1900: Steampunk Divergence [AH][IC-OPEN]

by **Alt Div Admin** » Fri Mar 17, 2023 3:26 pm

1900: Steampunk Divergence

IC THREAD

OOC//MAP – 15.04.2023//DISCORD

CO-OP's
Oscalantine
Novacom
The Ik Ka Ek Akai

“We can control the future, my boy, just as we wind up the mechanism in a clock. Say to yourself: I will win that race–I will come first–and you wind up the future like clockwork. The world has no choice but to obey!"

~Philip Pullman

Welcome to Steampunk Divergence, an alternative history RP where the world is yours to do whatever you wish. For the sake of continuity, the time now is 1900 AD. The Industrial Revolution, powered by the unfathomable power of steam, has radically changed the face of the world, bringing with it a new era of unstoppable progress. Factories on the ground, airships in the air, trains and landcruisers, ships and walkers, all fill the air with smoke as the nations of the world race towards an ever more industrial future. Empires span the globe, clashing for territory and resources. Monarchs jealously guard their crowns, as the red specter of socialism spreads from worker to worker and from country to country. For Crowns and for Constitutions, people are killed and oppressed in a world that inches ever closer to total war. What will you do in a world shaped by a nation you call your own?

Rules for settling disputes

If it is not in the app or in a prior post, it isn’t real
Try not to make assumptions that aren't based in facts or to believe everything said in the OOC - for something to exist it has to have been mentioned in the IC.

Uniqueness can be 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 should try to roleplay an interesting story, not to play a game of Risk, after all.

Timeskips are announced by OP
The OP board will decide the current time of the IC, but the timeline will be generally flexible. Players should try to stay within roughly the same months as the others however,

Assume that the situation is as in real life unless otherwise stated
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 board, 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.

Rules for annexing NPC's
When attacking a NPC nation without anyone's intervention, direct the OP or one of the CO-OPs to the post in question after one IC page has passed since your occupation post
you can claim up to five map provinces at once in this way
Should you be challenged before that one page has passed, the standard procedure for war and negotiations begins.

Rules for roleplaying battles

Points to keep in mind:

We recommend players to try to plan battles in advance. There is no rule against improvising and seeing who would win based on the judgement of the board, but battles that are planned and that tell a story tend to be much better written.
Tactics may be more important than sheer numbers. As proven many times throughout history, regardless of the difference in size, tactics and other factors can win battles even in the face of insurmountable odds. So try not to assume that having the bigger army will inevitably lead you to victory.
Admitting defeat in a battle will be remembered - no one likes people who refuse to lose.

Unless the outcome of the war is predetermined OOCly between the players, the OP board will jointly decide who the winner is.

Factors that will influence the decision of the board:

This is in the order of significance... from the primary factor to less important factors.
Diplomacy: An alliance can be highly beneficial. More supplies, higher morale due to the existence of alliances, reinforcements, and so on - having allies leads to higher chances of victory.
Military strength and weaknesses: No military force is perfect. The board will take the apps and any military posts into account and will see how players use their strengths and try to compensate for their weaknesses. There are no prefect armies, so writing about your weaknesses can be to your advantage.
Previous precedence: This is for fairness. If you've lost a war or battle before, that will be stacked towards your advantage. Therefore, a clever tactician can lose smaller battles to prepare for a decisive battle that is to come. Similarly, a clever tactician can gobble up as much victory as possible, then make peace before they'd lose.
Quality of posts: The quality of posts will also play a role. Of course, quantity does not mean quality, so don't feel compelled to write huge posts. The quality that we are referring to is related to how well your army movements and tactics are described, and how people will use terrain, alliances, strengths and weaknesses to their advantage.

by **Alt Div Admin** » Fri Mar 17, 2023 3:26 pm

Accepted Nations - Updated15.04.2023
Northern Socialist Council Republics – Commonwealth of Northern Socialist Council Republics -(Nordiske Socialistiske Rådsrepublikkenes Samveldet)
The V O I D – Most Serene Republic of Olympus
Upper Magica – Ilkhanate -(ایل خانان)
Ormata – Kingdom of Hungary - (Magyar Királyság)
Elysian – Kingdom of France - (Royaume de France)
Asturies-Llion – Democratic Federation of Iberia and the Macaronesia
Intermountain States – United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland
Sao Nova Europa – Great Shun - (順朝)
Tracian Empire – Empire of the Romans - (Βασιλεία τῶν Ῥωμαίων)
Krugmar – Exarchate of Egypt and of the East
Ralnis – Songhai Kingdom
Stollberg-Stolberg – German Federal Empire/Southern Germany - (Reichsbund Deutscher Nationen)
Draos – Kingdom of Navarra - (Nafarroako Erresuma)
Revlona – Commonwealth of America
Oscalantine – Most Serene Imperial States of Korea - (대숭한합중국)
Empire of Techkotal – German Republic/Northern Germany - (Deutsche Republik)

Current Treaties and Alliances - Updated 17.03.2023

by **Alt Div Admin** » Fri Mar 17, 2023 3:27 pm

Current Events in Progress - Updated 17.03.2023

N//A

by **Northern Socialist Council Republics** » Sat Mar 18, 2023 12:37 am

Commonwealth of Northern Socialist Council Republics
Nordiske Socialistiske Rådsrepublikkenes Samveldet

We begin our journey in Copenhagen from Kattesundet Tram Station, located at the end of the street after which it is named, where streetcars polished in brass and steel deliver young students, factory workers, and clerks to this heart of the city’s social life. Some of them arrive drunk and much of the rest arrive to get drunk. Walk perhaps half a minute from there towards Vestergade, and there is a little alleyway that branches off the larger avenue to a little bar that mutedly advertises itself as Club Vinterblomster, not so visible from the main avenue itself.

In that bar sit two foreign men, whose poorly-ironed blazers stand out in a country where it is unusual to see people so formally dressed. They are perhaps twenty-five or thirty years of age and despite their seats at the poorest-lit corner of the room are the centre of the crowd’s attention. The club’s community is small and tightly-connected, you see, and a new arrival whom nobody had seen before draws attention. The cups of beer sitting in front of them show us why they are in a club, but their hands, tightly held together, show us why they are in this particular club, in this particular city.

One of them tells the curious crowd of their voyage, shyly and awkwardly at first. The language they speak in is foreign, because the few words that they learned from language books is not enough to carry on a conversation. Fortunately for them, among tonight’s guests at the club is a distinguished and well-read lady who works in the Foreign Office and offered to play interpreter for the evening.

The crowd listens, captivated. Because who doesn’t enjoy a tale of forbidden romance, a hopeful debutante running away from home to find a place where he can be with the one that he loves?

Even here, of course, their lives will not be easy. They will face prejudice and discrimination. They might face abuse, perhaps even violence. They will spend many years hearing people struggle as they try to come up with a polite reason why they ought to leave and also people who will tell them bluntly why they are not welcome. Despite a century of trying, there is no such thing as a perfectly tolerant society. It is always hard to be an outsider and they are not only foreigners, they are also patrons of Club Vinterblomster.

But here, at least, they have no need to fear the judging gaze of the magistrate any more, no need to keep one ear out for the constable’s pistol in moments when they dearly wished to keep both ears focused on each other’s words. Because homosexual congress wasn’t a crime here and hadn’t been since 1791. Under that aegis of the law’s protection a community grew and with that community came fruits of safety and solidarity. Safety and solidarity… and Club Vinterblomster, a small flower that breaks through the snow to thumb its nose at all the harshness of the February cold.

The man telling his tale, if you listen carefully you can hear that his voice grows louder minute after minute. You can see the guarded features of his face soften into relaxation, see his posture straighten as his confidence grows. The reaction that they have come to expect so instinctively haven’t come, aren’t coming, and it is slowly impressing upon them that they are really among friends here, that the haven that they had only heard about really does exist.

Whatever challenges life has in store for them, and life will have many, they will face them with the knowledge that they are together, with the reassurance that they are among friends like them who will care for them and defend them come what may.

What does liberty look like?

It looks like two blushing men, hesitantly raising their glasses of beer to the adulation of the crowd, their free hands still tightly clasped together.

It looks like eros.

Follow me, now, as we leave the big city and the setting sun behind. Across the Sound, where fishermen return to their docks for the night and great mechanical steamships carry the produce of the country’s industry to shores far and wide, we find some of the most productive farmland in this damp and chilly country, the breadbasket that feeds the growing city that we just put behind us.

There, in a country cottage that fronts a footpath that has no official name, an ageing father spends his evening hours after work relaxing with his wife and three children. God bless the compression tractor, but alas it was invented too late to save his ailing back; he wants little more after a hard day at work preparing the fields for the coming spring than to sit back on his rocking chair and be entertained.

The youngest is playing a little tune on her flute, showing off to her parents the short, chippy tune that she learned to play in arts class that day. By any objective standard it’s an unimpressive performance: the airflow hesitant, the tones sounding more like screeches, and perhaps one note in ten being off-pitch.

But the audience today is anything but objective. The music might not be well-rehearsed, but it was their daughter’s and that made it more beautiful to them than anything that Copenhagen Philharmonic had to offer. The father may pretend, as old farmers are wont to do, that real hard men don’t enjoy art, but pride at his growing girl glistened in his eyes and they could all see it.

From the kitchen, from where the scent of the upcoming supper was already starting to waft in, a voice rises to join the flute. The tune that the girl learned to play today was a well-known Scanian folk song, and the matron of the household clearly recognised it. Her clear and unshakable voice guides the young girl as much as the music of her flute guides her mother, and soon enough the uncertain notes steady into something that her teacher, if she could play this well in her class next week, might sniff at and declare marginally sufficient.

This small moment, this little minute of calm, fails to register to the children as being anything special. They were vaccinated for smallpox, cholera, and diphtheria at the state’s expense, and the youngest nearly cried when she got her shots at the local town clinic. They all just spent most of the day in school; if you were to make the mistake of asking for their honest opinion they’d probably lay out chapter and verse about how much they hate spending so much of their time sitting in a dreary classroom, listening to some old teacher go on and on about things they in their youthful years do not care about.

But for the father, who closes his eyes and listens to his daughter play a tune, who spent his childhood years out on the field helping his parents bring in the crops that they prayed would be enough to line their bellies for the coming year, whose education was cut short at six years because he needed to work to support his family after his older brother died from a sudden outbreak of the flux?

To him, there was nothing more special than this moment, this time that he spends with his loved ones. He can see hazily in the distance the bright future that his children have ahead of them, so much brighter than his own life, and every bit of exhaustion and fear that he went through to raise them suddenly feels all worth it.

What does equality sound like?

It sounds like a young girl lovingly playing a flute, so happy at her father’s obvious pride and utterly blind to just how lucky she is to be alive here, alive now.

It sounds like storge.

After spending the night in the peace of the Scanian countryside, we continue our journey eastwards, ignoring the towns and villages in our way, and eventually arrive at another settlement large enough to be called a city. Located some 150 kilometres east of the capital, this small port city sees little in the way of commercial maritime traffic, but the harbour’s real importance is military. The Baltic Fleet of the Red Navy, after all, is based here.

We are not here, though, to see sailors and warships. No, instead, turn your gaze directly northwards from the military base, until you arrive at a sizable patch of green space fronting a road unimaginatively named Parkgatan. We are here to see a group of schoolgirls, covered in sweat and dressed in attire that would have been scandalous even a generation ago but fails to so much as raise eyebrows today.

