1812: Alternative Divergence [AH][IC-OPEN]

[Alt Div Admin]

1812 :Alternative Divergence IC THREAD [CURRENT ANNOUNCEMENTS] OOC//MAP – 01.04.2021 Main OP Tracian Empire CO-OP's Oscalantine Novacom The Ik Ka Ek Akai Axis Asteroid “Men make their own history, but they do not make it as they please.” – Karl Marx But for the sake of argument, what if we could? Be it a point of divergence or a whole new nation, what if we could make history EXACTLY at the point that we wish? Hello and welcome to another Alternative Divergence, an alternative history RP where the world is yours to do whatever you wish. For the sake of continuity, the time now is 1812 C.E.. Europe is teetering on the brink of war, as the flames of revolution are about to meet the fires of reaction in a fight for the fate of the continent. In Asia, two dynasties are claiming the legacy of the Middle Kingdom, while other realms are competing with the Europeans for colonial supremacy. All while in America, tensions are rising between the descendants of colonists and the nations of natives, and the specter of colonialism is already landing on Africa’s shores. What would be your vision of a world shaped by a nation that you call your own? House rules for dispute settlement If it is not on the app or prior post, it isn’t real Do not make wild assumptions that aren’t based in facts, ask before assuming things. Uniqueness = strength We are not saying that you should throw ducks at people and call it unique, but clever tactics will be awarded. Throwing men at the issue like the Qing dynasty did in real life, or throwing money at it like the Americans would have will not always work. We are to roleplay interesting events, not to play a game of Risk, after all. Timeskips are announced by OP The OP will decide the CURRENT year of the IC posts. It will be updated in yearly intervals. Assume that the situation is as in real life unless otherwise Alternative histories can be difficult to follow, and paradoxes can appear. This is compounded by the lack of player nations in some areas of the map. Unless it is mentioned in an accepted application or by the OP or the CO-OP’s, assume that the history is as in real life at the earliest possible point. As an example, no Ottomans would lead to Egypt having to be still led by the Mamluks, no colonization would mean that the natives still exist, and so on. Annexation Rules When attacking a NPC nation without anyone's intervention, direct the OP or one of the CO-OPs to the post in question after 1 IC page since your occupation post you can claim up to five (5) provinces at once in this way Should you be challenged before 1 page has passed, the standard procedure for war and negotiations begins. Roleplaying Battles There are a few things that should be kept in mind when fighting with other players: In all seriousness, battles should be planned rather than spontaneous. However, there is no rule against having spontaneous battles, but battles planned between players tend to be better written. Tactics > Troop size. This applies regardless of size difference. Realism will still rule supreme, but as proven many times on many battlefields, numbers are an advantage only in some situations. Admitting defeat will stack in your favor. No one likes people who refuse to accept that they are defeated. Unless the outcome of the war is predetermined OOCly between the players, the OP and the CO-OP’s will jointly decide who the winner is. That being said... there are factors that will influence who wins and who loses. This is in the order of significance... from the primary factor to less important factors. Diplomacy: An alliance = less attrition. Your supply lines are better established, your troops have higher morale due to there being an ally fighting on their side, and your navy isn't as overstretched covering all your colonies. Real life principles apply here, more participants leads to higher chances of victory. Military Strength/Weaknesses: We believe that everyone knows that this is important.. right? The OP and CO-OP's will be making a separate resource of everyone's military strengths and weaknesses from their apps. The system will work like this - the way in which you use your strength to your advantage and how you cover your weaknesses will work to your benefit. Previous Precedence: This is for fairness. If you lost a war/battle before, those points will be stacked towards your advantage. Therefore, a clever tactician can lose smaller battles to win points for a decisive battle that is to come. Similarly, a clever tactician can gobble up as much victory as possible, then make peace before "going bust." Quality of Posts: As mentioned, quality will play an important role. Of course, quantity does not mean quality, so be careful not to overwrite when a few well-placed sentences would do. The quality that we are referring to is how clever your tactics are and how well they are described ... how you use your terrain, alliances, your own military, etc. to your advantage. Current Events - Updated 28.02.2021 [url=####][EVENT #0] – Filler Space[/url] [Completed]

[Alt Div Admin]

Accepted Nations - Updated 01.04.2021

• Sao Nova Europa – Great Wei - (大魏)
• The Traansval - United Republic of Great Britain and Ireland
• Revlona – United States of Germany - (Vereinigte Staaten von Deutschland)
• Kenobot – Holy Roman Empire - (Sacrum Imperium Romanum)
• Krugmar – Exarchate of Egypt and Zanzibar - (Εξάρχεια της Αιγύπτου και της Ζανζιβάρης)
• Elysian Kentarchy – Catepanate of Italy - (Kατεπανίκιον Ἰταλίας)
• Tracian Empire - Empire of the Romans - (Βασιλεία τῶν Ῥωμαίων)
• Axis Asteroid – Kingdom of Dahomey
• Northern Socialist Council Republics – Commonwealth of Northern Republics - (Sambandsríki Norðurlýðveldanna)
• Old Tyrannia – United Italian Duchies and the States of His Majesty the King of Sardinia - (Ducati Italiani Uniti e gli Stati di Sua Maestà il Re di Sardegna)
• Intermountain States - Empire of Joseon (대조선제국)
• Draos - Kingdom of Hispania- (Reino de Hispania)
• Wasi State – Federal Enclave of the Continental United States
• Great Confederacy of Commonwealth States – Ecclesiastical State - (Status Ecclesiasticus)
• Danubian Peoples - Novgorod Rus' Federation - (Федерация Новгород Русь)
• The Imperial Warglorian Empire - Kingdom of France (Royaume de France)

Current Treaties and Alliances - Updated 28.02.2021

[Alt Div Admin]

Current Events in Progress - Updated 28.02.2021

N//A

[Sao Nova Europa]

January 1812

---

Great Wei - Shuntian (Beijing) - Prince Jing's Manor

Yang Kang

Chancellor of the Great Wei

Prince Jing

Imperial Prince of Wei

Chancellor Yang Kang was waiting in the courtyard of Prince Jing's Manor. With plants, rocks, and flowers, the courtyard was like a garden. It was a place that offered peace and quite to the Prince. Yang Kang was only thirty-two years old, yet he was already the most powerful man in the vast Wei Empire that stretched from the frozen wastes of Siberia to the bustling cities of the Yellow River Plain and from the scorching deserts of Xinjiang to the vast steppes of Mongolia.

Yang Kang owed his rapid rise to his silver tongue that allowed him to befriend Empress Chen. The young eunuch made full use of his connections to rise through the ranks, on the way using his accumulated wealth to buy the loyalty of important men. With the Xianfeng Emperor listening closely to the advices given to him by Empress Chen, it was easy for Yang Kang to become Chancellor. The man was shrewd and intelligent after all, seemed like a perfect man for the office.

Some courtiers thought Yang Kang was only a lackey of the Empress, an incompetent man whose rose to power only thanks to the whims of the Imperial Couple. But the cunning eunuch proved them wrong. He established a firm hold on government and executed a number of his opponents after a series of 'anti-corruption investigations'. Those that were loyal to him were appointed to crucial offices, ensuring tight control over the government.

"Chancellor," Prince Jing bowed slightly out of courtesy when he arrived to the courtyard. "Forgive me for making you wait."

"You needn't worry about that, your Highness," Yang Kang laughed it off as he too bowed.

Prince Jing couldn't be more different than Chancellor. He was the third brother of Emperor Xianfeng, but he lived in an austere manner, his garden notwithstanding. He was renowned for his honesty, filial piety, loyalty to his brother and his skill with the sword. He was also an accomplished poet. While others in his position would scheme, he was totally indifferent to court politics, never liking the intrigues and backstabbing of the Imperial Court.

"Chancellor, I know that my courtyard is considered to have one of the most beautiful gardens in Shuntian, but I do not think you came here simply to admire it, did you?"

"I have not, your Highness. It is about his Imperial Majesty, may he live ten thousand years. I am afraid about that his Imperial Majesty may be misled by courtiers. Consort Bai more specifically. She is only a little girl, yet she has too much influence over his Imperial Majesty; you can thus understand my concerns."

"Chancellor, as you know, I avoid entangling myself in the politics of the Court. I serve his Imperial Majesty in whichever way I can, but I do not take part in the politicking of the Court."

"I do know of this, but your Excellency is an Imperial Prince of Wei. You have a duty to counsel his Imperial Majesty if his Imperial Majesty ever strays from the path of righteousness."

"Chancellor, allow me to be blunt. I do worry that Consort Bai has too much influence over his Imperial Majesty. But I also know that you are worried about this because you owe your position to your connections with Empress Chen. If Empress Chen sees her influence with his Imperial Majesty further diminished, you are afraid you will lose your office to someone else. Well... I have admiration for your skills but I will not interfere in affairs of the Court to solve this problem of yours."

Yang Kang laughed. "Nice to see that in the midst of so much treachery and hypocrisy, your Excellency remains as blunt and honest as ever. I do admire that in you."

---

Great Wei - Shuntian (Beijing) - Forbidden City

Xianfeng Emperor

Emperor of the Great Wei

It was love at first sight. Emperor Xianfeng only had eyes for Empress Chen before her, not caring about the rest of the women of his vast harem. Yet when he saw Consort Bai, he felt his heart beating fast in a way he had never felt before. He felt vulnerable. He; the Emperor of the Great Wei, the Lord of the largest empire in the world. He was at loss of words before a mere girl who was just nineteen years old. Her bright smile, her bright red lips, her fragrant scent, her giggles. Everything about her bewitched him.

Even though she was only the daughter of a minor noble, Xianfeng granted her the rank of Imperial Consort, despite the concerns of Chancellor Yang Kang and of Empress Chen. Protocol wasn't going to stop Xianfeng from being with the woman he loved. Consort Bai had thus become one of the most influential and powerful women in the Empire. Yet she cared little about politics, except for a general desire for the welfare of the people. She was known for donating large amount of money to charities.

Consort Bai didn't win the heart of the Emperor only due to her looks. She was also an accomplished musician. Every day, the Emperor would call her in his quarters to play the Guqin for him. Her tunes could make Xianfeng forget whatever troubles he may have had. That day too the Emperor asked her to play the Guqin for him. "My love," he said, "I want to listen to your music."

Bai nodded. "At once your Imperial Majesty," she replied with her soothing voice. She laid on the floor the musical instrument and began playing as Xianfeng laid on their silken bed, closing his eyes and listening to her music.

Consort Bai Fengjiu

Imperial Consort of Wei

The melody of the tune started off gently before it took a shift and became vigorous. The music soared through the air like an eagle, taking with it the very souls of those who listened to it. The Emperor could feel peace in his heart and relax hearing this music. A smile appeared on his face; all his worries were gone.

"That's why out of all the women I have, it is you that I love."

"Thank you," Bai gently said. "Your Imperial Majesty, forgive for asking about affairs of the Court, but you seemed concerned before."

"It's nothing," Xianfeng chuckled. "Do not worry about it. It's about a petition from Grand Marshal Liu Zhao. There was a fierce debate in the Court today about whether to accept his petition or not."

"I've heard of the Grand Marshal. He is an honorable and loyal man, so I am sure his petition would not be unjustifiable."

"Indeed. That's why at the end of the day, I approved of his petition. But let's not talk about the Court my love. I come here to escape from all that scheming and politicking."

"Forgive me your Imperial Majesty," Bai bowed. "I shouldn't have brought it up."

Xianfeng got up from the bed and helped Bai get up. "You are forgiven."

Xianfeng moved his head closer to Bai. He leaned in, so his forehead rested against hers. They closed their eyes. Their breaths were shaking. Xianfeng gently leaned in and kissed Bai's warms lips. Unable to contain themselves anymore, Xianfeng held Bai's head in his hands and pulled her into a fiery and passionate kiss.

---

Great Wei - Shuntian (Beijing) - Forbidden City

Empress Chen

Empress of the Great Wei

Empress Chen was in her private quarters, surrounded by her maids. The Empress was a 'veteran' of the Imperial Household, knowing that in order to remain at the top it was necessary to be shrewd and ruthless. And so she would be now that Consort Bai threatened her hard-earned position of Empress of Wei. She wasn't about to let a little girl sideline her and steal the Emperor's affections. Her major ally in her scheming against Consort Bai was to be Chancellor Yang Kang, the eunuch who owed everything he had earned to her. To him she was writing a letter.

Your Excellency Chancellor Yang Kang,

It's been a while since we last spoke. I hope you haven't forgotten our friendship nor of the fact that it was by my counsel that his Imperial Majesty appointed you to the office of Chancellor. Now though, his Imperial Majesty is led astray by Consort Bai. She has bewitched his Imperial Majesty and exerts dangerous influence on him. As faithful courtiers of his Imperial Majesty, we cannot tolerate this. We must do our best to protect his Imperial Majesty from her demonic influence.

As Chancellor of the Great Wei, you have the influence and means to accomplish this. If you cleanse the Imperial Court from her demonic influence, glory and riches await you. His Imperial Majesty shall surely reward you for your loyalty to the Throne. I trust that your Excellency shall oversee this delicate task personally and shall deal with it in a discreet but decisive manner.

With Respect,
Empress of Wei

Empress Chen sealed the letter with her personal Imperial Seal and handed it over to one of her trusted maids to deliver it to the Chancellor.

---

Great Wei - Xinjiang - Yining

Liu Zhao

Grand Marshal of Western Military Governorate

The Western Military Governorate was one of the first conquests of the Tatar tribe that created the Wei Empire. A vast desert coveted by all. Empires and nomads fought bloody battles for centuries in this land. The Tarim Basin, an oasis in a sea of sand, was considered the jewel of Xinjiang. It was the only place where the sedentary lifestyle was the norm. Unlike other lands of the Wei Empire, the Governorate was ruled by a military administration with a Grand Marshal at the top.

That Grand Marshal was Liu Zhao. A Tatar by origin, like other Tatars who settled in China proper, his ancestors changed their name to a Chinese one to fit in as the empire became increasingly Sinicized. A strict, austere man with little patience for excuses, disobedience and corruption, Liu Zhao was widely respected both by the officials and the population of the governorate - Han and Turkic. Liu Zhao came from a long line of military officers. His grandfather took part in campaigns in Mongolia and Siberia against rebellious tribes. His father became Minister of War and authored a well received military manual.

As a young man, Liu was taught the classics, military literature and martial arts. He became swift both with the sword and the pen. His martial artistry was renowned in the empire; he was taught by Qiang Yuali, known for his Snake Sword Style. In his youth, he would participate in tournaments and showcase his martial prowess, impressing the crowds and the court officials. As a military commander, he would show his skills in Xinjiang by leading a campaign to eradicate bandits who preyed upon mercantile caravans. He set up an ambush and lured them to attack a seemingly unprotected caravan. When his cavalry struck, the bandits were massacred to the last man.

Now, though, he was sitting behind a desk in his office in Yining, capital of the Governorate, and sipping a cup of hot green tea. Before him was Bao Zhu, an eunuch envoy sent by the Imperial Court.

"His Imperial Majesty has approved of your petition," Bao said. "You should count yourself lucky, your Excellency. There was quite the debate in the Imperial Court about your petition."

"It was just," Liu replied. Chancellor Yang Kang had ordered him to open up the Tarim Basin to Han colonization, but Liu Zhao had sent a petition to the court that asked for Han colonization to be strictly regulated and to be allowed only on land offered by the Uyghurs and other local Turkic tribes. Liu felt that not doing so would risk causing racial strife and revolts. "His Imperial Majesty, in his boundless wisdom, saw that the petition was justified and he rightly approved it."

[The Traansval]

Across the river from the American Fort and Settlement of Detroit
Province of Upper Canada, United Republic of Britain.

From his position on the hills, General Isaac Brock could view through his eyeglass the American Fort Detroit, formerly a British installation when the Northwest Territory was apart of the Crown's territories in America. The fort had been abandoned as per the terms of the Treaty of Versailles as signed by the Stuart monarchs, a treaty the new Republic does not view as binding. While Britain has no want to reclaim the thirteen colonies, the western territories are of particular interest due to their being a source of furs. The Republic had authorized the establishment of the Indian Departments, one for the provinces of Upper and Lower Canada respectively, to manage relations with the Indians both within the Provinces and outside it. Agents had made contact with many of the tribes in the northwest including those under a confederation led by a Shawnee named Tecumseh, and for the past decade have been supplying the natives with guns, supplies, and strategic assistance. With the American Union having collapsed into individual states, the only resistance to Tecumseh and the Canadians have been from American militias recruited from frontier settlements and American regiments previously stationed in the west before the collapse of the Union.

Fort Detriot was being defended by an American General Hull, under his command the Indian Department and scouts were able to record a regiment of American Regulars and several units of militias from the Ohio and Michigan territories. Brock knew Hull's supplies were short, as he was receiving little aid from the States and mostly had to rely on the local settlements along with foraging, including several small raids into Upper Canada that had been repulsed by the garrison at Amherstburg. Now under Brocks command were the 41st Regiment of Foot, several battalions of militia, and a Warband of Indian allies, altogether about two thousand men with support from the Provincial Marine whose two Sloops were anchored not far off.

Brock heard footsteps behind him and turned around, seeing Major Adam Muir, commander of Brock's regulars under the 41st, and Lieutenant Frédérick Rolette, commander of the two Provincial Marine sloops. Brock gave a small bow to the men in greeting, then turned back towards viewing the American fort.

"The men are ready Isaac, their boats and prepared and they wait only for your word," Muir said, joining Brock in observing the Fort.

Brock nodded then turned to Lieutenant Rolette, "Are your men ready for the bombardment?" He inquired.

Rolette nodded, "Qui, I have dismounted guns from an armed merchantman. The battery is established on the bluffs over yonder." He stated, pointing to his left where several naval guns were mounted on carriage mounts and manned by Provincial Marine sailors. "My ships are at the ready as well Monsieur."

Brock nodded once again, then raised his eyeglass to his eye, aimed at the Fort. "Then begin the bombardment." He ordered.

Rolette gave a crisp salute and barked off a quick "Qui Monsieur" and turned around to stride towards the command tents situated behind them to relay orders to his men. Brock lowered his eyeglass and reached into his coat pocket, taking out his pocket watch. Next to him, Muir chuckled, "Be easy on them, their Provincials."

He counted seventeen minutes before a loud boom echoed across the sound followed by a hunk of iron flying through the air and slamming into the ground right before the small settlement in front of the fort. The Provincials were finding their range and seemed to be a little short. The next shot slammed right into the lower part of the fort and was followed by a full barrage of the six-gun battery. Brock looked over towards the battery and could see a man waving colored flags, signaling to the ships anchored a bit off that they were to move in.

Muir now had his own pocket watch out and asked, "How long should we keep it up?"

Brock looked back towards the fort, "We'll keep a sustained bombardment until the late noon. The Americans cannot be stupid, they'll surrender. And if they don't we'll use the cover of twilight to cover our assault."

---

Official Report to the Executive Council of the Foreign Office, as empowered by the chair Councilman Charles Grey.

Dear Sirs,

It has been two months now since I received the assignment, and can now issue a full report on my findings here. I shall go into great detail for the reference of posterity in the records of the Republic. As assigned I boarded the Saint Mary, a merchantman, in the port of Cork of the Irish Republic, and made the Atlantic journey until I arrived in the Port of Charleston. My arrival was surprisingly unmolested as I came to find out that the port had been taken by a force of Americans mostly lead by those who had fought on the side of the Stuart's during America's Revolution. I made the acquaintance of a mulatto on board who was serving as one of the crew, one of the recently freed from the Guyana colony, who made recommendations to me to hide my association with our government and my Republican sentiments. I followed his advice, which I now know to be quite wise. Those in command of the port openly flew the Union Jack alongside old battle standards of the Stuart royalists. Because the study of the Americans was not the primary mission I did not venture to greatly study these men but the minor inquests I made by associating with the leading men of the local social gatherings gave to me an impression of a rather hastily organized and unguided ideology. Some openly called for the restoration of the Stuart monarchy as the leader of a new North America, others simply called for the strengthening of Charlestown and its independence. My most educated guess is that these men's primary motivation is to maintain for themselves a city and a government that will accept them, as their loyalty to the Stuarts has made them outcasts from the main American states. It's also worth mentioning that these Charlestown Royalists spoke of related governments in the north, most likely referring to those along the border with the Canadian Provinces in American Maine, but also to a previously unknown outpost in Providence town. There seems to be no real coordination between these outposts besides occasional communication.

Thanks to my merchantmen associates I was able to make contact with smugglers who secured for my passage into the State of Columbia, the name used by the state government of what was formerly the southern half of the Carolinas. This portion of my mission I spent mostly in transit and as such was unable to make a proper survey, but as told to me by my smuggler associates and by those I met at our stops along the road, Columbia's goals are the preservation of their independence in an attempt to create an independent Republic. Many of those here are members of the Democratic-Republican Party, previously founded by American Revolutionary Thomas Jefferson. Their rhetoric speaks greatly of the want to maintain their own self-government and the preservation of rights in order to maintain a free system of commerce, including their use and sale of the enslaved.

