Tales of Two Horizons II IC- CN Sponsored- Open

[The Industrial States of Columbia]

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1848 — ALTERNATE HISTORY RP

Old OOC — New OOC — IC —Map — Theme
Number Map · Roster · Discord

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OP Board
OP: The Industrial States of Columbia- Warden of the West
Co-OPs: Alleniana- Warden of the East | Tracian Empire - Warden of the North

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It is the beginning of a new age in the world, though not one familiar to our histories. In the West, the sun rises over an unfamiliar land, but a familiar environment. The Concert members of Europe have grown distant in the years since the defeat of Napoleon, and have all but abandoned their duty to maintain the peace. While the Great Powers consume themselves with their petty squabbles, discontent fanned by the suffering of the masses takes hold. As poverty and hardship become ever more common, the question is not if a revolt will occur, but when. The Eastern Mediterranean has seen the once glorious Ottoman Empire enter its terminal decline, with opportunistic powers waiting eagerly to carve riches from the once great state. The Commonwealth looms over all, with vast armies and even vaster resources shackled only by its own internal divisions. How long even these will keep them in check is uncertain.

The New World finds itself between the great powers of the East and West, and profits from lucrative trade with all. Freedom and liberty find purchase and primacy here, with Wu colonized Fulang and the Iberian based American Union leading the way to a bright new future for many. Following capture by England in the colonial era, Brazil has evolved into a prosperous agricultural state, though this prosperity has come with a cost, with slaves making up much of the population. Taventinsuyu also stands strong in South America, an Empire that survived as a tributary of Wu to emerge as a solitary native state, alone against the ravages of time.

In the East, the lands of the former middle kingdom lay sundered, but many remain great nations in their own right. Yue and Min maintain vast colonial holdings in Indonesia and the Indian Ocean, and have grown rich off of the luxury commodities they produce. Wu holds much of the Pacific, with holdings as far as Hawaii allowing merchant ships lucrative trade with the New World, while a disciplined and professional army rivaling the best forces of Europe protects her interests on the mainland. North of all these stands the realm of Qian, an expansive state with aspirations to unite the kingdoms of the South under their glorious rule.

As the world enters a new era of nationalism and imperialism, much change may yet be seen. Gears and furnaces begin to join the familiar din of powder and cannons, promising wealth and power to those who harness these formidable resources and death to any that stand in their way. The siren song of revolution lingers in the ears of the downtrodden and oppressed, with the banners of liberation calling more each day. Will you guide a great power into a new age of peace and plenty? Will you brave the new world to build a fledgling state into a force to challenge the glories of the old? Or will you guide an empire into blood and war for the relentless pursuit of power. The choice, great leader, is yours...

Tales of Two Horizons is a crafted alternate history rp based on the concept of Eastern states that are comparable to the West. As such, the lands of Cathay are advanced, but divided, the distant memory of unification being much like Rome to the West. You are free to craft a story for your chosen nation if you would choose. History is your canvas, though major events more than likely still played out in a similar fashion to real history for cohesion purposes.

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Rules and Regulations:
There are a fair few rules and guidelines for the RP, listed here. These following six are basic and should be easily understood and followed, and after that will follow more specific info that is more liable to change.
1. Obey NationStates forum rules
2. Obey the OP and those appointed as per their role
3. Make sure you are not metagaming, godmodding, numberspamming, or generally RPing in bad form
4. Have a couple of paragraphs a post and good grammar & spelling
5. Exercise common sense generously
6. Be active every couple of days at least
7. Have Fun

Beyond the basic rules, there are a few regulations, which is basically a special way of saying special rules for regulating the RP. So rules+1. Each regulation is R.X.~~~ where X is the regulation number and the squiggles are the subject matter.

IC Posting Guidelines and Rules
1.Have a decent length post. One liners shall be warned once.
2.Make sure to address a variety of issues that your nation may face; you are telling a story, the smallest person in your nation can change everything.
3.Make sure to address a reserved post within a few days of reserving, I have been guilty of this in the past, so I know it is best to move forward with your post to ensure flow of rp.
4.Your post should not be a bullet list of what your nation does, that is an outline. The post should be more elaborate, feeding us details in a story fashion.
5.Do not quote other posts in the IC, it is tacky and ruins the sense of immersion that the page is supposed to give.
6.Please Date your posts.
7.Make sure to keep posts within a month or two of the previous post in the thread.
8.Time will progress in a relatively free fashion, however, two pages of IC is the maximum for one year of events.
9.Random events will be later implemented for glorious chaos in newspaper post fashion. If you have an idea for a random event, feel free to tg me or a CO-OP for consideration.
10.Please make sure that your first posts are within a few months of January 1848 unless you join us much later, as that is when we are possibly looking at the first of the 48 Revolutions.

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[Senkaku]

Chapter One: A Midsummer Night's Dream

1847
21 June - Summer Solstice
"The flame that burns half as long burns twice as bright."

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Pavilion of the Ice Dragon
Mount Penglai
Central Sea
Verdant Garden of Eternal Summer
Yuhang Prefecture
Capital Viceroyalty

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The ice shone in the lamplight, a sheen of cool water bleeding off of it as the hot, sticky night air enveloped it in a warm embrace. Multicolored lamps made the huge blocks glow every shade of the rainbow, reflecting surreal visions of a world of shimmering crystal on the lake. Here and there, the floating lamps covering the Central Sea's mirror-smooth surface disrupted this vision, but it was difficult, unless one had a trained eye, to distinguish between the lamps resting on the water and the reflections of those that hovered like a thousand dim, artificial suns overhead.

Closer to shore, it was possible to make out some differences- the waterborne lights were surrounded by even more tiny, floating candles, shaped out of wax in the form of the millions of lotuses that blossomed on the lake, all of which had withdrawn their petals during the dark hours.

Zhao Chang's tongue ran over the ice, lapping up the cool water. He could taste his own sweat, a very faint saltiness in the water, dripping from his hair and down his nose and chin onto the glistening blue-white ice.

The Son of Heaven lay splayed on the ground, his upper body resting on the massive ice blocks that formed the grand staircase of the Pavilion of the Snow Leopard, his lower body resting among the freshly-planted peonies and dahlias that had been carefully put in place around the pavilion as it had been built. Another young man, covered in a glittering blue powder and wearing only a golden belt that held a massive plume of peacock feathers behind him and a few kingfisher feathers around his groin, giggled as the Anfu Emperor lapped up the water.

"Do you know where that ice has been?", the courtesan asked, batting his eyelashes, and Chang laughed and smiled, baring his teeth.
"I hope somewhere exciting," he replied, slurring slightly as moaning and music echoed from inside the massive ice pavilion. "But I don't think there's too many exciting places between here and Manchuria it could've stopped in."

A trio of servants, hefting a massive ice block between them and wearing white porcelain masks above racily-cut ice-blue silk tunics, slowly made their way past them into the pavilion, evidently going to replace another block somewhere and shore up the melting structure. The Emperor's hands began to wander, and the courtesan giggled again.
"We should find somewhere else on the island, I'm cold," he said, leaning in to whisper conspiratorially in Chang's ear.
"Oh, very well," Chang replied, "I suppose we can find drinks while we wander. But let's cut through the pavilion to the other side."

They unsteadily rose to their feet, heading into the pavilion. Colored lamps hung from the walls, casting the ice and the writhing bodies on the floor in bright blue or red or green or purple and setting shadows moving through the translucent blocks like living creatures. A few ladies came up to them as they proceeded, smiling and swaying to the music, and they passed from the outer room into the pavilion's central area. Here, they found people reclining on couches or sprawled across carpets and enveloped in fur blankets.

Regrettably, the imperial engineers had been unable to come up with a design for a roof that would not have a significant risk of melting and collapsing, but Chang rather liked the effect of looking up and seeing hundreds of the tethered floating lanterns shining down. He smiled and waved away an opium pipe from one of the ladies, but accepted a cup of wine, leading the peacock-tailed courtesan by the hand as they proceeded to the opposite side of the pavilion, through the outer hall, and then onto the freshly-planted flowers outside.

Out on the lake, one of the imperial pleasure barges was ablaze with light, revelers cavorting on its upper and lower decks, and they could hear the splashes of swimmers in the water and laughter ringing out across the lake.
"Where to, Radiance?"
Chang beckoned to one of the ladies who had followed them out, putting one arm around her and the other around the peacock-plumed man, and smiled.
"We are on Penglai- shall we go try some of the fruit of eternal youth, in the orchard?"

They followed him away from the shimmering ice pavilion, passing more servants carrying more blocks of ice towards it, crossing through perfectly-manicured flowerbeds and past exotic plants and glistening blossoms.
"How much did all this ice cost?", the woman to his left asked, kissing him on the cheek.
The Emperor shrugged. "Haven't the faintest notion, dear. I just know the engineer told me I'd need three shiploads of it!"
They heard rustling and moans from behind one of the massive bromeliads that had been whimsically planted here, and the Emperor raised his eyebrows with a grin and steered them away, past another bizarre, brightly-colored specimen and through a thicket of bamboo.

"And here we are- the orchard!"

At least three dozen magnolia trees, along with smaller mimosas and horse chestnuts, were in full bloom as they emerged from the bamboo. Azaleas and rhododendrons flourished among the multi-colored trees, their flowers' color flattered by the soft light of the floating lanterns and the glowing paper spheres hanging from their branches. The man, to the Emperor's right, gave a cry of surprise as he noticed something-
"Camellias, in June? However was that managed?"
"It's the season for them right now in Yanghong, so I had it brought here and planted just before it started blooming," Chang said smugly. "Look closer, though."
They squinted, each pressing slightly closer to him, and the man gave another exclamation, his peacock feathers and nether regions rustling as he jerked his head around to stare delightedly at Chang. "Hung on the end of the branches? Oh, this is too much."

The man and the women each pulled away for a moment, going over to the nearest tree and plucking off a peach, a pear, a bunch of grapes, each lovingly attached with silk cords and gold medallions by the gardeners to the end of the trees' low-hanging branches. The peacock-feathered courtesan took a bite of his peach, then turned back to the Emperor and held up the silk cord.
"I'm told a proper chef always trusses a bird up..."

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Cabinet Chamber
Hall of Earthly Tranquility
Daming Palace
Hangzhou City
Capital Viceroyalty

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Early morning light filtered in through the huge windows overlooking the harbor, casting the room in grayish-purple, aided only by a spartan complement of gas lamps. Of the dozens that filled the room, only a few were lit, lonely golden pinpricks in the gloominess. Servants and aides shuffled to and fro, bringing piles of papers and carefully setting them at each place at the enormous oblong sandalwood table that crouched like a slumbering elephant in the middle of the room.

Caihou drummed his fingers on the table, staring at the mechanical clock in the middle of the table. The room seemed dead silent as the Chancellor glanced around the table- but the longer one sat in the stillness, the more noises one began to hear. The rustle of papers, the footsteps of aides, the ticking of the clock, the creak of chairs as people shifted their weights slightly, the sound of the breeze and the city and the harbor coming through several of the open windows.

At last, the Chancellor cleared his throat, and beckoned to one of the aides who had just set a few papers in front of him. The man bowed and inclined his head so Caihou could whisper to him.
"Do we know where our missing colleague-"

He was cut off as the chamber's huge doors were suddenly thrown open, and in strode the Secretary Without Portfolio. Song Biming's hair was windblown, as if he'd been riding fast, and he bowed to the Chancellor slightly as he took his seat.
"My apologies to my respected colleagues for my tardiness. His Radiance unexpectedly invited me to the Yuhang palace last night."
Caihou smirked and rolled his eyes. "That's quite alright, Secretary Song. Shall we begin?"

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One year ago
Office of the Advisory Secretary

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"Do you know why I convinced the Emperor to appoint you chancellor, Caihou?"
"I'm more curious as to how you convinced His Radiance," Caihou said with a curious smile. An odd thing to bring up out of the blue."Wei Liangsi is a difficult man to outmaneuver."
Advisory Secretary Zhang interlaced his fingers, glancing down at his steaming cup of tea.
"Counselor Wei and I have both, over the years, come to understand that the court requires, above all else, balance. To leave the apparatus of government entirely in the hands of a single faction cannot be a good thing, as much as we may dream of it."
Caihou's smile slowly vanished. "Whatever do you mean? Was he in on my appointment somehow?"
Biao shrugged, giving the Chancellor a coy grin, and continued almost as if Caihou hadn't spoken. "If we had unchecked power and the Emperor's undivided attentions, perhaps all of China would tremble with the footsteps of our army as Wu fought to rebuild its empire. If the Empress Dowager had such authority, perhaps we would simply wall ourselves into our own country to build palaces for every pauper."
"What are you getting at?"
Biao continued to serenely ignore him, and Caihou tried not to roll his eyes- the old man was fond of such unprompted, unexpected sermons or lessons over tea.
"But if Wu armies swept over the Middle Kingdom, the country might be destroyed by war, and if we turn inwards, the world might simply forget about us and move on. No, even as we have different philosophies, Counselor Wei and I understand this: the empire that best suits us, the empire for the modern age that will truly make us powerful, is not one of direct control and conquest. Fighting wars ourselves is expensive, dangerous- as is administering vast holdings. Do we not profit just as well from Fusang's resources as before it won its independence, hmm?"