A white something streaking across the sky and landing on the grassy ground right in front of one of the running girls may tell you exactly what had called us here: the 1883/1884 Cohort of the Karlskrona Women’s Football Association, out in force today to enjoy their weekend away from school.

The mind whose brainchild the Association is can be seen playing goalie today, defending the painted iron gate at one end of the field. But their presence here cannot be credited to her idea alone. One girl, after all, cannot clear the ruins of a factory, left abandoned after an accident. She can hardly forge the metal gates that a football field requires, nor can she hammer together a changing room where the players can be cleaned and make themselves presentable again after a game. A mere student certainly cannot sway Karlskrona City Council to allocate the space for their use.

But a single person who can do little on her own can nonetheless be the centrepiece around whom people who can do those things rally together.

A mere student can convince her classmates and some of their parents to chip in a skilling here, some runstycken there, stacking little things together into something that could convince the Construction Labourers Union to send down a crew to clean up the place into the field that her teammates now slide on to try and steal the ball from the opposing striker.

She can inspire a man of medicine at Karlskrona University to take some time out of his busy schedule to testify before the City Council that raising strong women who would birth strong children was within the public interests of the Nordic people and get them the permissions that they needed to be here.

One girl could stick around in a cobbler’s memory long enough that when he saw appropriately long lengths of rusty pipes at the city scrapyard, he took it to an artisan friend of his to bend it into the goal frame that the ball now bounces off of, to the collective groans of the team that took the shot.

Because what Northerner has the patience to sit around and wait for the state to mobilise them when, through the bonds that tie a person to family, neighbours, and friends, they were perfectly capable of mobilising themselves?

A bell rings from the timer and the game comes to an end, the smiling victors shaking the hands of the defeated team and graciously accepting their concession.

What does fraternity feel like?

It feels like the arm of a respected teammate draped across a schoolgirl’s shoulders, as they reaffirm that of course they’ll all be here again next week.

It feels like philia.

Perhaps this was not your image of our socialist revolution. Perhaps this was not what you had in mind when you thought of the haunting spectre of Red Norden. Because nobody ever showed you any of this, did they? Socialists and counterrevolutionaries alike fill their books and their newspapers with trivial nonsense, the stuff that isn’t important. They never show you the things that really matter.

So we who strive in the name of Socialism, why do we fight and what are we really defending?

The ceremonial parades through the heart of the capital, the red flags that flutter in the breeze, that is not Socialism. The Red Army can immediately stop organising its public parades and all the flags can be dyed a different colour; Socialism will nonetheless survive. The vast clockwork manufactories, the great airships that grace Scandinavia’s skies, those are certainly a form of progress, but they are not Socialism either, for those are places where people work and work cannot be an end in itself. The technical discussions at the Nordic Council, the unhinged philosophies debated on university campuses, most people in this country would struggle to follow along with them; those things can't really be Socialism either.

No. Those aren’t really what we strive for.

Nobody will ever write a ballad dedicated to our brave winter flowers Johannes and Karl, Sigurd’s memories of little Sophia's flute music will be buried along with him in an unremarkable parish graveyard, and aspiring footballer Christina will grow up to be an ordinary housewife accomplishing nothing that might merit her a mention in the history books.

But it is these, the lives that we have visited, that are really Socialism. Pushing forward that slow, incremental progress in people’s ordinary lives, making space in our grand agenda of State for a little bit of quiet human dignity, filling our hearts with love for our fellow man, this is what it means to be a socialist.

This is why we fight.

This is what we are here to defend.

United and loyal 'til Dovre does fall.

by **Upper Magica** » Sat Mar 18, 2023 2:17 am

Palace of the Brilliant Moon, Imperial Capital Taysafun, Babylonia Governorate

It was a chill night - one of the first in this year of our Lord 1900. Smog from nearby Baghdad blanketed the ground, acrid and stinky, even from the interior of the steamcar, its windows firmly rolled up.

Anush, as his party comrades called him - of course, only at informal get-togethers, looked out of the window, gazing upon the vibrant yellow - even in the dead of night - rocks paving the glorious avenue that led to the Palace of the Brilliant Moon as his driver, an Azeri Jew known as Rashad Abbas, spoke up.

"Paramount Leader, how do you feel back there?" He gazed through the rear-view mirror of the cumbersome automaton, in effect looking at Anush.

He smirked. "A new order will soon dawn over our Empire, comrade. I feel great, of course. By the way, you don't have to call me Paramount Leader as the underlings do, by the way, Rashad. You've driven for me, what - three years now? Please, call me by my first name - not in public, of course; we must maintain discipline."

"Sorry, Paramou- I mean, Anush." Rashad apologized profusely before announcing. "We are here, Amir."

The Paramount Leader looked out at what was once the Taq Kasra, painstakingly demolished and then rebuilt in the 1700s, its facade and features renovated with marble and gold as opposed to common brickwork, fit only for the children of the Great Khan of all Great Khans. As the former Leader-of-Tens stepped out, he gazed upon its marvel, engrossed in visions of things to be this night.

He took a moment to savor, and stepped forwards towards the building, his destiny laying ahead.

By the end of the night, a long night, metaphorically speaking, now hung over the Khanate from all borders. It started with a simple oath of loyalty to the Khan as a lowly Armenian corporal knelt before the throne of a thousand nations.

And across what remained of this thousand-nation empire, a new flag hung below that of the traditional standard of the Khans at every house of state, every police station, and at the residential flagmast of every rabid so-called 'patriot'.

A new flag was marched through the streets of every major city by its leather-booted blackshirted adherents singing marching songs of their triumph now and of triumphs to come, its red, black, and white colors symbolizing the revolutionary nature of its movement.

A new flag was painted on the broken and battered shops, livelihoods and even homes of "traitors to the State", having been rightfully destroyed without the burdensome movements of due process. Skiffs hovered through Tehran's streets lifting the banner high, their holds filled like sardines to a can with traitor unionists, atheists, Freemasons, Sufis, Hashashin, and, worst of all, Communist provocateurs operating with the support of international finance, to await their judgment before the glory of the incoming National Revolution, not a judge.

A new flag - along with various slurs in the Perso-Mongol script - would be etched by the blade into the foreheads of all the unlucky patrons of Isfahan's famous nightclubs, their wigs and dandy-like hairstyles being ripped off their heads. All the while, the city guards stood idle, seeing which way the wind was going.

A new flag, etched on a black-red armband, quietly replaced a solid-red armband in a young man's dresser, while the white pseudo-militaristic uniform he used to wear quickly went into the furnace, burning to ashes among coals. From then on, he would wear the standard proudly with as much fidelity as he used to revere the symbol of proletarian revolution.

And from the point of view of Mohammad Tabatabai, a new flag would be hanging menacingly outside the Mosul aeroport as hundreds of Social Democrats, non-'forward-thinking' courtiers, liberals, and even Communists who had escaped the spontaneous violence of the night waited for the next flight to Konstantinoupolis, guarded only by a thin line of city guardsmen wedged in between the entrance to the port and hundreds of Blackshirts, shouting in unison subtle threats such as: "Prime Minister Tabatabai - come out!" or not-so subtle ones such as "Prime Minister Tabatabai, submit your neck to our ropes!".

He had not paid much attention to the Seal of Solomon, once upon a time: it once symbolized to him, a secret mystic, a symbol of strength, of power over evil.

It, in one tragic night, had been reinvented by Barseghyan's thugs. Like the similar pentagram, it might as well have been a symbol of Satan himself.

He took one last look back on his maligned homeland as he stepped onto the passenger airship, sorrow in his heart.

For as a new flag rose over Persia, a dark night fell.

by **Elysian Kentarchy** » Sat Mar 18, 2023 5:25 pm

Palace of Versailles, January 1st, 1900

"...And as we open a new century, one where even greater prosperity awaits us, I wish to call your attention to something truly wonderous. For in this century, France will celebrate the one thousandth year since the establishment of our Kingdom. While it is truly a glorious thing, I beseech you to not forget the past, the sacrifices we have all made for the sake of France, the sacrifices given by our sons in the fires of the Great War, whether in life or limb... ...We of course give our thanks onto God for our prosperity and for our salvation. And so I wish to close this with a reminder that my prayers are always with you and it is my sincere hope that your prayers are with mine, for that is the only way France can rise higher than ever. May God protect our people." After ending his speech, King Jean III rubs the stump that was where his left arm, something the Great War took from him, used to be, feeling mild pain from a limb that is no longer there, and lets out a sigh.

"Very finely done your majesty. I will see to it that the recording is copied and distributed across France." The man operating the recorder says to the King.

"You have my thanks. Truly a marvelous machine, to be able to take my voice and replicate it elsewhere for my subjects to hear. The world has indeed come far since my youth."

"Aw, your majesty, you ain't that old."

"That just shows how far we have come in such a short time doesn't it?" The King replies with a chuckle. While in most circumstances he was to be the picture of decorum and formality, being alone with someone in a room gives him incentive to drop it.

"Well, I'll be getting out of your hair. I'm sure you have a lot going on today with that fancy ball and all that this evening."

Of course." The man leaves and the king rotates his neck. So many things on the itinerary before this evening, not the least of which is making sure all his children will be at the ball.

France continues on, reflecting her great glory.

by **Elysian Kentarchy** » Tue Mar 21, 2023 8:23 pm

Various locations in Paris, January 1st, 1900

The Dauphin of France, Louis, sighs, closing his book. He still needs to get ready for the evening. Idly the heir of France wonders if his mother will try again to match him with some noble lady or another. Certainly he would not mind getting married, both because he wants to and also because he knows both his parents are worried about that. But he had already been engaged twice growing up and both women died when they were teenagers. Subsequent marriage negotiations have tended not to end the best and so things have been quiet the past few years. Doesn't matter, God willing he will marry someone or perhaps he will retire to a monastery like his grandfather Henri V did.

"Oi, Philippe! Pass me that wrench!" Pierre shouts over the noise in the hanger.

"Sure thing!" King Jean's second son, a young man who is something of a celerity to the commoners and the nobility, shouts back before walking over with it. "You think you will be able to get the problem with the engine fixed?" He asks his ever reliable engineer who is working on the airship.

"Probably. Though it might take me a couple days."

"Let me know if you need anything else, this girl has done me good."

"Of course." Pierre looks over at him. "Also don't you have to get ready for the New Year's ball your father is throwing?"

"Eh. It won't take me too long to get prepared for it." The second prince replies with a shrug.

Duchess Annette de Montmorency, King Jean's eldest daughter, gazes out the window of her carriage as one of her children rests on her lap. It really has been too long since she has been home, as stifling as court can be, it is still where most of her family is. She wasn't able to make it to the Channel Dash last year to see Philippe win due to her newest child coming soon and she also missed the New Year celebrations last year so it has been sometime since she had seen anyone from her family besides mother, father, and Gisela. She smiles a bit to herself, yes, despite everything it will be good to be home.

Princess Gisela examines the painting with before stepping away with a nod. "You have our thanks for completing this work on our behalf." She tells the painter in a kind tone, the picture of a maiden of the Bourbon dynasty. There is a bit more small talk and compliments that are within the bounds of propriety before the painter is dismissed and he leaves with a bow.