There was great difficulty when we reached the boundaries of Columbian control, as we were harassed by horsemen of the Columbian Military and Highwaymen; for my part, I could barely tell them apart. Great bribes were able to secure our passage past Columbian checkpoints and eventually I was informed that we had left the control of Columbia and entered the no-mans-land of the so-called Freedmens Revolt. According to our reports and the testimony of my smuggler associates, many of the White residents of the middle Carolinas had fled the area, leaving only the poor Whites who had no such chance to flee. I witnessed these people when we reached the first hamlet, where we were greeted by a band of six Negros armed with muskets and wearing a mix of clothes and captured uniforms. These men were the local militia, both the defense and law for this small area, and questioned us as to our intentions along with checking our cargo. My associates handed a coin purse to the best dressed of the men, obviously the officer in charge, as a form of tariff for entering the Freedmen's territory, and from that point on our presence was welcomed. I witnessed many whites and negros living within this village, not integrated but side by side. The most unity I witnessed was in the town Inn where we stayed for the night, where Black and White men sat side by side and some, who I saw were part of the same work crews, drank together. I spoke to a Black mother who was nursing her child on the porch of a rather dilapidated hut and she told me that she and her husband had been apart of a revolt in Virginia that had taken a great trek south. This seemed to be common, as many of the Negros I encountered had originally fled from other states to the Freedmen's territory and now settled down taking up residency in abandoned houses and farms. Along the road, we also encountered former plantations now seized by the slaves who formerly ran them, and we witnessed there a kind of Democratic rule as the slaves now tended to the fields without overseers with whips. They told me that after Sunday services they gather in a council to discuss and vote on the operation of the plantation, which they've converted mostly to grain for themselves and for trade with neighboring villages.

The city of Charlotte had become the place for the government of Mister Gabriel Prosser, a revolutionary from Virginia who has been known to be the leader of the Freedmen. Despite reports from American papers, I was surprised to find Charlotte containing a great multitude of Whites, mostly my own kinsmen in the form of Scots Presbyterians, some Germans, and some Anglicans. Many were poor or craftsmen, and I saw many of the mansions and manors occupied by multiple Negro families who took up residence following their owners fleeing to nearby Columbia or Carolina. I presented the Seal of our Republic and my introductory letter signed by Councilman Grey and was presented before Mister Prosser and a council of twenty-five men, both Negro and White, who I was told was the Executive Council of the Charlotte House of Representatives. My meeting with Mister Prosser and his Council was quite productive, and I was most surprised by his intelligence and his learnedness. I presented to him works by our great Father, Paine, and was informed by Mister Prosser that he had read the works of Paine in great detail, although he still thanked me for the bound works.

I have spent multiple days in council with Prosser and his leadership, and they have informed me of their situation here. Most of the territory declares its allegiance to the Charlotte government but their actual direct rule is limited, mostly relying on locally organized militias who pledge their loyalty but take no direct order. These militias have regularly skirmished with the Carolina and Columbian forces, but neither side is entirely free to attack the Freedmen as Columbia skirmishes with the Royalists and frontier Indians while Carolina skirmishes with Virginia. Prosser has been insistent that his position will become untenable if the Americans are able to free themselves to focus on his rebellion, and that he requires direct assistance.

My ultimate recommendation is immediate assistance and regular partnership with the Prosser government. He is unique among the Americans as being the most aligned with our government and our goals. Prosser is a man we can work with, and the establishment of a Republic in southern America can successfully contain the Americans and deal a great blow to their influence and spread, along with providing us additional power in North America.

So Signed, Agent of the Foreign Office Dr. Charles Young,
Corps of Messengers

Dated the 4th of January, Year of our Lord 1812

[Sao Nova Europa]

January 1812

---

Great Wei - Shuntian (Beijing)

Yang Kang

Chancellor of the Great Wei

Yu Jingyu

Minister of Revenue

Yang Kang was seated, behind his desk, and reading a report. He was smiling and sipping a cup of fragrant green tea. "Minister of Revenue, His Excellency Yu Jingyu, has arrived!" Yang Kang heard an eunuch announce. Yu walked inside the Chancellor's chambers and bowed before him. "Your Excellency!"

"Get up," Yang Kang replied. "We should skip the formalities."

"Indeed." Yu got up. "I take it that the reason you called me in here is about Zhang Guoliang?"

Zhang Guoliang was Governor of Shandong Province. An austere, strict man with a firm belief in Legalism, he was notorious as the most authoritarian Governor in the Empire. His excessive punishments though meant that Shandong was also the province of the Great Wei with the lowest crime rates and the fewer bandits. A long-time believer in the need for naval reform, Zhang Guoliang had been pushing for the expansion and modernization of the Wei navy.

"He sent me another petition requesting that we increase our naval budget."

"Should we?"

The eunuch Chancellor sipped his cup of tea. "You should allocate some extra funds to the shipyards of Shandong. But Zhang Guoliang isn't the reason I called you here."

"Oh?" Yu exclaimed, surprised.

"I want you to discreetly allocate some funds towards the construction of new fortifications in the Ural Mountains." Before Yu could reply, Yang Kang added: "the Counts there have agreed to my request, so no need to worry about that."

"Will be doing so, but I've got to ask, why the sudden interest in the Ural Counties?"

"I have reason to believe that the Western barbarians might be making a move there. It is just a report and it might be wrong, hence why I want this to be done in a discreet manner, but I would rather not take any chances."

---

Great Wei - Shandong - Jinan

Zhang Guoliang

Governor of Shandong

Bai Zihua

Taoist Priest

Zhang Guoliang was in his office, reading a decree detailing the response of the Imperial Court to his request for greater investment in Shandong's shipyards. He suddenly heard a knock on the door. "Come in!" he exclaimed and Mo Yan, his personal secretary, entered. He bowed slightly before his superior, showing his respects.

"What is it?" Zhang asked. He wasn't one for small talk.

"Your Excellency, Bai Zihua has arrived," Mo replied.

Bai Zihua was a name that was heard a lot in the past years. A young Taoist priest, he was known for his wisdom, wit and excellent swordsmanship. He would regularly advice high ranking officials on state affairs and lecture them when he felt they were behaving immorally. He had managed to defeat many famous swordsmen in duels and he was nicknamed 'Wind Swordsman' due to his speed and ferocity.

"Send him in!"

Mo Yan obliged at once. Bai Zihua was a tall, handsome man in his thirties. He was dressed in a long white gown. He exuded a sense of calm and peace.

"Governor," Bai said while bowing slightly, "I am most pleased to meet you."

Zhang sized him up carefully. "Hmm... I expected someone more impressive."

"Why? I am but a humble priest. Why would you expect me to be impressive?"

Zhang laughed, his laughter echoing across the room. "Oh yes, I forgot, you've got maintain the act of the humble priest. Deep inside, though, you do know you are famous across the Middle Kingdom. You've recently defeated in a duel my nephew, Zhang Xuanlang."

"He was the one who challenged me. I simply obliged his request."

"I know. He told me about you. Apparently you made quite the impression."

"Governor, I don't think you asked me to come to your office to talk about my swordsmanship."

"Indeed. I will skip the formalities and go directly to the point. You've been criticizing me before state officials. You know this is an offense, right?"

"I wasn't criticizing your Excellency. I was simply stating the faults of Legalism."

"Don't beat around the bush, please. We both know what you meant."

"I believe that the harshness with which your Excellency applies the laws creates more criminals than a benevolent administration would. People are inherently good. Good behavior can occur spontaneously and naturally without the threat of canning."

"People are inherently evil. Without strict laws, there will be anarchy and chaos."

"Strict laws create criminals out of the slightest deviation. They oppress the populace and lead to revolts and anarchy."

"Without laws, people will act out their evil urges. Murder, theft, rapes and all manners of evil will become commonplace."

"Without laws, most people would still behave in an orderly manner because people are by nature good and virtuous."

"Shandong has not had a revolt in quite some time and has lower crime rates than other provinces."

"Shandong also has more supposed criminals in jails."

"You are naïve."

"You are cynical."

Zhang chuckled. "You are indeed as good a talker as they say. But are you equally good with the sword? Mo Yan, my secretary, served in the army and is a capable swordsman. Would you care to come with me to the courtyard to face him?"

"Your Excellency has ignored the points I've made and instead you challenge me to a sword duel. What good would that do? I came here to persuade you to see the errors in your ways. How would defeating your secretary serve that purpose?"

"It would not but it would please me and convince me not to fill my prisons with one more person."

Bai sighed. "Very well. I shall oblige, your Excellency."

---

Bai Zihua and Mo Yan were in the courtyard of Governor Zhang. A garden full of peach blossom trees, it provided the perfect place for a sword duel. While the literati of Wei society preferred to solve their differences through poem contests and witty remarks, warriors with knowledge of China's traditional martial arts were known to duke out in duels. A whole informal martial culture had evolved, with its own rules of conduct and ethos, partly influenced by the Tatar tribal martial ethos that encouraged men to solve their differences through combat.

Zhang watched as Bai and Mo prepared for the duel. Mo unsheathed his sword. The blade of the sword was emitting a blue light and Mo's face reflected upon it. The blade was so clear that it was like a mirror. On the other hand, Bai's sword was old, rusty and covered with dust. That sword was also scarred, a sign that it had fought many battles. One would expect a more refined sword considering the fame of Bai. This sword looked like a cheap sabre which anyone with a modest income could buy.

Yet, in the eyes of a great swordsman, the difference between Mo and Bai and their respective swords was already clear. Mo was a man holding a sword. Bai had become one with his sword.

Bai Zihua

In a split of a second, the two swords had collided. A loud clang sound was heard and it seemed like the earth shook. Mo lunged forward and struck at Bai with vicious and quick attacks. Bai parried the attacks with ease, still smiling and absolutely calm. Mo grew agitated, his attacks becoming ever furious, while Bai retained his calmness and was content with blocking the blows.

Mo struck once more, this time his sword smashing a branch of a nearby peach blossom tree. The sky was briefly obscured by a shower of peach blossoms fluttering to the ground. Bai used the obstruction to strike. Unlike Mo, Bai's strikes were elegant, dance-like and precise. He was like a surgeon, picking the exact right places. His sword slashed Mo's arm, chest and right leg. Despite bleeding and his gown being thrashed, Mo did not give up.

The swordsman pointed his sword at Bai and thrust it forward. As the sword sped forward, a loud sound was heard, revealing the strength behind the thrust. Bai did not even move his feet. His sword flickered and stabbed Mo's shoulder. Mo let out a cry and let his sword fall on the ground.

Bai sheathed his sword and bowed slightly. "You were a most masterful opponent. Thank you for showing me your skills."

Governor Zhang clapped. "You've impressed me. You are indeed as good a swordsman as my nephew said. You are both eloquent and a martial hero. A true scholar-warrior. You are free to go."

Bai bowed slightly before the Governor. "Thank you for your magnanimity. I hope that you shall extend it to everyone in Shandong."

---

Great Wei - Khanty-Mansiysk

Kadir Timergazin

Count of Khanty-Mansiysk

Bayan Olgei

Grand Marshal of Great Wei

Bayan Olgei, Grand Marshal of Great Wei, galloped forward into the 'city' of Khanty-Mansiysk. In reality, it wasn't much of city; rather it was a settlement made up of hundred of yurts. Unmounting his horse, Bayan marched into one of the greater yurts. It was guarded by half a dozen of muscled men armed with long spears.

Entering the yurt, Bayan found the Count of Khanty-Mansiysk, Kadir Timergazin, seated on a soft mat on the ground and drinking a cup of wine. Kadir was the most powerful of the Counts of the Ural Mountains. He was renowned for his martial prowess and horse-riding. It was said he had killed one hundred rebels on his own and that he had slew a bear with his bare arms, though whether such rumors were true wasn't known.

"Your Excellency!" Kadir loudly exclaimed, raising his wine cup.

"Count," Bayan replied, bowing slightly. Having been in the Imperial Court more than a couple of times, Bayan was a lot more restrained than the Count living in the wild frontiers of the Empire. "The Imperial Court has sent me to oversee the implementation of an imperial decree."

Kadir placed his cup on the floor and got up from his mat. He approached the Grand Marshal and fell to his knees, bowing before the man as Bayan opened the Imperial Decree. Even a warlord like Kadir, who had never been in the Chinese parts of the Wei Empire and never paid much attention to protocol and formalities, knew that when receiving an Imperial Decree kneeling and bowing was necessary.

Imperial Edict

Your Lordship, Count of Khanty-Mansiysk

His Imperial August Majesty, the Son of Heaven and Autocrat of All Under Heaven, Xianfeng Emperor orders your Lordship to follow His Imperial Majesty's plans for the construction of new fortifications in the Great Mountains. His Imperial Majesty trusts your Lordship to cooperate with His Excellency the Grand Marshal Bayan Olgei and offer to His Excellency all necessary material and human resources to see that the construction is swiftly completed. His Imperial Majesty has faith in your Lordship.

With the utmost respect,
Fang Shiyu,
Minister of War
Yu Jingyu,
Minister of Revenue

"You may rise," Bayan said.

Kadir got up. "You can expect the men of my tribe to assist you in the construction. I do wonder, though, why the sudden interest of his Imperial Majesty, may he live Ten Thousand Years, in the region?"

"His Imperial Majesty is wise and all-knowing. His Imperial Majesty must have his reasons for ordering such a construction. That is all anyone needs to know."

---

Great Wei - Shuntian (Beijing) - Forbidden City

Consort Bai Fengjiu

Imperial Consort of Wei

Consort Bai Fengjiu was strolling in the garden. Peach blossom trees, red and pink flowers with enchanting scent and a small crystal-clear pond formed a picturesque scenery that could bring peace to even the most restless soul. Accompanying the Consort was her maid, Huang Rong. She was Bai's most trusted servant.

"Your Excellency," Huang Rong said, "did you hear that Bai Zihua is coming to the Court?"

"Bai Zihua..." Bai Fengjiu repeated that name. "I believe I've heard that name before."

"He is a Taoist Priest who travels the country, punishing bandits and wicked officials. Even Governors have to pay respect to him. His martial skills are out of this world. It is said he once beat four hundred bandits on his own. Oh, he is also quite handsome!"

The Consort laughed. "Look at you, giggling and blushing about this man. I do wonder, why would he be invited to the Court?"

"I've heard from an eunuch that His Imperial Majesty wants him to serve as bodyguard. Although I am not sure he would accept. He has refused in the past to serve the Imperial Court. He prefers the simple life of the martial wanderer." Huang Rong was silent for a few seconds. "Consort, is Bai Zihua a relative of yours?"

"Eh? Ah, no. Just because we share the same surname, it doesn't mean he is a relative. Though I do hope to meet him, if he is really the hero you describe him to be."

"I am sure you can persuade His Imperial Majesty to let you meet him. If His Imperial Majesty is persuaded... can I come with you?"

"I'll think about it. Depends on how diligent and good you are."

"Yes, your Excellency!"

[Northern Socialist Council Republics]

Constantinople, the Roman Empire
07th January, 1812

Between the European and Asian Continents and between the Aegean and Black Seas there stands a city of lights, the heart of an old empire that beat with a vigour that belied its age. It was said among some that it is the largest and greatest of the world's cities and I, child of Niðarós, can't honestly disagree: having moved here as a young lad of seventeen years, I know little of the world outside my new home and my old, and what I remembered of my old home city was not particularly impressive.

Some people called this city a pit of intrigue and treachery. A hub of politics, a network of favours, threats, and sometimes even overt violence - it was a place where great fortune could be made for he who said the right things to the right people, and where those fortunes could be lost just as quickly. They even had a word for it - byzantine. I could only scoff at such people. The politics of the city? Complex? Well, perhaps in the Imperial Palace the gambits of chess-masters truly deserved to be coined as a word on its own, but I like having my eyes and my testicles too much to involve myself in that, so I wouldn't know anything about that. In the circles I do move in, among the merchants, the ambitious men of the military or the civil service, in the deep and dark underbelly of the city... whoever thought this city was 'byzantine' has clearly never tried playing classroom politics in an upper-class Norwegian school. The stakes may have been smaller there, but the players were no less vicious. Teenagers, after all, could be truly evil at times.

I'd know. I used to be one.

It sometimes surprised even me how far even a so-called 'barbarian' could get in life, if he made sure to fit himself into the right crowds. A part of that was just the nature of the city, of course. I've heard that the persecution of 'heretics' and 'heathens' could be much harsher elsewhere in the empire, but here in its capital... well. The wealth of the empire was vast, and there was no country on this Earth that did not want a slice of it. The streets were overflowing with foreigners, and I was hardly the only pagan Hyperborean in this city. I wasn't even the only pagan Hyperborean on this street. As long as I kept obvious swan or raven symbolism out of my clothes and pretended to nod at the statues of the man nailed to a cross, most people preferred not to know what I believed in when they needed to deal with me. I was just a face in the crowds.

Although, to those people who were in the know, I suppose I am quite a bit more than just a face in the crowds. I suppose it wouldn't be wrong to call myself a consultant of sorts. Men were often not who they pretended to be, and even if all of them were the city was large enough that individual competences and weaknesses could just get lost in the vast numbers. If you are a foreigner seeking to needle in to the city's business, that is a nightmare; after all, chances were that whoever it was whose business you were trying to needle out from under him knows the city much better than you do. That's where I come in. If you need a favour done, I can tell you who you need to ask. I can even tell you what kind of payment might interest him, and perhaps be able to arrange it for a favour of my own; money wasn't everything even to a corrupt official, after all, and the number of corrupt officials in this city is not nearly as high as is popularly believed.

Most people wanted to keep their heads down, obey the law, and get on with life. They did not want to gamble with whatever they started out with in life. That was as true here as it was in the Commonwealth.

This is what I have been educated for, after all. Oh, sure, school taught me my numbers and my letters, the continents and the oceans... but I could've gotten all of that for one-twentieth the tuition in that run-down poor boys' school that the temple in Ranheim used to run. No... the point of that tuition was not to learn the same facts that I could get from reading any book, but to rub shoulders with the next generation of movers and shakers in the Commonwealth. To learn how to rub shoulders with such people. Reading the postures of criminals to deduce who the big boss was and who owed favours to who. Sitting at a negotiating table and hide whether I'm negotiating from a position of strength or a position of weakness. Digging out with a few carefully-placed remarks what the people I talked to cared about and what they didn't care about.

That was the real point of paying for a good Northern education and everyone knew it.

The door rang out with a series of sharp knocks. It was perhaps a little early in the morning, but that was none too unusual; in this business you got used to people visiting you at odd hours very quickly. I rose out of my comfortable bench that also doubled as a short bed and answered whoever was knocking.

It took me about two seconds to recognise the woman now standing before me as an idiot. Black-and-white bunad embroidered with a stylistic depiction of the World Tree and a hat coloured to accentuate her blue eyes... might as well go climb the tallest building in the neighbourhood and scream 'look, I'm an uncultured foreign heathen' to everyone in earshot, too. And really, a woman on business on her own, in a city that was the heart of Christian Europe? This wasn't the Commonwealth, blimey; customs were different here. I was busy trying to calculate what she might want and how much I might be able to scam her out of for it when she finally spoke.

"Birgir, Sigurð's son, of Niðarós?"

Clipped voice, slight disdain for everyone around her, a certain degree of exhaustion and a desire to be anywhere but here. Official business, then, not personal. Formal Scanian dialect, with none of the short accents that Scandinavians tended to inevitably pick up if they stuck around in Constantinople for a while. Interesting.

"Of Constantinople, now," I responded, taking a lackadaisical tone that I knew would annoy serious I'm-better-than-you types like she obviously was, "I lived here for over a quarter of a century, and that's most of my life. Who's asking?"

"Bergljót, of the Swan of Tuonela," she answered.

Ah, now that was interesting. The Swan... well, it was one of those organisations that kept their internal affairs pretty confidential, so not much was publicly known about the organisation other than that it was an market broker specialising in foreign trade. Rumour had it, though, that they were involved with an inconveniently timed bread riots that managed to get some annoyingly incorruptible customs officials killed... I think in Rouen? Or Caen, something over there at any rate.

I hated people like that, to be honest. I know that my own business isn't exactly clean either, but those people... brutes. No respect for the unwritten rules, no respect for the art of subtlety, no respect, really, for the incomprehensible beauty of the great game. To me, killing someone was as good as conceding defeat; it was saying that there was nothing you could've said or done to get him on your side, or at least get him out of your way. It was saying that you didn't know how to deal with your problems except by violence.

"I wonder what does the Swan of Tuonela wants with humble old me," I mused, sitting back down on my chair and leaning my legs over to the side.

Oh, sure, I may have gotten a couple people killed by having people who wanted to murder them pay me to undermine the loyalty of their bodyguards, but getting people killed and killing people were totally not the same things. I had standards. I had scruples. I wasn't some kind of Norse berserker with blood on my war axe.