Caihou sighed, taking a sip of his own tea, and prepared to offer Biao a debate. I do hope he doesn't prattle on for too long.
"But, you overlook..."

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[Western Pacific Territories]

January 17, 1848
Cuijiacun Palace

"... So, wan sui ye, I would have to conclude that given the circumstances of our military situation and the studies done by my bureaucrats that a large majority of money from the Treasury being put into our military is being wasted or stolen." The Aizheng Emperor, Son of Heaven, looked upwards towards the talking man's face with a look of displeasure. "And what would you wish for zhen to do about it? I cannot simply sack commanders, they would rebel and I would have no army to end the uprising. They would have my head, needless to say of what would happen were any other powers to become involved." Both of the men, pacing through a lit-up courtyard slowed their pace to a stop. "Perhaps we could contract advisers from other nations to think of a solution?" The Emperor responded "Europeans do not understand this land, and I am allergic to the concept of hiring commanders from Yue or Wu. Advisers from Wu in particular..." His voice grew to a whisper. "I hear from our ambassador it's ruler does not have the greatest interest in his task. I say it's a sign that the Mandate of Heaven has left it's rulers." The second man replied with a hint of skepticism "I would not believe everything reported to me."

"What better source than someone present in the court? I have heard nothing to suggest otherwise." the Emperor replied. "As have I," the other retorted. "Fair." the Emperor ended the debate with. "So, how are we to deal with this well, issue. Do you have any names-" the Emperor asked, before being cut off. "Huang Xudong. Even if we ignore the claims that he cancelled orders to build three vessels so he could steal the funding requisitioned for their construction, from what I know he is a strategic failure of epic proportion. It speaks of the state of our military in general that he was allowed such a position." As the man finished, he coughed. "So our problems stem from our navy?" the Emperor inquired. "No, the opposite. Xudong is the only major example of a corrupt navy official, while the army is filled with them. I would personally suggest to His Radiant Highness that he perhaps offer Xudong a preferable retirement deal, in exchange for his transferring command to a more responsible individual."

"Your proposition sounds excellent. I will return to my quarters and write a message to Xudong offering retirement terms. He cannot refuse. I thank you for your assistance, we will have to look more into this Lingxin. A excellent army coincides with a excellent nation, my favorite example would be the Romans."

January 20, 1848
Naval Headquarters Chishanzhen

A rather bored admiral, Huang Xudong sitting at his office desk opened up a yellow-tinted envelope. He was rather interested in what someone as important as the Son of Heaven wanted with him specifically. Opened the message, he began reading whilst reciting the message. "Given your position and your actions... performed in the fifth month of 1847... His Holy Highness, the Aizheng Emperor Son of Heaven would wish to make it known to yourself that he... would wish to see your voluntary resignation from office on condition you move to a location of His Radiant Highness' choosing. A considerable pension will be awarded provided you comply." Huang re-read the paper. "The fuck? The emperor doesn't even trust his commanders..."

Huang stood up and slammed the paper down onto the desk. "The nerve!" he exclaimed to himself, not bothering to read the rest of the message. So they finally wanted to do something about the crimes Qi's commanders were committing, he supposed. He walked out of his office, and approached a random lower-ranking official he saw in the hallway. "You available?" he asked. "Yes, sir." the man, probably a courtier replied. "Inform my superiors that the Lord of Ten Thousand Years has sacked me. He didn't want to tell them first for whatever reason." "Understood," the courtier replied as he walked off.

(note: may add more content later, may not.)

[Alleniana]

越

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習 | 性 | 性 | 人
相 | 相 | 本 | 之
遠 | 近 | 善 | 初

People at birth
Are good by nature
Their natures close
Their habits distant

- Three Character Classic

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Zaakje Tinfei Temple, Jyutdou Zau, Yue

"Princess of Heaven, please let my family and me have good health for another year. Guide me to make the right decisions in my work, to care for under in my responsibility, to preserve the peace and prosperity of the country. Let the country and the people have long life and happiness too, let these present disorders pass without incidence. Princess of Heaven, thank you for the plenty of our present times, and let-"

Clang!

A little soot stained child wiggled their legs, hanging off the wall behind the altar separating the temple from the street, and dropped to the ground. They winced at doing this, rubbing their shins, then looked around and saw the bronze shield thing that they'd knocked off a pole. Shield? No, maybe a gong? A plate?

They put it back onto the pole crookedly by its yellow tasseled handle and blinked wide-eyed at the councillor, still kneeling at the altar but now looking at her. A girl, who couldn't have been older than 12, stained with soot, stood half-behind the altar, apparently aware of her own incongruence.

"Who are you?"

The praying man asked, hands still clasped together.

"Umm..."

Something like two or twenty seconds passed, in visible silence.

"Alright... what are you doing?"

She furrowed her tender brow, almost looking as if about to take him into his confidence.

"I'm... running away from my boss. He's going to kill me."

She was very matter-of-fact, especially since she didn't seem to be in trouble with him.

"Erm... why is he... are you sure? What's your job?"

"I sweep coal dust. Yes, he's going to beat my head until I die. He told me so."

It was then that amidst black strands the man noticed a slight sheen on the right side of her head, a dusty darkness like moisture...

"You're hurt!"

He got up from the kneeling cushion, moving towards her. The goddess seemed to watch him get up.

"Yeah, I know. He hit me. Anyway I have to go now."

She ran behind the altar and then across the courtyard wall on the other side.

"Wait, wait, are you alright? Do you need help? Where are you going? Why is he-"

"I have some friends at another factory. Don't worry. He just likes to hit people sometimes."

She shrugged.

"Wait, wait-"

She pulled on a black, lichen-covered tile at the top of the side wall, swinging a leg to hoist herself on top to straddle the limen of the temple, using a decorative jutting brick in the wall as a foothold, and then swung her leg over the other side and disappeared. The man took a few hasty steps towards the place of her exit, but stopped short of it. No trace of her remained. Well, except one.

He paced back over to the bronze... thing on the pole stand, slightly dusting it off and readjusting it to straightness, though somehow it looked off. Never mind. A monk would fix it at the end of the day. Or now; one stepped in.

"Councillor Wui! Sir! Was there someone in here? Is everything ok?"

The fluttering orange robes seemed slightly breathless.

"Er, yes, this thing just fell off, help me readjust it, thanks..."

The bald acolyte stepped forward and straightened it before bowing and disappearing back into the steeple of curling red eaves, this Princess of Heaven temple.

He returned to prayer, but his mind was on other things - that strange apparition! - as he knelt on the upholstered block before the image of the goddess, smiling knowingly, bittersweetly down at him. She seemed to know he was troubled.

1848-01-07

[Saunrea]

Potala Palace, Lhasa
Great Bod

Amongst the disputable and contestable things the Dechen dynasty had done upon the Restoration of the Imperial Throne was moving into the Potala Palace, its grandeur and elegance transforming it into one of the largest and most easily recognizable trophies of the new emperors. The Dalai Lama of the time was coerced into giving up the fine castle, and when this led to fanatical supporters arming themselves with swords and assembling before the palace right against the imperial army, Gönpo the Victorious and Great smashed this supposedly immortal wall of faithful flesh first with shots fired from muskets from Yue and then with speartips of Tibet's own forges. The Red Palace, after being given a new coat of paint in this event that symbolized the ultimate triumph of the resurgent monarchy over even the paramount spiritual authority, became the imperial residence with minimal formalities.

Nearly sixty years later the mission to reclaim Songtsen Gampo's glory was still not complete nor did it progress to an appreciable mark. Almost as always the mountains were both the most revered and most despised things in the region. Hindering transport, they made the entrenched aristocracy far harder to vanquish when these nobles had decided to rebel; indeed the Dechens came to regret coming to terms with these glorified warlords with disputable claims to nobility and many came to speak curses on Gönpo for not slaughtering them all. Difficult to cultivate crops on, even with stability Tibet could hardly approach the population of the Tang peoples' nations. The only value these barren grey warts on the face of the earth had was the valuable minerals inside them. Unfortunately their exploitation came at odds with Tibetan religion so that had to be put aside in fear of thousands washing the Potala in its signature color again but with royal blood.

Obstacles nature were, the Tibetans had to be grateful; their minds had been sharpened like great rocks by the winds and they dared to boast themselves as some of the most difficulty-consuming people on this world. And now the Himalayas' barrenness justified to outsiders any thought or act towards outwards expansion while their devotion to their faith made them rather inconspicuous on a list of conquerors to be aware and alert of. The shrewd kings of this land knew this and used these virtual resources to their advantage. Cries from Chang'an a thousand years ago reminded them of what they could accomplish: to humiliate and even decapitate the greatest empires.

Fantasies of marching back into Chang'an or even outdoing themselves and into Jyutdou or west into Tehran however had to be resigned as even the weakest of the Tang states outnumbered the Tibetans and these rivals and worthy opponents were definitely no laughing matter. It was only a few years ago did the tsenpo manage to stabilize the mountains such that there was time to look outwards and such moments may not last long. Careful calculations had to be made while the appearance of a welcoming people was built up through accepting traders warmly and with as little taxes as possible. Preparations for 'action' were being made, but first, it was necessary to consolidate those closest to Tibet.

In many weeks the New Year, Losar, will begin, and in time the pious mountain folk will conduct whatever rites needed to appease spirits and ensure fortune. While the people carry out their ceremonies, the fourth emperor of the restored dynasty planned for more material matters to take place. He was strolling through the complex as servants redecorated its interior after a multiple-hour session where he studied Buddhist classics with his most trusted aides, with disproportionally high amounts of upstart commoners among them as all emperors of this dynasty did since nobles tend to rebel and monks could use their religious influence for less than fully obedient purposes. Indeed, that decoration was beginning a month in advance showed what kind of events were going to take place soon. At a larger scale this was taking place in other royal residences while auspicious colors were spun all over Lhasa.

"Certainly, challenging the Tangs or the horsemen will come only later. The Indians to the south are comparable to sheep before us as leopards; we need not to outnumber them to defeat them, nor do we have to resort to swords at all. But in both cases we must secure the other mountain states, the Druk, the Drenjongese and with more difficulty the Nepalese. To cross the mountains their assistance is needed and much hated would be them turning against us." the Emperor spoke in a fashion that fit more at religious debates, but was very much out of place when these were addressed to functionaries at his side as they walked together. "Your Majesty, are Drukyul and Drenjong not already comrades? The Nepalese aggression on Drenjong many years ago was defeated by a coalition of us all and now they dare not to disturb the uniformity of the snow-coated mountains." spoke one of the 'examination-men'.

"Indeed, but what is planned for the next year is great and we must not let a single error or flaw be present as we carry it out, thus we have to be absolutely sure at all stages. This is why I am inviting the kings of Drukyul and Drenjong to Lhasa for Losar celebrations. They will be reassured, as will we." A brief silence followed before the officials resumed their speeches. There were only a few words of flattery and they were usually accompanied by more actual questions and comments. "Ngawang, the Ministry of Rites will issue the invitation today," the figure dressed in the most brilliant and varied of colors spoke in yet another tone almost unbefitting of a half-divine sovereign, as the addressed simply replied with an affirmation.

ꡎ
ꡡ
ꡊ

ꡅ
ꡠ
ꡋ

ꡌ
ꡡ

To: Sovereigns of Bhutan, Sikkim

For the respected recipient of this letter,

It is with great pleasure that is shared by us all that a new year dawns. For our realms united in unbroken friendship to celebrate this occasion together will further multiply such happiness; it is on these grounds that His Most Enlightened Majesty the Emperor of Great Tibet invites you to Losar celebrations in Lhasa in one month's time. We shall not only share our joy but also discuss the strengthening of our ties that are more intricate than the most finely-knit of endless-knots. This cordial invitation is thus made on these grounds.

The Throne of Tibet

[Auchterland]

Kingdom of Belgium

January 1st, 1848
Zeebrugge, Western Flanders

"Three... Two... One... Happy new year!", proclaimed the crowd of gentlemen and their ladies as they accompanied the tick of their pocket watches and all pointers aligned at the twelve. Soon, their voices were overwhelmed by the loud bang of fireworks and the brass band's music. There was so much cheering, so much human noise over the passage of a second that was just as much as one more step in the march of time. But to them, it held so much meaning - especially on that night, the night before the start of the voyage of the Avonturier, a steamship that was commissioned with taking the first belgian mission to establish a trading post on the Dark Continent.