After the door clicks shut, a wide grin spreads on the princess' face. "Now to find where to put this that will most annoy Norden for going against God?" She asks herself in a cheerful tone. For the painting consists of four men sitting in judgment, King-Saint Olaf II, the Eternal King of Norway, King-Saint Canute IV of Denmark, King-Saint Eric IX of Sweden and the patron saint of Finland, Saint Henrik. One would probably be taken aback by the expression on the princess' face given how it is in contrast to her public persona, the zealousness and devoutness of Jean III's second daughter to both God and France is a well hidden secret after all, but it doesn't matter when she is alone. "I'll have to poll the Order for ideas. Or maybe just hang it in a public art gallery, oh yes." She mutters to herself before bowing to the painting and departing, schooling her features, she still needs to get ready for the ball and to see Annette.

A pair of twin girls, on the cusp of being teenagers, sit before the mirror as two maids go about brushing their hair, all the while praising their hair and matching dressed. The eldest, Maria, preens at the praise while the younger twin, Elisabeth, does her best to ignore what they have to say, after all, Gisela told her that the maids are just paid to say this stuff so she shouldn't consider what they have to say. It doesn't matter much in the end one supposes, tonight both of them intend to enjoy themselves as best they can with the circumstances. Plus it has been over a year since both of them have seen Annette and they are looking forward to that.

by **Tracian Empire** » Thu Mar 23, 2023 9:02 am

Βασιλεία τῶν Ῥωμαίων
Basileia tōn Rhōmaiōn
The Empire of the Romans

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
King of Kings, Ruling Over Those Who Rule

Constantinople

5th of January
1618 μ.Χ.
MMDCLIII a.u.c.
7408 ε.Κ

A young man, with slightly long and brown hair, and amber eyes was standing on one of the terraces of the Great Palace of Constantinople, looking over the city and the Golden Horn in the distance, like many Emperors before him. The waters of the Horn were ever changing, blue as the clear sky, green as emerald, ashen as the dull eyes of of an old man, or purple as an imperial chlamys. And where the sun's rays were reflecting into the water, they seemed to be made from the purest gold - the origin of its name. Between the Palace and the Golden Horn, the old city of Constantinople was still the ever-living spectacle that it had always been, from the Hippodrome to the sea walls, domes of churches, the towers of palaces, the columns, the boulevards and the Imperial Rode, the squares and the Forum. While each Basileus had built and improved the city, the tradition dictated that the old city, the one between the Theodosian Walls and the Sea, now commonly known as the Imperial City, was to remain unchanged. If the Empire of the Romans was an earthly reflection of the Kingdom of Heaven, then Constantinople, its capital, was its pearl. When changes had to be done, to bring the conveniences of the modern age, they were done carefully, so as not to affect the appearance of these buildings. Pipes and tubes, hidden beneath marble and gold. That was why even if the Great Palace had most of the conveniences and luxuries of this new era, no steam engine was allowed to run in the old city, so as to not cover the ancient marble in soot. No such restrictions were present in the distance, beyond the Horn, in the New City, what had once been Pera, or Galata as some called it. Sprawling further alongside the European side of the strait, the New City had been expanded time and again, and went from the Palaiologan Renaissance style of the palaces closest to the Horn, to Neo-Roman Revival of the churches further away, to the European style of the homes furthest away from the center. But Constantinople was not just a relic, or just a city of the past century. Ever since the decree of Emperor Manuel, the factories were banished to the Asian shore, where their smoke could be kept away from the old palaces, and where the railways connected them to the ports of the Levant and to the mines of the Anatolian mountains or of the desert. By turning around, the young man would have seen the smoke in the skies, above what had once been called Chrysopolis, the Golden City, and what was now known as the Atsalipolis, the Steel City, sprawling on the Asian side of the strait.

These moments of peace and of gazing at his city were short however, as the steward announced the arrival of the Grand Logothete, of the magistroi, the patricians, and other officials who took part in the morning ceremony, the prayers for the beginning of the day, and the dressing up of the Emperor. As Constantine the Purple Born said in his Book, what known in Latin as De Ceremoniis, and officially as the Explanation of the Order of the Palace, imperial power had to be exercised in harmony and order. The life in court, ever since the Palaiologan Restoration, had staunchly followed the ceremonies and orders of old, for an orderly court could could thus reflect the motion of the Universe as it was made by the Creator.

The young man, the young Basileus, put on a long tunic made of white linen, known as the chiton, servants pun on his red shoes, embroidered with golden eagles, then the servants dressed him in the long and rigid sakkos, a purple robe with wide puffed sleeves, they put on a golden girdle, adorned with pearls and diamonds, and then put on him the loros, the long and heavy cloth embroidered with gold and precious stones. The monarch then made the sign of the cross before he kissed the miracle performing icon in the corner of the room, and then he placed the imperial crown on his head, the golden one, decorated with diamonds, sapphires, amethysts and rubies, and took his sceptre and globe. Normally, this kind of an outfit was only used in the most important of occasions, but the custom was for the Emperor to wear it for all occasions until his coronation was done.

Followed by the officials and by the soldiers which had been guarding his room, those of the Varangian Guard, the monarch entered the Trullo hall, which had once hosted Ecumenical Councils, and which was now most often used for the councils between the monarch and the most important officials, the Logothetes, the ministers of the imperial government. The man sat on his throne, as the officials and the soldiers made obeisance, in accordance with the ceremony, before they took their seats at a large table. "Many years to you, o Basileus." The Grand Logothete, Alexandros Kantakouzenos, the most important dignitary, was the one was the one leading the meeting, in accordance with the protocol, with the monarch interceding whenever he desired, and with the other officials talking in turns. The official was an elderly man, known for his mellow personality, and for his ability to calm down the previous Emperor, the easy to anger Andronikos. In accordance with his role, he was wearing a wearing a khiton tunic of rich red embroidered with gold, a bright white chlamys cloak, with its edges of embroidered gold, worn double-folded, from shoulder to chin, fastened with a golden brooch. The cloak was tasseled with two small tablia of gold identifying his rank. His outfit was completed by a loroi woven with gold, the long narrow strip, hanging gracefully under the official’s left arm. In his hand, he was holding a baton of gold, with decorations of red enamel, and on his head he was wearing what was known as the skaranikon, of red and gold, and with portraits of the Emperor on the front and the back. "The Logothete of the Dome has important news from Persia, that we must bring to the attention of your Majesty immediately."

One of the officials stood up, his outfit similar to that of the Grand Logothete, but with the tablia of gold and emerald, identifying him as the Roman foreign minister, the Logothete of the Drome. "My Basileus, we have received news from the Ilkhanate. It would seem that their council has named Anush Barseghyan as the Grand Vizier, and his party, the All-Imperial Revolutionary Society, is now in charge. Their paramilitary forces have been attacking enemies of his party in Taysafun. Officials and politicians which have escaped have managed to board airships to the City, but they have been intercepted by airships of the aerial legions after crossing into our airships, and have been escorted, waiting for your Majesty's word. We could accept them here as exiles, and keep them as a bargaining chip against the Ilkhanate if necessary, but we are not sure if Barseghyan will request their extradition. Even if he would, a lowly Armenian corporal, be he the Grand Vizier of the Mongols, is in no position to make such a request of the Emperor of the Romans, but since we are not yet sure what position this new force will take against our Empire, I would advise your Majesty to be cautious."

All eyes were set on the young man, who spent a few moments thinking, before nodding. "Escort their airship to the City, we will receive them for the time being. We shall see what requests the Mongols will make of us, if any. Still, if this "revolutionary" party has taken power and is getting rid of enemies, those in Persia who can not afford airships will likely try to cross our border. Megas Domestikos, ", the Basileus said, turning to look at another one of the men, who was wearing a kavadion of red and yellow, with pearled borders, and aër of red, embroidered with gold, on his head a skaranikon, of red and gold stripes, and with portraits of the Emperor on the front and the back, and in his hand, a baton of gold, with a gilded top, with a silver chain coiled around it. The man stood up, and bowed his head. "Increase the patrols of the akritai alongside the border, and also ensure that the aerial legions increase their patrols. Move a few more tagma from the imperial reserve to Dara and other fortified areas, and make sure that the thematic regiments along the border are on full alert. We do not want this violence to spill over." The Grand Domestic bowed his head again. "Of course, my Basileus."

The Emperor then looked back at the foreign minister. "Also, do not contact the new Grand Vizier or government until they contact us. We should not be seen as encouraging revolutionary movements, be they socialist or ultranationalist." The logothete bowed, and sat back down, as the monarch glanced at the Grand Logothete. "The Megas Doux wishes to obtain the orders of your Majesty in regards to the naval exercise in the Pontus Euxinus." Yet another man stood up, wearing a kavadion of blue and gold brocade with pearled borders, on his head a a skaranikon as that of the Grand Domestic but with blue and gold stripes, and in his hand a baton, with engraved gold bosses and a coiled chain of silver. "My Basileus, as you know, under the orders of the late Emperor, the Imperial Fleet left Constantinople in December. It stopped in Trebizond, and advanced towards the Crimea, where in accordance with your father's orders, it was to organize naval exercises without getting too close to the Crimea or to the territorial waters of the Russians. We have received a message from the Droungarios, saying that the fleet is ready to start the exercise, what is your Majesty's desire?", the head of the Imperial Navy asked. Once again, a few moments of silence, as the monarch pondered. "Backing down now would be seen as a sign of weakness, and I do not wish for the Russians to think that my reign will start with us being afraid of them. The exercise will continue as planned in the mare liberum, and will continue to show that we consider the Euxine Sea as ours. Do however notify the Russian government that this is just an exercise." The Grand Duke bowed his head. "As you wish, my Basileus."

The Grand Logothete then stood up. "My Basileus, the last matter that we have to discuss is of course is that of your coronation. The preparations are proceeding smoothly, and we are confident that the coronation will be organized in the first weeks of February. The matter that still remains to be discussed is that of the invitations. The nobles and leaders of the Empire will of course be expected to travel to Constantinople to renew their oaths, including the Exarch of Egypt, but there remains the matter of foreigners. Your grandfather, for his coronation, invited the royalty of Europe, as was customary. Your father however, did not. My personal advice would be for an invitation to be sent, but that is of course the decision of your Majesty."

Michael stood up from his throne, looking a little annoyed at the mention of the coronation, and his movement forced all the other officials to stand up at once. "The Logothete of the Drome can make sure that the royal houses of Europe and other interested nations can be invited. Do make sure to also invite the Viceroy of Chuk-Jae-Do also. If contact is established by the new Mongol government, send them an invitation also - though do make sure to unofficially clearly mention that it would be expected for someone with royal blood to be sent, not a revolutionary. And do make sure to mention to the Eparchos that I want the costs of the ceremony to be kept as low as possible - the ceremony is important, but wasting money is not. I thank you all for joining this council."

Again, the officials made obeisance, and the Emperor turned around and left, followed by his guards.

by **Elysian Kentarchy** » Fri Mar 24, 2023 4:49 am

The King's office, January 12th, 1900

"...extend a hand of friendship and peace to the nations of Europe." King Jean finishes reading and sets the letter down on his desk. "What do you think love?" King Jean asks his queen who has taken her usual seat in the king's office and is knitting by the fireplace.

