc considered to be of limited intelligence but enough to serve his everyday needs.

"Erm..." pondered Svura for several seconds, before Zaituc grew too impatient to wait for an answer.

"Because those fools in the General Headquarters do not know what they are doing, and now they send me orders which leave me not knowing what to do. I am marching into enemy territory with less than 40,000 troops, with a promise that 125,000 will be here 'eventually'. God help us Simion" Zaituc said, resigning himself to the possibility and humiliating notion of defeat.

"Indeed, sir." Svura agreed.

From 8.00 onwards the attacks began, Rumanian border forces crossing over and testing the fortifications that lay on the other side, while General Zaituc led his force forward in an attempt to capture the town of Sinaia.

Letters and Declarations - 6th June

A Declaration from His Royal Majesty

Owing to the summary rejection by the Ottoman Government of the request made by his Majesty's Government for assurances that the territories and peoples of Wallachia and Bulgaria be liberated from foreign rule, his Majesty's Government has declared to the Ottoman Government that a state of war now exists between Rumania and the Ottoman Empire as from 6 p.m. on June 6th, 1901.

signed, Costel Pirvu, Royal Under-Secretary,
on behalf of, Alexandru Ioan II, King of the Rumanians and Bulgarians

From His Majesty's Royal Secretariat, to the Council of the League of the Balkan Nations

His Majesty, Alexandru Ioan II of the Rumanians and Bulgarians, urges the members of the League of the Balkan Nations to join him in the liberation of Wallachia and Bulgaria, as well as other Balkan territories unjustly held by the foreign Turks. A unified front will guarantee the successful liberation of our civilised and Christian homelands, and ensure peace will reign in these long disputed lands.

It should be noted that the creation of the Balkan League was for this very purpose, and that the abstention of any nation from this legal and necessary conflict is to be taken as an act of betrayal, and sign of weakness.

signed, Costel Pirvu, Royal Under-Secretary,
on behalf of, Alexandru Ioan II, King of the Rumanians and Bulgarians

by **Kisinger** » Wed Nov 18, 2015 3:46 pm

The Greater Japanese Empire

大日本帝国

Setting the Tone

Chapter 1: Killing the Chinese Dragon

Emperor Meiji in 1876

May 30th, 1901
Imperial Palace, Edo, Japan

Emperor Meiji had grown old and tiresome, sitting on the Grand Throne of Japan, guiding the nation to it's present state, all the while teaching his son how to be an effective, fair, and just ruler to the people of Japan. The years were showing largely around his eyes, especially since the beginning of the Chinese expedition as he held long talks with the General Staff and how to properly implement the troops and where. Meiji had not grown accustom to the new ideas of warfare, being use to seeing large lines of troops advance against one another in an open field and not fighting a war which covered nearly 300 Miles and used nearly three times as many men as he had ever thought necessary. In fact what had surprised him the most were the field reports of how the Modern Weaponry so easily butchered the Chinese which some were equipped with weapons older than Meiji himself.

"Just age showing it's vile head once again..." He softly whispered to himself as he watched the cabinet discussing current events of the world. Ranging from the Republic of China's invasion of the Jiangsu Republic to affairs that weren't immediately relevant to Japan, well until the Chief of Staff proposed moving troops from Southern Korea to the Russian border. Though this notion was shot down immediately. Recently, the cabinet had been pushing further towards the Emperor allowing democracy into Japan with the support of the military he refused outright. Just more traitors to watch out for...

Japanese Soldiers during the Korean-Japanese War

May 31st, 1901
Yangzhou, Jiangsu Republic

Major Hasegawa Yoshimichi overlooked the Japanese Bombardment from the slit trench where his regiment had been posted before the Assault. He could here the large bangs and see the subsequent impacts of the barrage of artillery. The ferocious impacts left little for a man to want to see as the unlucky Chinese Soldier would get hit with a shell and resulting in very disfiguring injuries, and death. As the bombardment halted, he looked behind him and saw the Imperial Army's flag sway back and forth three times signaling the attack, Hasegawa grabbed the whistle around his neck and blew hard and surged over the small barricade of earth works and began to make his way across the open field with his men towards the bridge leading to the city, and after that victory...

June 8th, 1901

[Summary]
Emperor is slowly dying from age and Stress, as well as a large push for more democratic reforms.

The Japanese have launched a large Offensive along the Chinese Front at Yangzhou and further North at Jinhu, and at the Shaobo lake.

Reply to China(Coming Soon)

by **Altito Asmoro** » Wed Nov 18, 2015 8:33 pm

Lhasa
The Capital City of Tibet

June 6th 1901
At the heart of Tibet, lies a capital city of Tibet. The most fortified city from all of towns, cities, and villages. It contains houses, markets, government buildings, an armory, temples, and barracks. Dalai Lama, the spiritual and political leader of Tibet sat on its throne as he started the monthly assembly meetings. With Qing separated into various Chinese factions from the democratic ones to the monarchy ones, it is apparent that even now Tibet's not safe from the outsiders. And in order to defend the country from it, they could spread the military, but it's too small and not very strong. Numerically and technologically inferior didn't helped their cause.

With Chinese factions vying for dominance, and since Dalai Lama enacted an unpopular national decision to enacted training every weeks for civilians to defend Tibet in case one of them invades, but since there are no modern weapons, they are forced to train them with bows or matchlock, and taught them how to fight using unconventional methods, using terrains as part of the war.

by **The Holy Dominion of Inesea** » Thu Nov 19, 2015 9:50 am

[REDACTED], Virginia, Atlantica
Summer[REDACTED]

Francis Allmer sat down at a table in a small restaurant, McComer’s Tavern. The tavern was located on a crossroads in Virginia. It was frequented by farmers and merchants and tradesmen from the surrounding hamlets and towns. The McComer Haggish was renowned statewide and it wasn’t uncommon for people to come from as far as neighboring states for a bite. Francis wasn’t one of though people. He was a barber, moved here from Richmond a decade past. To the people of the town, he was a quiet gentleman, a good christian. He was a Catholic, for shame, but he attended the Protestant Mass when a Catholic Priest was not in town. He knew scripture and verse. He was also single and middle aged, so he was the object of the machinations of many a matchmaking grandmother. Poor them though, for he never went far in any relationships. The people of the town saw him as a respectable man, a pillar of the community that all young bachelors could look to. If the people of the town knew who sat with them that evening, they would be horrified. Francis Allmer was a constructed identity. His real name was Philippe Chapelle and he was an External Operations Agent from the Bureau de la Sécurité d'Etat(BSE) who had been deep undercover in Atlantica for over a decade building his cover.

“Evening Mr. Allmer” called out Farmer Joe from across the room. Farmer Joe was as drunk as ever it seemed.

“Evening Joe” replied Allmer. He ordered a mug of hot cider and some haggish and sat down to eat. Part of the benefit of his cover job was he was inundated in gossip. As an EOA with the Bureau he knew that collecting all information was vital. He was here to take the country’s pulse.

“...did you hear about the revolt on Ol’ Jackson’s plantation?....”

Allmer turned his head ever so slowly to the direction of the speakers. They were two farm supervisors. Allmer walked over with a two extra ciders and sat down with them.

“What’s this about a negro revolt?” he asked.

“Ahh Allmer. Over on the Jackson Plantation a few days over some negroes revolted and killed the guards. Ran off they did. Who knows where they are now? Some uppity Acadian Negro is leading them I hear” replied on hand.

My God, the chains that hold this country together and keep the slaves docile are coming undone. This must be reported to Hartfortin.

Bureau de la Sécurité d'Etat, Hartfortin, Acadia
June 13th

Charles Jacobin, Directeur de la Sécurité de l'Etat, put down the report. It had been prepared and created by the Comité pour les affaires de l'Atlantique and had several reports by one Philippe Chapelle. He was reporting news of a small slave revolt in Atlantica. And in the news, straight from their papers, were citations of union strikes. Ahh, Charles remembered the Republic’s own strikes two decades ago. He had been but a mere Agent de la Paix Intérieure. Breaking the strike lines was one of the most emotionally draining things he ever had to do.

These recent developments in Atlantica were fast developing. A slave revolt and a union strike had morphed into two separate rebellions. And now Jackson was reportedly taking over Emergency Powers. This was the golden time that the BSE had been waiting for. For far too long had the slave drivers and aristocrats in the south tarnished the reputation of the Americas. If the General Directorate was ever going to act upon Plan V, now would be the time. He sent a runner to the General Directorate's bearing all the information the BSE had collected.