She began spinning a tale of woe, something that supposedly happened to some Novgorodian company that was paying the Swan to investigate the problem. Apparently they submitted a price that they thought was a fairly competitive bid for some delivery or another for the construction materials that a city of this size constantly needed, and the official decided to run with Egyptian labourers instead, claiming that it was cheaper that way. Supposedly the Swan was interested in whether the labourers were indeed working for less than the Novgorodian company bid, and if not what his true motivation was.

Lessee, if I remember correctly the person in charge of that section of the dockyards would be... and I believe his supervisor was... hmm?

Oh, no. I was not going there. There were some stakes that even I found too big to play for, and I liked having all my body parts.

"I'm not interested," I bluntly answered. "You'll have to find someone else. I'm more the backstreet types, you understand."

She wasted another minute or so trying to change my mind. Lady doesn't get that no means no, blimey.

"You do realise," she eventually threatened, staying calm with great effort, "how much trouble we can make for you at the Norwegian Expatriate Association in Constantinople? The Swan is not without friends even in this city. Between getting a landfall and having your connections in Niðarós dry up I don't feel that we are presenting you with a difficult choice."

"I have no doubt that the Swan of Tuonela can make more trouble for me than I can possibly imagine," I replied with a noncommittal shrug. "But you, my dear, are not the Swan. You are a minor functionary."

It only took another minute of condescending gazes and snippy remarks to get her to go away. No doubt she expected that she could make my life hell, heh, with the power of those who charged her with doing what was needed to get this done. Hyperboreans fresh off the boat and new to Constantinople like her, well. They were too stuck on how they thought the world ought to work to see how the world really did work. Especially in a big, cosmopolitan city like this. Some people didn't understand that a man's - or a woman's, for that matter - highest duty was to put food on the table and a roof overhead for their family and friends, not to oaths or to the law or whatever other nonsense people could come up with. Honour meant taking care of your people.

I gave it very good odds that I could get word around, somehow, to whoever was giving Bergljót her orders that the reason that I declined was because she was being too stuffy, or too rude, or whatever.

There were always ways.

[The Traansval]

Crowing Roosters Rest Corner Club, Downtown London, January of 1812.
Republic of England

John Bellingham shuffled down the drab streets of London, the sky above overcast emanating a grey illumination while snow, recently fallen, clung to the sidewalk cracks and roof edges. His hands were stuffed into the pockets of his overcoat, his collar turned up to keep out the lingering cold held in suspension by the air. He turned a corner and stopped in his tracks when he saw a squad of four men standing on the street corner wearing the green jackets and shakos of the London Militia. Images flashed through his mind of men dressed as them bursting through the door, the scream of his wife as he was dragged outside with irons on his wrist. Bellingham's hand reached deeper into his overcoat pocket and grasped the cold wooden handle of the .50 caliber pistol. The Militia was apparently hiring comedians as the squad burst into laughs, shaking Bellingham from his stupor. He quickly turned to his left and continued on towards his destination.

A small bell set into the doorframe jingled as Bellingham opened the door, slinking in letting the heavy oak close behind him. The warmth of the hearthfire immediately alleviating the cold of the day, and Bellingham took off his overcoat accordingly, hooking it onto the coathangers set next to the entrance. He locked eyes with the barkeep as he passed by the bar, nodding towards him and dropping a bag of coins on the counter. Past the bar, he entered the backroom and then descended a set of stairs to the cellar. He raised his fist to knock but paused after he heard a scuffle behind him. He turned to his right and looked up to see a man with a sheepish look on his face.

"Do you happen to know where the chamber room is?" He asked.

Bellingham was silent a moment before pointed towards the back of the tavern, "Down the hall, third on the left near the back." He answered.

The man smiled and gave a small bow with a "thank you" before scurrying off. Bellingham turned back and raised his fist, knocking three times with a one-second delay in between followed by two quick sharp raps. A moment passed and the sound of a deadbolt sliding back followed by the door opening admitted Bellingham to the dimly lit cellar, greeted by a gather of twelve men seated around a table lit by candles and a thirteenth at the door. Bellingham didn't know his greeter's name, nor that of any of the men; they all went by code names, and he was Mister X.

"You're late, come in come in." Said Mr. D.

Bellingham ducked his head to get under the short doorway and entered, taking a seat with his fellow gentlemen while Mr. D locked the door to the cellar.

"Have you seen Mr. Y, he hasn't arrived yet." Asked the ringleader of the group, Mr. O, sat across the table from Bellingham who shook his head. "No, I assume he's held up by this weather like I was Sir." He said.

Mr. O grunted, "Very well, we'll begin without him. Did you get the pistol?" He asked.

Bellingham nodded and reach into his pocket, taking out the pistol and placing it on the table. It was a standard .50 caliber flintlock pistol with wooden furniture. It was wholly unremarkable but it was affordable to the downtrodden merchant that was Bellingham.

"Good. The First Councilman will be in parliament tomorrow just as we suspected, our Friend confirms as such. Militia and Guards will be outside, escape is not an option. I need you to understand this." Mr. O said, staring into the eyes of Bellingham who for his part merely nodded.

"I do what I do for Justice. God Save the King!" He said.

"God Save the King!" The conspirators cheered.

Knock

One knock echoed from the door, the men turned to look at it.

Knock

A second just a second after.

Knock

The third just the same

Knock Knock

Two right next to each other. The men breathed a sigh of relief as they recognized the code. Mr. D rose to the door, Bellingham was glad that Mr. Y wasn't going to miss the final meeting of the Society. Mr. D slid the deadbolt back and opened the door a crack only for it to come flying open via the boot of a man standing in the doorway. Bellingham recognized the man asking about the chamber room, and in this moment saw him more clearly as a sturdy built man wearing the average working clothes of grey pantaloons with a black jacket.

Mr. O rose in outrage, "Who are you! What is the meaning of this!" He bellowed out.

The man reached into his pocket. Bellingham could hear the sound of boots and saw the flash of green as the first man came down the stairs. He turned around in a panic and grabbed at the pistol, then twisted back with the pistol in hand but was too late. The militiaman's musket was already leveled at him, and when the lawman saw the flintlock in his hand he squeezed the trigger sending a lead ball flying through the air. It slammed into Bellington's throat, perforating the airway, smashing through the vertebrae behind it, and exiting, flying further before lodging itself in the upper chest of Mr. O who was sent flying backward onto the floor.

The man in the doorway held up a piece of leather connected by a string to his coat pocket. Set into the leather was a piece of iron pressed with the seal of the Republic of England. "Militia, you are all under arrest! Comply!" He shouted as the room now filled with green jacketed Militiamen. As they secured the men the man walked over towards the body of Bellingham. He was completely motionless but his eyes were still wide open and filled with the last flicker of light left in him, his mouth gaping as he attempted to suck in the air only to find it exiting through the bullet hole. He was alive but paralyzed and without the ability to breathe. The man recognized this type of wound from his time in the army during the Revolution, he felt sympathy for the man but knew there was nothing he could do. He sat on his haunches for another minute before he saw the light flicker and die out in Bellingham's eyes as he succumbed to the lack of oxygen.

"Captain Miller Sir, look at this." Shouted a militiaman from across the cellar room.

David Miller, Captain of the Republic of England's London Militia, stood up, stuffing his seal in his pocket. He crossed the cellar whose walls were mostly taken up by piles of liquor casks to the far corner where a series of desks with stationary on them were set, a stove filled with hot embers which acted as central heating just a bit away. The Militiaman had his musket trained on a man sitting on the floor holding his eye where he was been struck by the militiaman. When Miller reached them the Militiaman nodded down towards a series of papers strewn on the ground.

"He was trying to burn those" The militaman said.

Miller nodded and squatted down, collecting all the papers up and leafing through them. He was quick to realize they were opened letters, correspondence with unidentified persons. He picked one out and began to read it, skimming it. The letters were mundane, almost too mundane. Miller looked at the man on the ground in suspicion and stood up. He walked over to one of the desks and opened the drawers one by one. When he tried a drawer set into the middle of a desk he found it locked. Miller reached into his boot and took out his heavy set knife, then wedged it into the gap between the drawer and the desk frame and used his strength to push on the knife like a fulcrum, breaking the wood frame and sending the drawer flying open. Inside was a paper board with rectangle-sized holes cut in it, a classic cipher. Miller picked up a letter and set it down, placing the cipher on top and lining up the words underneath.

"Loyal. Forces. At. Ready. Kill. Thelwall. Signal. For. Restoration. Loyal. Subjects. Will. Be. Restored. To. Power. Justice. Will. Be. Brought." Miller said out loud as he read the letter.

The Militiaman chuckled, "You were right Captain, a bunch of Stuart spies trying to kill the First Councilman." He said.

Miller shook his head, "Just take them all up to Newgate, and get all this seized. It's all evidence."

[Kenobot]

The Holy Roman Empire

---

January 1st 1812

The Imperial Crypt, Vienna

---

It was in the early hours of the first day of 1812 that Emperor Francis II, soaking from the rain outside, had travelled to the Imperial Crypt from the Hofburg. From The Father of Europe, Charlemagne to the saviour of the Empire, Leopold II, nearly all the Holy Roman Emperors were evacuated to the Imperial Crypt in Vienna before they could be destroyed by the revolutionary republicans. Standing over the sarcophagi of his ancestors, Francis felt an immense weight on his shoulders. To the North, the former German territories of the Empire were now under the rule of the barbarous republicans. To the South, the Eastern Roman Empire continued to loom large, much to the surprise of many. To the East, yet another Republican threat; the Russians. And Finally, to the West were Francis’ only potential friends: France and Hispania. The Holy Roman Empire, neigh all Christendom was in danger; with enemies on all sides. But together, the Catholic Powers of Europe may yet stand in their most perilous hour in a true Holy Alliance.

But Francis too was aware that it may not be enough with only the Catholic Powers. It was for this reason that he would send envoys to the other Catholic Powers of Europe, calling for an Ecumenical Council. It was time for one of the greatest failings of the Church to be mended; the Great Schism.

Before his return to the Hofburg, Emperor Francis II made his way through the Crypt over to the sarcophagus of his father, Emperor Leopold II. Leopold was the saviour of the Empire and indeed, of the Habsburg Dynasty itself. He had reformed a broken Empire and the remaining Habsburg lands into an effective Federal Empire that would last 1000 more years. But that would only be the case if his successors managed the Empire’s numerous ethnic groups effectively and oversaw good economic administration. And so as the first of many successors to come, Francis II would begin an overhaul of the Merchant Navy of the Holy Roman Empire. Commerce would be the decisive factor between victory and defeat in the coming wars. If you can’t pay your professional soldiers or their pay becomes worthless, what is the point in fighting for you? Loyalty is earnt, not given.


The Next Morning

Rising from his restless sleep of the night before, Francis II immediately grabbed a quill and ink and a piece of paper. He first wrote to the Admiralty Board, ordering that plans for a revamped Merchant Navy be prepared and put into action as soon as possible. He made note that without the commercial strength that it would bring, the Empire would suffer in the long run. After finishing writing his letter to the Admiralty Board, the Emperor wrote a short message to be sent to his Chief Minister, Foreign Minister and the Prince-Archbishop of Vienna, calling for them to meet him for lunch in the Hofburg that day.



That Afternoon

As the four men finished their meal, Francis was yet to explain why he had called them to lunch. Before he could begin to explain, the Prince-Archbishop of Vienna, Sigismund Anton von Hohenwart, began to speak.

“Your Imperial Majesty may I ask, why is it that you called us here with such urgency?” asked Prince-Archbishop von Hohenwart.

“Your Excellency, I have called you all here today because the fate of the Empire and Christendom itself demands it.” said Francis, “We are surrounded on all sides by nations we would not call friends. However there is one most strategic ally we could yet make. The Eastern Roman Empire”

“You can’t be serious!” replied the Prince-Archbishop, “They’re heretics!”

“And that’s precisely my point.” responded Francis, “It’s time to mend the schism that divides us. It didn’t have to be this way and certainly doesn’t now. We must rally our fellow Catholic leaders and petition His Holiness to request an Ecumenical Council with the Patriarch of Constantinople.”

“You can’t reasonably expect the Byzantine Emperor to agree to this without you abdicating from your role as Holy Roman Emperor. Your legitimacy would be compromised!” Exclaimed the Prince-Archbishop.

“Brother, I must agree with his excellency, the Prince-Archbishop.” said the Grand Duke of Venetia, Ferdinand, “The legitimacy and future of our dynasty would be put at risk by asking for this Ecumenical Council. What would we do if given no option but to abdicate the title?”

Finally, the Foreign Minister, Johann Philipp Stadion, Count von Warthausen, spoke up “I understand your concerns, but the Emperor is right. The French and Hispania will be so busy with the British and Germans in their own lands that we cannot look only to them. Sardinia and the Italian Duchies no doubt have their eyes on our own weakness, looking to take Milan, Venice and Istria. Lurking far to the East is the Wei Dynasty, but they may choose at any moment to emulate their ancestors and march across Eastern Europe and perhaps even further. And then of course we have the Republics of Germany and Britain. Their vile ideology and heresy poses a much more real threat than any other. They must be destroyed.”

“I couldn’t have put it better myself Count von Warthausen.” replied Francis, “As to what we would do if we had no option but to abandon the title; frankly we might be holy, but we’re certainly not Roman and struggling to maintain our status as an Empire. It wouldn’t be much of a practical change for a new title to be made. What that would be, I do not know. But we shall decide that when it comes time. For now, we must be prepared to make that sacrifice for The Church and all true Christendom.”

“Very well, your Imperial Majesty.” responded in sync, Grand Duke Ferdinand and the Prince-Archbishop.


And with that, the meeting concluded and Francis and his Foreign Minister wrote a letter to King Louis XVI of France and King Daniel I of Hispania, requesting their support in petitioning the Pope to request an Ecumenical Council with the Patriarch of Constantinople.

---

Your Majesty King Louis XVI,

The Church, the Divine Right of Kings and Christendom itself are in danger. Britain and Germany, already fallen to the heretical Protestants, have further regressed into Republics. They are affronts to the Church and God himself. In the North lies the sleeping pagan beast that once ravaged our coastlines centuries ago only waiting for an opportunity to strike and finally, just past the Ural Mountains lies the Wei Dynasty of China, who may yet reclaim the lands their ancestors once conquered centuries ago and perhaps more. It is high time the remaining Monarchies of Europe unite; to put our differences aside in order to defeat the great evil before us. We must mend the Schism with the Eastern Roman Empire. I will soon be writing to His Holiness, the Pope, asking for an Ecumenical Council to be called for this purpose and I would like to know that I have your support in such an effort. Furthermore, I would invite you to join me in Milan in the coming months so that we might further the relationship between our two great nations. I look forward to hearing from you.

Kind Regards,

Emperor Francis II
Holy Roman Emperor

Your Majesty King Daniel,

The Church, the Divine Right of Kings and Christendom itself are in danger. Britain and Germany, already fallen to the heretical Protestants, have further regressed into Republics. They are affronts to the Church and God himself. In the North lies the sleeping pagan beast that once ravaged our coastlines centuries ago only waiting for an opportunity to strike and finally, just past the Ural Mountains lies the Wei Dynasty of China, who may yet reclaim the lands their ancestors once conquered centuries ago and perhaps more. Across the Atlantic lay many threats, which may strike should we be weakened enough. It is high time the remaining Monarchies of Europe unite; to put our differences aside in order to defeat the great evil before us. We must mend the Schism with the Eastern Roman Empire. I will soon be writing to His Holiness, the Pope, asking for an Ecumenical Council to be called for this purpose and I would like to know that I have your support in such an effort.

Kind Regards,

Emperor Francis II
Holy Roman Emperor

[Elysian Kentarchy]

Neápolis, 20th of December 7321 ε.Κ (January 1st 1812),
Saint Methodius Cathedral

"The servant of God Athanasios partakes of the Body and Blood of Christ for the remission of sins and life eternal." The priest says solemnly as the young Despot receives the communion from the blessed spoon followed by the rest of his family and their guards. After the Liturgy is finished they leave the cathedral and get in their carriage. After it starts going towards the palace Anastasia takes out some papers, the day's agenda, and begins reading them to her elder brother.

"Well for the rest of your day you have a meeting with the chamberlain to discuss plans for the Christmas decorations."

The Despot's mother, Sofia, chimes in. "If you so wish, you can leave the decorating to myself and Elenia and our servants, things will look great."

The Despot nods, "I will leave it to you then mother."

Anastasia resumes speaking. "You have a meeting with some officers of the navy, no doubt to ask for more funding for the building of new ships. Makes sense since we have been neglecting it since great-grandfather's death and father kept putting it off."

Athanasios sighs. "I will make sure to tell them that I will look at what we can spare in the budget for shipbuilding, this is as good a time as any to replace some of the older ships and maybe expand the fleet. Also having some range beyond our costal fortifications would be best, though those could always use some expansion just in case the HRE tries running the gauntlet or the Franks attempt to attack Malta or, God forbid," he makes the sign of the cross, "Sicily itself. But it cannot be at the cost of our northern borders given the Sardinians."

"Of course." She says that in a matter of fact tone. "Beyond that you are to meet with some officers of the army to discuss equipment and recruitment, with the ongoing expansion of industry they will be wanting to know how we can improve things."

"They will probably be wanting more cannons."

"Most likely yes."

"With the sulfur mining and the expansions to it and charcoal we will be able to produce plenty of gunpowder at least. Expanding the cast iron industry will also pay dividends in time on the artillery front. We should also have enough to run however many drills as we want to and ensure we have a well trained artillery corps."

"As you say Athanasios."

The Despot looks out the window of his carriage and sighs, things are continuing as they always will. And maintaining that will always be a priority. So first off looking at what money can be allocated to the navy for replacing the old ships, maybe add a couple more, where they will procure them will be a matter to be dealt with later, and then increasing the amount of artillery drills for both the army and navy, including at the forts, so they can shell anyone they have to.

[Northern Socialist Council Republics]

Director's Hall of the Most Serene Company of Rome
Ribe, Danish Republic, the Commonwealth in Hyperborea
08th February 1812

It was times like these that made me celebrate the monarchies that so dominated southern Europe. They, even more than the Protestant Republics in Germany and Britain, held their secrets close to their chest in much the same way as a sieve might hold water: that is to say, not at all. Offices of state staffed by bickering incompetents whose only qualification, seemingly, was the fact that they happened to pop out of the correct uterus, surrounded by caretakers and servants that they thought beneath them and, often, not worth noticing.

One careless drunkard of a baron or a service corridor that some magnate's son didn't know existed, and Roskilde heard everything.

To the Rt. Hon. Ásbjörn of the Most Serene Carolingian Company, I wrote. I agree with your assessment that the efforts of the Holy Roman Empire to pull together a religious coalition represents a significant and hostile deviation from their previous policy positions, and I thank you for bringing this matter to my attention. It is my intention to host a Plenary Session of the Advisory Committee next week to determine the actions that the Most Serene Company of Rome should take with regards to this issue.

Sometimes it felt like the Commonwealth ran the only remotely competent society on the planet, and there were no doubt many who believed that, but as a person whose job it was to deal with foreigners I knew enough to say that this wasn't true. The price of a rationally organised society was the inability to take decisive action and the reliance of society on flexible laws. The arbitrary and absolutist nature of the Christian societies also meant that they were capable of acting quickly and at great scope even when they were not responding to an equally time-sensitive and severe crisis. At the same time, their more traditional practices enhanced the resiliency of their customs against the changing interests of the people governed by them.

Sometimes I envied them that.

Needless to say, our highest priority in the matter, for the interests of both of our Companies, must be the prevention of any meaningful religious reconciliation between Roman Catholicism and Eastern Orthodoxy. Given their common enemies and their shared disdain for the growing republicanism of Northern Europe, it is very unlikely that the Commonwealth or any of its subsidiary institutions will be able to prevent this reconciliation through direct and open overtures to either Vienna or Constantinople.

We truly did live in interesting times. When I was just starting out my career as a young girl working a clerical position on the Saimaa Canal it mattered very little how other societies organised themselves, and it mattered a great deal more what faith their leadership professed belief in. After the ripple effects from the revolutions in Britain and Germany settled, however... well, even in the Commonwealth itself there were increasingly large voices claiming that there could be no true long-term peace between societies that did not think alike, even as religious hostility against Christianity practically vanished. The growing paranoia in the remaining monarchical capitals of Europe were, if anything, a great deal worse than even that.

Therefore it is my personal opinion, conditional on the approval of the Plenary Session of course, that our Company's focus must be on the creation of a general narrative in Constantinople that a rapid change in its relationship with the Catholic west could be a source of great social disruptions. There are perhaps several different paths this Company will be able to take to that end, which will have to be discussed in greater detail with our subsidiaries in the Roman Empire itself, given that they are likely to have more recent and more detailed information about the current political landscape in that city.