"Well it would be rude not to send someone of important stature given the importance of relations between us and the ERE." Queen Marianne of France replies as she thinks things over and Jean doesn't rush her. After all, her brains were one of the things that made him fall in love with her. "Send Louis."

"Louis?"

"Sending the Dauphin of France on the royal yacht and escorted by a few of our modern ships would present a powerful statement. Besides, who else can we send? Annette? She is busy with her family. Philippe? Well Philippe is a wonderful boy and I am proud of him but decorum is important and you know how he is when it comes to that. I would worry too much about us winding up at war with the ERE or someone if we left him unsupervised. Maria or Elisabeth? They are both too young. Gisela? She is perfect when it comes to decorum, can speak Greek, and is an ideal girl and I love her dearly, but we both know she probably wouldn't want to leave France if she doesn't have to. Your father? He should be left to his prayers. Combine that with Charles' family being unavailable and our preference for sending someone closer to the King, Louis is the only real option. Plus Louis can speak Greek and was in Constantinople just last month for Andronikos' funeral."

"I swear, I am amazed that the engines of the Régénérateur didn't break with how fast we had to get him over there and then got him home. It was not exactly the finest moment with our navy and presenting ourselves." The King comments reflecting on the events last month, had he been any other emperor normally someone lower ranking would have been sent to Andronikos' funeral but given who his wife was sending someone from the main family was important.

"Need I remind you my dear husband that the Régénérateur is currently in a drydock getting its engines rebuilt because of that trip?" The Queen asks him with a raised eyebrow.

"I meant before they got back to France love." He sighs and returns his attention to the other letters in front of him that he needs to get to, all of them neatly opened and piled to make his life easier given his missing arm. "I'll see about what ships we can choose to send as an escort and have the Souverain prepared to have France's heir on board. Can you explain things to him this evening?"

"Of course."

The King looks down in thought before speaking again. "Might I suggest sending Elisabeth and Maria along? They don't often get out." Of course the King could just order them to go along but no point in angering his wife by mindlessly sending her babies somewhere without asking.

The queen mulls it over, she doesn't seem to fond of the idea of the children going without her but she needs to stay in France to help with other matters. "So long as you send someone we can trust to look after them, yes. And you make it clear that if anything happens to my daughters death will be a mercy to him."

The King chuckles, "of course, love."

While many would probably just take airships to Constantinople, the heir of France, like his father when he travels abroad, will be taking a normal ship. After all, after the incident with the Pacificateur ten years ago, the French court is wary of sending the King or his heir anywhere on airship.

by **Intermountain States** » Sun Mar 26, 2023 7:48 pm

January 1900
Buckingham Palace, London
United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland

Prime Minister and Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs Robert Arthur Talbot Gascoyne-Cecil, 3rd Marquess of Salisbury sat with Queen Victoria as the two most powerful people in the British Empire read the telegraph message from Constantinople.

"It appears that this is an invitation to all the leaders of Europe to attend the coronation of a new emperor," the Prime Minister mused. "Something that hadn't been done in the coronation of the prior emperor in order to extend a new friendly relationship with much of Europe."

"For such a momentous occasion, it would be appropriate to send someone of important stature to represent the British delegation," the Queen said. "Perhaps we can send Albert Edward, the Prince of Wales to represent the our envoys."

"It would be appropriate indeed," the Prime Minister answered. "But why not send the Queen of the United Kingdom and the British Domains, and Empress of India?"

"I'm afraid that I may be too old to attend any functions so far away from home," the Queen answered, grimacing at her current condition. "I would simply stand out due to my advanced age. Better to have the heir represent the youthful vigor and progress of the Empire."

"Very well, the Prince of Wales shall be notified to attend the coronation of the Romans," the Marquess of Salisbury said. "What better way to showcase British knowhow and technological development than to have the delegations arrive to Constantinople on the HMS Prydwen, the pride and joy of the Royal Air Force?"

"Indeed," the Queen smiled. "Then we shall prepare for the Prince's trip."

by **Sao Nova Europa** » Mon Mar 27, 2023 7:18 am

January 1900
Empire of Great Shun

1900 was an election year in China. It would be only the second election held in the Middle Kingdom. Democracy was a relatively new concept, but it was a popular one. Even though the many problems of China had yet to be solved, elections provided an outlet for the people to voice their opinions. No longer would the Emperor make decisions on his own, consulting only a few courtiers and eunuchs. For Prime Minister Sun Yat-sen, encouraging greater participation in these elections was a personal bet. Truth be told, many people who nominally had the right to vote wouldn't bother to show up because they were illiterate and too preoccupied with making a living. This was especially true in rural areas, which also lacked the necessary infrastructure to hold elections. Sun Yat-sen had tried to fix this but even with more investments into education and electoral infrastructure, most people in the Empire would abstain. In a way, this was a good thing for the Prime Minister, since the uneducated rural masses were more likely to vote for his reactionary political opponents rather than for his modernist platform - which was supported by the Western-educated upper middle-class in urban centers. Yet Sun Yat-sen couldn't help but feel a sense of sadness about this situation.

With 400 of the 600 Representatives of the National Assembly elected using a FPTP system, it was no wonder that China had developed a nascent two-party system. The Nationalist Party of Prime Minister Sun Yat-sen was the definition of a big-tent party. Liberals advocating for modernization of the country, Westernization of social mores, and the liberalization of the economy, moderate conservatives wanting gradual change to safeguard Chinese sovereignty while preserving Chinese traditions, proto-fascists advocating a strong militaristic nationalist government that would push the country into the 20th century and make China strong and proud again, social democrats advocating for the creation of a modern welfare system and protecting workers' rights, and moderate socialists seeing the modernization and Westernization of China as a prerequisite for an eventual socialist society. In fact, over the past few years, three informal groups were formed by Nationalist politicians: the Right-Nationalist, the Liberal-Nationalists, and the Left-Nationalists. The fact that Sun Yat-sen was able to maintain a broad coalition ranging from the far right to the moderate left was an achievement - one accomplished thanks to his strong personality.

The only policy that united those disparate groups was a commitment to "modernization". Moving from an agrarian economy to an industrialized capitalist one; investing heavily in modern infrastructure - such as railways and modern roads - to promote interconnectivity and economic growth; restructuring the government by doing away with the bloated bureaucracy and redirecting those funds into modern, efficient welfare programs; a strong national government that would push for reforms and national unity; a defense of Chinese democracy against those wanting a restoration of direct imperial rule; a commitment to safeguarding Chinese sovereignty and modernizing the armed forces.

The major opponent of the Nationalists was the Imperial Union. Just like the Nationalists, it was a big-tent group opposed to the Prime Minister's reformist drive. It mostly found support from traditionalist scholar-officials, radical conservatives, xenophobes, and working-class folk who had seen their lives disrupted by the introduction of new technology such as railways. The Imperial Union advocated for a restoration of direct imperial rule, greater regional autonomy, closing China's borders with the West, a crackdown on opium trade and foreign religions (such as Christianity), and a skepticism towards industrialized capitalism. Even though it could be categorized as a far-right party, it managed to draw support from groups that would in other countries lean to the left.

The Nationalists and the Imperials had completely opposite views of Chinese nationalism. The first believed in a strong centralized government pushing for Western-oriented reforms to strengthen China, the second in an isolated and xenophobic China ruled by the Son of Heaven. The 1900 elections would decide which vision would prevail.

by **Elysian Kentarchy** » Mon Mar 27, 2023 7:58 am

The King's Office, January 1900

The King of France silently reads over the letter given to him by the Secretary of State of Foreign Affairs while the latter stands quietly before him, awaiting the King's judgment.

"Angleterre wants to talk, is that it? To have us sit down with them and talk with them and one of our dear southern neighbors?" He mutters thinking over what this means and the pros and cons.

"Yes, your majesty."

"Well, so long as our relations with the ERE are not undermined when they speak of these 'Mediterranean challenges', I see no reason why we cannot sit down with them to discuss the issues facing us. Seems appropriate given the start of a new century, though I imagine Navarre will not be happy."

"Should I prepare a delegation?"

"Yes, put a staff together and have them accompany my son Philippe on the Pucelle d'Orléans to London in order to advise him." That statement causes a jolt in the minister which somewhat amuses the King.

"Your majesty, pardon me for saying so but is that... wise?"

"He is my son and I trust him to defend France's interests, he just needs people to advise him when it comes to these things. Also helps that Philippe is fluent in English."

"I have a feeling that young Philippe only did that so he can learn better insults for the English."

"Oh undoubtedly." The King answers him. "Regardless, see to it that it is done."

The King quietly smiles after the minister departs, what he didn't mention is that he is also doing this so Philippe doesn't feel left out with the going ons at court in comparison to his older brother.

by **Draos** » Mon Mar 27, 2023 9:01 am

January 1st 1900 Irunea Navarra

Munio Gardile sat in his office after a long session of the Navarrese parliament or Nafarroako gorteak as it was known in the basque language. He rubbed his eyes in an attempt to keep the exhaustion at bay, He was fifty years old and starting to look it as his formerly raven colored hair was starting to gray giving it a salt and pepper appearance. When a knock was heard at his door “come in Inazio” he would reply, the Minister of Foreign affairs Inazio Zagar entered politely a slightly younger man of thirty six with his steps still youthful though a bit rigid and with a good amount of haste,as fit his rather serious personality.

Inazio spoke quietly but poignantly “we have received messages my lord from the Romans of Constantinople and the British.” Munio raised an eyebrow “The Romans you say? They would barely bother a bless you if we should sneeze. What do they want with our humble kingdom?” The minister stated plainly “they wish for us to send an emissary to attend the coronation of their new emperor my lord.” Munio stroked his chin “I shall inform the King in the morning and what of the British?” Inazio paused and gulped slightly “They seek to add the French to our alliance despite the tensions between ourselves and Paris” “Ah” the Older man replied “we shall send you to see what they are scheming this time around.”, after receiving the King’s response that he would personally attend the coronation he had Inazio respond to the messages.

To the Foreign Minister of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland
The Kingdom of Navarra will attend your summit despite our current feelings of utter betrayal by the French. We shall heed the call of our steadfast ally and put aside our petty grievances for the prosperity of both of our realms.
With all due courtesy and respect
Foreign Minister Ignazio Zagar of the Kingdom of Navarra

To the Logothete of the Drome of the Romans of Constantinople
It is with great pleasure that I write to inform you that King Danel himself will attend the coronation as a sign of the great respect Irunea has towards your great empire.
With all due courtesy and respect
Foreign Minister Ignazio Zagar of the Kingdom of Navarra

by **Asturies-Llion** » Mon Mar 27, 2023 3:47 pm

Palace of La Carpetania, January 9th, 1900
Toledu
Democratic Federation of Iberia and the Macaronesia

The session had begun like two hours ago, but the ministers of the Federal Council were still talking about the various items on the agenda. Fortunately, the Minister of Agriculture, Ricardu Mella, was finishing his item:

“The current situation of the filoxera is difficult to estimate, but the estimation is that as soon as spring comes, the plague will keep moving to the north in Galiça and to the east in the Dueru basin. We do not think it can extend to the south of the river because of the sandy terrain of the area, so the vineyards to its south are safe for now. Other information we have is that it can jump from Navarre to Miranda d’Ebro in any moment, attempts to collaborate with the Navarrese have not gone very well.
In Andaluçía we estimate the plague could reach Guadalquivir river anytime soon in the lower course, and in the middle it may not reach it yet. Extremadura has already suffered some infections, but the amount of resistant rootstock planted as the vineyards expand, is lowering its impact. La Manxa is the only territory that is still out of reach, with no estimation of filoxera reaching it soon.
Pertugal has already surpassed 1870s production, and Granada may reach 1878 numbers this year if weather doesn’t mess with predictions.
This year we will begin the prospection campaign next week, in order to find out possible vineyards in which the plague persists. Our contacts with the Agro-Industrial Federation tell us that some cooperatives didn’t want to use resistant rootstocks, agronomical advisors will move to the said plantations in order to offer them again.”