The king himself was present as a honour guest of Otto Ververs, the magnate that was the main force directing the operation. The two patted each other on the back and wished themselves a successful year of 1848. Charles found Otto to be a rather interesting individual. An apparently laid back, smooth talking entrepreneur from the textiles industry who came to be one of the richest man in the country by offering to produce the uniforms of the belgian armies and other government officials during the Belgian Revolution. He had known how to play his cards in the right time. Now that the port had raised its capacity, he was betting on yet another investment, of filling the african markets with his clothes and bringing back raw materials for the local industry.

If that plan came to fruition, Otto's 1848 would undoubtedly be pretty successful indeed. He only feared the belgian merchants would not have enough strength to put up a front against the competition posed by other europeans. The climate of the festivities, however, made Charles wonder about his own future - and that of the issues he faced at home. While the Netherlands were forced to recognize Belgium's independence, they still had little to no love to the former insurrectionists, and the belgians still had almost no bonds to other countries. Something ought to be done in that regard. When he was back in Brussels from the festivities, he would discuss such matters with Deveaux. The trip to home would give him time to think. For now, he let the commemorations continue.

Eupen, Province of Liège

On another corner of the country, another celebration took place. One much less sofisticated, less formal, and much, much noisier. Here, the people gathered and covered the streets in hundreds, most of them watching the clock on the tower of St. Nikolaus Church attentively. As the clock finally marked the passage of the year, the crowd exploded in a cheer, which was not spoken in flemish or walloon as in most of the country, but in the local ripuarian dialect.

On one of these busy streets, a group of young men toasted and drank together, talked loudly and laughed, enjoying the night of festivities. Until one of them let out: "You know, there is one thing that really pains me. No matter how well the party may be going, I always have a thought, creeping at the back of my mind, that the next day, there will be work to be done again."

Another man among them, a public servant, responded grouchily. "Don't even mention it. The worst thing is that I have to read and write everything in french, while us - look at us!" He opened his arms widely in an all-ecompassing gesture. "We barely ever speak it among ourselves. It gives me a damned headache to translate everything back and forth."

"Hah, of course, Dieter.", shot back a third man. "When the big folks in the center of the country speak either flemish or walloon, you think they're going to give a damn about what sound the animals in the backyard make?", he ironized. "Maybe you should write them a letter telling them about your feelings and see how much they care."

About three more of the men laughed, but Dieter stood in silence for a moment. He seemed to gaze at nothing in particular, and there was a strange fervour behind those eyes. "That might just be what I'll do.", he mumbled.

[The Assorted Saharan Outposts]

Tumlong Palace, Sidkeong Namgyal

The king sat in his throne in Tumlong, in his own palace. He'd say it was a grand palace, but he had only recently been declared king of Sikkim. His father had died only a year ago, and a harsh election period, with many quarrels with his brother, led to him becoming to ruler. He was currently in the middle of redecorating, and considering the castle was the biggest building in all the kingdom, redecorating takes a while.

Sidkeong had chosen to take a more passive stance at world politics, instead of his brother's more aggressive style, which would have involved invading the kingdom of Nepal to take land from them. However, Sidkeong knew that this plan wouldn't work. He had a feeling Tibet wouldn't support such an aggressive attack. He'd rather be a peacemaker in these Asian affairs. China, currently, could see some high tensions brewing. If he could help it, he'd see if he could make sure no war in China would begin. If not, vultures could swoop in and feast on the corpse of China while it is weakened by itself

However, before he could even think about events in China, he had to stick close to home, first. A messenger would have come in, presenting a letter to the elected king. It was from the Tibetans, an unexpected invitation to celebrate Losar, the Tibetan new year. While Sidkeong himself wasn't a Tibetan Buddhist himself, being instead a follower of Sikhism, he knew it would be good on relations if he were to accept. Therefor, he would quickly tell his assistant, Balminder Singh, to write a letter to the Tibetans saying that he would accept the invitation.

With that out of the way, there was another thing to take care of. Establish some relations with the Chinese warlords. One smart way to do so would be to establish a diplomatic mission in the nation. A diplomat who would live there permanently, to speak on behalf of the king himself. It seemed like a wonderful idea. Sidkeong would then task his minister of foreign relations with the task of writing the letter, which he had done immediately.

To, the sovereign states of Qi, Wu, and Yue
From, the Sikkim Foreign Relations Minister, Foola Singh

I speak on behalf of King Sidkeong Namgyal. His majesty seeks to establish diplomatic relations with the powers of Asia. As a nation, we wish to remain on friendly terms with all around us. China is also involved in this. We request that a diplomat live within your borders. Either in your capital city, or a city that you designate for us. Our reason behind this is so we can have quick communication between the two of us. Do get back to us soon.
Dearest regards, Foola Singh, King Sidkeong Namgyal, and the people of Sikkim

[Caltarania]

---

Chapter 1 - The Bread and the Bullet

Theme: "Bella Ciao"

Milan, Grand Duchy of Milan
January 9th, 1848

---

As day broke, the emergent sunlight graced the thin white layer of snow upon the wide streets of Milan. The Royal Palace of Milan - an imposing, neoclassical structure adorned with columns and littered with windows - stood near the city centre, looking out across the great city, and within the Palace walls was the Piazzetta Reale, the Royal Square. Though snow too coated the square, as it did the rest of the city, the coating here was thinner than in the rest of the city, not least due to the intermittent snow-sweepers who came ever twice-hour to clear the square of snow, by personal request of the Grand Duke. Despite their best efforts, however, the snow continued to fall, and continued to cover the square.

Elsewhere in the city, the snow had too fallen and continued to fall, but there were no sweepers to clear the streets of the white rain. Here, through these streets, the common people traveled, flowing as an anonymous mass, liquid-like through the wide and narrow streets, toward their destinations. Most - if not all - were headed toward the Duomo di Milano or other, smaller churches, in order to partake in Sunday Mass. The whereabouts of the Grand Duke was unknown, though it was expected of him to be at either the mass in the Duomo or in the Palace chapel.

From within these streets, the Camicie Rosse gathered, lurking where the law-enforcement could not find them. The famed soldiery of Giuseppe Garibaldi, they had traveled the world; fighting in South America, Europe and Asia for causes that they had deemed just, under the command of their respected and skillful commander Garibaldi. They had recently, however, returned to their homeland in Italia, for they had heard that discontent was bubbling up from down below, and that the great cities of the Italian homeland were but an spark away from revolution. Garibaldi and the Caimcie Rosse were to be that spark.

As mass came to an end, not long after it had begun, the Camicie Rosse began to gather the people in the Piazza del Duomo, the main square right outside of the Cathedral. The Camicie Rosse told them to listen to what was about to be said; and many people indeed did stay to listen. Before long, a vast crowd had been assembled right outside of the Duomo. It was there that Garibaldi climbed atop a soapbox and spoke to the people of Milan; a loaf of bread in one hand, and a rifle in the other.

"Popolo d'Italia!" he began, raising the rifle above his head.

"I hold in my hand the keys to our salvation." he then announced, to many a raised brow.

Pausing for a moment, but only for a moment, Garibaldi allowed the people in the crowd to whisper and talk among one another, many confused by the remark, others assuming that the Generale was falling into insanity. Continuing on, Garibaldi raised the bread in his right hand, lowering the rifle. He plucked a crumb from the bread and threw it past the crowd.

"Here, in one hand, I hold a sole loaf of bread. One not so dissimilar to that with which Our Saviour fed the multitude. I, just then, gave you a crumb of this bread. From me, this is seen as jest. Yet from the Grand Duke, this is seen as the norm." he said, as a local city guard slow stood up from his slouched post, and the crowds began to mumble among each other. Garibaldi then raised the rifle.

"We accept this as the norm, because the Grand Duke makes us accept it, with these." he then declared, raising the rifle yet higher. As he spoke, the crowds got rowdier, and one of the city guards sprinted into the distance.

Garibaldi then raised both the bread and the rifle.

"The Grand Duke controls us with both the bread and the rifle; he starves us when we speak out, he shoots us when we fight back." Garibaldi paused again for a moment. "And this is the same as all over our country; no, not across the 'Duchy of Milan', but across our true country, across the great nation of Italia! The slave and the master, the serf and the duke!"

"They hide behind Our Faith, and yet they besmirch it! The Grand Duke does not attend mass, and the Grand Duke does not feed the multitude!" he added, the crowds growing rowdier by the minute, cheering at each new remark. The city guards, by this time, had begun to assemble. The Camicie Rosse, however, were a step ahead.

"If we are to attain our salvation, to end starvation of the soul and the body, then we must fight back! We must fight for the rights of all Italians! We must fight for our bread, and we must fight with the bullet!"

At this remark, the crowd cheered so loud that the city guard began to advance on them.

"Brother and Sisters - Italians - the Grand Duke wishes to put us down as if we were limp dogs; let us show them that we are in fact hearty lions, like the Romans of old!" Garibaldi then said, to an even greater cheer from the crowds.

As the city guard formed up and began to prepare to fire, they paused, as the unmistakable sound of hooves upon cobblestone reached their ears. As they turned around, they found that they had been flanked from behind, with the cavalry of the Camicie Rosse smashing into them, as the riflemen of the Camicie Rosse emerged from the buildings, distributing rifles - and bread - to the gathered crowd. The square erupted into conflict, as further guard regiments poured in from the adjacent streets.

"Fight for Italia!" Garibaldi said, as he was raised onto a horse. "And when your children ask where you were on the day of the Italian Revolution, you will tell them with all the pride of a Roman; I was in Milan!"

With a great cheer, the armed crowds charged out of the square and into the advancing guards. The bloody battle would soon overtake the city, as the crowd grew yet larger and larger. Garibaldi himself regrouped his Camicie Rosse, and personally led them to the Royal Palace of Milan, advancing through the snow with all the vigor of lions. They were joined by some of the popular crowds, and when they reached the now-solidly-shut gates, Garibaldi called out to them.

"The Grand Duke barricades himself in his own castle! Even the great Francis II trembles at our people's revolution!" he cheered, alongside the crowds.

From among the Camicie Rosse emerged one of the military engineers that had joined the organisation. Within a few minutes, the charges had been set, and the gate came crumbling down. Garibaldi led the charge through the gates from horseback, his Camicie Rosse and the mob following close behind him. Following a short, but bloody, battle in the Palace, it was not long before the whole thing had been secured; all apart from the Grand Duke. Nowhere to be seen - and a large chunk of the treasury and guards gone - it was assumed that he had fled.

With the exception of a few hold outs in the eastern parts of the city, the day had been won; Garibaldi had a desk moved into one of the rooms in the Palace, and the throne room emptied. He had all the great pan-Italian thinkers in the cities gather; and in the Palace of Milan, they signed a letter to the people of Italy.

---

PER LE PERSONE DELL'ITALIA

---

FOR FAR TOO LONG, OUR PEOPLE HAVE LIVED UNDER THE IRON BOOT OF FALSE KINGS, TYRANTS AND DESPOTS.

THE ITALIAN PEOPLE HAVE BEEN KEPT APART, THEIR FRATERNITY DENIED, BY THE DECADENT POWERS THAT BE.

WE SAY THAT THE TIME FOR ITALIAN CITIES IS OVER; THE TIME FOR AN ITALIAN NATION IS HERE.

MILAN, VENICE, MODENA, FERRARA, ROMA, PISA, NAPLES; ALL THESE CITIES BELONG TO ITALIA, AND ALL ITALIANS BELONG TO THESE CITIES.

IF YOU BELIEVE IN THE RIGHT TO BREAD, THE RIGHT TO NATIONHOOD AND THE RIGHT TO LAND, JOIN OUR MOVEMENT.

VITA ITALIA!

~Signed
Giuseppe Garibaldi
Giuseppe Mazzini
Carlo Cattaneo
Augusto Anfossi
Luciano Manara
Gabrio Casati
Carlo Tenca

[Jaslandia]

Kingdom of Bohemia, Moravia, and Silesia

Prague Castle, Prague, Bohemia
January 1st, 1848

---

Fireworks launching into the sky. Streams of color covering the heavens. People gazing in awe at the amazing sight before them. This was the scene at the King’s New Year’s celebration just outside Prague Castle. People all ethnicities and classes came together to ring in the New Year. Even the liberal protesters, who had been forcefully demanding constitutional reform since mid-December, put down their signs and pitchforks to celebrate the occasion. At last the bells of the old Castle rang out, and the clock struck midnight. “Happy New Year!” The crowd shouted, as cannons shot off a 21-gun salute to ring in the New Year. All that was left was for King Louis III to give his New Year’s remarks to the gathered crowd.

And where was King Louis? He was inside, chatting with a group of architects and engineers, discussing the completion of a certain building project. Louis looked out the window to the half-finished structure known as St. Vitus Cathedral. The grand cathedral of Prague had been left unfinished for centuries, but now, with money in the treasury from industry and trade, Louis planned to complete St. Vitus once and for all. As Louis signed the papers officially authorizing the resumption of construction on the cathedral after a pause of almost 400 years, an aide walked in.

“Excuse me, Your Majesty,” the aide said. “The people are waiting to hear you speak.”