General Directorate, Noveau Paris
June 14th

"The time is now President Barogne! The Slave driving bastards are at their weakest. There army is but a paltry few dozen thousand and our casus belli is right before us. We tell the world we are intervening in the name of Rights of Mankind and none will be the wiser. And truly we are. It is our moral imperative before God and Country to aid and abet these freedom fighters in the south. I do demand we put Plan V in play. The VII and VIII Corps are already along the border guarding against an attack. Within a week they could be ready to strike. In two more weeks, the V and III Corps will be ready to move into Atlantica. That'll be more than enough to take that excuse of an army they have. And remember, we must go in as Peacekeepers, We are not an invading army, we are to be as guardians of the rights of man" said General Lasalle.

"Are you mad? Do you not think the Mexicans will repsond in force? An alliance between Acadia and Atlantica is the thing they fear most. They will do everything in their power to prevent it. I say to you, if we move Acadian men into Atlantica, Mexico will move into Atlantica as well, maybe even Acadia proper. I say we support the rebels with training and material and money. These of which we have to spare" retorted Minister Marcelle.

Baronge stood up from the table. "Gentlemen, the prospect of war with Mexico is far too great for firect intervention. I agree with Marcelle. We should send trainers and material. We also do not need legislative approval so we can start immediantly. I do want the units along all borders placed on the highest alert. Also, send word, unofficially, to Martin Brown. Tell them that we are no longering prohibiting them from entering the CCA. The Sons of John Brown may do as they please in the South."

by **The Kingdom of Glitter** » Thu Nov 19, 2015 1:41 pm

The Italian Confederation
La Confederazione Italiana

Chapter 2 - The Dawn of War

31 May 1901
Florence, Tuscany

La Nazione
War Declared on Bavaria and Austria-Hungary
31 May, 1901
5 Lira
This morning His Majesty Umberto I signed a declaration of war upon the Kingdom of Bavaria, the Germanic League, and the United Kingdom of Austria Hungary. The Continent has been thrown into crisis following the assassination of the Crown Prince and Crown Princess of Bavaria and the Hanseatic rejection of the Bavarian Ultimatum. The Kingdom of Bavaria, and by extension the Germanic League, declared war on the Hanseatic Republic on the 29th of May, after which the Hanseatic issued a call to arms to the members of the Quadruple Alliance - a pact of defense between the Britannic Empire, French Empire, Hanseatic Republic, and Italian Confederation.

His Majesty issued full mobilization of the Esercito Reale, Milizia Reale, and the Forza Expiditionary Reale. Additional forces are being raised across the Confederation, consisting of conscripts, enlisted men, and veterans. The Regina Marina has also received orders for a full mobilization and is expected to soon begin engaging the Austro-Hungarian fleets in the Adriatic Sea. The Confederation is the first member of the Quadruple Alliance to declare war in support of Hamburg. His Majesty said "We have but no choice to defend our faithful allies in the Republic. Bavarian and Austro-Hungarian aggression must be put to a stopped at once". He later went on to clarify that the Italian Confederation would not be declaring war on the Russian Republic or the Crown of Aragon and would only engage in battle with the two nations should they declare war upon the Confederation.

An emergency session of Parliament has been called, with Senators and Deputies alike flocking to the Palazzo dei Giureconsult. Debates regarding the Confederation's wartime economy are to begin shortly, with some proposals already requesting an expanded military budget.

This is the fifth time the nation has gone to war since the declaration of the Statuto Vittorio in 1853. The first war was against the Papal States, the second the Kingdom of the Two Sicilies, the third against Austria, and the fourth against the Ottoman Empire. Thus far the Confederation has been victorious in every instance of war. Those in Rome can only hope for a similar outcome.

((>>More on Page 2))

1 June 1901
Rome, Sardinia-Lombardia
Palazzo del Quirinale

The room was lit with a musty tint. Around the table sat Umberto I, Prince Vittorio Alberto, Prime Minister Saracco, the Cabinet, and General Luigi Cadorna. The topic was grim: war. A map of the land that would soon become part of the Italian Front was hastily sprawled across the oak table and the men gathered sat, analyzing every inch. Cadorna was the first to stand in order to present his plans for the invasion of Austria-Hungary.

"Our plan is simple: overwhelm the Austrians in the Karst Plateau and advance into the Carniolan Basin, taking Ljubljana and threatening Vienna. We have the numbers for this plan to be a success. 45,000 soldiers are currently advancing to engage the Austrians across the Soča in order to capture Gorizia. They will be reinforced by 50,000 soldiers from the I Riservista dell'Esercito, while the remaining 25,000 will reinforce the Esercito delle Alpi working to take Trento. The IV Riservista dell'Esercito will also move in from Genoa to reinforce, followed by the II and III Riservistas dell'Esercito. The Esercito del Sud will remain in Pescara until the situation on the Front becomes desperate. They are being used to defend the South from any potential naval incursions." the General said. His plan was based upon those of the early 19th century, a plan "we know works" he was often quoted.

Several of the ministers exchanged looks of distress, most notably Giovanni Giolitti, the Minister of the Interior, and Scipione Borghese, the Minister of War. The two men had their doubts about Cadorna, but their doubts were overshadowed by the King's emphatic support.

"This is a marvelous plan! Surely the French will reinforce us, providing us with the numbers to break through and reach Ljubljana in no time." Umberto bellowed.

"And what of the Alps, General Cadorna?" Prince Vittorio inquired. "You are not Moses, and this is not the Red Sea. They will not simply part and allow us free passage."

"We have one of the finest armies in the world, we are more than equipped to fight in the Alps." the General arrogantly replied.

The Prime Minister remained unimpressed, but his opinion did not matter, for the King was Commander-in-Chief and his mind was already made up.

"This plan must continue to be enacted." the King said. "This meeting is dismissed, good day gentlemen."

The men gathered all stood up and began shaking hands. The Prince was deeply concerned with what he saw was not only the incompetence of his father but also of Cadorna. He began to leave the room to head to his private chambers in order to meet with the Count. As he left he was flagged down by the Prime Minister and the Minister of the Interior.

"I beg your pardon, Your Highness, but Giovanni and I would like to discuss something with you." the Prime Minister asked.

The Prince was rather taken aback, as he did not expect the Ministers to care much for him yet. "Certainly. What would you like to discuss?" Vittorio replied.

The two men exchanged glances before replying. "We fear your father is not prepared to lead the Confederation into war." Giolitti said.

"Exactly, Your Highness. We mean no offense, but we fear your father is too narrow minded. We doubt Cadorna's ability to achieve victory in the Alps, and more importantly we fear the numbers the Austrians could send to our front - especially if the Russians enter the war." the Prime Minister said in response.

"I must admit I agree with you two. My father is an ignorant fool, and Cadorna is just as foolish as my father. But I must ask, what do you want from me?" the Prince inquired.

"We want you to, on behalf of the Ministers, to write to the Balkan League and request their entry into the war. The Foreign Minister has developed a plot with us to get them to enter the war on our behalf. Perhaps we can fill you in?" the Prime Minister said.

"Walk with me, Gentlemen, we have much to discuss" Vittorio replied.

From the Desk of HRH Vittorio Alberto

Addressed to the Members of the Balkan League

Sirs,
News of the war on this Continent surely can no longer be a secret to any nation who resides upon it. It is for that reason that I write to you, on behalf of my father, Umberto I, the Prime Minister, and the Italian people. A state of war now exists between the Italian Confederation and the United Kingdom of Austria and Hungary, a clear enemy of your alliance. The Austrians have wrongly occupied Slavic lands for decades, oppressing Serbs, Croats, and Bosniks alike. This scenario is one the people of Italy deeply understand. For centuries the Austrians occupied our lands. We are the only nation that truly understands what it is like to be oppressed in the way the Slavs under Austro-Hungarian rule. This is why I ask you to support the Italian Confederation in our war to liberate Italians and Slavs alike. I am not asking you to declare war on all of Austria-Hungary's allies, but simply the nation itself.

In exchange for your support, the Italian Confederation is prepared to support the Balkan League against the Ottoman Empire in order to liberate the remaining Slavic peoples under their control. I implore you to consider my offer and join us on the field of battle against the Devils in Vienna.

May God be with you.

Most sincerely,
Vittorio Alberto
Prince of Piedmont, Prince of Naples

5 June 1901
Cervignano del Friuli, Austria-Hungary

The Esercito di Venezia had arrived at Cervignano del Friuli. The 45,000 strong force began to shell Austro-Hungary positions within the town at 11:00. A retreat was sounded just before 14:00 and the town was captured. The citizens of the town began to cheer as they were liberated by their fellow Italians while those in the army began to prepare for the march to the Soča.