The Council was in silence, and Ricardu looked into his papers in order to check if everything was mentioned.

“Yes, that is all, we can move to the next item if you don’t have any commentary”.

Manuel Cárceles, the President, who presided the session for the second time, because he got the position that year, spoke:
“It seems there are no comments”
The man looked into the other ministers’ eyes.
“Perfect, then, we can move on to the next issue. The Empire of the Romans has sent us an invitation to the coronation of the son of Emperor Andronikos V, Mikh… Miguel. I know many of us do not like how Rhomania is ruled, but our duty with the Iberians is to keep good terms with as many countries as possible, and the other side of the Mediterranean is important. My position is that we should send a delegation, and, as current President, I should go. The relations with the Romans deserve a delegation headed by the closest thing we have to an Exousiastes. If you don’t mind, maybe we should skip any possible discussion and vote, we won’t advance if we have the same debates as always. We already know the position the others have. Let’s vote.”

For: 5
Against: 2

“We accept the invitation, we will begin with proposals of the text now.”

After some minutes, the ministers reached an agreement, and the sent letter was:

To the Logothete of the Drome of the Empire of the Romans

The Federal Council accepts with great pleasure the invitation to the coronation of the new Emperor of the Romans. We will send a delegation headed by our President Manuel Cárceles to Constantinople, in order to show our respects to our brothers of the other side of Mare Nostrum and their Basileus, long may he reign.

With all our respect and friendship,
Federal Council of the Democratic Federation of Iberia and the Macaronesia

by **Ormata** » Wed Mar 29, 2023 12:46 pm

Kingdom of Hungary
Magyar Királyság

King Pintér Valentin
Budapest, Hungary
7th January, 1900

The morning sun crept through the window, casting sharp shadows here and there in the room. Valentin had given small bursts of effort here and there on his own accommodations, seeing as none who mattered actually would ever see such rooms, and it truly showed. The walls were bare save for a painting here and there. The desk was neat, thick paper folders and tabs listing their accounts stacked in rows about the corner. The bed was neat, folded. He himself sat at the desk, reading a letter in a simple white shirt and trousers. It was less than common for him to receive such dispatches from the foreign office, never mind from the Rhomania itself. Thin fingers traced circles about the corner of the page again and again. At the door, a civil servant stood motionless. Valentin knew Levente was an agent of the Ministry of Defense, as blanket a title as any to be less known than his official status as a simple servant to the household of the king, but such didn’t exactly matter. In many ways, he had tied his fortunes to that Ministry and they to his. It was a mutual matter.

“Friendship and peace,” muttered the thin man at the desk, “Friendship and peace. A Roman Peace, no doubt.” Setting the letter down, he thumbed through many of the folders before slowly extracting one from its stack, opening the thing to page through its own contents. Observations on Roman military deployments, a supposed exercise in the Black Sea which was far outside any view the Hungarian Navy could achieve, not to mention outside the view of those few agents in Crimea, as well as observations by the embassy in Constantinople on the precise events going on in that city. The information was, in some ways, sanitized for Valentin’s eyes, he had little doubt on that. Some points were given understating Roman achievements, often comparing them to the great strides of Hungary. Their army was smaller, troops less drilled and ready, vessels ill-captained and often experiencing breakdowns, it was all quite silly and easily cut-through. Other points had a propagandist’s slant, the natural distaste for Romans dripping from the words themselves. They were always planning, conniving, lying. Roman newspapers were clearly misleading on several points, the embassy claimed here and there. It was all quite natural, able to be parsed through when needed.

A policy of peace had been, by and large, Valentin’s chosen course. He would need to make good on an appearance in Constantinople, lest the hawks make their voices even more heard in Parliament. It would do little good for him to arrive by land, as such was…too slow, in many cases. It would do even less for him to arrive by warship; the whole point was an enforcement of peace and, besides, the vessels of the Navy were far less capable than those other nations would be likely to send. It would be a poor comparison for him to go, God only knew, in older vessels compared to the others. No, the royal yacht would be the best choice for the occasion.

“Levente, notify the Turul to make preparations for departure. And have written a letter…just acknowledge that, with great dignity and joy and…you know the format? Standard 3?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Just have that written up, sent to the Romans as well.”

“Of course, sir.”

“Dismissed.”

by **Elysian Kentarchy** » Fri Mar 31, 2023 2:37 pm

French Ministry of War

In a room full of tobacco smoke various army officers, mostly generals with a few of the lower ranks, have been sitting around a table discussing the various French war plans and military preparations in the event of war under a painting of their king for the past few hours.

General Oscar de Négrier, the French Chief of the General Staff, sighs before responding to a cavalry officer. "While they are good for propaganda, the Order of Saint Louis will not be that useful unless we have a war of movement on our hands. Joffre, how to things look on supplying the army?"

"We have plenty of stockpiles to allow for the army with the current numbers to fight for a good while. Within most estimates anyway. For now supplies are rolling in as fast as we can get them to equip the troops that are being called up."

A different officer speaks up. "Speaking of artillery, there is the concern about the Séré de Rivières forts. Given recent advancements in artillery, they will not stand up to prolonged bombardment."

"If the Germans reach the Séré de Rivières forts, we will have bigger things to worry about than their modernization. But I will see about getting some of our modernization budget moved over to them to allow for them to be upgraded with concrete, try to do so quickly." And everyone in the room is glad that the French monarchy does allocate a sizable budget to the military and Jean III, being a former soldier, understands that.

"Anything else when it comes to artillery?"

"Colonel Petain is proposing an increase to field artillery and if we can put in a request to our industries to design something to tow them faster instead of relying on horses. If it is a war of movement repositioning artillery will be important he thinks and if we get bogged down in the trenches and achieve a breakthrough we will need to get the artillery through the former no man's land."

"I will pass that along to the Office of Procurement and they will send it to the industries and we will see what they propose. What of our mechs?"

"The Forteresse-class mechs are ready for battle at a moments notice. However it would probably be best to position them in the rearward defenses." General Joseph Brugère comments. "Given their lack of speed we cannot afford to lose them or worse, have their guns turned on us. Otherwise the mobilization of the Vaillant-class mechs is underway at a brisk pace and we expect more to be rolling off the lines soon.

"Perfect, how is the rest of the mobilization going?"

"The King has not been willing to declare mobilization. However his conscription by lot has allowed us to increase the standing army by 800,000, bringing our numbers up to 1,640,000 not ideal but it will allow us to hold until more soldiers arrived. I managed to get his agreement that if war breaks out conscription for all males 21 to 34 is to be immediately introduced with all reserves called into active service and if war doesn't break out before the end of the month another wave of conscription is to begin."

"Normally conscription by lot would be rather unpopular but he was smart enough to make it publicly clear that both of his sons are also in the lot, even if they were not drawn it helped calm people."

"Well that and the fact that he increased pay for those who were conscripted by lot to make up for it."

"That too. Also, at his proposal, citizens are being encouraged to undergo voluntary military training and that has been rather popular. The press has made pretty clear war is very likely in the future so it would be good for everyone to be prepared to give their all for France."

"Well it is better than nothing. In the meantime we have issued a recall of 20,000 troops from the Foreign Regiments back to France but it will take some time for them to arrive. We have been increasing encouragement to those in the colonies, especially Vietnam, to join the Foreign Regiments."

"And what of the air battleships we have ordered from the Americans?"

"The Roi Louis XVI and the Roi Philippe II should be finished and on their way to France in less than a month. Originally Prince Philippe was supposed to be heading to the Americas along with the crews that we have had trained but since he is being sent to England they will have to do without them."

More details are discussed and hammered out, with plans to summon troops, arm them, and quickly move them to the front using France's extensive rail network, the construction of preliminary defenses in the east, the mobilization of mechs and tanks, and more. It is clear to everyone in this room that if war comes France must be ready.

"Lastly, what about the bridges at the Rhine?"

"Be prepared to destroy them if needed, it might be a good idea to let the Germans try crossing and then blowing them up but that is only if circumstances favor us. The smaller our front is the better. When and how will be left to local commanders."

by **Alt Div Admin** » Sat Apr 01, 2023 8:39 am

Parliament deadlocked over the controversial Public Security Bill

Italy is in turmoil today, as the military-conservative government of Prime Minister and General Luigi Pelloux has attempted by using procedural machinations to pass the widely hated Public Safety Bill that has already sparked widespread outrage and protests throughout the country. The proposed legislation, a creation of the military and of the anti-democratic conservative establishment, would make strikes by state employees illegal, restrict public meetings, dissolve subversive organizations, revive the penalties of banishment and preventive arrest for political offenses, and increase control over the press. This bill represents a major attack on civil liberties and freedom of expression in Italy.

The bill has been initially opposed by the Socialists and by the Extreme Left, the Socialists, Republicans and Radicals. Today however, in face of the subterfuges used by the government, the Constitutional Opposition led by His Excellency Giuseppe Zanardelli, have joined the Extreme Left in boycotting the bill, and together, 160 deputies of the opposition have walked out of the Chamber of Deputies, resulting in a parliamentary deadlock and the adjournment of the Chamber until tomorrow. Mass strikes and protests have been once again called and announced throughout the country, with workers, students, and intellectuals joining forces to express their opposition to the bill.

The people of Italy are speaking out loudly and clearly against this attempt to restrict their fundamental rights and freedoms. Many are concerned that the passage of the Public Safety Bill would represent a major step backward for Italy, bringing us at the same level as the absolute monarchy in France or the autocratic regime of Constantinople. Even in the face of the revolutionary activity in Southern Italy, it is unconceivable for any government to limit civil liberties this much. No matter of how much the proponents of this bill and the Prime Minister argue in favor of it, and claim that it is in the name of law and order, it is clear that ministerials and socialists must come together to stop this model of strong government. General Luigi Pelloux can not be allowed to see himself as a new Roman dictator.

Milan paralyzed by socialists

The city of Milan has come to a standstill as strikes and left-wing protests continue to rock the city. Thousands of workers, students, and intellectuals have taken to the streets to express their opposition to the Public Safety Bill proposed by the government. As the protests continue, tensions are running high, with clashes reported between protesters and police. The streets are filled with chanting crowds, and most major factories in the city are as of now paralyzed, as the syndicates have declared a continuous strike until either the government announces that it will give up on its attempts to pass the bill, or until the government is dismissed by His Majesty the King.