Louis nodded, and rose from his seat. “Thank you for your assistance, gentlemen,” the King said to the gathered architects and engineers. “With your help, the glorious vision of a new St. Vitus will finally be realized. We will be in touch.” With that, the King of Bohemia left the room, walked down the hall, and onto a balconey. From the balconey, Louis had an excellent view of the enormous crowd gathered below. Most of them applauded the appearance of their King, but Louis swore that he heard a few boos and hisses mixed in. Booing? Louis thought to himself. Huh. That’s new. Must be those liberal protesters. The protests, and the related slow decrease in Louis’ popularity, was something that certainly concerned the German-born king, but he decided he could deal with that later. Now was his moment.

“Thank you for your support, my people,” Louis bellowed to the crowd. “As the year of our Lord 1848 begins, we must turn toward the future, not the past. We must turn toward our wondrous potential, and how we can achieve even further greatness. That is why I have an announcement to make.” Louis paused dramatically. “I am pleased to announce that, as of a few minutes ago, I have authorized a skilled team of architects and engineers to resume construction of St. Vitus Cathedral, after it had been left half-completed for so many centuries!” At this, cheers and patriotic roars sprang from the crowd, and even the liberals couldn’t help but feel joyous.

“When it is completed,” Louis continued, “St. Vitus will be a powerful symbol of the Bohemian nation, and of what we can achieve when we work together. I may not live to see St. Vitus fully completed, and neither may any of you, but I want to be someday able to look down from Heaven, or up from Hell if St. Peter is feeling grumpy,” at this, a chuckle came from the crowd, “and see a structure that every man, woman, and child in the Kingdom can feel proud of. With your help, we can make it so. Thank you all for coming tonight, I wish you all a safe rest of your night, and God bless the Kingdom of Bohemia, Moravia, and Silesia!” A second round of cheers and applause, plus a little less booing than before, came from the crowd, as the King retired to his personal residence in the Castle.


Německý Brod, Bohemia
January 5th, 1848

About 62 miles east of Prague lies the mid-sized city of Německý Brod, a former mining town which had since become a regional cultural center. The majority of the population was German, but there was a steadily growing Czech population, as Czechs from the surrounding area came to the city to find work in the city’s textile industry. Though there was some tension between the German and Czech populations, the two groups put aside their animosity when they heard that the government in Prague was subsidizing the construction of a railway between Prague and Brno, and the Germans and Czechs of Německý Brod came together to petition for their city to be included as a stop along this line. The railway company ultimately agreed, not only due to the local populace’s strong enthusiasm, but also because Německý Brod was about halfway between Prague and Brno, making the city the ideal railway town.

And now, after months of construction, the railway had finally reached Německý Brod. Though the line still had to be completed to Brno, the railway company decided to open the railway to service here, and to open the rest of the line to service as the construction crews completed each section. As opening the halfway point was a symbolic milestone, the railway company had scheduled a lavish grand opening ceremony in Německý Brod, with the Minister of Transportation Lubomír Pulnik being on hand to drive in the ceremonial last spike. On January 5th, the big day came. Visitors from all over the Bohemia and Moravia regions came to the city to see the railway’s opening. Railway executives, businessmen, government officials, and even common people came to Německý Brod for the occasion, and these visitors filled the city with excitement and hope for the future, in addition to money from their patronage of the local businesses.

Just before noon, many of the visitors gathered at the newly-completed Německý Brod railway station, where they hoped to see Minister Pulnik arrive on the line’s first train. At 12:07 PM, a British-built steam locomotive pulled into the station, pulling two passenger coaches behind it. Out of the first coach stepped a well-dressed man in a black coat: Minister of Transportation Lubomír Pulnik. The on-lookers (many of whom were unfamiliar with rail travel and feared that Pulnik would somehow be injured or deformed during the journey) cheered and applauded as Pulnik waved to the crowd and was led to the site of the ceremony.

At 12:31 PM, Lubomír Pulnik stepped onto the track, with a large golden spike already driven partially into the last rail tie. Crowds gathered all around the track, and the locomotive Pulnik arrived on (which the railway company had dubbed Louis in honor of the current King of Bohemia Louis III) was parked behind Pulnik. Artur Dvořák, the railway company’s CEO, handed Pulnik a large spiking hammer, and with great force and pounding, the Minister of Transportation drove the last spike into the tie. When it was fully in, Pulnik wiped his forehead of sweat, as applause and tremendous cheers erupted from the crowd. Bohemia’s second railway line, from Prague to Německý Brod, was officially open.

[Auchterland]

Kingdom of Belgium

January 7th, 1848
Office of the Prime Minister, Brussels

Charles was filled to the brim with curiosity as, only a few days after his return to the capital, he was communicated that the prime minister wished for his presence in a meeting to discuss what had been labeled as "relevant internal and external policy matters". It was the manner in which the subject of the reunion was presented that intrigued him, as it was not uncommon for Paul Devaux to ask for Charles' advice. The two had been close friends for over two decades, having been brought together by common beliefs and worked as associates in a newspaper, along with Lebeau and Charles' brother, Firmin. At last, Devaux had been there with Charles in the National Congress, and supported him throughout his rule in all moments. So when Devaux said something was important, Charles trusted him that it was.

"Ah, Charles.", said the prime minister, with a smile, as the monarch entered the room. "We were expecting you." At his side sat another man, whose stern decorum was unmistakable - Constant d'Hoffschmidt, the minister of foreign affairs, stood up in the king's presence and bowed his head at him.

"Your Grace.", uttered Constant. He sat back down as the monarch signaled him to with a wave of his hand.

"Good afternoon, gentlemen. I hope I did not leave you waiting for too long.", said Charles as he made his way towards a chair upon which he sat. "Now, forgive me if I am rushing anything, but your call left me quite curious, so I must inquire you on what we will be discussing in this meeting." His gaze shifted back and forth from one man to the other.

"Of course, there is no problem with being objective.", responded Devaux with a nod. He reached for the inside pocket of his coat, fishing out an envelope which he set upon the table and pushed in Charles' direction. Charles ran his eyes over its contents. He recognized some of the words from his time in Liège, which had its own community of germans and was geographically close to the area were they were a majority. "The letter was signed by dozens of citizens from Eupen. It petitions for the recognition of german as an official language of the kingdom and for the formation of a separate jurisdictionary and administrative area comprising a couple of cities in the east.", he summarized.

Charles continued to read the document to the end nevertheless. "It ends with a veiled threat.", he remarked. "I thought I'd still hear from orangists giving us trouble, but this is news." He put the letter down again, placed an elbow on the table and supported his head with his hand. "I presume you already have an idea of how to tackle this issue.", he continued, glancing momentarily at Constant and wondering what the minister of foreign affairs would have to do with this matter.

"Indeed.", started Paul. "I believe it is for the best to accept these demands. I am very aware of how costly it should be to adapt our bureaucracy, but for now, their objectives are modest, and we may be facing a choice of either accepting or having to deal with a revolt. Pan-germanist agitators have been growing in numbers and activity in other realms, and not making these concessions might inspire such sentiment among our citizens. Of course, this will not be done in a single day, and we must undergo a complex process of mapping and structuring in order to implement this.", he explained, to which Charles bit his lower lip in thought.

At that moment, Constant broke his silence. "As much as I agree, and for very good reasons, considering the fact that I come from a german family from the southeast and thus understand these people, I believe this is not the reason you called me for this meeting. So, would you please explain me what part of your plan would require my involvement, monsieur?", he interposed.

"Ah, yes, of course.", answered Devaux, gesturing with his hand in the air. "You see, as I said, pan-germanism has been spreading across other realms, and in some cases, even gaining enthusiasts within the government of some. If a powerful nation like Saxony or Austria eventually buys this idea and embarks on some sort of campaign, this will pose a threat to our national integrity. Therefore, I believe we should seek to strengthen our relations with other nations that face a situation similar to ours."

"Bohemia would possibly be interested. It has its own issues with reconciling a diverse population and would be affected by an aggressive pan-germanist movement.", stated Constant, seeing where Devaux was getting. The prime minister agreed with a simple, quiet nod. "Then I shall arrange a meeting. Is there anything else you wish to speak of?"

"Only one request. Can you attempt to have King Louis himself come?" As Constant nodded, Devaux opened a smile. "Great. Then that's all. Thank you for your attention, monsieur d'Hoffschmidt. I have a few more things to discuss with Your Majesty." With that, Constant stood up, bowed to the two and left the room to write the invitation letter.

To King Louis III of Bohemia

---

Greetings, Your Majesty. I hope that this letter finds you in good health.

It is, however, with some concern that I write to you, because the reason behind this message is growingly preoccupying. It has been a few years since some radicals have begun stirring up dangerous ideas among the populace - those of uniting the german people under one State through a violent uprising.

Should this movement gain any significant amount of strength, such as eventually gaining the adhesion of a great power in the germanic region, this would threaten the territorial integrity and the peace that both of our nations have worked so hard to conquer.

Thus, should this proposal interest you, I would like to invite you - or another competent official of your government, should you be personally unable to attend - to Brussels in order to discuss the possibility and details of an alliance between our nations to take preemptive actions against such a threat, in the event of it ever arising.

My best wishes to you and your nation.

Sincerely,
Constant d'Hoffschmidt,
Minister of Foreign Affairs of the Kingdom of Belgium

[Elepis]

---

Chapter One: King of Kings

"Their sons are carefully instructed in three things alone - to ride, to draw the bow, and to speak the truth."-Herodotus

---

Ali Arg Palace
Tehran
The Sublime State of Iran
10th of January

---

The great city of Tehran, to those who did not know or understand the history of Iran, a strange place to put a capital. For millennia since the creation of the Iranian empire by Cyrus the Great, Iran's centres of power had been in the south. Persepolis, Ctesiphon, Isfahan, all the great centres of Iranian power had been far to the south in the prosperous regions of Mesopotamia and Pars. However Tehran broke that trend, faced with the mighty Alborz mountains and the harsh central desert to the south, Tehran was far to the north of the Iranian Plateau. This spot was chosen by Nader Shah Afshar, the founder of the current dynasty, for two reason, domestically much of the south had been loyal to the old Safavid dynasty which ruled out the splendid metropolises of Isfahan and Shiraz as capitals, and internationally Nader has perceived the Commonwealth bear as the greatest threat to Iran's existence, so had chosen the northerly city of Tehran, from here the Shah and his armies could easily reach the tenuous Russian border at the Caucasus, as well as the Ottoman border in Anatolia.

Despite being the newly made capital of a prosperous and vibrant new dynasty, Tehran itself was still a relatively small city, while Isfahan to the south and Mashhad in the east both had populations of near 400,000 people, Tehran itself only had 100,000 and was the third largest city in the empire though matched closely with Peshawar in the restless Pashtunistan region to the far east of the Empire. However, Tehran was also rapidly growing, and rapidly industrialising. While still lagging far behind the mighty cities of Europe, Cathay and North America, Tehran was the most industrialised city in the near east with an ever growing number of foundries, factories and armouries which themselves attracted a steady stream of migrants from the poor, rural and arid interior of the Empire. As the city grew, so the scale of the Ali Arg Palace seemed to shrink in comparison. However this palace, built by the son of Nader Shah, was still a marvel to behold.

Separated from the rest of the city by a low wall enclosing a large private park, the imperial residence was adorned with glittering pavilions surrounded by ornamental gardens adorned with exotic trees centred around the main palace itself which rose above aquamarine fields which bloomed vermilion in summer. Where as Tehran itself was not particularly remarkable, the imperial palace had been designed by the architects of the Afsharid dynasty to echo the world of Darius, Khosrau and Shah Abbas in arcadian perfection. At the heart of this village lay the palace itself located near the splendid Jame Mosque, on the banks of an artificial lake made from the water's of one of the capital's canals. The palace itself was merely the largest of one of the many pavilions in the complex and was based of the Chehel Sotoun in Isfahan, with twenty high wooden columns supporting a domed roof overlooking a lake. Within the palace any visitors were grated with a myriad shades of gold in an almost gaudy display of wealth, the precious materials interrupted by fresco's depicting the great achievements of the Afsharid dynasty, many of which included the dynasty's founder, Nader Shah, often called the Napoleon of the East for his military exploits against the Ottomans and Mughals.

The current Shah was a man called Fariborz Mirza Afshar, crowned Shahanshah in nine years earlier he had inherited a strong empire from his farther who had encouraged European style reforms and had only brought greater prosperity during his own reign. While Iran could not hope to compete toe to toe with the full might of the Commonwealth, the current Shah was doing all he could to prepare his state for such an inevitability, banking on any war being fought in the Caucasus he had long cultivated the disparate people groups there as well as increasing the military presence there to over 100,000 men. Sensing opportunity in the collapse of the Ottomans the Shah has also sought out good relations with Hellas and the far off Duel Kingdom on the edge of Eurasia, with a well defended Mesopotamian frontier and a corrupted and collapsing rival, the Shah knew it was only a matt of time before the House of Osman collapsed. To the east however there were problems, efforts to convert the Persian speaking Dari tribes of central Afghanistan had mostly gone according to plan, however the restive Pashtuns east of the Afghan mountains still proved restless. Having risen in failed revolt decades before they faced intermittent persecution from Tehran and truthfully outside of major cities the Shah's word held little sway here. Nonetheless, Iran was on the rise, and the young Shah felt he held the fate of the entire world in his hands.