Meanwhile, the Esercito delle Alpi was setting up defensive positions north of Verona as they waited for reinforcements from the I Riservista dell'Esercito, which was also preparing to dispatch reinforcements to the Esercito di Venezia.

7 June 1901
The Adriatic Sea
Off the Austro-Hungarian Coastline

As the war ragged on land, the Regina Marina had readied itself to defend the Peninsula in the Adriatic. With the arrival of the Flotta del Sud from Palermo, the Squadrone Veneziano had left port in order to engage in the blockade of the Austro-Hungarian coastline. The admirals had devised as simple plan, use the Squadrone and Flotta to keep the Austro-Hungarian navy trapped in its ports. The Flotta del Nord had been dispatched from Genoa to reinforce the blockade and would sit at the entrance of the Adriatic to support the blockade while also being prepared to launch offensive or defensive maneuvers against any enemy fleets should they arrive in Italian waters.

12 June 1901
Soča River, Austria-Hungary

The Esercito di Venezia had arrived along the banks of the Soča, and thus far the Cadorna Plan had been going has it was planned on paper. Across the river was the Austro-Hungarian Armee von Bosnien, something Cadorna assumed would be easy to defeat. Defenses on the Austro-Hungarian held banks of the river had been established, and construction of the trenches been underway. Upon the Italian arrival they quickly began to set up their own defenses before they received orders from the Italian High Command in Rome. Cadorna had ordered an assault on the Austro-Hungarian forces and the General in charge of the Esercito di Venezia reluctantly agreed.

Armando Diaz called a meeting of his commanders in order to inform them of the decision of the Confederation's Marshall.

"Gentlemen, we have received word from Rome that we are to begin an assault on the Austrian positions at once. Ready your men for battle." the General said.

"Sir, shouldn't we wait for the I Riservista dell'Esercito? Surely our numbers would be far superior." one of the Major Generals asked.

"Yes we should, but Cadorna has made his decision and we have to follow through." the General replied with a sigh.

After a brief volley of artillery fire, the orders to advance were given and the men began. A frontal assault was launched on the Austro-Hungarian defensive positions, many of which were uphill and behind barbed wire. Over the course of thirty seven hours the battle commenced and many Italians fell, resulting in the eventual retreat of the attacking armies behind the Soča again. After losing over 10,000 men, the army was forced to hide behind the river and wait for the arrival of the I Riservista dell'Esercito. The First Battle of the Isonzo was lost, resulting in the general loss of 10,492 Italian soldiers and 5,301 Austro-Hungarian soldiers.

by **Liecthenbourg** » Thu Nov 19, 2015 4:07 pm

Império do Brasil

Independência ou Morte!

Chapter II: The World At War

A photograph of
Admiral José da Costa Azevedo,
Barão de Ladário, in his youth

Rio de Janeiro, Empire of Brazil
8th June, 1901

Rio was a city of giants. Everyone in Rio was of some importance to the great cog of progressivism that was churning in Brazil. Every priests' sermon, every workers' hammer strike, every soldiers' first shot, all churned the machine that was Brazil ever forward away from the old worlds of the prior vastly conservative days to a day of centrist politics, one dominated by the current cabinet of the Partido Progressista. Within the Chamber of Deputies the first few days of the new term were one of much debate. The Progressives had secured a very big majority in seats, but a bulwark of conservatives still remained, sitting vigilantly and defiantly in their corner of the room. This did not even factor in the Liberals, whom many had switched over to the Progressives, but few still remained. They were not as scornful as the conservatives, but they had their moments. Then there were the small and fledgling Socialists, whom many despised in the country. Funnily, the idea of socialism had shifted the blame of those whom wished to depose Pedro from the 'Republican' Conservatives, to these newcomers on the political table. It was known that the Baron Eduardo Wadenkolk, Minister of the Army, had dismissed the socialists in the Chamber as 'traitorous monarchy removers' and that 'they would need to fight through the people of Brazil to remove Pedro.' His statement, for the most part, was not wrong.

Admiral Azevedo smiled slightly at the recollection of the event in the previous term. He was an elderly man now, one of the few of the group of people remarked as 'Pedro's Vanguard' to still be alive and kicking. Now in his 77th year on God's Earth, he was a skeletal representation of the fierce and powerful admiral he once was. His powerful strides along the decks of warships had now been replaced by slow and agonising walks, assisted by his cane, across parliamentary halls and to small cabinet meetings regarding the affairs of Brazil's navy. Pedro had, funnily enough, insisted retirement. The ageing Admiral had responded with a simple remark, "My liege, honourable and magnanimous Pedro, if you do not retire, neither shall I. My duty is to you and Brazil." He had agreed however to become Pedro's Minister of the Navy once his party, the Progressives, had won. Such a thing he could understand, but not a day went by where he did not miss standing oft upon the decks of warships, the sea breeze and air invigorating his physique and his body robust, as robust as the hull of his mighty vessels.

Now he had no time to hinder his progress with the ideas of yore and reminiscing. He grabbed his pen, a fine instrument, and began to read the documents that had been placed on his desk by his aide early at day-break. Feasting on a breakfast of tea, toast and fruit as he did so, he mused slightly as he passed the documents on - Brazil was getting two new cruisers, he was pleased at that. A small smile cracked on his chaffed lips, running his tongue across them before he inhaled. These ships would be of most modern and up-to-date technology, for Brazil's navy was a great portion of her prestige. The bespectacled man reclined in his chair for a few brief moments, having pushed the signed documents to the right side of his tidy, prim and proper desk. Just as he shut is weary eyes for a few moments, the door flung open and his aide burst in.

"Afonso, do you not kno-"

"Admiral, Admiral, Admiral!" the young attended stammered, wringing his hands and pacing up and down.

José relaxed slightly, narrowing his eyebrows and taking the weight off of his shoulders. "Aye, Afonso? What is it?"

"It came in so quickly, I didn't know who to go to first, I mean, Pe- but I mean well, you are the individual I am assigned to, and well, it seemed fitting, and I didn't know, he's got family in Italy?"

The Admiral slammed his clenched fist against the Brazil-wood desk, causing his papers to fly up before descending down gracefully. "Afonso! What is it, what happened?"

"A telegram, sir." the aide croaked.

"And what of it?"

"Europe is set on a keg of powder, one that the flame has just approached by a hand of mal-intent and malice. Members of the Quadruple Alliance and the Munich Pact go to war. The world will be plunged in with it...."

José's eyes widened with revelation, and he fell back down onto his chair. It was as if he had just been bombarded, back on the decks of yore, and his head rolled left and right. Afonso rushed over, grabbing a small pail of water and drenching the admiral, spectacles and all, in the liquid. His eyelids fluttered, his mouth opened and closed lightly before the renowned admiral stood up once more.

"I must inform the Emperor. He will know what Brazil is to do."

The Imperial Palace, Rio de Janeiro, Empire of Brazil
8th June, 1901

Pedro sat, one leg crossed over the other as he read Brazil's morning paper. The night had been one of pleasant and easy sleeping, something he had begun to enjoy more and more as his years caught up with him. Still, he aimed to continue to be an active man in all forms. So much so he had already set his schedule to indicate once the clock struck 11, he was to leave his study and go for a quick sporting events across the palace. Swimming, in particular. Horseback riding was another favourite, and he intended to partake in that with his son-in-law, Prince Charles-Louis and his grandchildren as well. They all lived within the monstrously huge palace, and so, the family, save for Leopoldina, was generally always together.

Pedro ran a hand through his beard, and his eyelids began to feel increasingly heavy as he continued to read the paper. Having enough after a few more sustained moments, he folded the paper and placed it on the nearest empty armchair, sitting down upon his own once again. His mighty piece of furnishing was turned to face a huge, almost wall-wide, window. From here he could view the bay of Rio de Janeiro, the entire city, and, most beautifully, the encroaching presence of the trees all around. It was truly majestic. Pedro sighed a pleased sigh. This. This was the fruits of the labour of a monarch whom cared, cared to no end, and for God's sake he was tired. Tired but he knew his tiredness mattered not when Brazil still needed running. He would give it his all, and that is something he knew he could accomplish until he was in the grave. Such thoughts were... odd, but Pedro know felt his devotion to Brazil was ever stronger than before. Resting his head upon his left, keeping it upright, he began to blink.

A voice, one French and of intelligence, broke through the silence. "Fascinating and remarkable, is it not?"

"Charles-Louis...?"