The world was too vast and complex for any one mind to fully understand. That is why people developed such things as prejudices, assumptions, rules of thumb. By ignoring the irrelevant details and specifics and reducing the world as a series of abstract entities and their interactions, it became possible for great statesmen and magnates to understand millions of people and make decisions regarding their lives. This was, in itself, not a bad thing; enlightened societies could not possibly exist without it, and as a person who made decisions affecting the lives of millions I was aware of my tendency to do the same.

The problem, of course, was that there was no such thing as a truly irrelevant detail, and that if one did not take constant effort in updating their prejudices then they might find that it becomes quite detached from the reality that it is supposed to represent. And if you could influence the abstract image of the world that people had in their heads, then you could influence how they saw everything, from the words of individual people to the diplomatic overtures of entire empires.

One possible method that I wished to bring to your consideration, I continued to pen, is selling the image of the Commonwealth as a cultural sphere in and of itself, distinct from the Christendom of Continental Europe. Considering that our Republics are very different in nature to the new British and German states and that there is in fact a significant gulf in cultural practices between the average Hyperborean and the average Christian European, there is enough basis in truth from which such a worldview could be spun.

It might be a good opportunity to advance the position of the Most Serene Company of Rome in Constantinople as well.

If we sell the image that Hyperboreans do not and cannot think as a Christian does, we will be influencing the notables in Constantinople to see the imposition of either feudal or autocratic monarchy in Hyperborea as a futile effort, and we will also be influencing them to see the Hyperborean model of republicanism as posing no threat to Rome, since, the two countries lying in totally separate cultural spheres, governmental practices extant in one cannot possibly be implemented in the other.

Take the Commonwealth out of consideration, and the so-called 'republican threat' boiled down to just Britain and Germany, which was hardly the kind of existential threat that would justify the forging of partnerships between traditional rivals with many centuries of enmity to burn off. Not to mention, presenting this sort of worldview would have a secondary benefit as well: by presenting the cultural threat of Protestantism as being greater than the cultural threat of the pagan world, state officials in the Roman Empire could be made more amicable to granting Hyperboreans greater access to their markets and their society at the cost of British and German access to the same.

Why hatch a scheme to solve one problem when you can hatch one to solve many at once?

At the same time, to further the rift between Vienna's and Constantinople's diplomatic interests, I continued to pen, as quickly as the idea formulated itself in my head, it would be necessary to emphasise the threat that Catholic monarchism poses to Roman social stability. Greater religious and cultural integration between the Orthodox and Catholic nations will no doubt result in both sides adopting certain governmental practices from the other, and there are no doubt a great many palace officials and retinues of the Basileus in Constantinople who will feel threatened by the prospects of the landed nobility being granted greater power and privileges as per Catholic practices. Furthermore, the Protestant Reformation having primarily affected Catholic nations with almost no influence in Orthodox religious doctrine, perhaps a narrative could be spun that there is something about Catholicism and its theological perspectives that makes it more vulnerable to outbreaks of heresy and republicanism.

Those narratives would need to be fine-tuned, of course, at the Plenary Session, and exactly how those narratives were to be spun and driven into the heads of Constantinople's movers and shakers without giving away who was behind all of it was something that would also need to be discussed. Nonetheless, there was a value in penning ideas early, even if they were incomplete and flawed.

Affairs in Vienna are out of my scope of competence, since the Most Serene Company of Rome does not operate in the Holy Roman Empire, I finally concluded, and I leave manipulating affairs from the Holy Roman side of relations to you and your most honourable Company. Still, I hope that some ideas that may be applicable to Constantinople are also applicable in Vienna and that you are able to take some inspiration from these preliminary objectives.

I eagerly look forwards to hearing your reply, and I will ensure that you are kept posted on the decisions made at our Plenary Session.

Nothing more needed to be said; in a world of sycophants, I appreciated people who kept their business short and to the point, and I made an effort to do the same for my peers and superiors.

Regards, Aina, daughter of Kaleva, of Viipuri,
Operations Director, Most Serene Company of Rome, Ribe.

A pool of wax sealed the communication, and the envelope made its way to my outgoing pile. The affair was certainly concerning, and my mind kept trying to branch out into analyses and more planning, but I managed to rein myself in to focus my faculties on other matters within half an hour or so.

After all, much more went on in the Roman Empire than some communiques from Vienna, and the rest of my work would not patiently wait for this one incident to resolve itself.

I delved back in to the other pile of papers.

[Sao Nova Europa]

February 1812

---

Great Wei - Shuntian (Beijing) - Forbidden City

Xianfeng Emperor

Emperor of the Great Wei

"Long live the Emperor!" a hundred voices shouted in unison. "May He reign ten thousand years! May He reign ten thousand years! May He reign ten thousand years!"

The court officials all kowtowed before the Emperor. Emperor Xianfeng was sitting comfortably on his golden throne. Standing to his left and right were eunuchs, loyal servants of the crown as they were entirely dependent on the Emperor's goodwill. The throne room was richly decorated with gold and precious gems, aiming to awe even the most hard to impress visitors.

The Imperial Court was the center of Wei politics. All the leading officials of the Wei Empire were attending it; the Ministers, the Directors heading the various Departments, the leading secretariats of the Ministries and Departments and the Noble Lords, noblemen sent by the Tatar, Mongol and Manchu tribes as representatives of their respective tribes.

In the Imperial Court, officials had the right to propose policies and ideas to the Emperor. They could also initiate debates and criticize government officials, though those who did so were expected to back their criticism with convincing arguments lest they incurred the wrath of the Son of Heaven.

"Bai Zihua requests an audience!" the high-pitched voice of one of the eunuchs announced. The Taoist Priest had been invited by the Emperor to the Imperial Court, and he had wasted no time in arriving. Even an independent spirit like Bai Zihua couldn't disregard the Emperor of Wei.

Bai Zihua

Taoist Priest

The Emperor waved his hand, signaling to the eunuch to bring in the guest. Bai Zihua entered the Throne Room and walked forward, court officials standing in attention on both sides. As he neared the stairway leading to the Dragon Throne, Bai Zihua fell to his knees and kowtowed. "May His Majesty reign ten thousand years!" he repeated thrice.

"You may rise!" an eunuch said, at the Emperor's signal.

Bai Zihua rose up and looked directly at the Emperor; most people would have been terrified to lift their eyes from the floor, but Bai Zihua was no ordinary person. "Your Imperial Majesty," he softly spoke, "you requested that I come to your Imperial Court. As your Imperial Majesty must know, I am but an ordinary priest. While I am honored that your Imperial Majesty wishes my presence, I have to state that I do not wish to take on any office."

"I wish that some of my officials were as direct as you are," Emperor Xianfeng chuckled. "But I did not ask you to come here because I want to confer some state office to you. I rather requested your presence because I want you to test my personal bodyguards. Your skill with the sword is legendary, so I want to see if they can stand up to you. If they cannot, I want you to give them pointers to help them improve."

"Your Imperial Majesty, you speak too highly of me. I am but as a simple priest. It would be unwise though to disobey your Imperial Majesty, so reluctantly I'll have to accept your Imperial Majesty's commands."

---

Consort Bai Fengjiu

Imperial Consort of Wei

While servants were preparing Bai Zihua's quarters for his stay in the Forbidden City, the Taoist Priest was allowed to wander in the gardens of the Imperial Palace. Bonsai trees lined the perfect lawn in their wooden boxes. In the center, there was a pond as large as a small lake with flowering lily pads and a wooden bridge that crossed the middle. As he strolled in the garden, admiring the picturesque view it offered, Bai Zihua suddenly heard two female voices.

Looking to his right, he saw two women. One of them was a servant lady, the other looked like an Imperial Consort. She wore a purple, richly decorated dress that enhanced her stunning beauty. Bai Zihua wasn't one easily impressed, yet he had to admit that the woman was a sight to behold. Yet, he decided to turn away his gaze and continue his strolling. He knew better than to allow any emotions control him.

"Wait!" the servant lady shouted. "Please wait!"

Bai Zihua turned around and approached the two women. He bowed slightly. "Noble Lady, you have my respects," he said to the consort. "Forgive my ignorance, but I do not know how to address you."

"I am Huang Rong," the serving lady said. "I am a servant to Imperial Consort Bai Fengjiu. Her Excellency wishes to meet you. Her Excellency has heard about your martial prowess and your kindness and-"

"Enough!" Bai Fengjiu scolded Huang Rong. "Forgive my servant lady for bothering you. And please, no need to be so formal. You are renowned and virtuous man. That's why I wanted to meet you. I want to thank you for punishing wicked officials; by doing so, you help His Imperial Majesty."

"I thank your Excellency for your praise, but I am just a wandering priest. I am very much fallible and not worthy of such praise."

Bai Zihua

Taoist Priest

Before the Imperial Consort could have a chance to reply, suddenly three clad-in-black masked figures appeared, seemingly from nowhere. Two of them were holding knives in their hands, while the third was armed with a sword. Seeing them charging at the two women, Bai Zihua charged forward.

One of them attackers tried to to cut down Bai Zihua. He attacked wildly, slashing and stabbing. Bai Zihua dodged his attacks and elbowed him in the face. The man cried out as blood flowed from his nose. The Taoist found the chance to unsheathe his sword. He then struck at the man's left flank. The blade went in. Bai Zihua then brought out his sword with a twisting motion. The masked man made a cry and stumbled back; he collapsed on the grass.

Bai Zihua leaped forward, striking at the second assailant. He feinted high towards the assassin's eyes and then cut low, slashing the man's chest. The assassin screamed in pain and let go of his knife. Bai Zihua then kicked him with a powerful back kick; the man fell backward and his face hit the ground hard, knocking him out. Now only the final assassin, the one armed with the sword, remained.

Bai Zihua attacked the assassin with short, quick motions, which he parried with relative ease. "Impressive," Bai Zihua admitted. "Who are you?"

Instead of replying, the assassin slashed high at the Taoist from right to left. Bai Zihua grabbed the assassin's hand with his left hand while his sword slashed across the assassin's chest. The assassin reacted by kicking Bai Zihua's jaw, pushing him backward. The Taoist priest fell on the ground and spit some blood but he ignored his injury; he got up and slashed his sword at the assassin's head. The man swiftly swung his sword upwards and the two blades collided. A loud sound was heard. The two blades clashed again.

"Crane Swordsman!" Bai Zihua exclaimed. "You are Master Kun, the famous assassin!"

"Indeed," Kun admitted. "You are a worthy opponent Bai Zihua, I've long wanted to face you in combat. Too bad I will have to be the one to kill such a legend."

Bai Zihua somersaulted, landed behind Kun and struck with his sword. Kun was taken by surprise and was slow to react; he was barely able to parry the attack. Bai Zihua slashed again, this time more forcefully, forcing Kun on the defensive. He then fainted an attack on Kun's chest. As Kun tried to parry the attack, Bai Zihua swiftly moved his blade upward and brought it to Kun's neck. Kun was barely able to dodge the slash but his neck was slightly cut; it was only a minor cut but Kun knew it could have been far worse had he not moved as quickly as he did. Bai Zihua kicked Kun's right knee and he fell on the ground. As Kun got up, he saw Bai Zihua slashing at him. He tried to parry the attack but the Taoist's strike was too forceful and Kun's sword fell off his hand. Unarmed and with Bai Zihua's blade on his neck, Kun had no choice but to admit defeat.

"Who sent you?" the Taoist priest asked.

Instead of replying, Kun suddenly moved his neck, cutting it on Bai Zihua's blade. Blood flowed and he collapsed on the grass, a pool of blood forming around him. Bai Zihua turned around to see the Imperial Consort and her servant lady visibly shaken; they were trembling and their faces had turned ashen white in fear.

"You shouldn't be afraid," Bai Zihua reassured them. "The assassins have been dealt with. Though I have to wonder how they got in... The Forbidden City has extremely tightened security. Even the best of assassins couldn't have sneaked inside. Most likely they had assistance from someone on the inside; someone extremely powerful and influential."

---

Yang Kang

Chancellor of the Great Wei

Yu Jingyu

Minister of Revenue

Yang Kang was seated, behind his desk, and reading a report when an eunuch servant announced, "Minister of Revenue, His Excellency Yu Jingyu, has arrived!"

"Minister Yu," the Chancellor smiled as his servants left the room to leave the two men alone, "I do not recall requesting your presence."

Yu Jingyu grinned slyly. "There was a failed assassination attempt at one of the gardens. Three assassins tried to murder Her Excellency the Imperial Consort Bai Fengjiu, but were stopped by Bai Zihua. Your Excellency wouldn't happen to know anything about it, would you?"

Yang Kang ceased smiling. "Let's leave aside formalities and protocol, Jingyu. What exactly do you know?"

"I know that you owe your career to Empress Chen. I also know that the Empress is jealous of the Imperial Consort and that you yourself are afraid of the waning influence of the Empress, your strongest backer in the Imperial Court. I am also aware that you've been exchanging letters with the Empress and that you hired pugilists to come to the Palace."

"Your spy network is indeed impressive, Jingyu. I assume you fund it by skimming some state funds?" Now it was Yang Kang's turn to slyly smile and Yu Jingyu's to cease his grin. "I am very well aware of your bookkeeping. I don't have any problems with it, but his Imperial Majesty may not like it that his Minister of Revenue is stealing from the treasury, would he?"

"That leaves us in a stalemate, doesn't it?"

"The Imperial Consort has bewitched his Imperial Majesty. The Empress is worried that she will lead the Empire to ruin, if she is not stopped. By ending her life, we do a great service to his Imperial Majesty. Those who are loyal to his Imperial Majesty, are richly rewarded."

"I understand perfectly, your Excellency. I will not do anything to derail your plans, and in return I expect the Department of Palace of be entrusted to a man under my influence."

"You drive a hard bargain, Jingyu, I'll give you that. It's an agreement."

[Krugmar]

February 1812
Citadel of Saladin
Heliopolis
Egypt

Heliopolis was abuzz with activity, and not just the droll and drab lives of the everyman. Luca did not watch them, no, instead he gazed at future projects. Some were nearing completion, such as the Pałaso Ałegrézsa, which would become his new quarters within the Citadel. Unlike the Ablaq Palace, which was squalid, medieval, and of Mamluk design, the Ałegrézsa would be built in the style of his homeland, Venice. Though he had never stepped foot in the city, and nor had his ancestors for many generations, he like many other Venetians living in Eastern Rome still felt a connection.

Nearer to the Ablaq Palace, of which much had been torn down to make way for it, was the foundations of the Church of St. George. It was to be built in the Constantinoplean style, a local version of the Hagia Sophia to grace the heights of former Cairo. Luca planned for it to be consecrated as both an Orthodox and Catholic church. Ostensibly a display of interchurch dialogue, a push to end the schism and restore Christendom to its place under the Roman Emperor. In truth, it would give an easily accessible place of worship to the Barbarigos, of whom many were Catholic or crypto-Catholic, and to any distinguished visitors and guests.

It was difficult for him to see, but to the north, west of the City of the Dead, the foundations for a vast park and palatial complex were being constructed. He had been planning to dedicate it to Andronikos, but the Emperor had recently died. A pity in two ways, for much material had already been prepared with his name, and Luca had seen it necessary to send exorbitant gifts to the new emperor, Michael. Gold, silver, jewels, paintings, and slaves had accompanied his messengers reconfirming his oath of loyalty to the Basileus, and to all the institutions of the Roman state. Expensive indeed, though he knew just how to recoup his losses.

These were his plans for the Citadel, for Heliopolis, to cement Barbarigo control and authority in a most visible way. But his plans stretched further. Already their dynasty controlled Egypt, Zanzibar, and the isle of Socotra, yet he knew the price of contentedness. That he now controlled such an empire proved the weakness of the regime at Constantinople, one uninterested in restoring the glory of Rome. Only an Italian such as himself could ever understand and hope to bring Rome's light to the darkest corners of the earth where it had never hitherto penetrated.

In notebooks and on maps he had scribbled his plans and designs. Expeditions to the lands of Nubia, known as the Sudan to the former Arab rulers, would restore Christendom to lost territories. Abyssinia promised much, though its highlands were not easily taken. From the Zanzibar coast, the heart of darkness had long been a mystery to Europe, and was now a lucrative area for that most inhumane form of cargo and merchandise: humans.

But this was only Africa, and he was Viceroy of the Indian Ocean. India, Indochina, the East Indies all represented opportunities for factories and investment. The Malabar Coast had long been a vital point of trade, and would be a possible stepping stone to further opportunities. In his mind the Koreans might prove most amiable. Some concessions in his own backyard, Africa and the Red Sea, might gain him, and Rome of course, an ally and a way to crack open the East.

For now though, all were simply foundations. Foundations for a new Egypt. A Barbarigo Egypt.

[Sao Nova Europa]

February 1812

---

Great Wei - Shuntian (Beijing) - Forbidden City

Mei Changshu

Imperial Inspector

Mei Changshu marched through the Gates of the Forbidden City. To his left and right were his two bodyguards, fully armored and their faces hidden beneath terrifying helmets. The Imperial Inspector was the top investigator of the Empire of Wei. Answering directly to the Emperor, rather to the Ministry of Justice like all other investigators, he undertook only cases that concerned directly the Imperial Household.

The Imperial Inspector had the authority to question anyone in the Empire, with the exception of the Son of Heaven. No Minister or even the Chancellor could avoid answering to him. Mei Changshu had a reputation of an astute but ruthless man, one willing to do anything to get to the bottom of a case. His bodyguards were known to use torture to get the information they wanted.

Now, he was to meet with the Yue Buqun, the Imperial Palatine. The head of the 4,000 crack troops of the Imperial Guard that safeguarded the Forbidden City, the Imperial Palatine was always an eunuch in order to prevent an ambitious Palatine from seizing the Throne. Imperial Guardsmen were positioned at every possible entry point into the Forbidden City. 'If the intruders sneaked in somehow', Mei Changshu thought, 'the Imperial Guards would have noticed something'.

Yue Buqun

Imperial Palatine

Yue Buqun was renowned for his 'Wind Sword Style', a style of swordsmanship that focused on swiftness and maneuverability rather than brute force. A strict disciplinarian, he demanded total obedience from his troops and imposed the strictest of discipline. He would drill his soldiers day and night, ensuring that they would be at their best always.

When Mei Changshu reached the Palatine's chambers, he found him in his study. He was sipping a cup of green tea and fanning himself with a brown wooden fan. "Your Lordship," Yue Buqun stood up from his wooden seat to bow slightly before the Imperial Inspector.

"Buqun," Mei Changshu smiled, "we've worked together in many cases, yet you still insist on formality and protocol."

"Etiquette is everything."

"Finding criminals and punishing them is everything. I assume you've already ordered all your men to testify if they noticed anything?"

Yue Buqun nodded. "No one saw anything out of the ordinary, or even heard some weird sound. There wasn't even the slightest suspicion of something not being right."

"This leads us to three possible scenarios; your soldiers are incompetent, the intruders were too good or... the intruders had inside help. Your soldiers are some of the best the Empire has to offer and all of them are chosen for their perception and brightness in order to be able to notice any intrusions or plots, so the first scenario can be safely disregarded. No matter how good the Crane Swordsman was, he couldn't have sneaked into the Forbidden City, as all your men are crack troops and guarding all possible entry points day and night. Which leaves the third scenario as the only viable explanation; the intruders had inside help."

"Makes sense. Do you have anyone in mind yet?"

"I want your men to question the servants of all Ministers, Directors and high-ranking court officials. Only people of great influence and power could pull off something like this, so we can disregard lesser officials."

"I can assure you that if the servants know anything, they will talk. Either willingly..." Yue Buqun unsheathed his blade and caressed it, "or unwillingly...."

---

Great Wei - Western Military Governorate (Xinjiang)

Liu Zhao

Grand Marshal of Western Military Governorate

Liu Zhao was on horseback and leading a convoy of one thousand troops; two hundred cavalrymen, Uyghur and Mongolian, and eight hundred Han infantrymen. Liu was smiling. 'I am back to where I belong,' he thought. He missed active duty. Much of his duties as Grand Marshal of the Western Military Governorate were civilian and performed from behind a cozy wooden desk. Now, though, he was riding a stallion and galloping forward.

Technically though, he was still undertaking a civilian task. He was heading to inspect a new fort in the far western reaches of the Western Military Governorate. While there was no fear of an invasion from the West, bandits coming from the Central Asian steppes were a nuisance, one that the new fort hoped to further check. Liu Zhao understood very well how ironic it was for a Tatar to complain about steppe nomads, but such was the fate of nomadic peoples who had settled down.

When Liu Zhao and his men reached the fort, the Grand Marshal had to admit he was impressed. The structure was trapezoid-shaped, constructed with mud brick, and had a height of 11 meters. The fort had two wide gates, one on the western side and one of the eastern side. Long corner towers enhanced the defenses of the fort. One of the gates opened wide and Liu Zhao rode inside with his men. On the inside, the fort had barracks, stables for the horses and a small pavilion for the commanding officer.