[Senkaku]

Chapter Two: Spring Snow

1848
3 February - Two Days Until the Year of the Monkey
"Death is nothing, but to live defeated and inglorious is to die daily."

---

Hall of the Chancellery
Daming Palace
Hangzhou
Capital Viceroyalty

---

It was utterly dismal outside, especially given the time of year- 35 degrees Fahrenheit at best, and the pretty dusting of snow the city had received the night before had been turned into filth by sleet and hail throughout the day. The wind had been tearing roof tiles off the palace, whipping off the gray, whitecapping harbor waters, where the fishermen were rubbing their fingers together furiously and exhaling breeze-torn ribbons of vapor as their boats rocked and rolled.

"Good morning, Your Excellency."
His chief of staff, An Bolin, was immediately at his side as Caihou swung himself off the horse and down, pulling his fur cap off as they headed into the warmth of the building's interior. He merely grunted in response, rubbing his gloved hands together and brushing the sleet off the black, fur-lined deerskin before taking them off. Bolin immediately took them, along with his cap.
"I'm afraid I don't have the papers from the Fusang isthmus on your desk yet, Excellency- the ship delivering them has not yet arrived, but I've heard by semaphore that it was spotted earlier this morning heading past the Zhoushans towards us, so it should be here by afternoon."
"Very good," Caihou grunted as they continued walking. "And thank you for sending the horse and my riding clothes over, I'd've hated to have to have walked from the Cabinet chambers in this weather. Bloody disgusting, and unseasonable."
"Of course, Excellency." Bolin bowed his head deferentially. "A runner from Commander Sun's office also arrived just before you did, sir- here's the paper he left, I believe Commander Sun is hoping to speak to you sometime soon about the matter." He handed Caihou the sheet as they walked, and the Chancellor quickly scanned it.
"Something about breech-loading? Talk me through this, I'm not a weapons expert, I forget that kind of shit."
"The Shen Model 18 rifles, sir. They use a different mechanism to load than normal muskets- rather than pushing the bullet down the barrel, there is an opening at the-"
"Oh, those things. Yes, why does Sun want me to consider authorizing so many? Is Lady Shen pushing him around or something? The way he still cowers before her, and they haven't been married for the better part of a decade now! Though I suppose the Shens are rather formidable..."
"I believe the Imperial General Staff is generally quite enamored of these rifles' performance- higher accuracy than most rifles in service, certainly than all muskets, and apparently a significantly higher rate of fire. I'll put out feelers to see if the Shens are pressuring him in any way though, Excellency."

They had arrived at the bronze double doors, and here Bolin stopped as two servants drew them open.
"If there's nothing else for the moment, Excellency?"
"No, that's all. I'll ring if I need you," Caihou said, and strode into his office.

---

Hall of Heavenly Tranquility

---

"Do you have to go?"
A lone candle stood as the only outpost of light in the bedroom, pushing away the deep shadows left by the faint gray morning glow filtering in through the windows. Biming sighed, slipping out of Chang's arms, and swung his legs off the side of the bed, letting his toes dangle against the warm mahogany floor.
"I'm afraid so," he replied softly. "Preparations for the Spring Festival, Cabinet meetings... I may not see you this evening."
"Alright."
The sleet was battering the windowpanes as the Emperor rolled over to look at him, watching him shrug on a shawl that looked like a brightly-colored version of a Buddhist monk's robe.
"What is that? Are you going out in it?", Chang teased. Biming rolled his eyes.
"Just downstairs to bathe and put on my work clothes. And it's just for modesty, apparently this sort of patterning is popular in Feizhou."
"You look like a courtesan... or like a colored lantern. It's so bright!"
"Good, that's the idea." Biming smiled at him, and then glanced over his shoulder as he began noticing the chill radiating off the windowpane. "It's frigid out- is that snow on the courtyard?"
"It's a bit late in the year for snow, I suppose spring is running slow this year."
"Well, perhaps in Yanghong they're enjoying a summer that won't let go."

---

Office of the Chancellor

---

"Ah, Secretary Song- thank you for coming on short notice," Caihou said, glancing up briefly from the papers he was reading.
"Of course, sir. What can I do for you?"
"I wanted to continue our discussion from the Cabinet meeting yesterday on the subject of Qian. Specifically in terms of taking action- I've consulted further with Foreign Minister Gao, and he agrees that it's not yet time to be seen as openly hostile and forming a coalition."
"I'm glad he's come around- the Golden Eye is certainly a better option for now. Do you have something specific in mind?"
Caihou pulled a map out from under some of the papers he had piled up- a map of the Qian empire, spanning from Central Asia to the heart of China.
"Obviously we should proceed as was agreed yesterday in reaching out to the other northern states, but I think overtures to the Persians and the Tibetans may not go amiss either. The thinner they're spread, the more prone they are to collapsing."
"Interesting. It can certainly be done- but don't the Persians fear their other northern neighbor more?"
"If they seem uninterested in our overtures, we can consider other routes to sowing discord in the region, but the Golden Eye would take a leading role in such operations as well."
Biming smiled slightly, then glanced down at a letter on the Chancellor's table. "Not to change the subject or be nosy, but what's this?"
Caihou looked surprised, and then shrugged. "Oh, a letter Gao sent along for me from somewhere called Sikkim. I'd never heard of it, to tell the truth- it's wedged between Tibet and Nepal or something, a small mountain kingdom."
"Sending an ambassador to Hangzhou- that will be quite a change."
"Yes, I think Gao fired off a form response instructing their representative to pay homage to His Radiance when he arrives. We'll send a resident there, too, sniff around to see if there are any opportunities."
"I see. Well, I'll find someone suitable to head to Persia and make overtures to their court- we don't have deep connections there, but I'll find someone who can walk carefully."

---

Wu Legation
Weicheng
Kingdom of Qi

---

Lu Qishan smiled slightly as he watched the guests dig into the ice cream- the servants had brought out another round, now, and people were eating it up. He'd been able to get ice cream in Weicheng, but it seemed much scarcer and costlier than in Hangzhou- but then, most things were scarcer and costlier outside of Hangzhou. His chief of staff was from Jiangning, and had assured him that Hangzhou's confectioneries were unusually numerous and universally well-equipped. Regardless, his Qi guests seemed to be enjoying.

Qishan sighed and stepped away from the table for a moment, heading upstairs and out onto one of the balconies overlooking the legation building's courtyard, with its fish pond and neatly-trimmed hedges. The rumors had been flying around the court- Admiral Huang is out! By the Emperor's personal order! He'd never seen so many pleased civil servants or nervous generals, and speculation on what the Emperor's next move was had been so furious as to tire him out. He's coming for the generals! No, Huang was just a warning to change their ways. Actually, the Emperor didn't have anything to do with it, Song Lingxin sent the order in his name.

He'd asked all of his acquaintances at court to keep a finger to the wind, and thankfully as of yet none of the Qi generals had made any overtures to him- Hangzhou had not had time to respond to his messages and had not sent any directives on how to respond, if one of them were to ask for his support in the event that further dismissals were in the works. All he could do now was stand on a chilly balcony and wait.

---

POST SUMMARY:

-Sikkimese ambassador accepted, to take up residence in Hangzhou.
-Wu Foreign Ministry envoy leaves for Sikkim.
-Wu Golden Eye envoy leaves for Persia, orders sent to Wu ambassadors in northern Chinese states and Joseon to put out feelers at their respective courts on the subject of Qian.
-Imperial General Staff requesting increased orders of new breech-loading rifles, but Chancellery delays for now due to political concerns.
-Wu ambassador to Qi concerned by dismissal of Admiral Huang, Hangzhou indifferent or still considering its options if further cleansing of the Qi military or instability at the court in Weicheng seems likely to occur.

[Intermountain States]

January 28th, 1848
Hanseong, Joseon

"This is far superior than your average carbine or flintlock pistol," Hwang Young-chul said to a group of officers lead by Defense Minister Wang Jun-min while demonstrating a new Yue revolver. "All you need to do is to load the blackpowder onto the cylinder and insert these rounds into the holes of each cylinder and then you have six bullets to spare."

"But if you're done with firing all six rounds, wouldn't that leave you with a longer time to reload all six compared to a muzzle loading rifle?" an officer asked.

"We might as well be using those three-barrelled pole guns instead," another officer grumbled.

"This allows for nearly limitless mobility for officers," Young-chul continued. "You're looking at a handheld device that gives one man the shooting capability of six riflemen. It's more accurate and longer range than the flintlock pistols currently used by the military."

"I can do a demonstration," Young-chul added. "Your best officer's flintlock pistol versus this revolver. Let's see how many shots a standard issue sidearm can do against this revolver."

"I'll take up on that," one of the officer, Kim An-kor said, taking out his pistol. A few distance away lies a couple of targets with some being further distances away. Both of the men begin to load their weapons with An-kor being the first to load his pistol and fired at the closest one. The ball went through the first target with ease. Satisfied, An-kor begins to reload his flintlock again and reloaded his pistol. He fired another shot at the further target and hit the mark.

As An-kor reloaded his third round, Young-chul finally finished loading all six bullets in and fired his first round at the closest target. He recocked and fired five more bullets, all six bullets hitting their mark while An-kor's flintlock fired three times and missed the furthest target.

Beaming at the result, Young-chul turned to the officers. "This test should the superiority of the revolver over the flintlock pistol on accuracy and rate of fire."

"It certainly has potential," Jun-min said. "I'll make a report and send it to the Emperor to see if he approves of changes to our officer sidearms."

February 5th, 1848
Hanseong, Joseon

"While our border forces report of little to no Qian activities, they still recommend preparation in case of war," Wang Jun-min said at the General Court.

"The Qians' main focus seem to be reunifying much of China under a single dynasty like the Mongols or the Song Dynasty," Court official Kim Bong-chul suggested. "Perhaps we can keep our independence and align with the Qians?"

"That's a preposterous idea," Prime Minister Kim Myeongyeong responded. "Joseon already maintains good relations with the various states of China, to even suggest aligning with the Qians would mean break down in trade and diplomacy with states like Yue, Qi, or Wu, states we cannot afford to lose good relations over."

"If we show hostilities to a much more powerful state, then we'd be in the same situation as Goryeo was against the Mongols," Bong-chul continued. "Goryeo went to war with the Mongols and what happened? Seven long campaigns that saw millions of civilians killed with Gojong capitulating to the Mongols and the country became a compulsory ally to the Yuans as if the Mongols never invaded in the first place. We are talking about potential survival of Joseon versus an annihilation of our legacy."

"The Mongols learned to respect Goryeo after suffering many defeats at the hands of Goryeo defenders," Jun-min said. "Goguryeo fought a two-front war against the Tangs and Silla and were able to held out as long as they could even through political infightings. If we surrendered without a fight, then we put this country's past dynasties into shame."

"I am worried by the Qians' conquests," the Emperor said. "I fear that I would be just like Gojong of Goryeo when the Mongols came. The General at the border is right, we need to prepare for war at some point with the Qians before they grew too powerful to threaten Joseon."

"We need to work with neighboring states to contain the Qians," Myeonggyeong added. Now may be the time for our ambassadors in Yan, Qi, Northern and Southern Zhous to bring those states together."

"Indeed," the Emperor said. "Contact our envoys in those states and see if they could request an audience with the respective government, Rites Minister Yi Geol."

"Yes your Majesty," the Rites Minister said

"However, the Qians may be open to diplomacy," Emperor Yi Yeong added. "Kim Bong-chul and Kang Sang-cheon, I want you to travel to their capital to request an audience with the Qians, find information regarding the Qians that would be helpful to Joseon."

"Yes, your Majesty," Bong-chull and Sang-cheon said as they left. Just as they left, one of the palace servants entered the court.

"Your Majesty," the servant said to the Emperor. "The ambassador from Wu requests an audience with us regarding Qian. Should we let him in?"

"Of course," the Emperor said. "Let the ambassador in, any help is good when we're facing the Qians."

[Jaslandia]

Kingdom of Bohemia, Moravia, and Silesia

Prague Castle, Prague, Bohemia
February 5th, 1848

---

King Louis sat in his throne room, advisers and politicians gathered around him. They could hear chants (mostly in Czech, but a few in German) from a crowd calling for reform and increased democracy, and just outside the window, they could see the large mass of people who were shouting those chants. Some in the King's inner circle were quite concerned about this, but others brushed it off.

“Just give it a couple more weeks, Your Majesty,” Chancellor Franz Wilhelm von Streissburg said to the King. “They’ll wear themselves out soon enough. You know these young people: they won’t have the patience for a real movement, let alone a movement powerful enough to threaten your rule.”