"I'm afraid not, Pedro." Standing there, just by the large window with what appeared to be an entire lab at his beck and call, was the spitting image of Louis Pasteur. A large black suit adorned him, and his spectacles hung around his neck. He held up a beaker, towards the light, and watched it pass through. "These germs, my good man, are certainly the cause of all the ills of mankind."

Pedro could only nod and a smile spread across his face as he stepped towards the French Scientist, his friend. His hands reclined upon the desk, grasping onto it as he leaned forward. "What scientific exploits are you uncovering now, my friend?"

"Anthrax, my boy, anthrax! That fiend, that Koch, aims to one-up me? Ha! L'allemand wont know what hit him when my vaccines are developed. Mon Dieu, this is exciting." Pasteur nodded in an over exaggerated manner, bringing his flasks to boil as he began to extra several elements of a dying variant of the anthrax disease from a petri-dish.

Just as Pedro was about to inspect the petri-dish, it dissolved. The desk came next and followed by Pasteur himself whom gave his friend a brief wave. The final element of the French man to disappear was the badge adorning his left breast pocket, that of the Brazilian Order of the Rose. Pedro rubbed his eyes substantially, making his way back to his chair before something else manifested just by the fire place. A large reptile, a giant tortoise of the Galapagos, began walking forward towards the Emperor. Sat on its back was another of Pedro's old friends, the man Charles Darwin. He was presented in his youth, young and powerful. A sloth was wrapped around his right arm, and the Englishman took off his hat in respect to the Emperor as the turtle drew closer.

"Pedro, my friend, my God, how have you aged!"

Pedro could only nod solemnly, before giving a smirk. "You can say that I have evolved since you last saw me." That remark resulted in the British Biologist to stutter and chuckle, almost falling off of the back of the tortoise.

"Haha! Good one, your Majesty. But really, I came here to tell you of my new book."

"Bah!" came a new voice, one of Germanic origins. Accompany it came a musical symphony, one of much soothing to the ears. "I've arrived to tell Pedro of my newest symphony!"

"Wagner?" Pedro asked, in disbelief.

"Jawohl!"

Just as Pedro was about to speak again, both individuals seemingly faded out of existence, turning to dust in front of the man they once called friend.

Pedro sat upright, bolting from his sleeping position in his chair before he ran a hand across his head. A dream. God, that was... painful. He turned to the painting of Mary and of Christ, which hung over his fireplace in an imposing manner. Now he stood up, approaching it modestly and pressing his hand against the stone chimney of the fireplace, resting on it.

"Why is this happening to me, Maria? Tell me, Maria? Why am I becoming a slave to past recollections? Tell me Maria? Why am I so weak, yet my mind so strong? My people so passionate, yet I so pessimistic at times? You in your eternal wisdom, as the mother of God, tell me Maria!" He extended his arms out widely. "Is God upset with me, Maria? Christ? Aquinas? Francis? Augustine? Does he not believe me a fit ruler? I have done all I can for this nation! I do not want to be plagued with the recollections of dead friends, for them to be taken at their own beck and call and leaving me to my own devices! Will mine own mind tempt me with my wife next?!" He reached for the golden cross on his neck, almost yanking it from its chain before he blinked and blinked some more.

The door creaked open behind him. Pedro composed himself, dusting down his suit and uniform, clasping his hands together.

"Your Majesty." Admiral Azevedo began. "Europe goes to war."

Pedro gave a brief and small glint of sadness, inability to act. And then the newspaper flicked open in the new breeze, leaving a page dedicated to some news or rather in Italy. And Pedro smiled a brief smile. "You work in mysterious ways, my Lord God."

"Pardon, your Majesty?"

"Italy, Admiral. I'm going to visit my daughter, Leopoldina. War is not a good thing, and Italy will be in the thick of it."

"And Brazil's stance?"

"Neutrality, but my daughter Isabel will be at the reigns in my absence. Guide her, but if she believes it is fitting for Brazil to go to war; allow her. Her decisions are her own."

by **Bering** » Thu Nov 19, 2015 10:20 pm

French Empire

Alsace, French Empire
11 June, 1901

Thomas Martel stood on top one of the observation towers in Alsace. Below him, the Army of the North was assembly as one army rather than as the four scattered Corps that it usually operated under. Officers barked orders as horses lugged around artillery and supplies. It would be a long fight and one poor move could spell the end for France, their greatest enemy was on this side of the border and some two hundred miles to the west. But that, Martel told himself, was a problem for another day, for now, France would have to prepare for the enemy in front of them.

Colonel Adalet joined him on the tower. “Impressive isn’t it sir?”

“Always a sight.” Martel turned to looked at his Chief of Staff. “Did you need something?”

“Someone wishes to see you.”

“Someone important?” Martel disliked being bothered by political leaders when he was in the middle of battle plans.

“I believe so.” Adalet was smiling, almost never a good sign.

“Well who is…” Martel stopped mid turn as he saw the man behind Adalet. “...it?” he finished.

Standing behind the Colonel was Captain Daniel Martel, Thomas’s only son. “Greetings captain. I trust that you are ready to serve after your foray in the colonies?”

“Indeed I am sir.”

“Good, report to General Horn.” Général de brigade Albert Horn was the Parisian born son of German immigrants. After the Bavarian War, the family had settled in Alsace and taken great comfort in the region. Horn was not about to lose his home and Martel was sure to fight hard.

“Yes sir.” Daniel saluted his father and turned to leave.

Thomas briefly debated letting his son leave before his conscious got the better of him. “One more thing captain.”

“Sir?” Daniel turned.

“I am glad you are home safe and sound.”

Daniel smirked at his father, “of course, my father would never let me live down dying on something as simple as suppressing a revolt.”

Thomas smiled back, “no son of my mine will die such a death, you should die in your own country. Now get out of here before I have you court martialed for speaking back to me.”

Daniel saluted once more. “Of course.”

Adalet watched Daniel go, “I swear, you are one of the oddest families I have ever seen. And my father had three wives.”

“Plenty of room for court martialing Colonel.”

“Of course sir, I apologize, I will refrain from pointing out your flaws.”

“As it should be.” Thomas smiled at his friend.

"So what now?" Adalet asked.

"Now? Now we wait for our forces to assemble. Then we begin this godforsaken campaign and hope we return to a country in one piece at the end of it."

Perpignan, French Empire
11 June, 1901

La Hire looked around the town. The French inhabitants had welcomed his man as liberators from the Spanish. Several had offered to scout for his men, but when questioned on the presence of the enemy, most had acknowledged never seeing any.

La Hire had assumed that the enemy would be upon him as soon as he crossed the border, but he had seen nothing. It worried him. He worried that his men would be led into a trap and he did not want to lose an entire Corps by being reckless, but God knew what would happen if the kept going. Attack or defend? Attack or defend?

“Sir, Orders?” Général de corps d'armée Rose asked.

“We...hold here for my own Corps to arrive and word for Martel. 100,000 is better than 50,000, especially when the enemy only has a narrow border to defend.”

The general paused to consider it before he inclined his head. “Very well sir. I will instruct my men to hold and began constructing temporary fortifications.”

“Make the trenches deep. Just in case.” La Hire told Rose.

“Of course.” Rose departed.

“Are you sure?” Colonel Zacharie Rey, La Hire’s Chief of Staff asked.

“No, but it is better to be the fool who missed the chance than the fool who lost the army. Fabius was the Shield of Rome and Varus a fool who lost three legions. That is what history remembers of these men. I will not be La Hire the man who lost a Corps. Especially to an enemy who has yet to declare war.”

Rey seemed mollified. “Very well, I will trust in your judgement.”

“That is all I ask. Have you heard from IX Corps?”

“Yes, they should be here in a few days, they will be able to leave in good order and should be done preparing sometime in the night.

“Excellent, we will reassess our options when are at at full strength and Martel has been informed. Any word form X corps?”

“General Moulin has reported that he is holding and he has yet to see the enemy.”

“Odd, very odd.”

“Perhaps they are not going to enter the war?”

“We shall see.”

Western Italy
13 June 1901

Gaspard Thibault quietly observed the countryside of Italy. A century ago his country had marched through these lands on a war march, and now they did it again. Though this time, they were united with all of Italy in a common cause.

He wondered what the previous commanders had thought, of the country, the people, the war. They had ridden horses not unlike the one currently beneath Thibaults body, carrying them to war against their foes, against Austria and others.

Thibault noted how much and how little had changed. A century ago it had been France against the continent, and his home had almost won. This time it would be France and old enemies like the Hansa and Britannians against the Austrians.