Liu Zhao unsaddled himself. He ordered a soldier to take his horse to the stables and continued on foot by himself, entering the pavilion. He headed to the study of the commanding officer, lieutenant Abdul Yüknäki, an Uyghur officer. Abdul was quick to bow before the Grand Marshal. "Your Excellency, I hope that our work had pleased you."

"It has," Liu Zhao admitted. "You've done a good work here. This fort should further enhance our local defenses and act as a check to nomadic raiders."

"Your Excellency," Abdul spoke, "if you shall grant me the necessary funds, I could construct a series of smaller forts nearby. They could house a few troops and trough fire signals, they could quickly call for reinforcements from this fort upon sighting any nomadic intruders."

Liu Zhao thought about it for a moment. "I'll have to speak with my Director of the Treasury first, but I am inclined to approve of your idea."

---

Great Wei - Northern Frontier (Siberia)

Zhao Lianhong

The young man walked slowly amidst the snowy trees of the forest. The cold was shivering but he did not mind much as the brown fur he wore gave him protection and he was an experienced hunter. He was only nineteen years old but he had been hunting in that forest since he was thirteen. The Northern Frontier wasn't a place for reading about the classics or learning to paint calligraphic characters. It was a wild, untamed frontier. Those who tried to survive in this unhospitable environment, had to be tough and willing to suffer.

The young man's steps were slow and from time to time he looked at the snowy ground to see the footprints of the animal he was hunting; a deer. The deer had been cut off from the group, it seemed, probably because it had been injured, and thus presented an ideal prey for the young man. Zhang Lianhong had a lot of experience in hunting down animals in this forest. He had learned from the best; his uncle Zongtang. In his youth, Zongtang was renown in Yi village for his hunting abilities and for being able to survive in the snowy forest for whole weeks on his own, without any help at all. Now, a middle-aged man who had not aged well, he spent most of his time home and let Lianhong do the hunting.

After following its trail for almost a whole day, Lianhong could finally see his prey resting besides a frozen brook. The young hunter hid behind a tree, grabbed his bow and aimed an arrow at the deer. For a moment there was utter silence, that was suddenly terminated with the whooshing sound of the arrow flying towards its target. The deer now lay dead on the ground, a pool of blood forming around it. Although he did enjoy hunting, Lianhong always felt sad when he killed his prey. But this was the only skill he had and the only way he and his uncle could survive.

He walked to the deer and grabbed it. With it in his back, he began making his way home. He knew that he would not reach it until the next day, but he hoped to make some of the journey's distance before resting for the night. He was not relaxed at all with his 'victory'. Instead, he was even more alarmed and tensed as he knew that a dead deer could draw any kind of wild beasts to him. Few villagers dared to hunt in this place.

After walking as fast as he could for about an hour, Lianhong knew that he had to rest for the night. The sky darkened and he could not hope to journey for much longer. Lianhong was trembling. The wind whistled all around and above him. It was freezing. He knew that igniting any kind of fire, even a small one, was bound to lead creatures towards him. Instead, he lied on the ground and placed the deer above him, using the dead animal as a protection from the cold.

The next day, as soon as the sun appeared on clear blue sky, he woke up, grabbed the deer and continued his journey. By afternoon, he had reached Yi village. It was a small settlement, holding a population of about a hundred people. It was a colony that had been financed by the imperial government. With increased population growth in the Chinese provinces, some Han decided to leave behind their homeland and go tame this frontier. This led to the creation of hundreds of such settlements across the Northern Frontier.

Lianhong headed to his home. As all others houses in this small village, it was a small building made of wood. He knocked the door of his home and, a few seconds later, uncle Zongtang opened the door. Zongtang was tall and strong built but his age showed; his face was wrinkled, his hair and beard gray and he coughed from time to time. Yet his smile was radiant and warm. He quickly helped him with the deer he was carrying and greeted him. "I see you did well."

"I was lucky. It had been injured and cut off from its group."

"There is no such thing as luck; there is only skill. And you are skilled."

[The Traansval]

No. 70 at Whitehall, Office of the Council of State. January of 1812.
London, Republic of England.

The windows of the council room were shut but their blinds were open admitting what light could penetrate the grey wall of clouds obscuring the blue sky above. Within No. 70 Whitehall, the building legally owned and operated by the British Parliament for providing offices and workspace to the executive officers of the Council of State, the council room served as the official meeting room for the council, although it was rarely used as such as the First Councilman often took informal meetings in his personal residence, No. 10 Downing Street. The Council Room was instead used for formal meetings requiring the entire council to be present, as its large size allowed for such accommodation. To call it merely a conference room would be an understatement; the room was large, sporting a central conference table with a large number of desks on either side where aides, attaches, and assistants worked and were often called upon by seated council members. The walls were painted white and sported decorative columns in the neo-classical style popular of the day, harkening back to the glories and splendor of the days of Cicero. Hidden doors in the wall occasionally opened admitting agents of the Foreign Office delivering reports and information to update the Council on current events.

One of these reports was the main topic of conversation. Thelwall had called a War Council, a specific legal mechanism within the Instruments that allowed the Board of Admiralty, the Navy Board, and the Army Board to attend. These three plus the Councilmen, their respective Executive Councils, and the Assistant Councilmen in charge of subdepartments meant the Council Room was packed to the brim with well over a hundred men including those working on the wings. Thankfully the Council Room had been built to accommodate this, although the chatter often made the meetings difficult to direct, hence why First Councilman often preferred private meetings with his fellow Councilmen. But the growing tensions with Britain's rivals meant Thelwall needed to coordinate with the British Army, for war seemed on the horizon.

But war with France wasn't what was on the council's mind. One of Grey's Agents had sent a report on the situation in America, and it seemed that an opening for expanding British influence once more into New World had opened up.

"If Councilman Grey's agent is correct in his assessment then this is an opportunity we should seize upon for the good of the Republic. The ability to gain another port in America like Charlestown, whether under our direct control or that of an ally like Prosser would extend our reach over the Atlantic. We could operate a triangular line of patrols between Charlestown, Freetown, and Painetown. Spanish merchants would be denied Atlantic travel." Said First Admiral Nelson, as always the voice of the Navy.

Councilman Grey nodded in assent, "Mister Young is a trusted agent. He was our man in France before the Marshalcy cracked down and he had to flee. I can guarantee his descriptions are of the utmost accuracy. President Prosser is a man we can work with." He said.

"His forces leave much to be desired. If we intervene this will be a war prosecuted mostly by us, these Black Militias seem as reliable as week-old cod. Less an organized force as our Militias and more a coalition of Brigands. Agent Young himself even talks of how they extorted him to gain passage." Said Francis Burdett, Councilman of the War Office.

"The Columbian Militias are no better, a few regiments and the support of a squadron and I can deliver to you Charlestown." Said General Gwyllym Wardle, Chairman of the Army Board and Commander-In-Chief of the British Republican Army.

"We'll need to form a committee to write a new name for the city," joked Councilman Henry Hunt of the Home Office, earning him a round of chuckles from the assembled men.

First Councilman Thelwall let out a deep laugh, "Noted Henry, I'll have a bill introduced in Parliament posthaste."

Grey took a sip from a fine china teacup and spoke, "An expedition should be formed as soon as possible. The Americans will no doubt bear down on the Freedmen as soon as possible."

Wardle nodded, "I can call up some men, it will take time maybe two weeks." He said.

Nelson shook his head, "Call up the Irish Establishment, Cork is our closest port to the Americas. I have ships there already." He advised.

"The Irish can supply a Brigade but for a proper expedition we'd need to use English troops as well, three Brigades in total for a proper campaign in the Carolinas. Two Weeks." Wardle said with resolve in his voice.

"We'll need the time anyway, this action will need authorization from parliament." Supplied Thelwall.

Nelson's face soured, "Immediate action is required, if we wait for parliament we could lose valuable time."

Thelwall stared pointedly at Nelson, "Parliament will have us impeached if we send men without their authorization."

Nelson scoffed but dropped the subject. Thelwall nodded at Wardle who turned to his fellow generals of the Army Board, whispering amongst themselves. Behind them, a door opened and an assistant came in delivering a stack of papers onto one of the attache's desks. The attache rifled through the papers before coming across one he looked over with great scrutiny before standing up and striding over to the council table. He came up to the side of Councilman Hunt, whispering in his ear while handing the papers to him. Hunt nodded and waved the man off, then held up the paper while raising his reading glasses. Thelwall looked across the table at Hunt and cleared his throat.

"Anything we should know about Henry?" He questioned.

Hunt took a moment more to read before placing down the paper, stowing his glasses in his pocket, and looking over towards Thelwall. "An unfortunate complication. My agents in Bowstreet Tribunal were undertaking an investigation alongside the London Militia into Stuart Loyalists. The media has gotten word of this." He said before he handed the newspaper to his assistant behind him who took it over to Thelwall. The First Councilman held the paper up reading the headline.

Militia breaks up Loyalist Spy Ring, Twart Attempt to Assassinate First Councilman.

Thelwall lowered the paper, "You could've told me I was the target." He said, annoyance in his voice.

Hunt held up his hands, "We had no idea, we only know they were corresponding with the exiles in France. There was a Captain in the Militia who suspected but we had no evidence."

Burdett laughed, "A Militia Captain outperforming the good Councilman's Runners? Perhaps he should lead the Home Office."

"He has been most helpful in this investigation," Hunt admitted.

Thelwall shook his head, "This is an outrage. The absolutely disgraceful conduct of these Royalists; tyrants when in power, assassins when in exile. And France harbors them, protecting them. As long as the Bourbons reign in France they will send spies and assassins. The people will call for the blood of Louis and I cannot disagree with them." He said, his voice growing in anger.

Nelson stood up sharply, his fist clenched on the table, "Give the word sir and I shall put a torch to Bordeaux. I will personally see an army of a hundred thousand free men in arms ferried across the channel."

"Calm Horatio, the time is not yet right." Advised Grey.

"When will it be time. The Germans stand at the ready, the Norse await our call, while the French, the Spanish, and the Danubians squabble with the Romans. The people of France call out to us, men of the Jacobin club tell us of the abuses of the Bourbons, they tell us of how the people of Paris await their Liberation. We need only to reach out and grasp victory." Nelson spoke, heated in rambling speech.

Grey shook his head, "The forces of reaction are assembled against us, Horatio. The Holy Roman Emperor has called for a great council in Rome to mend the schism, their opposition to our Enlightenment greater than their religious schism. We will soon find ourselves embroiled in a Great War against the combined forces of Aristocracy and Monarchy, we should not enter it in haste." He said calmly.

With a calm nod of respect and agreement, Nelson sat down, pondering this new development. Thelwall looked towards Grey and spoke, "What have our overtures with the Norse accomplished?"

Grey turned and snapped his fingers, calling for one of his attaches to come. He was handed a series of papers apart of a report from the British Envoy. "They are as concerned about the growing coalition as we are. We've made informal inquisitions and they are open to an alliance." He said.

"Begin formal overtures, the sooner we can bring together the Norse and the Germans with us the sooner we'll be in a position to counter the Royalists. Extend to them my personal invitations." Thelwall said.

Grey nodded, "I'll convene a meeting at the Foreign Office, we'll send communiques to their respective embassies in London." He said.

"Good," Thelwall said, "Now if you don't mind I'd like to adjourn this meeting for lunch. We'll convene again tomorrow."

---

Diplomatic Communique of the United Republic of Great Britain and Ireland
From the Office for Foreign Affairs on behalf of the First Councilman of the Council of State

By right of the people, by the empowerment of Parliament, and by the confidence of the First Councilman, I write to you great Ambassadors of Germania and Scandinavia. The forces of reaction brew as a storm cloud on the horizon, threatening war and the destruction of our combined great Republican experiment. To counter this force the First Councilman invites dignitaries of your states to London so that we might enter into a mutual compact for the defense of our realms and the protection of our people, our rights, and our governments against the Royalist forces. Already they engage in saber rattling, building up their forces, while they send spies on missions of sabotage, assassination, and lies. The importance of this meeting is of the utmost importance to the First Councilman, and he awaits your arrival with great expectation.

So signed this 21st Day of January 1812


Councilman for Foreign Affairs for Great Britain and Ireland

First Councilman for Great Britain and Ireland

[Sao Nova Europa]

February 1812

---

Great Wei - Khanty-Mansiysk

Kadir Timergazin

Count of Khanty-Mansiysk

Bayan Olgei had to admit that despite his initial reservations, he was enjoying his assignment at the County of Khanty-Mansiysk. At heart, he remained a Tatar, a nomad. The Imperial Court, with all its luxuries, finesse, pompousness and strict protocol, just wasn't for him. But here, in the vast plains of West Siberia, he felt far more free. Count Kadir Timergazin wasn't one to stick to protocol and formalities. He was blunt and direct, qualities that Bayan found admirable, especially when he contrasted them with the constant intrigues and treacheries of the Imperial Court in Shuntian.

Bayan and Kadir were inside the latter's personal yurt, accompanied by a number of nobles of Kadir's tribe. They were all gulping down wine and laughing. The fort-construction project that Bayan had been tasked with was going along smoothly, with the valuable aid - both in terms of resources and of men - of the Count, and thus they could relax and enjoy themselves.

"I've got to say," Bayan raised his wine cup, "that your men are pretty hard-working. The fortification is being constructed at quite a rapid pace. Cheers to your men, Count!"

"Cheers!" everyone shouted as they gulped their wine.

"All my men are tough and hardworking, because they have to be," Kadir explained. "We do not have the luxuries of China here. Our very survival depends on us being tougher than this wild, untamed land. If we are not tough, we are dead."

Bayan Olgei

Grand Marshal of Great Wei

"The North certainly makes tough men. Luxuries soften us. I doubt anyone in the Imperial Court could survive a week here," Bayan laughed.

"That's why they need men like us to defend them. Though I do have to admit that once I would like to see this Imperial Court with my own eyes. I've never visited China."

"China is a majestic place, but the Imperial Court is a pit of snakes. It's far more dangerous than here."

"Oh? Didn't you say that the courtiers are soft?"

"Physically, yes. But mentally... that's another case. Every one of them has his own agenda. Alliances and loyalties shift constantly, and those who cannot keep up end up either retired, imprisoned or dead. Intrigue and plotting is the norm. If you go to the Imperial Court expecting bluntness and an honest fight, in less than a week you will end up getting killed. Only the masters of intrigue survive long, at least until someone new comes in and beats them in their own game."

"Snakes indeed..."

---

Great Wei - Shandong - Jinan

Zhang Guoliang

Governor of Shandong

Mo Yan bowed before the Governor. Governor Zhang Guoliang was sitting behind his wooden desk and sipping a cup of green tea. He waved his hand, signaling Mo Yan that he could rise.

"Your Excellency," Mo Yan spoke, "I came here to update you on the shipbuilding project. We've constructed two new naval junks. In the next months, we hope to complete the construction of twenty vessels."

"We are still lagging behind other naval powers," Zhang sighed, "but that's the best we can do with the funding the Imperial Court provides us. I'm also going to petition the Imperial Court for the founding of a new Naval Academy in Jinan. We need forward-thinking, professional naval officers."

"Will draft that petition, your Excellency. However..." Mo Yan hesitated for a moment. "Sources tell me that the Chancellor believes the Rus barbarians in the far West will make some move against us. I do not know if this is indeed true, but if it is, the Chancellor will direct most resources towards the land forces."

"I will be petitioning for more resources regardless. People said the same thing about me petitioning resources for the construction of new ships. 'It will never be approved'. And yet, after sending petition after petition, I managed to get them to approve the funding. I'll do the same thing. Pester them until they come to their senses."

---

Great Wei - Shuntian (Beijing) - Prince Jing's Manor

Mei Changshu

Imperial Inspector

Prince Jing was strolling in his garden. Such leisure walks always relaxed him. He preferred admiring alone the beauty of nature rather than partaking in feasts with all manners of annoying people. Peace was what he most desired; peace and calmness. It was one of the reasons he never engaged in affairs of the Imperial Court. He detested the politicking, the intrigues, the faked friendships. As he was admiring the picturesque scenery, he heard the sound of footsteps. Turning around, he saw the Imperial Inspector Mei Changshu.

The Prince had almost forgotten that the Inspector was coming over, to speak to him about the recent assassination attempt at the Imperial Palace. Truth be told, Prince Jing never liked the man. He was too ruthless and harsh for his tastes. "Inspector," Jing bowed slightly, "I assume you came over to question me?"

"No," the Inspector replied. "I also did not ask the Imperial Palatine to question your servants. Your Highness are not the kind of person who would order such an assassination."

Prince Jing

Imperial Prince of Wei

"Oh? Thank you, Inspector. I do have to wonder though, if you are not here to question me, why are you here?"

"Consort Bai Fengjiu has her fair share of enemies in the Imperial Court, some of them extremely powerful. Of course, without any kind of proof, we cannot accuse anyone. After all, if we arrested people in the Imperial Court because they held grudges against someone, we would have to arrest the entire court," Mei Changshu laughed, though Prince Jing was less than impressed with the joke. "My attempts to find out some proof by questioning the servants has turned out nothing at all. And do trust me, I used torture when necessary, but all I managed to get out of the most suspect of servants was that our Chancellor has an interest in martial arts, something not exactly incriminating."

"Inspector, I still do not understand the purpose of your visit."

"I need someone who is both influential and honest. Someone who is noble, both by birth and by character. Someone who can make friends with some powerful men but at the same time not be entangled in the intrigues and factions of the court. That someone is you, your Highness."

"You want me to befriend people you suspect of ordering the assassination, pretend that I too am an enemy of Consort Bai and find incriminating evidence?"

Mei Changshu nodded. "Exactly."

"I hate to disappoint you, but I have no desire to entangle myself in affairs of the Imperial Court. Besides, I am not good at this. I am not knowledgeable of lying, intrigues and plotting. I would most certainly fail."

"Exactly because you do not desire to involve yourself in affairs of the Imperial Court, you will be able to win their trust. You are not affiliated with any faction and people know you have no desire to seek power and influence, so they will not suspect you have some kind of hidden agenda. Your Highness is right to point out you are bad at lying and have no experience in the intrigues of the court, which is why people will believe you. They do not think of you as capable of lying and plotting, and so they will have their guard down. You are the perfect man for the job, your Highness. Do not pass this up. You have a duty to his Imperial Majesty."

Jing sighed. He hated to admit it, but this 'cold, calculating bastard' was right. "Fine. Who do you want me to befriend?"

"Chancellor Yang Kang and Minister Yu Jingyu. But do be careful. Your Highness might be a brother of his Imperial Majesty, but that does not mean that they will not dare to go against you if they realize your true intentions. People who were willing to murder the favorite Consort of his Imperial Majesty wouldn't hesitate at slandering or even murdering an Imperial Prince."

[Northern Socialist Council Republics]

The Grand Palace of the Four Nations,
Roskilde, Danish Republic, the Commonwealth in Hyperborea
10th of February, 1812

At a small conference room near the edge of the second floor of the Grand Palace, a lively discussion was happening. Unlike many other majestic capitals of Europe, the Grand Palace of the Four Nations did not overlook a vast and vibrant city, but rather sat near the outskirts of a rather small country town, looking completely out of place with its stone and marble against the backdrop of wooden houses, stores, and workshops.

When the Scandinavian Kingdoms began to have enough of an administrative civil service to make necessary the designation of a formal and permanent capital city, the mercantile interests of Scandinavia had just finished exhausting themselves out on a long, drawn-out war against the Hanseatic League that ended inconclusively, letting the landed nobility of Denmark impose their will on the King in keeping the capital out of the borders of the great cities.

It could've gone completely differently. Had the war taken place fifteen years earlier or later, had a couple of battles gone differently, the Grand Palace might have sat overlooking the vast urban sprawl of Copenhagen or Gothenburg. But they didn't, and so it didn't. By such coincidental happenstance is history made.

"There's little reason to completely reject their invitation," argued the representative for the Seneschal of Norway. "Nothing says that the Commonwealth has to agree to anything proposed at the conference, and we will at least be able to hear what they have to offer. The priority of the Norwegian Republic with regards the Commonwealth's policy towards Britain is and has been for some time the recovery of our illegally-occupied territories, and surely liberating our occupied citizens will be something that the Commonwealth is willing to make some concessions for."

"Better relations with Britain will almost certainly mean that we will be able to break into their markets," the delegate for the Most Serene North Sea Company reminded the room. "It'll mean a more secure peace and greater influence in the British Isles. Right now Hyperboreans are viewed with no small suspicion by the local population over there, which makes business... difficult."

The atmosphere in the room, however, was fairly hostile. The Commonwealth considered the British conquest of the Orkneys a stain on its honour, and the Commonwealth took its honour quite seriously. But it was, ultimately, just a cluster of impoverished, wind-swept islands, and the Commonwealth had interests in too many corners of the Earth to focus itself on just one. Even when it came to the reclamation of its own rightful territory, the price that the Commonwealth was willing to pay was limited.