“And what if they do?” Louis asked. “What if this movement is different?”

“It won’t be!” Internal Affairs Minister Jakub Vlasák replied.

“It might be,” Louis replied. “Then what will we do?” There was a long silence. Finally, von Streissburg broke the silence.

“I suppose we can worry about that later,” the Chancellor said. “We could make a few concessions to the democratic forces if necessary, such as by giving a couple more powers to the National Diet. However, any sort of extensive reforms or the abdication of the King should be out of the question.”

“Agreed,” Louis replied. Just then, Foreign Minister Marcel Falkenrath walked in holding a piece of paper.

“Letter from the Belgian Foreign Minister,” Falkenrath began.

“Belgium?” Louis replied in confusion. “Since when has a small and faraway country like Belgium cared about affairs in central Europe?”

“They’re concerned about the Pan-German movement and want to meet to discuss the matter with King Louis,” the Foreign Minister explained as he handed to the note to the Bohemian king. “See for yourself, Your Majesty.” The King took the letter and began to read it.

“Alright,” Louis said when he finished reading, “I’ll head to Brussels and met with the Belgians.”

“Your Majesty, are you sure that is wise?” Internal Affairs Minister Vlasák inquired worriedly. “With all the protests, you may be needed here. Besides, if you leave to go to another country, especially a fellow monarchy, some may see it as going into exile. Your throne could be at risk.”

The King tilted his head quizzically. “I thought you said not to worry about the protests? Why are you suddenly so eager for me to stay in Bohemia?”

“While I still think this is a minor thing,” Vlasák responded, “I have to concede that this situation could also become a big problem. And if that happens, we must act swiftly, or the consequences could be quite severe.”

Louis III nodded. “Very well. Crown Prince Maximilian will stay in the city, and he could manage the situation if it gets out of hand. He’s pretty popular, and he may even be able to calm the situation better than I can. Franz can also stay to help control the situation, while Marcel will come with me to negotiate with the Belgians.”

“Alright,” the Chancellor responded. “But I know how you are with foreign trips: you always want to dawdle and see all the sights in your host country. You need to make this trip quick so you can get back to monitor the protest situation.”

“Of course,” Louis said. “I’ll only spend one extra day for sight-seeing this time.” The Chancellor gave the King a dirty glare. “Alright, alright,” Louis added. “No sightseeing. I’ll go in, meet and negotiate with the Belgians, then get out.”

“That’s better,” the Chancellor said. “You and Marcel better get a move on then.”

To: Constant d'Hoffschmidt, Minister of Foreign Affairs of Belgium
From: Louis III; King of Bohemia, Moravia, and Silesia

Greetings to you, honorable minister,

I must confess I was quite surprised to receive your letter. Until now, Bohemia has only concerned itself with matters in central Europe. Not only that, but we didn’t expect Belgium to take an interest in affairs in this part of Europe.

However, after reading your letter, your communication with Bohemia is most agreeable. Like you, I have been closely following the growing Pan-German movement. Though Bohemia has mostly been unaffected by this movement (most of the agitation in Bohemia is the work of Czech liberals rather than German nationalists), that does not mean Bohemia will be free from the Pan-German tide forever. Of particular concern to me is Silesia, a region of my kingdom which is about 50% German, and has been an object of desire to both Austria and Saxony for over a century. Silesia, with its German population and rich natural resources, would be an attractive targets to the Pan-Germanists, who might be eager to separate the territory away from us and attach it to a potential German empire. If this were to happen, this German empire would be a grave threat to us both.

Therefore, I am in full agreement with your concern regarding the Pan-German movement, and I eagerly look forward to discussing such matters with you in Brussels. I think we share a common interest in this regard, and I hope this meeting can be the start of close relations between our two great kingdoms.

We look forward to the meeting, and may God bless the Kingdom of Belgium!

Signed, Louis III

[Alleniana]

越

---

二

---

且吾言殺一不辜者必有一不祥殺不辜者誰也則人也予之不祥者誰也則天也

Moreover, as I have said, there will be for each murdered innocent a retribution. Who murders the innocent? It is man. Who exacts retribution? It is heaven.

- Mozi

---

Bokgok Road, Jyutdou Zau, Yue

"Gungping, womuk," they chanted solemnly, processing along the setts. Fair and harmonious, their demand. The petitioners, taking up the whole width of the Bokgok Road, were watched with only some interest by those standing to the side; word had been spread by the yumcha campaigns, the papers, speeches in the Daaiwui, like the last time this had been attempted, eight years ago. Merchants and pickpockets moved their activities to the margin of the street temporarily, some shopkeepers even eyeing the marchers should one of them pick something up and attempt to run, well, walk with it. None did, though.

This was, mind you, one of the decidedly more affluent areas of town; jewellers and bankers, nobles and accountants were hardly the type of people you'd expect to sympathise with what was very much a working class (and youth radical) movement. This was sort of the point; Bokgok was one of the main thoroughfares of the city, and awareness especially among those who might not have come into contact with the movement directly yet would be spread thus. It was also a main road leading from Zaakje, one of the most politically active working class districts in the city, straight to the Lousing, the Old Town. Back there, they'd been cheered on; here, they were heading into the heart of darkness, if you will, right to the doorstep of the Daaiwuitong.

Hundreds of thousands strong, they snaked along the street; the mood was not one of combat, or wholesale struggle, but a deep, stolid desire to change their lot in tandem with the changing world around them. Last time, it had not been through confrontation that this government had fobbed them off, but piecemeal, playing one faction against another, an arrest here, a bribe there, until the petition was in shambles enough to discard. However, a rearguard of sympathetic Daaiwui members kept the flame alive in the public consciousness, making it quite clear that it was in fact a great popular discontent that drove the movement, lacking only organisation—it had been not a conservative triumph, but a successful delaying action only, and now, with nearly a decade behind it, the movement of 1840 had returned, ready for a fresh fight, at least in spirit.

The unusual cold for this part of the globe reminded the demonstrators of the poverty and oppression they appealed against, though the crowded masses and houses broke the worst and wind. Trudging on towards the southern tip of the city island, they approached Cekcoeng, the largest paved open space in the city. The Red Field, a now generation-old testament to the popular spirit, which had demanded a public space and gotten it, or so the story went. There it was most likely they might first encounter some resistance from authorities, which they had not yet.

Emerging from between closely packed old houses, they spread out across the flagstones, beginning to pack the space at the moment only occupied by scatterings of chatters, hawkers, vendors and such. From their entrance there was no restriction, but at the streets leading out from the square they came to notice the familiar walls of plum, formations of Yue musketeers, arms shouldered. This, in fact, reflected what the government had told the organisers—gather and present the petition, but do not attempt to move the crowd beyond Cekcoeng. Here was where they could chant and express their opinions all they liked, there was little hope to actually smash the movement so it would let off steam thus, but any closer would seem a move on the government itself, which would be unacceptable, and so the soldiers awaited the leaders to step forward with their bundles of paper. However, the crowd, even knowing this, eyeing the distant dull gleam of unattached bayonets, uncomfortably squirmed a little as their numbers expanded to fill the space.

The ground baring its scarlet soul heard some slogans and whatnot begin to be chanted here and there, many abortively as the mass began to lose cohesion emerging from the constrained, linear space of the road. The ringleaders found their way into a small party, waving off the protesters nearest them (though minding that they weren't particularly famous, and some of the protesters didn't know who they were) and headed towards the Great Assembly Hall. Being blocked by the crossed arms of the soldiers at the street entrance elicited some hooting and howling here and there, but then they were let through with the promise of returning once the petition was presented in perhaps half an hour, taking the short walk to the government building, going through the ceremonies and returning to disperse the crowd. The problem was that now that they'd left, the crowd was left leaderless, headless.

To be clear, this was a group of the utmost grassroots credentials. Young and old, men and women, unemployed and artisans were very much in unity in their despair over some of the conditions of modern urban life and the ideals to be applied to solving it. They weren't radicals, out to smash anything at all. While their demands included some radical ideas, mainly inserted by intellectuals—universal adult suffrage (women not implied, mind), equal representation in elections, equality before the law, and true legalisation of unions—it could also be understood that such measures as the banning of corporal punishment (at least exacted by employers), publicly available clean water, housing safety standards, were essentially about survival, being able to live without being beaten down. While economic struggles could take on political tones if the problem became large enough to seem political, it must be conveyed that this was still largely economic. The very real pain of being in that rather chilly weather they felt right then reflected being unable to afford firewood or working in a factory too miserly to use it, or using it and risking a house fire or a lung infection.

It is only with these grave grievances, expressed soberly, having been clarified that the later passions can seem so remarkable. That people who had turned out to walk were made to pick up arms against the state on the same day was something that altered the political climate irreversibly, that could and did strike right at the heart of this apparently tranquil, prosperous Yue. That day, the state was shaken, a populace radicalised, the relationship between government and people fundamentally altered as a powerful new force tasted just a smidge of victory, and would grow into a people's beast.

It began only with antsiness, as idle worries over the petition sprouted into rumours, gossip. Arrested? Surely not. Of course not. But the crowd began to worry, pushing in on itself, claustrophobic as soldiers arrived to reinforce already assembled lines around them. Still, they milled, chatted, waited, occasionally breaking out in some enthusiastic shout. Still nothing, yet.

Then came a gunshot; nobody was, or is quite sure where it came from, but the pop echoed around the courtyard, silencing both sides. Nothing happened for a minute, maybe more, as the people came to stare into the whites of the eyes of the soldiers, and vice versa. A burly man stepped forward towards the street leading to the Great Hall; the people levelled their eyes at the soldiers in the way, and the soldiers levelled their muskets.

As luck would have it, they were Rau; they understood Yue but were more accustomed to their own mountain languages. A call of "Stay back! Do not put up arms!" sounded only threateningly foreign to the crowd, which now even began to press in a little to the tension. What was happening? The burly man stepped closed to the line, two men deep, and the order was given for them to fix bayonets.

"I'm just passing through," he said.

Metal blades formed a wall; the people watched as he kept advancing, slowly, step by step.

His stunt looked to be coming to an end as he stood close enough to the bayonets to reach out and touch them. He looked like he hadn't washed his face in weeks; though burly, his face was gaunt and sallow, like a dismounted horseman of the apocalypse in the mind of the teenager on the other end of the gun. He walked onto the bayonet, it pushing back against his belly but not drawing blood through his clothes.

The soldier, shocked, stabbed, more batted at him really; his guts spilled out.

Perhaps three split seconds passed, enough time for him to sink below the level of the muskets, anyway.

"Fire!"

A row of light grey flowers blossomed and floated up from first just that fireteam, but then in bursts around the rest of the square too, some preemptively and some to stave off a panicked stampede. Nonetheless, they fled in all directions, scrambling and trampling each other, and the firing turned ragged in seconds too, before almost halting entirely as it became a rout of everyone involved. The Rau soldiers in particular, unfamiliar with the big city having had the bad luck to have been transferred in only days ago to deal specifically with this unrest, quickly became lost, accosting random strangers to try and find their way to some sort of authority. In the Great Hall, as soon as the commotion began the delegates were arrested, but not before one jumped out the window and sprinted down the street.

The city was in absolute uproar. Word of shootings spread, incredulously at first but apparently confirmed by the terrified runners and soon looters in the streets. Neighbourhood organisations and secret societies jumped into action, securing blocks or gathering their people, whatever was in their purview. Private arms found their way into private hands, used to take out an absolutely befuddled garrison that in many cases defected to their own people anyway. The cry of "seize the bridges!" went up as soldiers from parts of the city not yet in uprising ran towards the centre. Within the city, only impromptu civilian brigades prevented a great fire. The members of the national assembly fled by riverboat, taking the ringleaders, the supposed organisers of this whole affair with them in captivity. Soldiers followed them in anything that would float, or else ripped off their distinctive clothes and picked up anything else, some few even from the dead, melting into the chaos of the city.

In fact, within hours, the garrison had almost been completely wiped out; the perfunctory presence of military at the demonstration had never been seriously intended to be used, let alone like this. Nobody had expected anything, and now that... something had happened, the city, or at least the central island was in the possession of the masses. At the triple forts, the governmental members regrouped and caught their breath, looking upriver at this... revolution.

One particular union, a secret wui of some black dragon or other, haad rushed onto the street by the river; a barricade appeared on the Jyutdoudou side of Onngatkiu. Strong Peace Bridge lived up to its name as a semblance of order was established by workmen volunteers, flocking to it with furniture from nearby and manning it (and scaring off any civilians who considered fleeing across it to either side). When a detachment of armed men in the government's purple-red robes arrived, they found themselves against a fortified position, armed with hunters' guns. They stood down on the far side of the bridge, neither side firing, each tense and confused and terrified.