He turned to his Italian guide/aide/translator. “How much farther to Milan?”

Milan was the agreed rallying point for the army of the center. His southern Corps were too far south for them to wait and meet in France. It was assumed that the Italians would need there help quickly and thus it was better to organize in Italy.

Milan was the largest focal point in the region and obviously a strategic point. Thus they would deploy there and wait for more orders from the government of France on how to assist Italy.

Unlike the other two Armies, his could not rely on trains do to the sheer size needed to move such large corps. The Italians simply did not have enough trains and train tracks to transport the entire army from the Western border to Milan. That was not to say Italy could not supply them, just that it could not take out all those trains from important service from Italy in the middle of the war. Their own troops came first and the distance was small enough that the Center Army could probably march their in the time it took to organize it.

The French themselves had designed express trains to move their corps. Though it was easy for the heavily industrialized North that often transported material around the region and the South Army only needed a single express route to cover a short distance.

Paris, French Empire
16 June 1901

Napoleon IV sat in his private throne room. In front of him sat his ministers arrayed around a round table. Directly in front of the Emperor’s throne sat the Cabinet Chief, Gaston Auguste. The position was meant to symbolize the Cabinet Chief as the voice of the Emperor, which is what many of the chiefs under Napoleon III’s reign. Auguste was indeed loyal, but also ambitious.

Currently he was arguing with the Minister of War, Denis Masson. Napoleon felt sorry for Masson. The man had never been a soldier, only a bureaucrat turned politician. Auguste had promoted the man because he felt that Masson would be easy to control. Masson had lasted longer than most Ministers, he was in his third year of service. The other six had lasted an average of seven months or so.

Whatever Masson gave to Auguste would bite him in the ass when dealing with Martel. Thus the Minister of War was constantly stuck between a rock and a hard place. Auguste was still arguing for a more offensive plan, he felt that Martel was not bold enough.

“General Martel advocates…” Masson began

“I am the Prime Minister of France, not Martel.” Auguste replied. He made no secret of his desire to be made Marshal of France and allowed to direct the entire war. He never wasted a chance to push for it.

Napoleon decided it was time to step in, “And I am Emperor of France.” All the ministers turned to look at Napoleon, he rarely spoke during meetings. “I am inclined to trust General Martel, he has rarely advised me incorrectly on military affairs. I have found few men I trust more than him.” And you are not one of them was the unspoken accusation.

Auguste began “Your majesty, General Martel is being overly cautious. If you allow me...”

Napoleon chose to interject, “The good general is a war hero who has commanded armies on the field of battle. When I need a city repressed, I will ask for your advise.”

The entire cabinet was shocked into silence, none of them had never seen such an insult thrown directly to the Chief’s face. Now they all turned to see how the Chief responded.

Auguste for his part knew he was beaten, if he threw anything back at Napoleon, he would be quickly removed and replaced with one of the others at the table, all eager for his position. “Of course your majesty, I apologize for speaking out of turn.”

Seeking to return the meeting to the proper track, Finance Minister Paul Beaulieu spoke. “Perhaps we should return to the specifics of the plan?”

Navy and Colonies Minister Harman quickly nodded his head in agreement. “An excellent idea.”

Auguste nodded his head, “Masson, please continue.”

“Well, I have spoke to General Martel and he has replied that first and third Corps are at the border and in place. The second is massing in the south as we speak and the fourth has just arrived.”

“Thank god for trains” Beaulieu commented.

Masson ignored the comment, “...the Center Army has united and entered Italy. The South Army has arrived at the southern border and waiting for orders. La Hire reports that they are capable of advancing at enemy time and that the reserves only need to protect the mountains.”

“How confident of that is he?” Auguste asked.

“Enough, though Martel has his doubts. He says that he trusts La Hire as the man on the ground and will defer to him for now.”

“And the reserves?” Durant asked. As Minister of Agriculture, he was always worried about what calling the reserves up would do.

“For the south, the armies of Aquatine and Langdeuc should be called up and placed at La Hire’s disposal. Provence should be put on alert. The Poitou reserves should be raised, but kept in position some distance from the border so as to not to worry the Bretons, they are to keep them in check, not worry them. The rest of the Center should remain where it is. As for the North, Lorraine and Champagne should be raised to reinforce the North. Normandy remains unraised.”

“And Paris?” Harman asked

Interior Minister Borde laughed. “That goes without saying. Don’t raise that force until the enemy is at the gates.”

Justice Minister Faucheux joined in, “and even then, they might throw them open just to spite us!”

The leftist sentiment of the Parisian region was well known. Many members of the left gravitated there, especially after military service.

“That should be enough today. Good day gentlemen.” Napoleon said, raising from his throne.

The rest of the cabinet immediately rose and kneeled. “It is our pleasure to serve the Empire.” Auguste replied. Napoleon noted the usage of Empire, not the throne, but let it slide for the moment.

“You are dismissed.”

The ministers began filing out. However, just before they left, Napoleon decided to shake things up. “Minister Royer!”

The Foreign Minister turned his head toward his lord. “Your majesty?”

“I require your counsel on some matters of the state. The rest of you are dismissed.”

The man was quite confused but loyally agreed with the request. Royer had no designs for higher office and that served him well, he, along with Beaulieu and Auguste were the only ones to have been ministers for longer than a decade.

Napoleon noticed Auguste remaining behind. “Gaston, did you wish to speak with me in private?”

“No, just if you might have required something of me as well.”

“No, just Mr. Royer.”

Auguste bowed again, “very well.”

Napoleon waited for Auguste to leave before he motioned Royer to come forward.

“Mr. Royer, I wish to inquire into the likelihood of gaining Castile and Portugal as allies in this conflict, or failing that, ensuring their neutrality. And to keep Andalusia neutral”

Royer paused for a few moments in thought before he began nodding, “I have a few ideas my lord.”

Paris, French Empire
16 June 1901

Auguste seethed with anger as he strode down the hallways of the Imperial Palace. Next to him was Interior Minister Borde, the closest thing Auguste had to a deputy in the Cabinet. "How dare that...child! Treat me as if I was a common thug!"

Borde chose to remain quite and allow his superior to rage.

"I have served this country for longer than he has drawn breath and he dares say such things to my face!" Auguste turned to Borde seeking agreement.

Borde inclined his head, "quite an astonishing thing indeed sir."

It seemed to satisfy Auguste and he returned to his raging.

This split did give Borde an idea. "My lord,"

"Yes what is it?"

"As you know, the Crown Prince and I are quite close."

"I am aware, what of it?"

"Well, perhaps I could speak with him to give you what you desire."

"What nonsense is this? That fool would never go against his father."

"No, but if I could convince him that perhaps placing you in charge of the army would be best for the Bonapartes."

"Oh? Go on."

"Well, it would get you out of Paris and give the Emperor more security with a different Cabinet Chief while you will enter the annuals of history as a Hero of France."

Auguste thought about it for a moment, "and in my place, The Interior Minister will rise, yes?"

Borde bowed his head, "If I am not found wanting."

Auguste laughed, "Well, well, you are a sly dog. Very well, I have nothing to lose for now. You have my permission to proceed."

"Thank you my lord."

Auguste began walking ahead, "Borde?" He called back.

"My Lord?"

"If I find you have betrayed me, well, let us just say you will wish you had not."

"I would never dream of it." Borde faked surprise.

"Of course." Auguste said as he disappeared down a hallway

Borde watched him go. In truth he did not care if Auguste died in a ditch or went on to become a hero, all Borde wanted was the position. Borde was young for his senior post, only thirty-seven years of age. But he had connections in high places and a habit of not getting dirty like so many others did, this time would be no different.

by **Jaslandia** » Fri Nov 20, 2015 5:20 pm

Belweder Palace, Warsaw, Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth
June 13, 1901

Jan Rządkowski was in a contemplative mood. The Prime Minister of Poland was standing in a portrait gallery, in front of famous Polish heroes like Tadeusz Kościuszko, Jan III Sobieski, and Józef I Poniatowski; Rządkowski despaired at the thought that he might have failed to live up to their mightly legacies. Just then, the Prime Minister’s adviser Charles strolled in.

“You seem troubled, sir,” Charles said. “What’s the matter?”

“I got the letter from the Austrians,” replied the Prime Minister, who didn’t even turn his head to face his adviser.

“What does it say?” asked Charles.

“We were rudely turned down.”

“What do you mean, exactly?”