"It'll mean a British-dominated North Sea, is what you mean," countered the Senior Secretary for the Admiralty. "Peace doesn't just mean a temporary absence of active military combat; it means security, and security is something that we will never have so long as the British continue to dominate the waves. As long as we remain interested in breaking the British fleet - and we both are and should be interested in that - no alliance with Britain can remain really stable over the very long term."

"Limitations to naval armaments could certainly be among the topics discussed," insisted the delegate of the North Sea Company. "And in any case, there is no reason why simple attendance must necessarily lead to a change in the Commonwealth's policies; if we do not like what we are offered, we can leave."

"On the other hand," a delegate representing the interests of both the Most Serene Carolingian Company and the Most Serene Company of Rome pointed out, "the British have been pretty explicit about what they expect out of this conference: cooperation against the so-called 'royalist forces'."

She cleared her throat, before continuing to speak.

"The Companies that I represent happen to depend on good relations with the Christian monarchies of Europe," she noted, "and attending a conference of nations hostile to them sends a signal that will be extremely detrimental to the interests that I represent. Not to mention, it is to the benefit of the wider Commonwealth as a whole that our citizens in Paris, Vienna, or Constantinople continue to stay there and stay there in good standing. Not only do they bring in considerable wealth to our homelands, but they are both our sensors and our actuators when it comes to the Commonwealth's ability to manipulate European affairs and keep the Commonwealth out of difficulties. The worst case scenario is not we agree to nothing, it's that the European Christian monarchies start seeing the sizable Hyperborean expatriate communities in their cities as a threat and start actually enforcing the anti-pagan religious legislation that some of them still have on the books. We do not want to see a purge of our populations there, nor do we want the era of Inquisitions to return."

Next to express his opinions was the Seneschal of Denmark. He was a small, heavy-set man, with a visage that almost reminded anyone who met him of mice. A misleading first impression, of course, since unlike mice he had a clear, binary, and righteous view on the world. Depending on who you asked, that was either naively idiotic or refreshingly honest.

"Perhaps we can play both sides against each other? If we manage to trigger a major European war between the Christian republics and the Christian monarchies, our diplomatic position with regards both sides will be considerably improved. Perhaps we can even get the Orkneys handed back to us with no great strugge."

"Sure, for the duration of the conflict," countered the Commandant of the Army. "Then afterwards, whoever won is going to come after us for their pound of flesh. We're not equipped to fight half of Europe, regardless of which half it happens to be. No... I agree that diplomatic tensions between Northern and Southern Europe will be to our advantage, but not if it triggers a decisive major war that will, inevitably, produce a decisive major winner. We don't want to see Europe ideologically consolidated, even if it's under our own ideology. If there is, despite our efforts, to be such a decisive major war, then we'll have to declare a side and hope it's the winning one."

"You don't believe that, in a war-exhausted Europe, we can be a big enough wild card to keep the victorious coalition cautious in their demands?"

"No," the Commandant bluntly stated. ""There are, what, five million Scandinavians? Call it six millions for the Commonwealth as a whole. Anyone who thinks we can march our brigades into a European Christendom 200 million strong and expect to make much of a difference is a fool. Sure, we have a navy, and the Admiralty has done a wonderful job of maintaining it as a force to be feared, but that's not a relevant factor in a conflict that will almost certainly be fought in the heart of Europe."

"I'm inclined to agree with the Rt. Honourable Commandant Reynir," the representative for the Carolingian Company and the Company of Rome nodded. "Our intelligence network is... truly vast, and the Commonwealth is excellently served by the freedom of action that this affords us. Jettisoning this by openly and incontrovertibly declaring a side, or by creating a diplomatic environment in which there aren't multiple sides to choose from, seems unwise."

"We have already effectively declared a side," the representative for Norway countered. "We are all agreed, at least, that Britain is illegally occupying Commonwealth territory and Commonwealth citizens?"

A round of nods went around the table. While many of them were not, ultimately, all that interested in resolving the British occupation, openly saying so and advocating for abandoning their lost islands was to commit political suicide by public outrage.

"Then we have already declared that we are interested in cooperating with whoever can return those islands to us," the representative continued, "whether that's Britain herself, or her enemies imposing terms on her."

Despite the passionate arguments from both sides of the debate, the discussion quickly reached an impasse, incompatible interests clashing with each other. The Council was neither able to completely consolidate itself in favour of attendance, nor was it able to consolidate itself against.

In the end, the only consensus reached was to wait and watch how German Republics and the Christian monarchies chose to respond, before making the Commonwealth's own commitments.

[Sao Nova Europa]

The Lands of Wei

by William Jardine

Pages 11 - 13

Wei has the size of a continent. If the imperial mapmakers I've met are to be believed, it is twice the size of Europe. It is indeed the largest realm in the entire world. It extends from the frozen plains of Siberia to the scorching deserts of Central Asia, and from the bustling cities of China to the steppes of Mongolia. Indeed, the realm is so large that it contains all kind of environments. Imagine dear reader a realm that would extend from the Arabian deserts to the frozen lands of Hyperborea, and from Constantinople to Hispania.

The Tatars themselves divide their realm into five regions. I shall mention those regions in great detail in later chapters of this book, but let me dear reader give you a short description of those regions.

The first region is China, an ancient land. It is an area along the Yellow river, where the ancestors of the Chinese originated. Indeed, Wei scholars are always quick to point out that China is confined to the region that belongs to the Wei Empire and where the ancient, majestic Zhou Dynasty rose, dismissing the south as a barbaric realm. China is rich and populous. It is the heart of the Empire, where all the best theaters, restaurants and sights are. It is the intellectual center of the empire, where the brightest scholars live and debate the merits of Confucianism, Buddhism and Taoism.

The second region is the called 'the Steppe Lands'. As the name suggests, this is the land of the nomads. The nomads live in felt tents called yurts. From a young age, their children learn how to ride a horse and shoot from a bow while on horseback. They own sheep and cows but due to the dramatic changes in seasons that bring harsh weather, they have to move throughout the year to find good spots for their livestock. In winter, they often move in front of a mountain for shelter. In spring and summer, next to a river for water supply, and in autumn up a hill to collect hay for the winter. They never live in one place for too long.

The third region is the so-called 'Western Military Governorate'. It is the Arabia of Wei. A vast desert coveted by all. Empires and nomads fought bloody battles for centuries in this land. The Tarim Basin, an oasis in a sea of sand, is the jewel of the Governorate. It is the only place where the sedentary lifestyle is the norm. The inhabitants of those urban centers are Chinese and Turks. The Turks practice Islam and their cities are adorned with sky high mosques, the prayers being heard from miles away. Outside of the Tarim Basin, various nomadic peoples wander the deserts of the Governorate.

The fourth region is the 'Northern Frontier', the frozen plains of Siberia. It is by far the largest region of the empire, but also the one most sparsely populated. A snowy land, filled with dozens of small settlements where hunters, outlaws and adventurers mingle. None of the strict protocol or etiquette of Wei society has taken hold there. There is a freedom unique in Wei. But Siberia is a land untamed, wild. It is full of wild beats, freezing forests and conditions so harsh that even thinking about them makes one shudder. How people survive in such conditions, is beyond me.

The fifth region is called 'Uralia', the counties that lie to the east of the Ural Mountains, the borders between Europe and Asia. One would imagine counts comparable to those of continental Europe, but no. Those counts are nomadic warlords, Turkish by origin, who live a nomadic lifestyle. They are wild and violent, even when compared to the Mongols and Tatars. An untamed bunch, but very brave, very spirited and very strong. It is said that they are the best warriors in the entire world, and I am almost inclined to believe that claim.

Page 54

The gargantuan Forbidden City where the Emperor and his court reside is unlike any palace complex that exists in Europe. The awe one feels when witnessing that sight is overwhelming. Words cannot describe the magnificence and beauty of that place. I really believed I was in Heaven. I blinked again and again, unable to believe what lay before me. The great red steel gates, the seemingly endless supply of guards, each distinguished by ethnicity by the colors their uniforms bore, the grand statues of dragons and tigers. There is perhaps no other place in the entire world that better encapsulates the words 'autocracy' and 'awe'.

Page 56

The Emperor has a harem of thousands of women, chosen for their beauty, nobility and education. I do not believe any monarch in Europe or elsewhere has so many women as his personal harem. I had the privilege of being allowed to walk one day in the Imperial Garden, accompanied by eunuchs and guards. I saw a woman most beautiful. She had a pale complexion that was complimented by her fiery red lips, her rosy cheeks and her gem like eyes that shone like the clear and piercing light of the moon. I learned that she was one of the Emperor's concubines. Even more surprisingly, I learned that she was one of the more plain looking ones. If the plain concubines were so beautiful and bewitching, I cannot even begin to imagine how the most beautiful of the harem's women look like.

Page 57

Having befriended a courtier, I was able to hear some of the gossip of the court. Apparently the Emperor is infatuated with a young woman, who now wields great power in the Empire.

Page 58

The Imperial Court of Wei is the most dangerous place in the world. Everyone plots against everyone. Alliances and loyalties shift constantly, factions vie for influence and scheming is the norm. And yet, all this is done quietly. Everyone is polite, smiles and talks in a polished, intellectual manner. If you had no idea of the inner workings of the court, you would be inclined to believe that total harmony was the rule.

Page 110

The Chinese practice dance-like forms of martial arts that are most unique and most lethal. I myself saw a swordsman demonstrate his mastery of the saber in one occasion. His movements were swift like the wing, powerful like a wolf, elegant like a lady. It is rumored that such swordsmen also cultivate a sort of internal energy called Qi. By cultivating it, they can leap to unbelievable heights, strike with ferocious force, live longer, even create gusts of wind or balls of fire. I myself have not witnessed this magic, but I've been told about it by people who are credible and whom I trust, so dear reader please do not be hasty in rejecting this idea.

[Northern Socialist Council Republics]

Imperial Palace, Hanseong, Korea Proper, the Joseon Empire
11th of March, 1812

Secretary Kustaa, son of Karhu, of Pyongyang, bent himself in a deep kowtow. As the first Secretary in the Most Serene Company of the Oriental Seas to be born and raised in Asia instead of being sent there from the Commonwealth proper, the ceremonial etiquette of the Koreans came... well, not naturally, nor fluently, but at least comfortably to him.

"This humble servant of the Bukseosa greets the everlasting glory of the Imperial Throne," he spoke, introducing himself.

Obviously, the native peoples of Asia did not call the Company of the Oriental Seas that; after all, if they simply translated the names of European trade companies, then what would distinguish all the different companies from all the different nations that came to do business in East Asia? There had to be at least half a dozen that used some variation on the 'East Indian Trade Company'. Instead, the Koreans called the Hyperborean institution the Northwestern Company, their link to what they saw as the frozen-over northwestern frontier of civilisation.

Being given leave to stand, Kustaa did so, his white courtly robes settling on him. He faced the attention of His Majesty the Honghui Emperor himself.

Kustaa had heard that many European delegations often balked at the rites and ceremonies of the Joseon court. Indeed, the rites and ceremonies of these ancient eastern realms, with autocratic traditions often dating back thousands of years, could be much more complex, much more elaborate, and much more absolutist than those of the enlightened monarchies of Europe, with their powerful nobility and feudal traditions. Compared to the republican traditions of the Protestant states, the difference was even more stark. Many, especially the aristocratic nobility that Christian monarchies tended to appoint as ambassadors, felt that showing such submissive gestures to a foreign and, as they saw it, barbarian throne was beneath their dignity and besmirched the honour of the states which they represented.

The men and women of the Most Serene Company of the Oriental Seas, however, considered themselves a bit more intelligent than that. You could insist that this is Europe and that the people around you tolerate your European ways, or you can actually do some real business and make money. A lot of money. The Most Serene Company generally preferred to do the latter. Not least of the reasons why the Commonwealth so successfully tied itself to the rest of the world without having even a single overseas colony to its name was the ability of the Hyperborean people to simultaneously adapt to the customs and traditions of the foreign realms in which they lived while also carefully preserving their own.

That was why Hyperborea was able to wrestle a status not unlike Britain, France, or Hispania - all major colonial powers - in the court at Hanseong. Of the European powers, only Rome held a clearly superior status.

"If it pleases Your Majesty," Kustaa continued, "this servant wishes to present gifts to the Imperial Throne from the Right Honourable Director Katrín of the Northwestern Company and present the latest tidings of Occidental affairs."

The Most Serene Company of the Oriental Seas took relations with the Korean throne extremely seriously. Not only did Joseon have colonies scattered across the Indian and Pacific Oceans, meaning that good relations with the Koreans opened up trade opportunities in three continents, but their outwards-looking attitude and mercantile society was something that Hyperboreans found much more familiar than the aristocratic isolationism of the Wei.

It was no coincidence that the largest temple of the Northern Faith outside of Europe was situated in Korean Ceylon. There were opportunities aplenty here, and it was a law of nature that where there was opportunity there would also be Hyperboreans. The Most Serene Company had few interests in Korea Proper, since Korean merchants naturally dominated trade between the homeland of the Great Joseon Empire and here colonies and the Most Serene Company tended to focus more on trade between those colonies and Europe, but Hanseong was where the political power was situated and it wasn't like Hyperborean interest in Joseon was entirely commercial in nature.

While, as the Secretary for Joseon Affairs in the Most Serene Company of the Oriental Seas, Kustaa nominally only held power over members of the Company in Joseon, unofficially all significant Commonwealth institutions working in Joseon or her colonies recognised Kustaa as their de-facto leader. The Commonwealth did not have any equivalent to what other countries called a Ministry of Foreign Affairs, and as such the Commonwealth's trade companies usually represented the interests of all Hyperborean expatriates, even those not part of the trade company in question, in foreign courts.

And Kustaa did everything in his power to present the Commonwealth in Hyperborea as a civilised and respectable realm, worthy of the attention of the Joseon court in a way that other strange and faraway nations were not.

The crates were open, and the furs were revealed. A hundred winter coats, expertly worked in Ceylon from the finest arctic fox pelts harvested in Hálogaland, was a gift almost unthinkably large for even the relatively affluent, but it was a small concession in business that was done at the scale of trade companies and nations. But that wouldn't matter; the gift was not meant to be a bribe, and as a gesture of goodwill and as a confirmation of the Company's intent to maintain its traditional friendship with the empire, it would serve excellently. It wasn't so small that the Koreans would consider it a token gesture or, worse, an insult, and for those purposes that was good enough.

If only the Chinese were this open-minded about things. The Company has tried for decades to break into that large and wealthy market, and all they had to show for their efforts was a few small coastal factories.

The gifts having been presented and the formal pleasantries having been exchanged, Kustaa moved to the more substantive portion of the discussions. A Secretary of the Company has appeared before this court to speak about significant events in the Commonwealth and her neighbours every year for the past half-century, and this year was no exception. The traditionalists at court tended to be dismissive of western affairs, with little interest in the business of what they saw as barbarians, but among the reformists there were plenty of officials tied to mercantile interests or who were outright merchants themselves and those with ambitions to finally open the Western European market to Korean shipping were eager to know more about the lands they were seeking to profit from.

Kustaa kept an eye on the finely-robed officials lining both sides of the hall. He noted with care who looked surprised at what news, who looked happy or less so, who seemed bored and disinterested. The Imperial Throne did not do business with foreigners - it exchanged gifts and conducted the high affairs of state - but the many officials that filled the corridors of this palace complex often did, and as a statesman and negotiator himself Kustaa knew very well the value of knowing who was interested in what. He kept a mental list of people to talk to after this official audience was over.

His Majesty the Emperor spoke a few words about the grievances suffered by his people at the hands of the Company, and Kustaa responded with a few words about the grievances suffered by his people at the hands of Imperial court officials. It was not necessary to resolve all the disputes here, and indeed that was not the purpose of this audience, but both sides pledged to see these grievances on both sides dealt with justly, amicably, and in full accordance with the relevant laws and customs.

Eventually, and finally, the audience was concluded. The delegation of the Company, alongside many of the court officials, moved to another chamber as food and drink was brought in and the evening's entertainment began.

The Secretary relaxed his shoulders in relief. One more meal, one more day in which he didn't say the wrong thing to the wrong person. He sat down on a cushion set out for him on the elevated floor to enjoy the remainder of the evening. For all that he missed a homeland that he had never visited and found comfort in the familiar camaraderie of his fellow countrymen, there was one thing that he could not deny that the Koreans did better, significantly and incontrovertibly better, than his fellow Hyperboreans. One field in which he fully agreed that perhaps the Hyperboreans were the savage barbarians that many thought them to be.

After the bland restaurant meals of the Hyperborean Quarter in Hanseong, the traditional Korean dinner that was provided to him was excellent.

[Tracian Empire]

Βασιλεία τῶν Ῥωμαίων
Basileia tōn Rhōmaiōn
The Empire of the Romans

Βασιλεία Ῥωμαίων
Basileía Rhōmaíōn
The Roman Empire

Η βασιλεύς Σύγκλητος και ο Λαός της Ρώμης
I Basileus Sýnklitos kai o Laós tis Rómis
The Emperor, Senate and People of Rome

Σταυρὲ βασιλέως βασιλέων βασιλεύων βασίλευε
Staurè Basileùs Basiléon Basileúon Basíleue
Cross of the King of Kings, rule in reigning

---

21th of January 7322 ε.Κ
1st of February 1812 A.D.
Ante diem XII Kalendas, MMDLXV a.U.c.
At sea, near Neápolis

They say that your entire world can change in a single moment. That no matter what you do, what you try to do, what you dream of and what you strive to achieve, you are always the slave of fate, bound to her whims. Fate was unpredictable, and nothing would ever last. Some even go as far as to resign themselves to it, dancing to the tune of what was happening around them. He had never believed it. Or at least, he had never wanted to believe it. As powerless as he was, he always liked to imagine that he could be the master of his own destiny. Not that it mattered.

Many would dream of being a prince, thinking that like those princes in stories and legends, they could do anything. But even the poorest farmer in the smallest village in the empire had more freedom than a prince. If you were born in the purple, in the Sacred Palace of the Queen of Cities, your life was never going to be yours. Your life, your future, belonged to the empire and to its people. It was what they had been taught ever since they were little. You had to serve the empire, and dedicated your entire life to God and to Rome. There no fated moments in Constantinople, just the endless, clockwork like life of the Imperial Court. The order of the palace had to be respected, and the power of the empire had to be shown through harmony and order, reflecting the never ending motion of the universe as it was made by its Creator. The Great Palace was like a machine, and all those inside of it were puppets, cogs. How would you dress, what you would say, how much you would bow, what you would eat, what you would think.. it was all predetermined. And the puppet master, the one holding the strings, was of course, the Basileus.

His father.

He had resigned himself to it ever since he was little. There was no point in ever expecting anything to happen. Despite all of the helplessness and bitterness, the one dream that he had in his childhood was for his father to allow him to become a priest. Not a monk, to be caught in yet another prison, but a priest that could travel to one of the other holy cities, away, far away from here.. even if he knew that it wasn't going to happen. So he just stopped dreaming altogether.

There was nothing wrong about accepting the truth. He wasn't one of those brave heroes of old, like Digenes Akritas or Alexios Komnenos, to rebel against the unjust world, to fight for what he believed in and win. Weak people simply had to submit, and to do what they were told. There was no way out.. and there was never going to be one.

Is what he had thought. But that belief had been broken just as everything before that, when one day, during his garrison duties, the lieutenant had given him the message informing of his father's death. It was as if the prison had suddenly collapsed, like the walls of Jericho. He almost didn't believe it. Not even as he bowed in the Hagia Sophia, during his older brother's coronation as the next Basileus. He didn't want to hope again just for all of his dreams to be burned down again, but maybe, maybe... he was never going to be fully free, as a Porphyrogénnētos, as a prince.. but for the first time, it was as if he could see the light.. as if he could breathe.

And now, he was on a ship, for the first time performing a duty that he had chosen, not one that had just been ordered to perform.

"My prince?"

The voice startled the boy, and as he placed the book back on the table, he looked at the door to see a tall, red haired soldier in the frame - one of his Varangoi, Erich. "We are approaching the port of Neapolis, my Prince. The Master of Ceremonies is humbly asking for your presence so that the preparations can be made. Your sister has already prepared.", the man told him in a rough and yet surprisingly gentle voice. "Thank you, Erich. You can tell him that I will be with him shortly.", the prince's soft voice was heard, and the Varangian bowed, leaving the room and closing the door.

The prince pushed the chair back and stood up. There was nothing remarkable about his height, taller than some, shorter than others, but he seemed to be pretty thin, even somewhat skinny. His skin was pretty pale for what you would expect from a Roman, and his messy blonde hair, and light green eyes weren't particularly helping his status as a son of the New Rome. Despite that, he was dressed in the conservative fashion of the imperial court, with a long white chiton, and a purple dalmatica over it. He most certainly still looked like a proper prince, beautiful, and exuding a certain sense of authority, even if it was very restrained.