Territory had solidified; it was clear now, the city island had been taken, and barricaded like this all around, while the outside remained with the rest of Yue, occupied by a regrouping army. News of this was telegraphed to across the (mainland) country from the station at the vacated Daaiwuitong, before the line was cut by wary officers, while the gunships of the navy began to spread out along the river as they returned or were called from patrols elsewhere: a few, it was noted, were launched from the island itself or defected. A moment of respite, as fires were extinguished and wounded and dead tended to as best they could be in this chaos.

On Onngat Bridge, under the grey haze of smoke and winter afternoon cloud, a horseman rode forward from the mainland. A daaiwui member, come from evidently not behind. The workmen looked at him, wary. He produced two figures, standing but chained: the organisers of the protest. They were unchained, and they walked behind him, one on each flank, approaching the barricade hands up.

"People of the city... I bring the petition-writers. See, they are unharmed. The assembly is prepared to agree to all points of the petition, and to further negotiate. We must not fight! You will not be arrested; lay down your arms! This is madness!"

The workmen at the barricades, gathered there only by chance, looked at one another.

"The violence was a mistake! All will be resolved! But this must end; you don't have to lay down your weapons, just disperse, spread the news! The assembly agrees to the popular programme, the killers will be punished; but we must not fight!"

The workmen looked at the soldiers, between themselves and their makeshift weapons and defences, and at the pamphlet stuck to building on the side of the road, with the terms of the petition on it. Peaceful march, it still announced. With a few nods, some runners ran off from the defences, and soon a crowd had gathered; the three men on the bridge stood and watched the events over fifteen minutes.

"People of the city, we accept your demands, and we must have peace!"

The now assembled crowd stared impassively, and then the scantily armed workers dispersed, and Yue was reunited, in a manner of speaking, again.

1848-02-23

[Western Pacific Territories]

February 8, 1848
Hantang, Qi

"You hear about the Emperor's latest actions?" the older of two figures at a table stated, while slurping his cup of tea. "Not the Emperors. Lingxin's." the other replied. "They're both behind it. Huang should have been more careful and now he's paid the price." the elder stated. The other man stood up from his seat at the table. "And why would they fire him? He's relatively innocent compared to a particular man, whose name begins with 'z' and ends with 'g'." The elder pondered the question for a minute. "He was in the navy. Minor commander, never had authority over much. You can tell from the fact that the Emperor didn't let anyone else know before it was done. He wants to sends us a message, I believe. Smart. Never piss off your generals." The elder now stood up, and walked to a counter to refill his teacup. "You think they know?" the idle man asked. "Their eyes are everywhere. They might know, might not. Doesn't really matter, at least until Lingzin starts threatening the army. Then we'll see how Zhaozhong acts." the elder stated, returning to the table. "I thought we made a agreement to never mention that fools name in th-" the elder interceded, saying "He may not be the most intelligent man in our government for sure, but I don't think we should suffer the pains to be had for calling him a fool. Especially when you're shouting it out, Zongquan."

"Forgive me, General Hanqing." said the other. A man's shout from outside the small building was heard. "THE COMMANDER OF THE TAI'AN ROUTE ARMY, GENERAL QUANZHANG AND JIEDUSHI ZHAOZHONG, MILITARY GOVERNOR OF YANTAI ARRIVE!" General Zongquan began walking towards a door out of the building. "Well, then. I suppose we should give them a proper arrival." "Indeed," General Hanqing responded. The two men walked outside to see Quanzhang and the (in)famous Military Governor Zhaozhong arrive at the head of a large column of cavalry. Quanzhang and Zhaozhong rode up, and bade the column to stop as they dismounted. Quanzhang chose to talk first. "Greetings, Zongquan and Hanqing." he said. "Greetings," Zongquan replied. "I think you both know what we're interested in discussing. Come and have some tea." The group walked into the building, a small two-story clay building in the middle of a organized city of similar clay buildings. Closing the door, Zhaozhong got straight to matters. "You know about Xudong's disappearance, no?"

"No, what do you mean?" Hanqing asked. "One of Xudong's friends gave me a copy of his resignation notice. I was rather confused by the contents, quite informal for something like firing an admiral. He has been disappeared to Songbiaxing, where he can expect to stay the rest of his days." Quanzhang was rather curious. "Now why would they send him to there? That paradise of smugglers, scum of the lowest order and whores?" "Probably gonna have someone kill him or something, I don't really want to know." said the ever skeptical Zhaozhong. "Now why would they do that, just go and kill an admiral they already got rid of?" Zongquan inquired sarcastically. "Loose ends," said Zhaozhong. "So what do we do know?" asked Hanqing. "Well I don't know about the rest of you, but if the Emperor comes for my job..." Zhaozhong started. "... Well, I shouldn't say." he concluded. "Wise." Quanzhang stated.

"Out with it, none of us have real incentive to tell his Radiant Highness. At least I don't." Zongquan stated. Hanqing stood up. "I refuse to partake in treason, General. Say what you will but I don't want to be in this room to hear it." And with that, he walked out of the room. Zhaozhang chose to continue. "I do not wish to partake in treason towards the Son of Heaven, but I would defend myself if they knew the extent of my perhaps questionable activities. You can choose how to interpret what I mean by that. And with that I'm going to leave, gentlemen. I have matters to attend to in Yunnan. I presume Quanzhang has a similar situation as well." Quanzhang nodded as Zhaozhang left the building. Outside, Zhaozhang pondered the question of how he would protect himself if Lingxin came for him next. Then, it started to come to him. That dispatch from Wu, what was his name... Lu... Qishan, Lu Qishan.

He knew where to go from there.

February 12, 1848
Weichang, Qi

"Well, perhaps the execution could have gone a little better." the Emperor thought out to himself. Lingxin, again at his side was once-more in conversation about the generals and commanders. "The naval bureaucrats are indeed rather frustrated. Nothing to worry about however." Lingxin had to say. "And our generals?" the Emperor asked. "Nothing major yet. If they were going to react they would have by now I suppose." the official said. "You have any new persons of interest on your list?" inquired the Son of Heaven. "One of my adjutants thinks there's a decent case for the commander of the Tai'an Route Army. He's currently attending to business in Jinan I believe. Something about nepotism in the ranks, whatnot. We'll have to see."

The Emperor stopped his slow walking pace. "We will indeed. I can't rule without good men in charge of my armies, if I'm to stay in power I need loyal men."

[Saunrea]

Losar
Lhasa, Tibet

The new year had begun in Lhasa. It was made evident by the permeation of fragrance through every home and road, every inch of the land, much thanks to the mass acquisition of incense at an affordable price by the average household made possible by commercial policies of the imperial throne. Walls were now freshly painted and also emblazoned with auspicious symbols such as swastikas. Another smell that emanated from the glorious city was that of food, particularly roasted tsampa and butter being cooked. Whole families came together and dined on the past year's harvests, building mountains of barley in solid and liquid form within their stomachs. That of course was what occurred on day one, it being customary for what would happen within bounds of the house to make themselves done on the first day of the festival.

It was only after that did the joy break through doors and would actually be shared by every Tibetan, and thus in past instances of meetings taking place on Losar between nations, foreign emissaries were only entertained on and after day two. But this time what was to be done was different. The Emperor wished to emphasize that the nations of the Plateau were one family, thus the sovereigns and other representatives of Bhutan and Sikkim would be received a day prior to those of other nations the Tibetans considered truly foreign. They found themselves accompanied by chiefs of tribes of outer territories of the Tibetan demesne as well as Lhasa's vassals, but this was in no way implying they were downgraded to such status while the Emperor of Tibet was supposedly supreme, in fact all leaders were now equal in this time.

The dignified guests were lined up horizontally facing a palace to show a lack of hierarchy, while servants presented white cloths, known as kha btags or khata, meant for guests, before each of them, kneeling down while raising the cloth with both of their hands. After this, they were politely asked to form a circle, now joined by the Emperor himself, with no indication of hierarchy whatsoever, while a band began playing a melody with drums, horns, bells and flutes, and the assembled circle started dancing. To the same tune did they jump and kick in largely identical manner, this only reinforced the impression intended by the Tibetans that these nations were all one.

Led by esteemed ministers and monks as well as the Emperor himself, these leaders were then invited to a tour of Lhasa, witnessing its prosperity at every moment in a genuine, authentic manner. Even though Tibet had yet to catch up with the advanced nations of the former Tang or the fabled far west, it was already making an effort at such, and modern infrastructure like rudimentary arsenals, foreign-styled schools, weaving machines, bridges and even samples of electrical technology were exhibited one by one, they were able to marvel the guests since most of them had hardly heard of such things. That day ended with a grand feast along with the dignitaries appreciating exemplary actorship on part of Lhasa's theatres.

On the next day, the dignitaries were assembled in a room, each taking a seat at a large table probably bought from some dealer based in Shu, each seated at the same altitude. Here they would discuss what was to be a 'consolidated plateau', where the nations and tribes of the region would bound into strong interconnectivity and further existing cooperation, with their common religion and cultural-historical heritage, as well as the growing complexity of the situation between nations, as cited rationales. With an opening speech made by the Dalai Lama to conveniently avoid the impression that this was driven by Lhasa only, the input of the various leaders were cordially invited.

[Auchterland]

Kingdom of Belgium

January 28th, 1848
Eko, Benin Empire

The noise of footsteps going back and forth across the whole length of the vessel increased as the steamship entered the african city's famed channels. The structures would progressively become larger and more distinct from each other as the Avonturier's hull cut through the calm waters. At last, it reached the port, and the anchors were dropped, guards would approach from the wharf to check the ship. They did not recognize the black, gold and red flag that it flew, being mostly accostumed to the iberian and the british. As the white men on board made a signal requesting to drop the access ramp to the wharf, though, they nodded and gestured back with a wave of their hand, whilst the other held onto their muskets or spears.

After a few minutes of wariness, it seemed that these white men were not ill-intended, as they brought a man amongst them who could speak in portuguese to the point that he could make himself understood by the local awori people who were used to speaking to foreigners in a portuguese creole, and he informed the guards that they intended to trade cloth for local goods. So the other men began to unload crates into the wharf and move them to a close marketplace.

It would not be long before an awori merchant approached them, interested in the content of the crates. The belgian representant who spoke in portuguese, offered to let him feel the softness of the fabric. The awori nodded to himself and raised his gaze back to the belgian. "Three rolls for one man.", he offered, gesturing towards his back. There, a man armed with a spear kept watch over another man whose wrists were held tight by a piece of rope behind his back.

The belgian eyed the man over the merchant's shoulder. The slave was muscular, but his face was bony and his skin was blemished by scars, and stared back into the belgian's eyes. His expression was hardened and desensitized - as if he had accepted his loss of personhood and conformed to being exchanged as a commodity. When he looked back to the merchant, his expression remained stern, and his voice was firm. "No.", he declared. The merchant first seemed only a little annoyed and prepared to lower his offer down to the cost of two rolls of fabric, but the belgian interrupted him. "No slaves." At that, the merchant seemed struck with surprise, then he puffed with anger and turned his back to the belgian, storming away. However, he was soon replaced by an ivory trader, and this one was met in much friendlier terms.

February 12th, 1848
Royal Palace of Brussels, Brussel

The arrival of King Louis III and Foreign Minister Marcel Falkenrath to the train station in Brussels by the morning was expected by their belgian counterparts, King Charles and Foreign Minister Constant d'Hoffschmidt themselves. They were given a hearty welcome and guided through Brussels in a chariot ride to the Royal Palace, Charles commenting on the sights they passed by on their way, their history and architectural design, whilst Constant mostly kept his usual unobtrusive, corteous posture. There, they were introduced to the rooms they would be sleeping in for that day, and then taken to lunch in the additional presence of Queen Caroline and Crown Prince Nicholas. Once more, the meal was dotted by conversation about the food itself, which progressed to the country's latest harvests, then to general commentaries on its countryside and more sightseeing, the Crown Prince being an avid traveler himself, despite his young age of sixteen.

At last, after the meal, the four men would leave the dining room to a conference room beside it where they would discuss the matter that had brought the two bohemians all the way to Belgium. Charles would be the one to introduce the topic. "Well, gentleman, I hope you had a pleasing morning and noon, but now we ought to engage in a more serious topic. As was said in the letter we sent you, we worry about the possible violent outcomes of the growth of pan-germanist movement, especially after the incident relating the italians in Milan, which might inspire similar revolts elsewhere, reached our ears in the meantime." He gestured vaguely towards the window, as if pointing out Milan's exact direction.

"The way I see it, in order to preserve our common interests, it is fundamental that we act together in a coordinated manner. For this reason, I would like to suggest at least three measures: that, in the event that a pan-germanist revolution takes over any country or its government is lenient towards german aggression on other groups, we both embargo it, and in the latter case, we both demand for that government to take action to make such aggression cease; that, should a german State's governmental forces themselves be responsible for aggression against a national from one of our countries, they may call upon the other for support in a military intervention, should they deem it necessary; and that we form, at least, a general defensive alliance." Charles held up a finger for each of the aforementioned measures, and at last he laid his hands on the table again, making a pause of a few seconds to let the ideas sink in for the two bohemians.