In response to the unrest, General Luigi Pelloux has promised to use the military to break the strikes if they continue. The Prime Minister has argued that opposition from the bill comes mainly from far left or far-left aligned political parties that are operating with money and influence from Iberia and from Scandinavia, and that this reaction to his bill only strengthens his belief that foreign agitators are behind this opposition. The General beliefs that if these protests continue, the influence of the socialists will spread until the Kingdom itself is threatened, and that he will take all necessary measures and precautions to ensure that the Kingdom and the Parliament will not be threatened by revolutionary rabble.

His Majesty the King has yet to comment on the situation, something that has further angered the protesters in Milan, who have as of the afternoon, started to call on His Majesty to dismiss the current government and to call for snap elections.

by **Stollberg-Stolberg** » Sat Apr 01, 2023 2:52 pm

January 12th of the Year 1900

Salzburg, Chambers of the Member States

"[...] and then after he killed his girl, he drowned and was never heard from again!" Rudolph Gottfried von Wittelsbach concluded the Story. Laughter was coming from every one of the Members, as well as the Kaiser who also attended. Everyone but the Representative of Duke Ludwig von Hesse-Darmstadt, Karl Peter von Hesse-Darmstadt responded in a slightly agitated way, "Büchner was a Wanted Criminal here, you know."

"Don't be that sour. You are just Jealous that he got away to Switzerland and died there instead of being executed for Treason by your Court," Rudolph catching his breath ", Though I must say that he was an exceptional writer, his Drama was fantastic on the Great Theater of Munich, though 63 Years after the Death of the Author." In the last years, the Bavarian Kingdom started to take leaner approaches to the so usually stiff thinking of the other Nobility. So the works by usually shunned authors emerged to make appearances more often. Especially noticeable was the Great Theater of Performing Arts in Munich. Which was approved by a Royal Seal and thus saw the newest performances of the season be played in its halls.

"Anyway," the Kaiser continued ", there is a reason why I have decided to visit you all today. As you may know, the Ruler of the ERE has passed on, god rest his soul, and because of that it would only be a reasonable thought to send one of you to this event. The Letter is already written and only the participant's name is needed for it to be sent. So I will ask everyone here who would like to be the Ambassador?" A small silence followed the question until Maria Klara von Liechtenstein raised her hand slowly. "Then it is decided, I will leave you to the rest of your discussions and return to Vienna."

"Well... I might as well think that I could mention that there were improved designs for the Hull of the Airships approved by the King's board of commissions?" Rudolph Gottfried von Wittelsbach was trying to start a new conversation anew. Only an awkward silence followed until the door opened.

"Your Highnesses, the Afternoon Paper, this time the Gesamtösterreicher Blattl." An old Butler brought them 7 Newspapers on a Silver platter and quickly left. Without having to read most members could already see their eyes gleaming. A revolutionary sentiment in Italy? That has great potential for expansion with France being a cooperative Ally in that situation. "I will write the Letter to France this time." the representative of Baden cut their thoughts on how to approach the situation. "France? Why would we need help from them?" the Wurttembergian Representative cut the Baden Rep off and took his piece of paper. "Are you lost or just ignorant?" the Representative of the Alsatian Lands interjected "How do you think we will do it without France?" A couple of moments later the Austrian Representative finally spoke "If we murder, let's say, one of the prominent Milanese Strike Leaders. I mean the Title already says as much as we can guess. then Italy might be embroiled in a Civil War soon."

There were lengthy discussions about the topic, and finally, the concession was reached that the Italians, even in Civil War would not like to be invaded by foreigners. So deals with France should be struck so that in case a completely "natural" Civil War started they should occupy the Industrial Northern Lands for the safety of the Borders and their population. The Representative of Baden was finally able to write his letter to France.

To the most prestigious Highness of France,

The Council of Members, under the approval of the Kaiser of the Reichsbund Deutscher Nationen, would like to request diplomatic negotiations concerning the current Italian Situation.
The main topic would be the possibility of a required occupation of Italian Lands in Case of a Civil War happening to Protect our Borders and Populace, other matters shall be concerned too to a lesser degree,
the Council does appreciate it if a fast consensus would be reached and an answer would be sent.

With high regard, the Representative of Baden Pater Friedrich von Baden.

The Council of Members of the Reichsbund.

"You've written your name wrong, what are you a priest now?" the Bavarian Representative noted. "Goddammit, well cannot change it now, this Ink is permanent, I hope that it does not stand out." the representative of Baden left the Room to find the Butler again.

To the most prestigious Highness of the Eastern Roman Empire,

The Council of Members, under the approval of the Kaiser of the Reichsbund Deutscher Nationen, would like to give its condolences on the death of the former Emperor Andronikos.
A consensus by the Kaiser as the Council has been reached that Council member Klara Maria von Liechtenstein had been chosen to represent the Nation during the coronation,
the Council hopes that the relations of both nations shall not deteriorate and only improve, shall the coronation go as planned.
The Representative would come aboard the Airship Theodor Fontane and would dock in the Constantinople Airship Docks.

With high regard, the Representative of Württemberg Anton Johann Georg von Württemberg.

The Council of Members of the Reichsbund.

"Alright, the letter is now finished, I shall leave now too to deliver it." the Representative said. "Then I believe the session is dismissed, Leonard you are still on for the Poker Round after Twenty?" The Alsatian Representative nodded " Then we may all leave." with that the Austrian Representative Gottfried Wilhelm von Habsburg left the room.

by **Upper Magica** » Sun Apr 02, 2023 3:03 am

Palace of the Government - Taysafun Governorate

The black and red standard bearing the Seal of Solomon hung over the Cabinet room imposingly. If the room wasn't packed full of Revolutionary Society men, it might have been intimidating. Instead, it served as a glorious reminder to all - they were in charge, having shown it by force on the very day of the Paramount Leader's ascent to power - entirely legally.

Standing out from the rest, though, were the presence of military officers, who were perhaps more visibly cowed, and more importantly, stiff necked; that is to say, uncomfortable.

Before long, the Paramount Leader entered the room, flanked by guards. The military men - the chief of Staff, the chiefs of the Army, Aerofleet, and what remained of the Navy snapped to attention saluting, in contrast with the Party men, who raised up their fists toward the sky, shouting at the top of their lungs: "HAIL THE REVOLUTION!".

The Paramount Leader raised up his own left fist, returning the Society's salute. "Let's get this started," Barseghyan said, sitting down. "There is much to be done."

He slipped on a pair of reading glasses, looking through the agenda. "Firstly and foremostly, the Communist threat. What of it?"

The Councilor of Internal Security, a well known Irani by the name of Amir Rahimi - a Russo-Mongol war veteran, like many in the room - spoke up. "Our round-ups have proven relatively successful. Oh, about 4,500 Reds, all in all - tip of the iceberg, though. There's only so much we can do legally at the moment. In fact," he coughed. "Police services are arresting more Blackshirts than Reds; they're operating entirely illegally, beating up Reds, mystics, democrats, so on. We're making sure that the charges don't stick, but there are a few democratic minded judges in the sy--"

The Paramount Leader snapped back. "We will change that. Friend," referring to his party comrade Onor Jaqsylyq, who was in the room, "please note you have the Government's cooperation in the Special Action to come next week that we have discussed. It is the cornerstone of our plans, and must be executed forthwith. You understand the importance, yes?"

The somewhat dopey-looking but, contrary to appearance, rather sharp leader of the Protection Squadron nodded. "I do. It will be done, Leader." Barseghyan smiled. "Good, good. As for legality, we now make the laws - the Constitution of the Khanate is no threat. We can alter it to our ends. As for these liberal Greek-minded scum hiding within the government apparatus, who so eagerly suck the teat of Athenian democracy, they must be revealed as truly Greek in spirit - boy-lovers all. The people will soon reject their.... degeneracies."

He looked to the black-shirted and uniformed Togtoon Bayarsaikhan, leader of the Assault Banners, the Party's own paramilitary. "Your people did good work; we must now move into the realm of the covert. No more gangs roaming the streets, comrade. The Banners must be brought into line, but I want your most...discreet men to find as much dirt as we can on these liberals. We must accept no excuses. Do you understand, comrade?"

"Yes, Paramount Leader. Your will be done." the rather portly Mongol nodded.

Barseghyan nodded. "We turn now to foreign relations. We, obviously, must take a hard anti-Russian stance; it is the bedrock of our movement. We have more...flexibility when it comes to the Romans and the so-called 'civilized' powers of the world. Councilor Avraham, your thoughts?"

The Councilor for Foreign Relations, Yosef Ahmed Avraham, a Mesopotamian Jew and rising star of the Khanate's diplomatic service nodded. "We have, of course, little room to maneuver. The British strangle us from the south and east, the Russian hydra to the north, and Romans to the West. I propose we eliminate at least one of these colonial powers as competitors. I believe we should initiate some sort of detente with the Romans; Russia and their...expansionist ambitions, to say the least, pose a threat to their own polity and influence. And indeed, we have little to gain from a hostile relationship."

The Chief of the General Staff clicked his heel. "Vizier Barseghyan," he said, pointedly avoiding the usage of his titular, "we at the Staff agree with this assessment. It is the great mistake of rulers past who failed to recognize the worthlessness of Syria and Armenia, who failed to secure a working relationship with the Romans against the Bear."

Jaqsylyq nodded in agreement. "For once, the Protection Squadron and the Army agree on something. The Armenians and Syriacs are our brothers in Empire, and the eastern lands of the Romans ought to be part of our realm, but we must in these early stages act with... a certain pragmatism."

The Paramount Leader nodded. "I accept this explanation, and I can't help but agree myself. The Russians are our foremost threat. Following this line of thought, we have received news of the Roman emperor's death; perhaps we ought to send a delegation and our deepest condolences."

Avraham nodded. "Your will be done, Leader. I will write out a telegram posthaste to their foreign office."

"Our last agenda on foreign policy.." Barseghyan thought. "The Sikh Empire. Chief Aslan," referring to the Chief of the General Staff, Vartan Mikayil Aslan, a Christian Azeri, "We need a show of strength on the world stage; the Sikh Empire and the Punjab are ripe for conquest, being rich in agriculture and resources. What say you on this matter?"

The room darkened a bit, metaphorically speaking, while the Party men were virtually ecstatic. The Chief adjusted his collar, uncomfortable with the topic. "We are still in the process of reorganizing the Armed Forces, sir. Most of our war plans relate to the Russians and Roman threats, we haven't yet drafted any plans for India as it's never been a priority.."

Paramount Leader Barseghyan chortled. "It is now. You're ordered to begin probing the Sikhs - discreetly. We will handle the diplomatic aspects of things, before anyone shouts about 'casus belli' this, 'righteousness' that. They are barbarians; the Europeans recognize this. It will be an easy affair to contrive some justification."

The Chief saluted. "It will be done, sir."

With their day's worth of plotting against the world concluded, the cabinet of Councilors retired forthwith, while military planners began to draft their new leader's vision.

Official Communications from the Great Mongol Empire to the Empire of the Romans

To our Western neighbors -

I, Anush Barseghyan, Grand Vizier of the Great Mongol Empire do this day of January 13th wish to convey our deepest condolences to the Roman people and the issue of the late Andronikos V, on behalf of Kundegh Khan, Khagan of all Mongolia as well as from all the people from the nations that compose the Mongol Empire.