The Polish Prime Minister turned around to face Charles. “They refused our deal, saying they won’t give up what they call the ‘Grand Duchy of Cracow’. They said they had no use for backwards nations like us, and that we would be better off sticking to our own affairs.”

Charles gasped. “Rude indeed. There’s certainly no way we could fight on the same side as those… those…”

“Jerkasses?” Jan Rządkowski finished. “Dicks? Fuckfaces?”

“I was going to say ‘bad-mannered buffoons’, but I like your names better,” Charles replied. “Anyway, it appears Austria is adamantly against our deal. Going public with our deal will not change matters, as Austria isn’t going to budge.”

“So, what do we do then?” the Prime Minister asked. “Should we ask Russia to intervene on our behalf?”

“Russia would never go against the Munich Pact for a weaker nation like us. If we tell the Russians what we are considering, then they’ll take the opportunity to invade us right away before we’re ready. It would be best to seek out other options. I hate to say this, but we may need to ally with the Quadruple Alliance.”

“The Quadruple Alliance?” Rządkowski cried. “But they’ve been our enemy for decades!”

“Times have changed,” Charles responded. “In light of the recently declared war, I’d say the Alliance would be grateful for any help they can receive.”

The Prime Minister sighed. “I suppose you’re right, Charles. I will contact the Hansa. We must keep this secret, though; we shall encrypt the message to ensure that no one will find out about our actions ahead of time.”

To: Karl Hohenstützen, Foreign Minister of the United Republic of the Hansa
From: Roman Dmowski, Foreign Minister of Poland-Lithuania
Encryption: HIGH

Greetings, most noble gentleman,

With the recent eruption of war after the Dresden incident, all the nations of the world are choosing sides. As you may know, the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth has long been aligned with the Munich Pact, especially Russia and Bavaria. However, times change, and recent events have caused me to come to you with a unique proposal.

Soon after word of the assassination of the Bavarian Prince and Princess reached Poland, my government sent out a message to Austria, proposing Austria cede the city of Krakow and the surrounding area in exchange for the Commonwealth joining the Munich Pact and supporting the Pact in regards to Bavaria’s ultimatum. However, not only did the Austrian king reject my humble offer, he did so in the rudest manner possible, referring to my nation as backwards, and saying Austria had no need for the assistance of Poland-Lithuania. This incident was a great insult to the Polish-Lithuanian people and nation, and has soured our relations with the whole of the Munich Pact.

With Poland now unwilling to fight on the side of the Austrians until they completely change their tune, the government of Prime Minister Jan Rządkowski has instructed me to send out a letter to your nation, inquiring about Poland-Lithuania joining the Quadruple Alliance in case Austria does not yield.

However, though Poland does need allies, we expect to receive something out of joining the Quadruple Alliance. Depending on the Alliance’s negotiating position after the conclusion of the war, Poland would like to be able to annex the regions of Lesser Poland (including Krakow) that are currently under Austrian rule. In exchange, Poland-Lithuania would allow Quadruple Alliance troops to pass through our territory, and the Commonwealth shall put together an expeditionary force to fight with the Alliance on whichever front they are most needed.

I realize this proposal may seem odd after years of rivalry between my nation and the Quadruple Alliance, but as the world shifts toward instability and violence, we must work together to preserve the power and sovereignty of both our nations. In light of this fact, I hope you consider my proposal, and may God bless the people of the Hansa!

Signed, Roman Dmowski

Leuchtenberg Palace, Warsaw, Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth
June 14, 1901

The next day, the King of Poland was in his office, gathered with his top commanders in both the army and the navy. They were discussing the King’s urging to mobilize the military, and the top brass were reluctant to agree.

“Absolutely not!” General-in-Chief Zygmunt Mineyko exclaimed. “We are still neutral! We may be able to stay out of this war altogether! Do you realize how costly it would be for us to mobilize, only to have to de-mobilize once the threat passes?”

Zygmunt Mineyko

“Once the threat passes?” King Eugeniusz repeated. “You are implying the threat will actually pass. We will be drawn into this war, and thus, whichever side we join, we must mobilize.”

“What about Prince Jerzy?” asked Major General Józef Piłsudski. “Didn’t you send him to negotiate a settlement of some sort?”

Eugenisuz chuckled. “I never expected Jerzy to actually achieve anything. It was more of a political move.”

Mineyko raised an eyebrow. “Explain, Your Majesty.”

“Of course. You see, ever since I first heard about the attacks in Dresden, I knew war would come sooner rather than later. However, I knew rushing to war wouldn’t make me popular. So, I decided Jerzy would work with the Foreign Office for a while to give the façade of searching for peace, while I quietly helped to mobilize the military. I knew all along that Jerzy would fail, the only question was how the people would react. If Jerzy is lauded for at least attempting peace, then good for him; I’m gonna kick the bucket eventually, and my brother will need all the popularity he can get when he becomes King. If Jerzy is criticized for failing to achieve peace, then I will look like the sensible one for foreseeing the inevitable conflict and preparing our military accordingly. Neither outcome would particularly hurt me, and I may even win some praise.” Eugenisuz sipped from a cup of tea.

Mineyko nodded in awe. “You seem to have this all planned out. So, you can guarantee that Poland-Lithuania will eventually enter the war?”

“100% guarantee.”

General-in-Chief Mineyko stroked his beard. “Very well. You have my support. I will issue a mobilization order immediately.”

Foreign Office, Warsaw, Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth
June 14, 1901

Word quickly spread of the outbreak of war. For weeks afterwards, the diplomats of the Foreign Office almost always bowed their heads at work, and throughout the building, a sense of defeat and despair pervaded. Prince Jerzy was no exception. The heir presumptive to the Polish-Lithuanian crown used the little time he had to communicate with the ambassadors from Bavaria, Russia, the Hansa, and Austria, but in the end, even the diplomats who were willing to help could not do so without the support of their respective government. Prince Jerzy planned to arrange a conference to settle the dispute, but the war broke out before these plans could materialize. Now, the Prince just hung around the Foreign Office, reflecting on the war and the human condition.

Prince Jerzy

“Tell me, Vytautas,” Jerzy said to his aide one day. “Why do we have war?”

“Not all conflicts can be resolved peacefully,” Vytautas replied.

“Is that really how it is? What ever happened to compromise? Meeting the other guy in the middle?”

“It doesn’t always work, Your Majesty. Some things are work fighting for.”

Jerzy sighed. “It’s humanity, Vytautas. Our human pride clouds our judgment. War shows the irrationality of humanity. War is the deadliest farce known to man, and the events that led to this war are the best examples of that.”

“I don’t think it’s a face,” Vytautas replied. “War can be quite glorious. Fighting to protect your country and to advance your country’s interests!”

“War is the best method of slaughtering young men in their twenties,” the Prince replied. “If that is the goal, then mission accomplished. Otherwise, you are risking the lives of hundreds of thousands of men, women, and children, to solve a conflict that could just as easily be solved in the conference hall than on the battlefield. Unfortunately, I fear our Commonwealth will soon fall into this trap known as ‘war.’”

“And what are we to do, then?”

“We can’t stop it, Vytautas,” Jerzy despaired. “Whether we like it or not, war is coming to Poland-Lithuania, and when it does, we must be ready to defend ourselves. With any luck, this might be the conflict that finally proves to humanity that war is destructive and pointless. The war to end all wars, so to speak.”

“We can only hope,” Vytautas responded, “that you are right, Your Majesty.”

by **Zelent** » Sat Nov 21, 2015 1:12 am

Königreich Bayern

Munich, Bayern
14 June, 1901
Prime Minister Freiherr von Lutz stood before a joint assembly of the Landtag, this was now the 4th "Emergency Meeting" held in the course of the war, these meetings were convened every time it seemed there was any event of significance. The topic of discussion at the moment was Poland as well as other allies, and how the Germanic league could possibly bring in as many allies as possible on their side. The Abgeordnetenhaus member, Willi Karster, a member of the Military Intelligence committee stood to speak.
"We have seen through reports, that the Austro-Hungarian empire has refused to cede Krakow to the Poles...."
before Karster could finish, the assembly broke out in a frenzied argument, before Prime Minister Von Lutz was able to gain order.
"Quiet!!! I call for a cession of this rabble!" he demanded, before the shouting dived down, the Prime Minister then said, in a calmer voice "Now, please finish your statement representative Karster." Lutz said, nodding towards the man.
Karster continued, "The Poles are no doubt less likely to join the Munich Pact now, unless we intervene immediately."
"Preposterous!" interjected Herrenhaus member Von Osterhofen, "Krakow is Austrian land, and if the Poles refuse to regard it as such that is not the fault of the Munich Pact, they ought to be conquered if they continue their whining!"
Karster looked stoically at Von Osterhofen, before a member of the Herrenhaus, Knight Jonas Von Weiden opined
"Speaking from a point of military experience, it would be unwise of us to make the Russians fight through many kilometers of Polish territory in order to reach the real front line."