He seemed to hesitate for a few moments, looking at the book, before finally deciding to leave, climbing the stairs to the deck. The ship of the line carrying him, his sister, and the rest of the delegation from Constantinople, the Basiléus Ioustinianós, was pretty impressive by itself, even if its escort ships that had formed a small fleet had now turned around, with the ship close enough to the Catepanate's coast. The banner with the tetragrammatic cross of the empire flying in both crimson and purple above, as the banner of the empire and the banner of the imperial family. The prince remained standing on the deck for a few minutes, seeing the coast and the city of Neapolis in the distance.


"My prince?", the boy heard once again, turning around to see a deeply bowing eunuch, Theophanes. "We should be arriving not before long. If I may, I believe that it would be time to start our preparations, Prince Manuel." And the boy simply smiled calmly. "Please lead the way, Theophanes."

---

Βασιλεία τῶν Ῥωμαίων
Basileia tōn Rhōmaiōn
The Empire of the Romans

Βασιλεία Ῥωμαίων
Basileía Rhōmaíōn
The Roman Empire

Η βασιλεύς Σύγκλητος και ο Λαός της Ρώμης
I Basileus Sýnklitos kai o Laós tis Rómis
The Emperor, Senate and People of Rome

Βασιλεύς Βασιλέων Βασιλεύων Βασιλευόντων
Basiléus Basiléon Basilévon Basilevónton
Emperor of Emperors, Ruling Over Those Who Rule

To His Majesty, Francis II, King of the Germans

In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, our one and only true God, Mikhael, the sublime and sovereign Basileus of the Romans salutes his beloved spiritual brother, the most nobly-born, the admirable and divinely crowned King of the Germans, and wishes onto him many years. The Basileus and his father before him, the departed and most-beloved Basileus Andronikos, have watched the events unfolding the north of Europe with great dismay. Dark clouds are covering the continent, as unrepentant heretics ignore God and dare claim that monarchs do not rule through divine right and in His name. As the peace of the continent lies in danger, the Basileus would like to lead by example, and maintain peace and love of God in the territories around his realm. That is why the Basileus would like to send Ioannes Kantakouzenos, Vestes and Basilikos Mandatōr, as his ambassador and personal representative in the city of Vindobona, to discuss and negotiate the situation of the Danubian Principalities with the representatives of the most nobly-born King.

Ioannes Batatzes, Logothete of the Drome of the Empire of the Romans, in the name of:

His Imperial Majesty, Mikhael Palaiologos, in Christ Basileus and Autokrator of the Romans, Kaisar, Kyrios and Despot of the New Rome, Forever Sebastos and Sotiras, Sebastokrator and Nobelissimos, Hypatos, Arkhistrategos and Arkhiexarkhos, Porphyrogennetos, Viceroy of Our Lord Jesus Christ on Earth, the Pious and the Blessed, Defender of the One True Orthodox Faith, Great Protector of the Holy Cities of Constantinople, Rome, Antioch, Jerusalem, and Alexandria, Protector of the Holy Council Cities of Nikaea and Chalkedon, Despot of All Moesia and All Anatolia, of Greece, Macedonia and Dacia, Scythia and Taurica, of Thrace, of Armenia, Syria, Libya and Palestine, of the Oriental Islands, Protector of the Cities of Thessaloniki, Perhabinon, and Berytos, Kyrios of All Egypt, Sovereign of the Holy Order of the True Cross, Grand Master of the Order of Saint Andrew, of the Order of Constantine the Great and of the Order of Justinian the Great, King of Kings, Ruling Over Those Who Rule

[Intermountain States]

January, 1812
Pacific Ocean
Empire of Joseon

Despite advancements in technology that allow for faster travel through ships, nothing can solve the age old issue of inexperienced men vomiting due to the rocking of the ship. Captain Choe Dong-wook grimaced at a soldier vomiting over board, but he couldn't really blame these men. They were after all soldiers of the Imperial Army who have little to no experience out on sea. They're just one of the thousands of men being shipped out to North America in order to consolidate Joseon's hold on that region against the tribal barbarians.

He remembered his younger years as a seaman in the Navy when he was hurling chunks of rice and pickled vegetables over the ocean during his first voyage. While he attained experience over the years and gotten used to the sea as many sailors and marines had, he knew that many soldiers would never get used to the boats. He had yet to attend a voyage where all of the passengers made it out without being sick. Of course, the Pacific Ocean isn't easy to traverse in comparison to the Indian Ocean.

"That's another private sick from the voyage," a deep accented voice interrupted Choe's train of thoughts and he turned around to see an army officer with a thick beard. Choe smiled at the sight of his old friend.

"Major Kim Song-ho, I could never not recognize your thick Hamgyeong accent," Choe said. "By the time the fleet reaches the port city of Jeongye, my ship would be followed by pirates tracking us by the trail of vomits your men left behind."

"You Navy folks talk a lot about us soldiers not being to handle the sea but I don't see your sailors doing any heavy lifting in the ground, " Kim Song-ho laughed at his friend's jab. "Your sailors are just going to be collecting seashells from the beach and call that a successful mission."

"Bah, you soldier boys just sit in your forts waiting for a tribal barbarian to throw rocks at you and call that heavy lifting," Choe teased. "The Marines are the ones doing the fighting and they belong to the Navy." The officers exchanged light-hearted jabs for a while before changing topics.

"According to scheduling, it looks like you and your men would be at the Cheonhae colony for quite a while," the captain said to the major. "Even far past the Lunar New Year celebration."

"Yeah, I won't be able to visit my wife anytime soon," Kim said. "Most of the men were not happy when they found out that they'll be celebrating the holidays garrisoning in the frontiers of North America instead of at their homes with their families. It's going to be tough but we are allowed to celebrate in the towns, in the civilized lands."

"But let us not forget, the frontier would be filled with tenacious tribal barbarians wanting our settlers away from their hunting grounds," Kim added. "It's going to be a long time before the Empire would fully consolidate just a portion of the area and that's not counting the foreign powers who would likely be supplying the natives with arms."

The fleets continued to sail toward their destination as sailors, marines, and soldiers kept themselves busy or relaxed for the trip to America.

[Sao Nova Europa]

February 1812

---

Great Wei - Shuntian (Beijing) - Forbidden City

Xianfeng Emperor

Emperor of the Great Wei

The Emperor was walking in one the many gardens of the Forbidden City, accompanied by two Imperial Guards armed with long swords. Gazing at the crystal-clear pond and admiring the trees and flowers, with their wild colors, was always relaxing to Xianfeng.

"Your Imperial Majesty!" Chancellor Yang Kang exclaimed as he bowed before his monarch. Xianfeng wasn't surprised; he had summoned Yang Kang to meet him.

Those unofficial garden meetings between the Emperor and the Chancellor allowed the two most powerful men in the Empire to talk without being constrained by the formalities of protocol.

"You may rise," the Emperor replied. "I take it that the Count of... Kh... Khanty-Mansiysk has been moving ahead with the construction?"

"Indeed. The last report I got indicates that the construction is moving at a rapid pace, at least for the standards of the frontier. I've also been getting intelligence reports that indicate that the Western danger may have been overstated, but I believe it is better to be safe than sorry. The construction should be finished. In the Western Military Governorate, Grand Marshal Liu Zhao has also been constructing fortifications in the frontier to deal with raiders. His report indicates that raids have decreased since forts have been built."

"That's good..." The Emperor was silent for a few seconds. "We need to further bolster the security of the Palace. This last assassination attempt really shook me. It is unacceptable that such a thing could happen here."

Yang Kang

Chancellor of the Great Wei

"I have two recommendations to rectify this problem. The first is to double the number of Imperial Guards, from the current four thousand men to eight thousand. This should allow for far greater security. The second is to reform the old 'Shadow Order'. The Order has for years been neglected. We need to bolster it, both in terms of manpower and operational freedom."

The 'Shadow Order' was a 1000-men strong order of assassins and spies. They were called 'shadows' because they were clad in black and never seen. In recent years, the Order had been neglected and restricted in its operations after a 'Shadow Lord' attempted to murder a Chancellor in collusion with a Minister.

"Both of your proposals are approved," Xianfeng replied immediately. "Do what must be done to ensure the safety of the Palace."

Yang Kang bowed. "As you wish, your Imperial Majesty."

---

Bai Zihua

Taoist Priest

Consort Bai Fengjiu

Imperial Consort of Wei

With the assassination attempt on the Imperial Consort, Bai Zihua had been given a secondary task aside from training the personal bodyguards of the Emperor. He was to teach Consort Bai Fengjiu the basics of swordsmanship to ensure she could defend herself. It was extremely rare for an Imperial Consort to be taught martial arts, but Emperor Xianfeng insisted, afraid of losing the woman he loved so dearly to an assassin.

Bai Zihua was holding two wooden swords in his hands. He threw one of them at Fengjiu. The Consort grabbed it and smiled with satisfaction; it was the first time she had managed to grab the sword. All other times, she wasn't fast enough and the sword had fallen on the ground.

"Your Excellency," Zihua said, still extremely formal and aware of imperial protocol, "we are going to practice the moves I showed you."

The Imperial Consort nodded affirmatively.

"You've practiced those moves before, but you must understand that it is one thing to perform sword movements on your own and quite another to use them against a living enemy."

Fengjiu understood this. She tried to think of ways to effectively attack Zihua, and became lost in her thoughts.

"Always focus on where you are!" Zihua shouted and hit Fengjiu in the chest with his sword. "Too slow", he said. "You must react faster!" Although Zihua was respectful of imperial protocol and gave Fengjiu the respect an Imperial Consort deserved, he wasn't going to go easy on her. As a teacher, he had to be firm and strict in order to ensure his lessons were learned properly.

Fengjiu charged forward. The whooshing sound of the sword revealed the great strength put into the attack, and surprised Zihua; he never expected that this girl could put so much power behind an attack. 'She may be talented after all'. Zihua effortlessly blocked the attack with his own sword but said, "Good! That was a good attack!"

'At last,' Fengjiu thought, 'I am becoming good at this'. Suddenly Zihua's sword hit her back and caused her to fall to the ground. "Focus on the present!" Zihua barked. "Rule number one: always be on alert. You cannot predict what the enemy will do and when he will attack, so never let your guard down. If I was a real enemy, you would be dead by now."

Fengjiu attacked again, this time determined to not let her teacher down. She pretended to attack Zihua's head and midway retreated by a step and changed the direction of the sword towards Zihua's chest. Zihua was, of course, able to see through this deception and quickly blocked Fengjiu's sword with his own, but he smiled. "You did well this time," he remarked. "However, you still have a lot to learn. Let me teach you another sword form. It is a sword form that focuses on swift attacks. It allows someone who is not very powerful to overpower the enemy with swiftness and speed instead of brute strength, so it would be ideal for you."

Zihua instructed Fengjiu on how to perform the sword form. She tried to follow his instructions. Her movements were swift and fast but somewhat clumsy. Despite her best efforts, she could not perform correctly the sword form.

"Your movements are fast but not accurate and are a bit clumsy. Let me show you how to perform correctly the sword form," Zihua said. He then stood behind her, wrapping his arms around her and holding her right hand to guide her. Her soft hair brushed his cheek. Fengjiu trembled. She could feel his warm breath. Her cheeks were suddenly pink like a spring rose, the blooming color so cute against her skin.

Zihua noticed and quickly distanced himself. "I showed you how to perform the sword form," he hurriedly said, cold sweat on his forehead. "Now practice it on your own. We will continue the lesson tomorrow morning."

"Thanks you," Fengjiu smiled. Her smile was warm, genuinely sweet but also shy.

Zihua felt an unexpected warmth rushing through him. He couldn't explain why but he felt a deeper connection to her; it wasn't some kind of physical attraction nor had he known her long enough to have formed a bond with her, so he could not understand why he felt that way. But he understood only too well that such feelings were not proper, not only because of his priesthood but also because no man could afford to have feelings for an Imperial Consort.

---

Great Wei - Northern Frontier - Duchy of Kamchatka

Sähit Qutuy

Duke of Kamchatka

Sähit Qutuy held an esteemed position. He was Duke of Kamchatka, the easternmost frontier of the Wei Empire. The Norther Frontier was a wild, untamed land and Kamchatka was no different. Compared to the rich and populous plains of Northern China, it was barren. Yet even this wild frontier looked attractive enough to attract a number of settlers from the Chinese provinces of the Empire. Most of those Han settlers settled in Kamchatsky, a small town situated on high hills and surrounded by volcanoes. The surrounding terrain was mountainous enough that the horizon could not be seen clearly from any point in town.

Tatar nomads, who wished to retain their ancestral away of living instead of becoming Han in all but name like their brothers in the South, also lived in the far north along with local Siberian populations like the Koryaks and the Itelmens. The Koyraks gathered into bands of six to seven people and lived in domed shaped tents, called jajanga, under the leadership of a Chief. Their livelihoods depended on the local raindeer. Itelmen were settled along the various rivers of the Kamchatka Peninsula, their villages having a population of 200-300 people. The Itelmen had different winter and summer houses, moving according to season. Both the Koyraks and the Itelmen were largely left to their own devices as long as they recognized imperial rule and paid their annual tribute, in kind as monetization was limited in the far north.

Sähit Qutuy was in his Palace in Kamchatsky; in reality, though, it was a a small wooden mansion rather than a palace in the true sense of the word. Nevertheless, it was mightily impressive compared to all other buildings in the town and served as the center of power in the Duchy. Dukes like Sähit Qutuy had broad autonomy compared to the Governors of the Chinese provinces. Yet the vast size and sparse populations of the Siberian duchies meant that despite their broad autonomy, their powers and influence couldn't compare to that of the Chinese Governors.

Sähit Qutuy was in his study and sipping green tea, a gift from the Imperial Court in Shuntian. He was planning on sending a petition to the Imperial Court requesting subsidized colonization; from time to time the Imperial Court would subsidize the colonization of Siberian duchies by Han Chinese, who would establish settlements and tame those wild regions. It was a great way for the imperial government to control overpopulation in the Chinese provinces and to remove rowdy elements.

With Kamchatsky flourishing - for the standards of the north at least -, Sähit Qutuy could request such an initiative from the Imperial Court. He had good arguments to back his proposal. Kamchatka was a strategic region and the stronger the hold on it by the Wei government, the better. Of course having a greater population would benefit himself too; it would mean a broader tax base. So Sähit Qutuy began writing the petition.

[Danubian Peoples]

NOVGOROD RUS' FEDERATION

---

January 11, 1812
Sigmund's Rest House
Riga, Baltic zemlę

Adam knew this place well. It was, and still is a frequent gathering place for him and many of his acquaintances. Over a medley of beverages, they'd talk of ideas, so many ideas. The owner, Sigmund himself, a native Balt through and through, was more than happy to oblige. More often than Sigmund would bark from behind the counter and join their conversations. And on this cold and snowy January day, Adam was certainly on a meetup with friends.

He opened the shop's door, and was greeted by several of his friends, the usual gang at the usual table. Pulling out the usual seat, he sat his frame upon it and readied both hands on the table for a great round of merrymaking and ideating. All heads at the table looked upon one another with eager eyes, through the time they've spent together have they all learned to anticipate this great social activity.

"Adam!" called Sigmund. "The gang's been waiting. Even managed to set up the usual house beverages before you arrived. What's up with that?" Adam glanced to Sigmund, before making a response. "Sorry, there was this old man with a couple of kids and wel-"

Adam's soft words were cut short by one of his associates. He was evidently in his sixties or so, within the senior years of his life. His hair was a mix of brown and grey strands, his face was full of wrinkles, and he wore big, round glasses to compensate for his vision. A scruffy beard hung close to his chin. "Haha, always the good helper 'round here, aren't you?" the man chuckled. Adam nodded appreciatively in response.

"It looks like that bit of the great representative Danylyuk hasn't changed one bit. So, on that note, how's the job been treating you? Your hairs greying yet?" said the older man in a tone befitting friendly banter, taking note of Adam's hatless head, dressed in a sprinkling of snow. The whole table, and Sigmund too laughed in response. "very funny Karl," Adam remarked. "The High Veche is in session much less during this time of year, what with the weather and all. Gives me time to entertain you idiots!"

The gang, as Sigmund called it assembled at one of his tables was a diverse bunch. There was Adam Otarrovych Danylyuk, a man of 35 years, and the only one among them to be representative in the High Veche. He was of mixed ancestry between a Rus' settler mother, more specifically from the south, and a Scandinavian settler father, though a good share of his formative years were also spent with the native Balts like Sigmund. He is fluent in four tongues, the Rus' language, the native Latvian of his southern Baltic hometown, that of the native Estonians to his north, and that of Scandinavian settlers. He is often called the 'man of three worlds', the first world being that of the Rus', the second of the native Balts, and the third that of the Scandinavians. On his side of the table there lay a nice cup of coffee, the emblematic drink of statesmen in beverage houses.

Karl Hage, the 66-year old was Scandinavian through and through, claiming descent from Norwegian settlers. He'd been alive long enough to see the initial early period after the invasion, when the Baltic Governorate was being established, and a rebellious populace being quelled. He claims to have been a member of the now-defunct Brotherhood of Scandinavians, a secret society of Scandinavian settlers whose goal it was to resist Rus' control and oppression over their lands, at least until they were found out by the governorate and banned. Nowadays he's retired, living off personal savings and the support of his community. He speaks predominantly Scandinavian, though he has picked up on the other tongues which reside in the Baltic Zemlę through conversations with polyglots like Adam. The beverage on his table is a great glass of mead.

Then there is the confusingly named Sigmund Niedra, a younger cousin of the 40 or so-year old Sigmund Niedra who mans the shop. At 22 years of age, he's the most youthful among the bunch. Like his cousin at the counter, he's predominantly a native Balt, Latvian to be exact. In order to differentiate himself from his elder cousin, Sigmund is referred to by the shared last name Niedra at the table, shared first named Sigmund instead exclusively used to call the shop owner. Niedra's job is largely as a part-time courier for the goods his cousin uses to run the establishment. Coffee grounds from the port market, alcohol from the brewery, if he needs it, the fleet-footed and street-smart Niedra can usually get it delivered one way or the other. Niedra's first language is Latvian, though he has picked up a good deal of Rus' and Scandinavian from his errands and friends alike. Niedra has a simple glass of water on his side of the table, not one for alcohol or coffee.

Lastly there is the 32-year old Vassili Fyodorovich Ismaylov, a recent Novgorodian settler, and the newest addition to the gang's meetings at Sigmund's Rest House. He was initially skeptical and even somehwat prejudiced against the many non-Rus', or even non-Novgorodians that inhabited the Baltic, but as he spent more time with the locals, he dropped pretenses of hate, and eventually fell in with the gang. He runs a busy shop elsewhere in the city of Riga. He speaks almost entirely Novgorodian Rus', and has had difficulty adopting other languages so far. His choice of beverage has varied quite a lot, the 'usual' at this moment being a beer.

In unison, they chanted. "A toast," each said, raising their beverages into the air. "To us all!" they chanted as their drinks touched. It was a well-practiced movement, yet nonetheless full of vigor. After that, the discussion began. The language of the conversation was a strange, 'bastardization,' as many would claim, of the Novgorodian Rus' dialect. It was a mix of other Rus' dialects, and of other languages altogether, words, phrases and quirks of grammar dropped into the conversation willy-nilly. The monoglot Vassili would usually ask a question about an unfamiliar word or two, and someone else at the table would answer.

"So Adam. As the only one of us in this table here with a political career, what's up with the zemlę veche right now?" questions Niedra. "Last I checked, it was still dominated mostly by Rus' settler types, and the rollout of rights and privileges has not been as quick as some of the politcky-types like you yourself have said."

Adam in response answered Niedra's query with haste. "Well, you see," he began. "Ever since the establishment of the Baltic zemlę in 1792, it has so far been heavily weighted towards the settling Rus'. The initial veche composition was a near Rus' totality, and they only repealed some of the legislation to restrain minorities during the time of the governorate. They also made sure to close political channels for non Rus' people, to tighten their grip over the veche." The tone in Adam's voice is worried, fearful and disparaging. He takes a quick sip of his coffee as he regains he composure. The other three men lean in to hear his words.

"But," Adam says, "We have a loophole. The settler Rus' here, with their repressive policies, they do not control the High Veche. A good deal of the laws surrounding High Veche candidacy and qualification are, thanks to the efforts of past reformers, and of course my fellow Centralists, are in the hands of the High Veche itself. There is a forest of legislation surrounding what kind of representative the people of the Baltic zemlę can elect, but the de facto situation is that mixed-race people like me, with one 'pure Rus' parent' are the most we have so far for High Veche representation. As such, people like me can get elected there, and with the Centralists, we can create laws at the national level to fight against zemlę tyranny. Local liberty is good and all, but is it really liberty if it is only wielded by some?" By the end of the sentence, Adam's tone is a more optimistic one.

"A satisfying take," replies the elderly Karl. "I must say, you have gotten a lot further than I ever have in progressing the rights of people 'round here. I envy you. But I must ask, what of the so-called Radicals amongst your Centralists? Many voices, though admittedly a lot of the voices those of settler oligarchs, deride the Centralist cause as a whole, citing fear of 'tyranny to be imposed from Novgorod.' No offense intended to you Vassili. Are they that bad or something?"