We believe Great Men are granted by Providence to God-fearing nations such as ours in their greatest time of need, and Andronikos the Fifth was one such man duly gifted by God to the Roman people; it is a great loss indeed that God saw fit to call him back to His side early. The dual threats of Marxism and Republicanism, walking hand in hand with each other in the pursuit of furthering the ignoble cause of internal rot and degeneracy as well as the ever-present menace of the Russians were and are salient threats to Rome's glory, and I must credit this great man for having the temerity and foresight to recognize this and actively combat these evils of the world, no matter our two states' scruples in the past during his reign.

Going forward, we would be most happy to send our own delegation to the coronation of Michael the Tenth if the Empire would permit.

May God smile upon you,

Grand Vizier Anush Barseghyan

by **Northern Socialist Council Republics** » Sun Apr 02, 2023 6:16 am

Commonwealth of Northern Socialist Council Republics
Nordiske Socialistiske Rådsrepublikkenes Samveldet

I looked over the papers that had been imported all the way from my homeland.

"Autocracy Survives the Autocrat," sneered the Röda Kapellet.

"Emperor Dead, Constantinople in Mourning," sympathised the Svenska Dagligen.

"A Succession, a Change in Course", cautioned the Riksposten.

I like to think of myself as a reasonably well-read youth. I feel, however, that the more I read and the more I learn, the less sure I become that there is anything true about anything there is to be read and to be learned. The surety of common sense melted into a tangled soup of nuanced equivocations and the boldness of black and white assertions disintegrated into a palette of subtle greys. Two thousand and two hundred kilometres separated Stockholm from Constantinople; distance enough for rumours, exaggerations, agendas, and exoticism to clarify a muddy reality into snappy headlines.

Did they even know, up there in the north, anything about what has been going on here?

"How do I look, Sonja?"

"Resplendent, Lasse," I answered my boss. "I'm sure you'll fit in perfectly in there."

He chuckled. Of course, I'd have said that he looked respectable even if he looked like the most ostentatious prize horse in all Europe. Personally, I thought that I looked utterly ridiculous in this black, red, blue, and white bunad - could I even remember the last time that I was dressed like this? - but my boss assured me that showing up in my usual blouse and skirt wouldn't go down well with the assembled nobility. The court in Constantinople did not expect Scandinavians to show up in the most traditional and highbrow Greek fashions, but they did expect Scandinavians dressed in the nicest attire that that our own Scandinavian culture had to offer and their idea of nice matched not at all with what professional society in Bergen thought was a respectable dress for a working woman.

Newspapers sympathetic to the Yellows printed caricatures of the fat elite of the Commonwealth hobnobbing with tyrants and dictators. Those sympathetic to the Blacks printed caricatures of republican diplomats looking shabby and undignified next to the ostentatious wealth of royalties.

Reality, as usual, refused to conform to cartoons.

Ah well. When it came to judging Roman ceremonial fashion, I will gladly subordinate my own opinions to the trained eye of my boss, one Lars Johan Svensson, Permanent Secretary of the Commonwealth Mission in the Roman Empire and the unofficial head of the Nordic delegation to the coronation of the new emperor in Constantinople.

Of course, diplomatic niceties meant that there would be an official head of the delegation, some dignitary with a suitably grand-sounding position sent over from the Foreign Office back in Copenhagen, accompanied by more bigwigs come to pay their respects to the new emperor of one of the few European powers with whom Norden had genuinely cordial relations. Between the Secretary of Foreign Affairs, the Secretary of Trade, the Commonwealth Ambassador to the Roman Empire, and the Commonwealth Consul in Constantinople, my boss would just barely make it into the top five people making up the Nordic delegation in the upcoming ceremonies. It would have been an insult for a ceremonial delegation like this to be headed by a mere Permanent Attendant, and so it wasn't.

But everyone knew where the score lay. Governments came and governments went, but the Civil Service was forever. The Secretary of Foreign Affairs had to split his effort between all the different foreign powers that needed attention from Foreign Office, while the Secretary of Trade was new, having only secured his portfolio after the last cabinet reshuffle following the 1896 elections. Even the Ambassador was new, a sinecure that the Foreign Office secured for their Green allies a few years ago. Heck, I could speak better Greek than he did, and I didn't have some fancy office like 'Ambassador'.

The Permanent Secretary, though… was the Permanent Secretary. Lasse was already working in Constantinople back in the days when this office was still called the Scandinavian Mission to the Roman Empire and had been the office's Permanent Secretary for fifteen years now. It was him who had rescued young Mikhail from the childlike chatter of Konstantinos' boyhood, he who personally picked out the Commonwealth's gift to Mikhail when the heir reached his twelfth birthday. Insofar as Mikhail trusted anyone in this diplomatic outpost of what must have been to him a strange and faraway land, Mikhail trusted ole' Lasse.

And now that young man was Basileus.

The armies numbering in the hundreds of thousands, the inexorable march of national bureaucracies, the expectations of high office, the grandiose proclamations of states, and yet so often did diplomacy boil down to nothing more than this, the simple human trust and amity that two human beings, ordinary in their way of thinking if not in their station, had in each other.

This, too, was so very unlike the cartoons.

"Are you ready?"

"Not as ready as you, Lasse," I replied.

"My dear Sonja," my boss chuckled, "I'd be worried about my job if you felt as comfortable in a coronation as I am."

With that, we moved to face the bustle of the city that people said captivated the world's desire.

by **Elysian Kentarchy** » Mon Apr 03, 2023 6:46 am

The Streets of Paris, January 18th, 1900

"Autocratie! Catholicisme! France!" The large crowd marching through the streets of Paris shouts, growing even larger as they proceed, carrying flags, paintings of King Jean III, Queen Marianne, King Louis XVI, Christ, or the Virgin Mary. Some people shout slogans, others prayers, but what matters is that the procession is happening and like all others, even the cold of winter could not keep the people from coming out in support of the monarchy.

Processions like this are common in the streets of Paris and many other French cities, mostly organized by the Order of Sainte Jeanne d'Arc. The reasons are many but among them they serve as a statement, the monarchy is here to stay, the Church is here to stay, and France will be as it is supposed to be. It is also during these processions where one sees a mixing of all French classes and people of all ages, where the aristocratic knights of the Order of Saint Louis, in full battle armor, march side by side with common infantry, where a nobleman or a priest can stand next to a beggar, and more. Even the Archbishop of Paris is in the crowd, dressed in full vestments.

And walking among them is a hooded woman, shouting slogans and prayers with a rosary clutched in her hand. If one of the nobles got close enough to give a good look at her they would probably recognize her as King Jean III's second daughter, Princess Gisela. Of course the princess is not traveling without a guard for, following behind her are a couple soldiers of the Gardes suisses or Swiss Guards and ahead of her walk a couple soldiers of the Cent Suisses or Hundred Swiss, all of them in civilian clothes and are here to protect her. The Princess would not miss these processions for the world.

The King of France never appears at these things but he does make a point that the various charities he is running is around to help provide relief for the poor who are participating. Well that and in these cold months that stands are set up, at his expense, to provide warm food for the marchers.

The King's Office, January 18th, 1900

"I was not aware that Friedrich von Baden became a priest." Queen Marianne jokes as the two of them sit in the King's office and the King finishes reading the latest letter.

"I am more surprised that everyone wants to talk to us this month." King Jean III replies lightly. "I'm running out of family for negotiations this month. Might as well send my brother Louis. Help me write up a list of things we will allow him to concede, what he should push for, and what can be bargained for. Germany might be the bigger threat but allowing another bastion of socialism to develop will cause nothing but problems and we could use Italian industry to increase our own. I will also be sending notice to de Négrier to see what troops can be used for the occupation if need be."

To the most illustrious Council of Members of the Reichsbund,

The situation in Italy is indeed alarming and we confess a lack of faith of the Italian monarchy to keep order. Despite the pressing threat of the German junta on our borders an Italy that falls into chaos, or worse, socialism, is a threat to the both of us and a threat to the Holy Father in Rome. We agree to negotiations and, due to the aforementioned German threat that keeps us busy in France, we will be represented by our brother, Louis de Bourbon, Duke of Berry.

Transcribed by the Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs, Alain de Rohan-Chabot, 11th Duke of Rohan on behalf of the His Majesty, King Jean III, by the Grace of God, Most Christian King of France; Count of Provence, Forcalquier and the lands adjacent; Count of Flanders and Wallonia, who conveys his highest regards.

P.S. Also, at the insistence of our Queen, we would like to convey our congratulations to Pater Friedrich von Baden on his new career in the clergy, perhaps we are seeing the beginning of a new Pope.

by **Ralnis** » Mon Apr 03, 2023 1:47 pm

Gao, Capital of the Kingdom of Songhai,
January 20th, 1900

The Golden Court sat around a round table with the single star of Songhai as the center point. The Court, who had always held their quarterly meetings on the end of the first month, were here with various conversations going on. The King, Askia Mohammad IV, had just came in after everyone had been standing, waiting for the king to sit first.

The king wore a white and gold formal suit. A golden circlet rested on his bald head and his brown eyes showed a sense of quiet authority. As he got to his mahogany chair at the center of the circle, he turned to the flag behind him and everyone, with hands on their hearts, begin to say their pledge of allegiance to their Kingdom, to the throne, and to Allah before sitting down.

Once everyone sat down, servants and secretaries passed out coffee and books of the agenda that was the driving force for the Kingdom, and most importantly, their economy. They came in laminated folders and covered in ornate leather. Such was embroiled and written in Songhai instead of French. Once opened, this was a silent signal for the meeting to actually begin.

"So, first the meeting of our agenda is the current tensions between the colonial powers. Particularly, everything that has been going forward with the Italian situation." The Askia folded his hands together as he looks around the other court members.

"So far the other powers are currently watching over the situation, but trade is naturally being disrupted by our European investors. While the Franch are not directly feeling any problems, our representatives are telling us only what they believe we should know." One of the Golden Court Members explained.

"It's still a problem as this is but another spread of Marxism on another large power. As I said, this disease of the spirit will come to us if we aren't careful." Another one scoffed.

"Yes, we have heard of your warnings. They aren't unfounded but we shouldn't be so alarmed to be touched by such venom." The one next to him stand up," however, I do believe that we should move forward with the idea of an internal security division to try and make sure that we don't have to deal with such matters of national faith."

"Oh please, not again with your ideas of dictatorship. We shouldn't have to deal with such matters as of yet without alienating the people to these ideals that will poison our good nation."

A debate continued on the matters of the internal heart of the kingdom. It had been the same with everything when it comes to consolidating the power of the Kingdom over what they had gain. Mohammad IV, who bared the weight of the nation on his head, had to only listen. He knew that his power came from the trade and the power of gold that flowed through the mines of the earth and the coffers of the French, but still. He just needed to listen and wait.

"I believe that we should vote on the matter now Court Members." The Askia said to get the rest of the room to stop arguing.

It was the matter of politics. Emotions and professionalism swing like a pendulum. That pendulum was always coming ever closer to chopping the neck of the common man. If only to keep the nation going just a little while longer. The men sit down and started a vote of yay's, nay's, and abstains on the idea of secret police to keep Communism out of their borders. The nay's got a mid-size margin against he yay's so the idea was discarded.

However, Mohammad kept the idea noted because this was a growing problem. A question that could have dire consequences on the same stage as what has happened to Iberia and Italy. He knew that this ideology, Marxism, was a poison to the growth of the economic prosperity of Songhai. One that represents a powerful and drastic change that could be the very wall against the return of the Empire to their rightful place as the rulers of the Sehal.