The assembly broke out again, people slamming their fists and stomping their boots into the ground, Von Lutz slammed his gabble into its wooden rest, several times as he reigned the assembly under control.
"Von Weiden, do you offer an alternative to convincing the Poles to join the pact, other then pressuring Austria into cedeing Krakow?" Von Lutz demanded, Von Weiden quickly responded.
"The city of Danzig and a decent sum of coin?" he proposed. Von Lutz nodded his head, he looked up to the balcony to the gathered ministers who were also attending this meeting, and the King, who attended every Emergency meeting he could.
Von Lutz questioned Minister Fredicksen "Your Honorable Minister of Foreign Relations, can you respond to the Member of Parliament Von Wiedens suggestion that Danzig, a territory of Hansa be granted to the Poles?"
The minister pondered for a few moments.
"I would have to agree honestly, Danzig would be extremely lucrative to Poland, it possess a major Baltic trade port and has a fair amount of Ethnic Poles."
The debate continued for two hours, before it wound to a final vote, to offer Danzig or not to Poland, a consensus was reached with about 74% of the Landtag voting in favor of the offer. The King nodded in approval of the vote before leaving to return to the Royal Palace for a conference with the High Command and his son Ludwig III regarding a planned offensive to initiate hostilities. Meanwhile, Minister Fredicksen created a Telegram to be sent to Warsaw.

Munich, Ministry of War, Bavaria
14 June, 1901
Prinz Ludwig III studied the map of Saxony and Silesia vigioursly, an assault was being prepared in the area, and it was up to him to make a plan in front of a meeting of leading generals and millitary staff leaders. He drew out the plan of assault using blocks to represent units.
"The 1st Division of the I. Kings Saxon Corp, hopefully with Austrian reinforcements will march South East to Breslau, the IV and X Brigades of the Saxon Landwehr will fallow close behind. The 2nd Division with the IX Brigade of the Saxon Landwehr will move towards the city of Cottbus, to sever supply and communication lines between Breslau and Berlin.
The Plan relied partly on Saxon Landwehr reserves, thank god for the special provisions the Saxon constitution put on the Landwehr, the Saxon Landwehr unlike other Landewehr units in the Germanic League could be used for offensive purposes.
The Prince turned to another spot on the map,
"Meanwhile, the XII. XI. and VII. Landwehr brigades, supporting the 2nd Division of the II. Royal Saxon Corps would advance towards the city of Magdeburg."
The Generals laid out careful notes on the plan, for later when they would do their part in organizing the logistics, commands and other aspects of launching the offensive. The Prince, finnishing the details for the Eastern Plan moved to the map of Central Germany, he pointed to a collection of units in Hesse, the Armee von Hesse. The Armee was concentrated just outside of the border city of Frankfurt Am Main, which was also their strategic goal. Artillery units would bombard the city while Hessian cavalry and infantry deployed from the South, East and West.

by **Caltarania** » Sat Nov 21, 2015 3:54 am

Confederated Commonwealths of the Atlantic

Chapter 3 - The Enemy of My Enemy

Theme: "Cherokee Tribe"

Nashville, North Carolina
June 15th 1901

Men of Flipper's Free Army,
C. 1901

Since the successful rebellion at the Jackson Plantation, Henry O. Flipper had led his men from plantation to plantation, liberating many slaves from their chains, and assimilating them into 'Flipper's Free Army'. After the liberation of one plantation, Flipper gained valuable information on the location of an armoury and arms cache not far from their location. After a fierce battle for control over it, the Free Army had managed to gain control of the armoury, and subsequently began putting to use the arms that they had liberated; rifles. Invigorated by their army's new-found strength, the Free Army had moved to Nashville - a large town in western North Carolina - in order to move through it and therefore gain passage to the rich and populous plantations in Alabama, Georgia, South Carolina and Florida. As Nashville stood on the main road to the south from where they had previously been, the army had little choice but to march through it.

It was in Nashville that they met the ordinary folk of the CCA. "Gawd damned nergroes!" one of the older men shouted from his window as they marched through the streets. The temptation to shoot was great, but Flipper had taught his men of 'making allies over enemies'. Flipper knew that - were his people truly ever to be free - he would have to overcome the prejudice of the common man, and make it known how they had common cause. This was another of Flipper's reasons for moving south; to gain an audience with the men of this 'Atlanta Commune' he had heard so much about. Flipper had men, arms and experience, yet he did not have enough of the first to truly oppose the government. Many of the slaves were timid, worried that rebellion would mean certain death. Even after liberating many of the slave plantations, many slaves instead decided to escape to Acadia or Mexico, as opposed to joining his army. Were Flipper to unite with the Atlanta Commune - however - he would be able to vastly expand his forces, and would be able to oppose the government. His main fear was whether or not the Commune would want to unite with him.

Shady Valley, North Carolina
June 17th 1901

Chitto Harjo,
C. 1900

"Are we not, too, destined to be free?" Chitto Harjo, a now well-known Creek leader, said to the audience that had come to see him. "For decades we have been treated as second-hand citizens, my brothers, while Congress has violated our ancient rights to the land and has denied us many of the rights it affords to even the lowest of citizen!" he added, to skeptical faces. "You look at me as if this is a situation with an impossible solution." he added further. "Yet it is not! As we speak, men of colour fight for their rights in Virginia! The white workers fight for their rights in Atlanta! The time is now, friends and allies, for the natives of this land to come together and fight for their rights!" he stated with great fervour.

"Muskogee, Cherokee, Seminole, Choctaw, Chickasaw! Are we not a union of peoples in an unending battle against the tyranny of this Atlantican Congress which seeks to bind us to land and rid us of our ancient rights!" he shouted at the top of his lungs, as the crowd that had gathered began to nod their heads in agreement. "We may be divided - by blood, by history, by custom - yet we are united by our undying desire to free ourselves from the tyranny of this government!" he then added, to a great cheer. "Follow me - my brethren - and I swear to you upon all spirits, gods and entities in existence that we will be free, or die trying!" he added further, to greater cheering. "An Army of the Five Tribes!" one of the crowd members chanted, followed by many others. The Army of the Five Tribes had joined the fray.

by **The Jonathanian States** » Sat Nov 21, 2015 3:38 pm

Vereinigte Republik der Hanse
United Republic of the Hansa

Chapter II - Munich and Back

May 30 - June 4 1901

Act One - Of Beer and Wargames

SPD Main Office, Hamburg, Hamburg, URH
"War it is, isn't it, my friend?", asked the man most locals would identify as one of the Hamburgian Representatives to the Hanseatic Lower house and Vice-Chairman of the city's strongest party, the SPD, at that.

Ferdinand August Bebel, 1898.

His friend did not hurry to answer, instead raising his glass and taking a sip. "At least the papers seem to be enjoying it, so far", added the Vice-chairman. "Oh, I'm sure a good amount of people will be enjoying it as well", finally came the reply,"Will they still be doing so come Winter, though?" The third man in the room, SPD representative as well, jumped into the conversation, "Well, if Johan indeed pulls through with his mobilization we'll have the price of labor rising. That's not something proletarians dead in Franconian fields will change. Maybe we should praise this war as an effort by the Liberals to reduce poverty?", chuckling and raising his glass for a mocking toast.
"Never change, Paul, never change.", chuckled the Vice-Chairman,"To the reduction of poverty", he joined into the toast, receiving a wave of agreement, chuckles, and SPD politicians toasting.
Sensing the mood of the room, the second man gave in,"To the reduction of poverty, you cynical bastards". A deep voice belonging to a representative from out in the Rhineland called back,"Well, we might as well join the German Radical Party, now that our Chairman's toasting by Jingo!"