Vassili turns to meet Karl, before he himself speaks. "On the note of the Radical Centralists, I have, concerning thoughts to share. Some of my more affluent acquaintances from Novgorod have sent letters to me, second-hand tales of this, Iosif's antics. What they say is worrying. They claim he has strange ideas about the differing Rus' people, and wants to enforce Novgorodian supremacy. I know you're a colleague of him, right Adam?" Vassili turns to Danylyuk, the rest of the table and even Sigmund behind the countertop doing the same.

"Well to be honest, I don't really think I've ever been on the same wavelength as Alesanrovich. Not for age, sure he's got some twenty years ahead of me but that's beside the point. Instead he has these really strange ideas about identity, chief among them I think that we all ought to be Rus', whatever that means. You may be familiar with his not-so-secret club where he meets with like-minded intellectuals. Never been to one of their meetings, and the hearsay I hear about them is varied and unreliable."

"The All-something something?" responds Vassili in a questioning tone. "I never remember it's name," he adds.

"You should drink less," interjects Karl.

"Hypocrite," responds Vassili. The whole table laughs. The conversation continues at length, the tone and topic varying greatly, from big news of faraway lands rendered in adventurous vigor, to comedic in-jokes and incidents in a fitting voice and manner. After a while, the conversations draw to a stop, and eventually the four friends leave the house and part ways. They pool their owed currency, and a dressing of coins splatters Sigmund's countertop.

Now Adam is walking through the snowy streets of Riga alone, his friends having left for their own residences in the city, just as he has. The scene looked scarcely different from what it looked like when he entered the Rest House, what with the overcast skies and snowy weather subduing much of the hour-to-hour changes in environment. But at the very least it stopped snowing, thinks Adam, just as a snowflake lands upon his nose. Or not. He continues the walk home.

---

January 21, 1812
Private Room
Novgorod, Novgorod zemlę

Many people, mostly men but a few women too, shuffle inside the room through twin doors wide open. On the left side relative to those entering are three great windows, each one showing an image of the streets and buildings outside, while also letting enough light to brighten up the interior somewhat. Helping in the task of illumination was a well-placed lamp in the right, atop a wooden desk. Several chairs lay arranged on the floor, no doubt for those in attendance. An empty side of the room exists in the far back, pale rectangles on the floor suggest furniture recently moved to make way for the emptiness.

Most of the attendees sit in their chairs, forming orderly rows and columns of seated people. All but one chair remains filled, its occupant presumably the man who now stands at the empty side. He is facing the seated attendants. The lamp to his left casts its yellow glow onto one side of his face, while the other is colored a whitish blue by the light peeking through the windows. He speaks.

"I welcome you all to another meeting of the All-Rus' Peoples' Convention. As always, it is I, Iosif Alesnarovich Sabantsev. Our patron today is Mr. Chkalov, who has so kindly lent one of his rooms for our functions. A toast to him, I would say, if I had a drink in my hand." The aforementioned Mr. Chkalov, within the audience, gestures a silent nod in response.

Iosif continues to talk. "Now we stand to recite the Covention's motto." And so they all stand. The attendees are mostly middle-class by the looks of things. Kempt facial hair, round glasses atop bridges, attire of 'average' standards. Each one recite the motto in unison. The room fills with their collective voice.

"One," begins their chant. "One culture, to be united, one people, to be enlightened, one Rus', undivided!" the triumphant cry echoes throughout the room. "You may all return to your seats," states Iosif. And so they do.

Iosif's words begin anew. "All of you know why we convene here. To destroy the boundaries of old. To end the ancient squabbles that have for so long dominated our people. I ask you this, am I Novgorodian?"

In a well practiced motion, the attendees chant a great "No!" in response to the question. "Of course not," fires back Iosif. "I am not Novgorodian. I am Rus'! All of us are! These, petty identities, they are nought but the work of oligarchs and corrupt officials, who seek to maintain power over a divided people. To say something of division, I call Dimitri Leonidovich Belomestin to the stage."

One of the attendees, presumably Dimitri, comes onto the empty side of the room in response, Iosif stepping out of the way to make way for the other man. "My thanks to you, Iosif," declares Dimitri as he takes center stage. "On the note of the division, I'd like to ask the room a question. Are any of you familiar with the term 'Novgorodian Imperialist?' It is often used by the oligarchs and their friends in the establishment to deride their opponents, opponents like say, us?" Dimitri's words come out like those of an inquisitive detective, spyglass in hand, searching for clues. The audience response is a mix of quiet murmurs.

"Well I tell you, it is a sham, a lie I say! They make us out to be kings-in-waiting, as if we parade in ermine cloaks and plot to subjugate all others under our whims! It's a great lie!" Dimitri's words are loud exclamations, filled with vitriol, each one vigorously spat out in abject revulsion towards the aforementioned oligarchs and establishment. Those in attendance are cowed by the display of anger. Dimitri takes some time to cool his nerves after he wraps up, returning to a more proper tone and composure alike.

"A most, interesting introduction, dare I say," says one of those seated, visibly perplexed and cowed at the display. Like that of a turtle, his head seems to retreat below his shoulders as Dimitri spares a glance in his direction.

"Qualms with the accusation aside, today I have come with a principal refutation of the concept, and to hush the fears of would-be tyrants in us. Today I would like to unveil to the All-Rus' Peoples' Convention, my prototype for a new synthesis of ideas, Universal Rus'," says Dimitri, his tone shifting to one less angry and more optimistic, more visionary, yet nonetheless imbued with great vigor. He produces a sheet of paper from a pocket, and brings it to the audience. "Give it a cursory glance or two, then pass it on to someone else," says Dimitri.

The small pamphlet is passed around, in accordance with received instructions. Despite its size, there is a considerable amount of text on the paper, and as such the minutes drag on as it snakes its way through the audience, going through multiple pairs of hands and being scanned by many, many eyes. On its parchment surface are the, admittedly sketchy and very preliminary foundations for some sort of constructed language, or rather dialect. The outlined language is in the future, planned to be a strange blend of the myriad Rus' dialects, from Novgorodian to Cossack, the full breadth of the many different tongues in which the language is rendered. To the almost entirely Novgorodian Rus' readers in attendance, the constructed dialect outlined, even if very much in its foundational stages, evokes a strange sense of familiarity, while also being distant in some respects. Of those in the audience who have had the opportunity to converse with or read materials by other Rus' cultures and dialects feel that the hypothetical dialect in their hands is much easier to parse through than the real deal.

"This should stay the accusations of "Novgorodian Imperialism," says Dimitri. "It is still in its early stages however, so far I have only managed to imbue it with elements of the dialects I am familiar with, a far cry from the full extent of linguistic variation the people have to contend with. The dream is to one day roll out a more complete version countrywide, and starting with this new, Universal Rus', begin chipping away at these regionalist identities which have for so long embedded itself in our country's very core."

In response to both Dimitri's comment and the paper itself, are louder, more defined murmurs. Seatmates conversing with one another, while occasional shouts and stands signal sounds to more distant attendees. Overall, the reaction seems mixed. The concept has very little in terms of precedent, owing to the exceptional nature of Rus' regional identities and the fact that few countries deal with such issues of regionalism and have both the political capital and interest and deploying such a measure in response.

"Can't we just all speak Novgorodian," says one audience member. "Sure it'll validate the whining of the establishment but it's not like I'm telling them to speak German, am I?"

"Well, I don't think dialect is the right word for our linguistic differences," responds Dimitri. "Many of these dialects sound deathly different to Novgorodian Rus', and I struggle to parse words when hearing their speakers or reading their texts on many, many occasions. I think, that the decision to start calling them dialects, as opposed to wholly distinct languages, came about as a means of providing a modicum of unity, a means to promote a sort of wide-arching identity, and to keep the decentralized and disunited zemlęs from outright abandoning each other. Hah! Such hypocrites!"

Dimitri beams with vigor. "Even they see the truth of an overarching identity, even if they refuse to believe it! It'll be fun to drive this into their arguments!" His voice a joyful one. "Now, I think that concludes my presentation. I will let debate on the concept continue for as long as it needs," he adds. Dimitri returns to his seat, a ragged volley of applause following him as he does.

"A most interesting concept," says Iosif, now back at the center of the empty side. And so the meeting continues, intellectual after intellectual pulled up to explain their ideas. Some advocate great campaigns of cultural unification, liberating those 'lost Rus' trapped under foreign heels. Others bring out fanciful models of governance, radical departures from the current system that only exist as pipe dreams for the time being. Still others talk more, 'grounded' politics, of similar movements elsewhere in the country that they ought to ally, or candidates for political office they ought to be wary of. At last however, the wellspring of thought is exhausted for the day, and all shuffle back out from whence they came. One by one members of the All-Rus' People's Convention travel through the twin doors, until only Iosif is still left inside. He zones out for a moment, to think, alone with only empty chairs and a lamp now put out.

Most interesting ideas, he begins to think. I ought to share these with my colleagues in the High Veche, fellow 'radical Centralists.' I think Ivan would fancy some of them, no? I think the High Veche is due to reconvene in less than twenty days now, if I so recall correctly. Wintertime is the worst time to get hundreds of very important people moving, and by then the frost should have passed enough to ensure safe passage from all corners of the country. If it were up to me, I think I would've kept it snowing on opponent zemlęs, makes it easier to debate someone when they aren't there..

At last, Iosif is roused from his brief session of personal thought, and joins the rest of his society and leaving the room.

---

Febuary 3, 1812
Chamber of the High Veche
Novgorod, Novgorod zemlę

"With the power vested in me as Speaker of the Legislature, I hereby declare the High Veche, in session!" with these words spoken by the current Speaker of the Legislature, the debate and bickering of the High Veche well and truly begins. Hundreds of representatives lie in attendance, seated in great concentric semicircular fashion, like members of a congregation in seats of church pews. The seats are packed, an overwhelming majority of representatives have managed to make their way to Novgorod and attend.

In one such seat there is Iosif Alesnarovich Sabantsev, and to his left and right are the other representatives of the Novgorod zemlę. In another there lies the younger Adam Otarrovych Danylyuk, surrounding him are the other representatives of the Baltic zemlę. Both are the tentative leaders of their respective factions in the Centralist bloc, and both await another round of High Veche talking, of bills passing, of the nation changing with baited breath. Everyone in the room can tell, it'll be quite the spirited session today.

WILL EDIT OR REDACT ABOVE POST IF NECESSARY. APOLOGIES FOR ANY MISTAKES MADE.

[Sao Nova Europa]

March 1812

---

Great Wei - Shuntian (Beijing) - Forbidden City

Yang Kang

Chancellor of the Great Wei

Fung Sheng

Shadow Lord

Chancellor Yang Kang was in his study, sipping a cup of green tea as the Shadow Lord, Fung Sheng, sat on the opposite chair. With the blessing of Emperor Xianfeng, the eunuch Chancellor was undertaking the quest of strengthening the body of assassins and spies known as the 'Shadow Order'. A useful organization that more than once solved problems that Emperors could not address directly or publicly, it had been weakened and had its operations restricted after the last 'Shadow Lord' (head of the organization) tried to assassinate a Chancellor. With the recent assassination attempt, though, it became clear that secret intelligence required bolstering.

Fung Sheng was a recently appointed Shadow Lord. A former Buddhist monk who had left behind his monastic life, he had also abandoned Buddhist teaching of non-violence. He was the inventor of a weapon that had gained increased prominence amongst imperial assassins: the flying guillotine. The weapon resembled a hat with a bladed rim, with a long chain attached to it. Upon enveloping one's head, the blades would cleanly decapitate the victim with a pull of the chain. The flying guillotine was for that reason one of the most feared weapons in the Wei Empire.

"Your Excellency," Fung Sheng spoke, "I understand his Imperial Majesty, may He reign ten thousand years, is concerned about the state of the Order?"

"Indeed," Yang Kang replied. "His Imperial Majesty has tasked me with ensuring that the Shadow Order returns to its past days of glory. You shall be assigned five times the current funding, be allowed to hire one hundred more operatives and be given operational freedom in dealing with threats to the Imperial Court. His Imperial Majesty needs you to take out those who organized the assassination attempt on Consort Bai Fengjiu."

"Why would I want to kill you?" Fung Sheng slyly smiled. "Your Excellency, don't look that surprised. What Shadow Lord would I be if I couldn't discover who ordered the assassination attempt? You need worry not."

"I wasn't worried, I was simply surprised," Yang Kang admitted, totally calm and without a hint of worry in his voice. "I know you wouldn't divulge this to his Imperial Majesty. For two simple reasons."

"Do tell."

"Firstly, this information gives you leverage over me. What merits you may earn by solving the assassination attempt case are far outweighed by the potential benefits of being able to blackmail the Chancellor to do your bidding. Secondly, by leaving the case open - for some time at least - his Imperial Majesty will become ever more worried and direct more funding towards the Shadow Order, in hopes of speeding up the process."

"Indeed. As you can see, your Excellency, I have strong reasons to not divulge your plot. But I want in return further - unofficial - funding for the Order and greater access to certain documents."

"We have a deal," the Chancellor smiled. 'For now...' he continued the sentence in his mind.

---

Great Wei - Northern Frontier - Duchy of Kamchatka

Sähit Qutuy

Duke of Kamchatka

Sähit Qutuy bowed before the Imperial Envoy, a young eunuch dressed in a purple gown. Even a Duke had to kneel when hearing an Imperial Decree. The eunuch in his high pitched voice read the decree.

Imperial Edict

Your Lordship, Duke of Kamchatka

His Imperial August Majesty, the Son of Heaven and Autocrat of All Under Heaven, Xianfeng Emperor approves your Lordship's request to finance the construction of new settlements in the Duchy of Kamchatka. His Imperial Majesty shall finance the settlement of ten thousand subjects to the Duchy of Kamchatka. His Imperial Majesty trusts your Lordship to continue to provide just and wise governance. His Imperial Majesty has faith in your Lordship.

With the utmost respect,
Yu Jingyu,
Minister of Revenue

"Thank your, your Imperial Majesty," Sähit Qutuy said, as if the Emperor was present. Seeing the Imperial Decree was as good as seeing the Emperor himself, and it was afforded the same respect as the Emperor.

"Your Lordship can expect the settlements to begin gradually in September," the eunuch said. "That's what Minister Yu told me to tell you."

Sähit Qutuy nodded. "I'll also have to inform the heads of the local departments to begin preparations for the new settlements. The cash flow for the Imperial Court should invigorate the local economy, and attract more settles to come on their own without imperial funding."

---

Great Wei - Shuntian (Beijing) - Forbidden City

Fang Shiyu

Minister of War

Prince Jing

Imperial Prince of Wei

Fang Shiyu was the youngest Minister of War in a century, being only thirty-seven years old. A man of Manchu ancestry, he had risen through the ranks of the 'Red Standard Army', the Han Chinese staffed regiments of the Wei army. Proving his military capabilities as a lieutenant and a colonel fighting against marauders in the Western Military Governorate, he impressed Chancellor Yang Kang enough to be recommended for a post at the Ministry of War. A highly-educated man, Fang Shiyu became head of the 'Supply Office', the logistics' department of the Ministry of War. Three years later he became Minister of War, with the retirement of the previous Minister.

Although he owed his career in the Imperial Court to Chancellor Yang Kang, Fang Shiyu did not become a lackey of the conniving eunuch. He maintained his independence. It was hard for the Chancellor to remove him - as he had done with other Ministers who weren't of his circle - as Fang Shiyu was a paragon of morality, who could not be credibly accused of corruption, while also being highly competent and valued by the Emperor.

"His Excellency Prince Jing has arrived!" a servant announced as Fang Shiyu was in his study reading a report on the process of forts' construction in the Western Military Governorate.

The door swung open and the Prince walked inside the study. At once Fang Shiyu let down his report, got up and bowed before the Prince. "Your Highness."

"Minister Fang," the Prince replied, "please do not stand to formalities."

Fang Shiyu and Prince Jing had been long-time friends. Even though Prince Jing avoided entangling himself in the affairs of the court, he admired Fang Shiyu for his incorruptibility, bravery and virtuousness. The two men, so similar in character, were bound to become friends. Nevertheless, Fang Shiyu was always formal towards the Prince. Adhering to etiquette and protocol was one of the highest virtues of a proper man in his mind.

"Your Highness knows that my beliefs with regards to etiquette," Fang Shiyu reminded the Prince. "Your Highness shall have to forgive me for being unable to meet his request."

Prince Jing laughed. "Fine, Minister Fang. It's one of the reasons why I consider you my friend."

"What brings your Highness here?"

"I know you are a busy man, so I won't be wasting your time. I am investigating - informally - the Chancellor. I need men inside the imperial administration to help me in my investigation. And if I do find evidence that he was behind the assassination attempt on Consort Bai, I wouldn't be able to do anything about it unless I am backed by the man in charge of the military."

"Your Highness, I have pugilists highly skilled in the art of infiltration. I could assign them to help you with your investigation. Going against the Chancellor, though, is another matter entirely. I am fairly certain that if your Highness presents to his Imperial Majesty your findings - and assuming those prove conclusively that the Chancellor is indeed guilty of the crimes your Highness accuses him of -, then his Imperial Majesty shall see that the Chancellor is punished for his crimes. The Chancellor may be a bold man, but he wouldn't dare to make a move against his Imperial Majesty."

"I sure hope so, but his hold over the government is strong."

"Your Highness, even the mightiest of Chancellors are but simple servants when it comes to his Imperial Majesty. One word from his Imperial Majesty, and the mightiest man can become the lowliest. You need not the backing of the military; you simply need evidence that can convince his Imperial Majesty. If the Chancellor is truly guilty, your Highness should be able to find the evidence you need sooner or later. If the Chancellor is innocent, then your Highness failing to convince his Imperial Majesty would actually be a good thing since framing someone for a crime they didn't commit is evil."

"You are right. Thank you for your wise insight. I was so awed by the influence of the Chancellor and my suspicions of him, that I forgot that the man may not be even guilty; and that if he is indeed guilty, it will be the Imperial Majesty who will remove him and not the military."

"I am not wise, your Highness. I simply follow the instructions laid out by our ancestors; that the military has no place intervening in civilian affairs, unless it is needed to enforce his Imperial Majesty's wishes."

[Draos]

Palau Reial de Toledo, Toledo Hispania
January 1st 1812
Rey Daniel Sainz of Hispania had summoned his ministers to deal with the Malaya question. The Sultan of Johor his puppet ruler of the region had sent him a correspondence of increased skirmishes in the disputed border with the Empire of Joseon. Knowing that the Hispanics would be at a heavy disadvantage in a war a diplomatic approach would be the most effective was the sentiment expressed by some of them led by the Earl of Oporto César Vieira. However the sentiment was not unanimous as there was a sizable faction of nobles who wished to drive the Koreans out of the region and put it under Madrid's direct control led by the Duke of Leon Luis Miguel Morata. As the debate raged over the next week with both sides raising numerous points for their respective views.

The Rei stroked his beard as he listened the Hispanic position in southern Asia was a turbulent one their foothold in India was costly in terms of money and resources to keep local rulers in check. He knew they need a prestige boost in the area to solidify their standing and prevent the French and British from trying to chip away at their holdings. Though war with Korea to him didn't sound like the answer they were half a world away and Johor could be overrun well before Hispanic reinforcements could arrive. Understanding this he sighed and raised his hand as the Cortes around him went silent waiting for his words.

January 8th 1812
"Gentleman of the Tribune I have decided we shall make peace and assign a formal border between us and the Koreans, if the Sultan does not like it he knows the price he will pay with his territory being brought directly under my control and him spending the rest of his miserable life in a jail under the Palacio."
His words were met with mixed reactions around the room as many in the pro-war faction showed clear signs of anger from the decision of their king but knew not to make their voices heard in disagreement lest they end up removed from their prominent position as an advisor to the king. The Pro-Peace faction however were trying to hide their joy knowing that Hispania was unlikely to win this war and it would be more of a loss of prestige to lose Malaya, which could lead to other European powers attempting to chip away at it's holdings entirely than establish a formal border
The Rei spoke again "now that this is settled I shall send Francisco de Rosa to Hanseong to negotiate a time and place for the meeting, now if there is no other pressing business this Tribunal is dismissed" as he rose to stand a servant knocked on the door to inform him that a urgent letter from the Holy Roman Emperor had arrived he sighed and told them to bring it to his study

Daniel perused the letter thinking an attempt to mend the schism with the Greeks to fight the republics was a bold strategy but would it work? He personally wasn't so certain that the pope would even agree to the meeting much less to mend 800 years of hostility between east and west. Even if the pope did agree the Greeks most likely wouldn't care for the west or it's problems since they had their own problems. He pondered for an hour before writing his response he would reluctantly agree to sending a peaceful message to the pope but that is the strongest action Hispania would support.