"Then let us go on with the second addendum of the meeting. The consolidation and expansion of our economic sector across the region." Askia directed the Court.

" The major thing is that the French are raising the number of military equipment and drafting new designs for artillery. While we personally have been using more higher-end technical marvels due to our location, I believe that we should capitalize on this and make a new sanctioned arms development company to meet this new demand."

A lot of the Court members had started to agree upon this idea presented to them. The French's want for conscription and even more arms to be able to match whatever sort of enemy that they would meet. Which in this case, means everyone that their borders touch. Such an organization that is bootstrapped by the French intelligentsia and the wealth of one of the richest colonies in the French holdings would mean that they could have the ability to also have access to even more technological wonders for their military.

But there wasn't just one thing that could work. Technology was rapidly changing, just like in the ideologies. One avenue could be more than just one avenue.

"I would like to expand upon this idea to the Court." Mohammad stood up in front of the other members of the court.

"The rapid development of technology from the richest powers in the world are coming in hand with the vilest ideas to have come from minds that shouldn't exist. It isn't just the French that are looking into arming themselves for tensions between rival families and nations against that have bad blood that are centuries ago. The French king had brought the need for all industries to make more war machines due to Germans and Italians."

Mohammad started to walk around the people as continued talking.

"I suggest that the Court back a company. One that would be the forefront for technological innovation for the glory of the Songhai. One where here, in the so-called 'Western Africa' is even more tied to the Songhai than it could ever be. This company could be the very latchkey to innovation to the other former provinces and could increase the reach of our people beyond."

The other people got to talking, with a combination of the French technology and the wealth of the kingdom. To make a company backed by the government in order to make technology for the Kingdom could help or it could be a disaster. But the thing is that it was a gamble, one that was like all others. Even as the Askia sat down, he could see that the idea was being brainstormed. The name of the company, the management and how much the French were going to be involved.

All of these were the things that made a nation. Ideas being thrown about, discarded or improved upon in order to see the workings of a nation. Mohammad saw these things in all means through the French and the other colonies. His Kingdom was no different. But with the yah's already beyond the nay's he saw that the new company being on the minds of the Golden Court. All of this being an idea that could pave the way for the restoration of the Empire, or the destruction of the Kingdom for good.

by **Intermountain States** » Wed Apr 05, 2023 11:37 pm

London,
United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland

Prime Minister Cecil read the morning newspaper while enjoying his morning tea. In regards to Italy, it was certainly a troubling development in regards to its controversial Public Safety Bill and the possibility of the protest escalating into violence. Members of the 3rd Marquis of Salisbury's cabinet were also at the Prime Minister's office in preparation for the welcoming of French and Navarrese envoys.

"You know, the possible escalation of violence in Italy wasn't what I had in mind in writing about possible challenges in the 'Mediterranean," Cecil said, stiffing out an awkward chuckle. "Mediterranean challenge was more so in regards to a potentially revanchist Iberia against Gibralter."

"I'm not sure if the protests started by the Italian left were agitated by the reds in Scandinavia," Secretary of State for War Henry Petty-Fitzmaurice, 5th Marquess of Lansdowne said.

"The success of the socialist revolution in Iberia and Norden may have embolden the Italian extreme left but it's seems likely that any legislations that attempted to remove God-given rights of men would see widespread protests," First Lord of the Treasury and Leader of the House of Commons Arthur Balfour replied. "Such legislation would never see the light of day in our Parliament thanks to the Bill of Rights of 1689.

"Guaranteeing and protecting God-given rights of men is what separates the United Kingdom from much of continental Europe, motivated by absolutism and the supposed divine right of monarchs in France and the Eastern Roman Empire, and socialism and mob rule in Scandinavia," the Prime Minister agreed. "It would be preferable if the Italian government never had such bill up for debate and in hopes of their national security, withdraw the bill before the protest escalates into something worse."

"I wonder how this would affect the upcoming summit in London," The Lord Chancellor Hardinge Giffard, 1st Earl of Halsbury, said. "It seems rather likely the French would take a stance of supporting the conservative government and their controversial bill and that could butt heads with our stance of protecting guaranteed civil liberties. Perhaps they would try and use the summit to advocate for security action in Italy."

"I hope they wouldn't do that, considering that they have a large German elephant in the room angry about their losses in the Great War," the Secretary of State for War responded. "But only time would tell once the summit begins."

It was the day of the summit and the Prime Minister and the Secretary of State for War, along with translators and other staffs, await the arrival of the French and Navarrese envoys to their location. Regardless of the happenings in Europe and the greater world, the 3rd Marquis of Salisbury hopes that the conference would end on a high note. Britain's involvement in the continent has been of "splendid isolation" but as the world faces a new century and with the Queen's health in decline, Britain may need to expand on its current relations with the wider world in the interest of Britain's future.

As the envoys arrived to the property with the escorts, the British delegates arrived at the gates to greet them, with the building staffs joining in to help the envoys from their transport.

by **Alt Div Admin** » Thu Apr 06, 2023 8:22 am

Another Massacre in Milan

We write this edition with the help of the Gazzetta di Parma, as our redactor and writers have fled Milan yesterday, just before the inevitable happened.

Yesterday morning, even when the Prime Minister, General Luigi Pelloux, had announced that a state of siege would be declared in Milan and the entire Lombardy, everyone in Rome believed that he would still be willing to negotiate. That the massacre of 1898 would not be repeated again, not even two years after that bloody event. And yet, against common sense and against his duty to the people of Italy, the Mad General has ordered his troops in.

They besieged the city as if it belonged to an enemy, surrounding it and then pushing forward , attempting to clear the main roads and to gain control over the central railroad, while also removing barricades. The brave people of Milan opposed them, protecting their barricades and throwing stones and tiles from the rooftops, while the soldiers responded by opening fire. They brutally cleaned the streets and occupied the city, killing at least 400 people and wounding a few hundred more, though the number could be much higher, and this our estimation based on the news that we have received through telegraph before the lines were cut. Milan is now under an effective military occupation, and military tribunals have been set up, condemning people to prison under martial law in a complete and utter rejection of our democracy and of our system of law. Important socialist leaders, like Giuseppe Croce, are missing and presumed to have been executed.

The reports of widespread violence and brutality at the hands of the military have left most of the people of Italy appalled and outraged. This is not the first time that the people of Milan have faced such brutal repression at the hands of the military. The Beva Beccaris massacre of 1898, in which over 100 people were killed and hundreds more injured, is still fresh in the memories of many. Now, just two years later, the military-conservative establishment under King Umberto is once again staining their hands with blood.

It is clear that the Public Safety Bill proposed by the government was and is nothing more than an attempt to stifle dissent and opposition, an attempt to normalize the use of the military like this and to silence those who dare to speak out against the status quo. The fact that General Pelloux has felt it necessary to declare a state of siege and order the military to intervene only underscores the government's desperation and fear of the opposition. The actions of the military in Milan are a disgrace, and a clear violation of the people's rights and freedoms as enshrined in our constitution. The use of force to suppress peaceful protests and strikes is never acceptable, and the government must be held accountable for the atrocities committed by the military in the name of maintaining order and security.

The opposition members of the Chamber of Deputies in Rome are right to demand an immediate end to the state of siege, the arrest and prosecution of all soldiers and officers who took part in the brutal crackdown, and the resignation of General Luigi Pelloux from his position as Prime Minister. The people of Italy await their King to immediately ask the Prime Minister to resign, to call for immediate elections and to immediately condemn the officers and soldiers involved in this, and to withdraw them from Milan and from Lombardy proper.

by **Elysian Kentarchy** » Fri Apr 07, 2023 8:49 am

London, airship port

The Pucelle d'Orléans, one of France's most modern heavy air cruisers, settles into her berth. On her bridge the ambassadors France sent are finalizing things. "Remember, no English." Prince Philippe pauses for a moment before continuing. "Father is clear enough on our objectives but just to remind you all of the last minute addition that we are not to commit to anything regarding Italy besides the fact that France will protect her interests should the worst case happen, France will not tolerate a bastion of socialism developing on her borders or a threat to the Holy Father in Rome." Prince Philippe turns to the captain of marines stationed on board the airship. "Remember your orders, nobody, nobody besides us, is allowed on board the ship. No matter what they say or any paperwork they present. If they have such important business it can wait until my return. Should they try to force it, lethal force is authorized." He gets a nod before turning to everyone else sent, an officer from the French Army, an officer from the French Navy, a translator and a couple guards of the Gardes Suisses. "Well, gentlemen." Prince Philippe starts, putting on a top hat to complete his suit. "Shall we get going?"

Given how the London press is, well, the London press, it comes as little surprise that they are already waiting for them. Prince Philippe handles it rather well, the fact that he was a media darling in France wasn't just because of the press controls, that helps, but because he seems like a natural when it comes to it, all smiles and grins at the people and the occasional wave of his hand, though the most of a statement the people get out of him, shouted by his translator, is that he has hopes for a productive meeting with Her Majesty's government and conveys his fondness for England, but with a cheeky grin says that doesn't mean he is going to give them an easy time at the next Channel Dash. Though eventually he manages to get away with the others and to the carriages waiting for them.

The carriages eventually arrive, the Prince and the others are helped from their carriages and approaching the men waiting for them and introduces himself with a bow of his head. "Prince Philippe de Bourbon, Duke of Anjou. I must convey my respects for the fine welcome I have received so far and the fact that you have even come out to greet us, Prime Minister Cecil, Secretary of State for War Henry Petty-Fitzmaurice." The prince more or less got a crash course on the who is who of the British government before his arrival.

Paris, the Bureau of the Press

"I want a full muzzle on the situation in Italy!" The head of France's only legal newspaper conglomerate shouts, his moustache bristling and his face red with anger. "No one is to publish anything on it until we get our narrative straight. In the meantime announce on the front page of the newspapers of Paris that Prince Philippe, instead of waiting to be conscripted, is volunteering to enlist in the French Army and will be personally leading airships into battle and Princess Gisela has already volunteered to serve as a nurse. With the imminent increase of conscription the people need to know the King's family will be risking themselves in the fires of war and serving the people."

Paris, the Maréchaussée Royale Headquarters

"Yes Your Majesty, we will carry out your will at once." The chief of the Maréchaussée Royale hangs up the phone in his office and calls in his aide. "Orders from the King, the Maréchaussée Royale are to be mobilized immediately for peacekeeping duties and several officers are to monitor the Italian embassy. There is an unfortunate chance that the conflict in Italy will cause protests in France. Be prepared to order all leave cancelled if the worst happens." Soon after this conversation the alarm bells will be ringing across various stations in France causing men to be running to get into uniform and grab their weapons. While the Maréchaussée Royale is officially a police force they do carry military grade weapons and even have a couple mechs for a reason.

Toulon, Arsenal de Toulon

Admiral Adrien Badeaux, the last living officer holding the rank of Admiral of France, a rank given in reflection of his distinguished service in the Great War, crumples the telegram and sighs. Barring future developments, the French Mediterranean Fleet is to be on 12 hour notice.

1900: Steampunk Divergence [AH][IC-OPEN]

1900: Steampunk Divergence [AH][IC-OPEN]

Who is online