"All humor aside", Paul finally asked the chairman as mood calmed and people returned to mingling back in their smaller groups, "tell me, Josef, what is your opinion on this war of ours?
"This war was not conducted by the will of our current government.", spoke Chairman Josef, "Best case is that the Republic truly is innocent, worst case the GRP actually was involved in this. None of these would justify these Bavarian demands. No, this war is a just one. At least, currently. Therefore I am inclined to perform Burgfriedenpolitik, give the Liberals some leeway to defend our Fatherland. I do agree with Bebel's sentiment to defend the homeland like any other citizen. We are proud Hanseatics, after all."
"Speaking of Ferdinand, where is he actually. Neither was he at the Special session two days ago, nor do I see him here...", inquired the vice-chairman.
"Zürich, Franz, Zürich. The man his an ill daughter down there.", replied Josef,"But if you miss him that much I'm sure he'll be on the next train into France and through the Saar back to us".
"You surely do know though, Josef, that not all agree with you", asked Paul. "A House Divided against itself cannot stand. If this becomes the Party line then it'll stay the bloody Party line, until changed.", sternly came the answer.
After angrily finishing the sentence the man immediately rose, explaining his need to leave for urgent business, picking up his bowler and exiting the room.

Act Two - The early army catches the palatinate

9tes Korps, Hauptkaserne, Saarbrücken
"Up, lads, don't you know it's war?", shouted the Sergeant at his sleepy subjects. As they jumped out of their beds, one of the soldiers quickly fired, "Requesting permission to speak freely?".

Two parts of the Hauptkaserne.

The Sergeant nodded, the soldier moved on with his question, "You're quite a speedy bunch, you officers, if you have us marching out just three days after the Bavarians declared war on us. I mean, surely general command did not have some plan for the eventuality of war with Bavaria and its cronies stored away, did it?" A few of the man's soon-to-be brothers-in-arms giggled.
"Of course not, sunshine. Officers are a true and honest yet rapid and strong group, they truly are. Now, my friends, your NCO has more things to do, other than babysit you, so get up and ready.", replied Sergeant Friedrich Eulenmeister.
He wasn't actually lying. Closing the door to a loud bang he marched on towards the Briefing room. He and his colleagues were to be briefed on their actions today and the coming days.

As he entered the room he saw that most of the NCOs already were there, discussing things in smaller groups, though a handful did arrived after him. And then the commander set up a map of the region.
"Here", the commander used a cane to circle Saarbrücken, "is where we are. There", he followed a line between Frankfurt and Karlsruhe, "is the Rhine. That's our objective. We'll be crossing towards Zweibrücken, flank Kaiserslautern, and are then intended to march to the Rhine along the French border. As you all should know, the french are our allies and have entered this war on our side, no firing at them. Anyway, the 5th will be moving out as well to support us by pushing on the northern side of our objective, while the 8th while be breaching onto the Rhine's eastern side. We suspect Kaiserslautern itself to be garrisoned though we doubt they should be of concern. The chances that they outnumber us ahead of 5ths arrival are miniscule and after the 5th's arrival simply impossible. Have any of you got questions?", the commander finally finished, after having continuously pointed out the places he mentioned.
After a low murmuring of "no"s and agreement they were dismissed.

Leaving the room, Friedrich sighed. He did not share the Jingoism of many of his comrades. Perhaps it was him being older than most of them, with the combat experience of many a fight in the colonies of the Republic, across the globe.
Or perhaps it just was him. Some might have been surprised to see him an NCO after that amount of experience, as he was a long time ago, though since then he started to blame it on his ancestry. He did have noble ancestors, after all. They were amongst the dynasties of and in areas that joined the League and then Republic voluntarily, which meant that while their power was significantly cut down to size, they often remained rich landowners with all influence that position gave.
That had been the reason he had changed his name, but obviously something as simple as that wouldn't be what granted him an officer's position. On the other hand, he was quite fine with being an NCO. It had him dealing with common soldiers and, more importantly, it always would be a sure way towards the thrill of getting into combat. Like probably a knight of his colours many generations back, Friedrich did enjoy the good fight. He did not think them necessary, but duty was duty, and if you were doing it you might as well enjoy it, he thought himself.
And as he continued pondering his life and family history he marched towards the mass hall, whistling a tune reminiscent of home.

Act Three - Fifty Thousand tickets please

West of Cottbus, Silesia
Oberst Ludwig Burgundier doubtlessly enjoyed the view through the window. He did always have a certain enjoyment in traveling via railroad, so he had been quite happy at discovering the plans High Command had determined for the 12th Corps four days after war had been declared on them by the Bavarians. It had taken an additional day to organize the rails to be cleared of civilian traffics at the time of their travel and to get the supplies and wagons into Cottbus, but now they were on an express route to Halle on the river Saale. His eyes almost sucked up the peaceful countryside sprawling to the south of the railway, all the way to the Saxon border and beyond. The officer wondered how long till the terrors of war would reach this farm and that one, till the villages and towns they passed through and by would be engulfed by tragedy of occupation or the loss of loved ones. He did not doubt the ability of the army he was part of to win this war, but Leipzig was of value, and these villages were mere pawns in the hands of Generals and politicians on all sides.

His thoughts focused on what he had been informed by the higher ranks. The 11th Corps would be railed down from Magdeburg today, as well, and together they were to attack Leipzig. He also knew that over in the West, yesterday, the Corps from Kassel had been sent south, to Fulda, from which it was supposed to breach Bavarian lines before an adequate response will have been organized there. Specifically, so he understood, their goal was Nürnberg via Würzburg, hopefully cutting off the northern states from Bavaria while also increasing pressure in the Rhineland and a potential Saxon pocket. On that he doubt the command's plan.... A saxon pocket, ridiculous. The Austrians had entered the war already, and even with Silesia sticking out, regardless of Corps 16 and 13 rushing to secure its western borders, there's no way they'd allow for an encirclement of Dresden quite that easily. No, he knew that Dresden was a tough nut to crack with the Austrians right behind them. But Leipzig would fall, he was sure. Today before sundown a 100 thousand men, almost a third of the Southern Command, will have assembled just North of it. Unless the Bavarians somehow had expected a move there, there could be no way that it was garrisoned strongly enough to deflect the incoming attack, he was sure.

As his mind contemplated potential battles and campaigns throughout southern Germany his body took over, and with a long yawn Oberst Ludwig Burgundier dozed off, not to be woken until their arrival.

by **Baja California y Sonora** » Sat Nov 21, 2015 5:08 pm

Union of the Andes

June 14th, 1901

La Libertad, D.F

The day was humid and hot, usual for the capital and the general region of coastal Ecuador. The climate didn't sit well with Luis Aguilar, an engineer from the city of La Paz. Though an archaic demonym, he considered himself a Bolivian rather than an Andean having been born and raised in the city of La Paz, the former capital of the greatest Bolivian State. At the age of the thirty he had accomplished great feats in his homeland, ranging from bridges and roads to monumental palaces and whole towns out in the western frontier. It was no surprise that his work would one day attract the attention of the president, to him however this attention was unwanted. A firm believer of Bolivian independence and democracy, Aguilar could do nothing but hope that one day Castilla would die and a new revolution take place one that would shake the Andes and give independence to all the states that existed prior to the formation. As he passed through the city center of La Libertad he noticed how well preserved the city was. The streets very clean, and buildings probably built during the colonial era looking no more than a few years old. A very elegant city, however it should be noted that outside of La Libertad's city square an industrial complex sprawled through an abundance of run down neighborhoods. The city was one of the few industrialized in the nation, however most factories were located outside of of official city limits due to their unpleasing aesthetic. Foreigners were not allowed past the city limits, unless that had a special government permission. This was due to Castilla not wanting the Andes' most eloquent city to look poor and dirty, reflecting the majority of the country

"Muchas gracias" Aguilar nodded towards the driver as he handed him a 50 peso note. He had been dropped off at the Presidential Palace of the most tyrannical leader in South American politics. The building was a large fortress, tall guard towers placed at every angle and cannons protruding from the sides. Very reminiscent of the ancient Spanish forts. As he passed the entrance a guard appeared to guide him towards the president's office. Entering the palace, he noticed how elegant the place was, obviously decorated with priceless imports. He couldn't help but awe in astonishment as how such an ugly exterior would be so pretty from the side. Halted by the guard who ordered him to stay they as he went to go check if the president would see him, Aguilar looked upwards to see murals and golden chandeliers. "The President will see you now" the guard signaled Aguilar towards a large wooden door. Aguilar entered and there was the man that held the Andes in an iron grip.

As the two greeted each other, Aguilar couldn't help but notice the various maps that the walls of the office had. Some were of the Andes, others where of South America.

"I have seen your work in the lower districts, and I must say you work very well with you have. Anyways before I get off track, I'd like to know if you'd be interested in being part of the nation's Transportation and Infrastructure Committee?" Aguilar knew this wasn't a question, but an obligation. He agreed. Before he knew it he ended up in a large room full of men of various ages. Drawing up plans for the nation's first state funded railway from La Libertad to Quito. He only remembered La Paz and longed to return home.