"Furthermore, I would be pleased if you were open to consolidating this partnership between our States through dynastic ties." Another pause took place, in which Charles eyed Louis specifically, and then he proceeded: "And at last, I would like to inquire you if you hold any ambitions towards your dynasty's old territory of Bavaria." He then eyed the two expectantly.

[Liecthenbourg]

The Great Khanate of Qian
乾



Chapter I: The Dragon Stirs

Chang'an, Qian

"My Khagan, I have news."

He was an ageing man, with spectacles that adorned his wrinkled face. His robes had become stylised in the court of Chang'an's fashion. It was adorned and seemingly heavy, with broad, black shoulder-pads. It was a complimentary yellow, giving the man the visage of a large worker-bee; serving his queen ever dutifully. About his neck he wore a wooden cross, of the Assyrian style, hung on a string. A mianguan found itself perched on its head and it held the complimentary 8 beaded strings that Qian had taken to mark the position of the State Steward, something akin to Wu's rank of Chancellor.

She looked up at him with a face that radiated disinterest. Her position was commanding, overlooking a table, her arms outstretched on little carved figurines. Despite its lack of practicality in the day and age she was adorned, over her simple dress of orange fabrics, in lamellar. Xayaa's slender face of her early 30s was cast in black shadows of her helmet, a fur cap with a plume with a semi-cone of lamellar links trailing down behind, and along the sides, of her neck. Black hair came forth from all its encasing, travelling down through the gap between the armour and her neck and pushing forth around her cheeks. Her shadows were cast about the small chamber within the hastily refurbished palace compounds of Chang'an. Skins had been placed across the floor in grandeur, more rustic than the what would have been in the old imperial capital decades, generations, prior.

Inhaling sharply she placed both palms of her hands on the table, gripping it forcefully by the edge. Shutting her eyes for but the briefest moment she let the air escape her mouth and aimed to at least look interested.

"Nidali?"

His Chinese name. Taken from the Bible, Nathaniel, and passed half-a-hundred mistranslations and given a Chinese flare for his homeland. She did often not use it, neither did her father, Tay-Mir, who usually referred to him as 'Steward' or gave him the courteous pronunciation attempt at how it appeared in his more archaic Bible, something in some tongue he couldn't even read himself.

Her gaze cut through his resolve.

"Merely some reports on what you asked of us to do; my Khagan." He ruffled through the missives. As he did so an immense flapping took place, with a large sound of beating wings slowly descending down filling the room. At the window sill sat the Khagan's falcon, she was a keen falconer, and in its majestic talons it held onto the corpse of a small hare. Xayaa moved forth and touched its beak tenderly as she awaited for the steward to conduct his business.

Fumbling as best he could, he sat down upon a small, cushioned seat and set his letters down.

"The first?" The Khagan inquired, handing the falcon a series of pieces of fruit.

Clearing his throat the steward replied, calmly, collectedly, sure of what he was saying. "Several agents have been dispatched to Northern Zhou; their intentions clear as crystal, described to the letters." Indeed, they were to go eliminate the leader of the Zhou, at least that was their intention, to further the tensions between the North and South Zhou; to destabilise the land and to make it ripe for Qian's new wave of expansionism. Zhou's rivalries with her neighbours would be a perfect prod to topple it and numerous regimes.

"Good." Xayaa simply replied. "I await their success or their failure."

"Secondly, we've begun probing in Yan's court. It is rife with corruption, or so our ambassador says. Its courtly process is a free for all; or so it is said. Its bureaucracy is filled to the brim with those roaches and fiends who invest in themselves before the state. This is what they say, of course. Its legitimacy, I've no reason to doubt ambassador Khünbish is telling the truth."

"And what do you think? A bribery here or there, civil unrest?" the Khagan inquired, her interest peaking substantially.

Nidali laughed in response. "Indeed, indeed. We strike the governance, we cause in fighting within, and in the Confucian sense, anarchy takes over. Without good governance, a state crumbles - from top to bottom, in chaos and disorder. With a lack of virtues, or the virtuous at odds, we shall conquer, you shall conquer, my Khagan."

She mused a few moments and let a toothy grin take across her face. "Perhaps Confucius was right in some regards then, Nidali."

He bowed before the Khagan, taking his leave as she stared outside the window from her chamber. She held her arm out, and the falcon took off into the sky. And he, the State Steward, bowed back towards the affairs of state.

[Senkaku]

Chapter Three: Journey to the West

1848
February
"I represent to you all the sins you never had the courage to commit."

---

February 5

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FOREIGN SECRETARIAT DIRECTIVE · BY ORDER OF HIS RADIANCE THE ANFU EMPEROR
CONCERNING POLITICAL MATTERS IN THE STATE OF QI IN THE YEAR OF THE MONKEY · SECRET

---

AMBASSADOR LU and the emissaries and servants of His Radiance, the Anfu Emperor (may he reign ten thousand years) stationed as representatives on his behalf to the Qi state and its ruler in the city of Weichang, are herein given guidance upon the wishes of His Radiance and His unworthy servants in the Imperial Cabinet on appropriate approaches and responses to possible political events in that land.

IN THE EVENT that military leaders or political leaders with significant military capacities at their disposal should approach representatives of His Radiance, the Anfu Emperor (may he reign ten thousand years), seeking any type of material or other support in pursuing a campaign of insurrection, rebellion, or sedition against the Qi state, either with the intent of gaining control of the state or of pursuing other goals, representatives of His Radiance, the Anfu Emperor (may he reign ten thousand years) are instructed to assure such figures of His Radiance's and the Imperial Cabinet's support for such measures.

UNDER NO CIRCUMSTANCES should this message, or any action that may be undertaken in accordance with its directives, be exposed to the reigning rulers of the Qi state. Representatives of His Radiance, the Anfu Emperor (may he reign ten thousand years) are to continue to conduct themselves in a cordial and diplomatic manner towards their hosts and indeed, if possible, to ingratiate themselves further so as to provide His Radiance and the Imperial Cabinet with superior intelligence on political and military activities. Full cooperation will, as usual, be extended from representatives of the Foreign Secretariat to agents of the Secretariat of the Golden Eye, and vice-versa, so as to ensure the smooth and speedy prosecution of this directive's instructions.

IN ADDITION, TO CELEBRATE AND HERALD THE START OF THE NEW YEAR OF THE WATER MONKEY,
HIS RADIANCE, IN HIS BENEVOLENCE, HAS DECREED A BONUS TO BE GIVEN TO ALL EMPLOYEES OF THE GREAT WU STATE TO PERMIT ENJOYMENT OF THE REVELRY AND CELEBRATIONS OF THE SPRING FESTIVAL.

CHANCELLERY DIRECTIVE · BY ORDER OF HIS RADIANCE THE ANFU EMPEROR
CONCERNING THE NORTHERN PROBLEM · SECRET

---

ALL EMBASSIES and all emissaries and servants, including of the Foreign Secretariat, the Secretariat of the Golden Eye, the Army, the Navy, and all other agencies of the government of His Radiance, the Anfu Emperor (may he reign ten thousand years) stationed or acting in some capacity as representatives on his behalf to the states between the Korean East Sea and the Arabian Sea which border the Tuvan entity, are herein given guidance upon the wishes of His Radiance and His unworthy servants in the Imperial Cabinet on appropriate approaches towards pursuing policy directives aimed at containing the expansion of the steppe peoples (specifically, the Tuvan entity) both within the Middle Kingdom and in surrounding lands, and thus restoring peace, tranquility, and civilization to all under Heaven.

EVERY POSSIBLE EFFORT should be made by all servants of His Radiance, the Anfu Emperor (may he reign ten thousand years), under the guidance of regional leaders such as ambassadors or ministers plenipotentiary, to persuade the states of the Middle Kingdom and the surrounding lands of the imminent threat posed to them and their allies and livelihoods by the Tuvan entity. This shall include, if required, methods of subterfuge and political manipulation of internal and external disputes, aimed at engineering friction and conflict between the Tuvan entity and its neighbor, as well as offering certain incentives which are detailed in the long-form addendum to this memorandum. These directives have already been extended to personnel of the Foreign Secretariat and the Secretariat of the Golden Eye in select northern states of the Middle Kingdom and Hanguo, but are now expanded to encompass all neighboring states and all government bureaus. Efforts should also be made to build common cause between the Tuvan entity's neighbors, for many foes in a coalition will present it with a far starker challenge.

NEEDLESS TO SAY, this message and all activities undertaken in compliance with its instructions should remain disguised from the Tuvan state and its agents of every capacity. All efforts to ensure the preservation of the secrecy of this project will be centralized with the Secretariat of the Golden Eye and the Foreign Secretariat, whose personnel will take the lead in taking whatever steps are required to remove Tuvan agents and hide from them all actions running against the priorities of the Tuvan entity.

IN ADDITION, TO CELEBRATE AND HERALD THE START OF THE NEW YEAR OF THE WATER MONKEY,
HIS RADIANCE, IN HIS BENEVOLENCE, HAS DECREED A BONUS TO BE GIVEN TO ALL EMPLOYEES OF THE GREAT WU STATE TO PERMIT ENJOYMENT OF THE REVELRY AND CELEBRATIONS OF THE SPRING FESTIVAL.

---

Hanseong
Joseon Empire

---

Jing Honghui did not stoop, but age had left its marks upon his body in other ways. His right leg was lame, from injuries sustained while battling rebellious Maori tribal warriors, many decades ago and many thousands of miles away, so he walked with the aid of a long, simple cane carved from ebony borne out of the darkest reaches of Yue East Africa. His hair, once a virile jet black, had gone from gray to pure white over the years, and the lines in his face had deepened into canyons and crags that left their marks even in soft, flattering light. He had always been handsome enough, though nothing special, but age had darkened old blemishes inflicted by years of sea travel so that a spattering of dark spots ran along his nose and cheekbones.

The Wu ambassador's fingers had withered to gaunt, leathery things, as long and thin as chopsticks, the shape of the bone practically on display under a layer of skin as thin as silk and as wizened as decade-old driftwood. But his voice, though gravelly, remained strong, a deep baritone that could fight through gale-force winds if need be.

Rites Minister Yi had contacted him only hours after they'd received the latest directives from Hangzhou, and Honghui had jumped at the chance. As a young man, he'd traveled throughout China and the lands around it, and he still remembered the barbarism of the steppe, and the awe-inspiring and terrifying sight of Qian cavalry formations thundering across the yellow soil of the North China Plain on their drills. He'd only been a young boy towards the end of their last great campaigns out in the far west- but the stories lingered, and grew darker with the passing of time.

The doors opened, and Ambassador Jing limped in, leaning on his cane as it clacked against the floor.
"Your Majesty," he intoned in near-accentless Korean, bowing as deeply as his old bones permitted him to to the Emperor. "I hear I have come to speak to you on the subject of Tuvans. How might I be of help to you?"

---

---

ONE DAY IN THE LIFE OF CAO CAIHOU

February 25
Cabinet Chamber
Hall of Earthly Tranquility
Daming Palace
Hangzhou
Capital Viceroyalty

---

The harbor was as busy as ever, ships jumbled together in a forest of masts and unfurling sails, and here and then a great black cloud of smoke and soot. It was bracingly cold out, and lashing ropes of rain whipped the otherwise-placid sea into a fuzzy maelstrom of tiny ripples, as dark blue early morning light filtered through the low, heavy clouds. Within the calmness of the hall, though, there was warmth and light, the rain only a faint hiss filtering in from the windows and the roof that barely registered compared to the chatter of voices, the rustle of papers, the shuffling of feet.

"If it happened once, it can happen again, and we should enthusiastically support it!," Commander Sun said, jabbing his finger down towards the table to emphasize his point. "Distraction from within for Yue means a gain for us."

Foreign Secretary Chuan nodded in agreement. "If Yue can be weakened by the fomentation of further such incidents, it leaves us an opportunity to grasp for concessions in Gan and perhaps Min. We cannot be so foolish to lose this chance!"

Court Secretary Chang shook her head, her dark gray hair glinting in the gaslight as it swung precariously on top of her head. "Embroiling ourselves in a conflict with Yue is asking for trouble. Your wishful thinking leads you to give great importance to this... riot, but what will come of it? If we are unlucky, war, against an enemy who is as prepared as ever to defeat us."

"Have you not understood the reports from Jyutdou?", Chuan sneered derisively. "Hundreds of thousands of people, on the streets of the capital, demonstrating against the assembly- and then overwhelming the city garrison. That's no simple riot. That's mass discontent, and our diplomats and spies are poised to exploit it." The Foreign Secretary turned slightly towards the Secretary Without Portfolio as he said spies, as if looking for backup, and Caihou, who had quietly watched in interest as the two sides had debated, also glanced in his direction.

Song Biming set down the paper he was holding and cleared his throat, before speaking in a quiet, calm tone. "The Foreign Secretary raises a point- this incident does appear to be entirely without precedent. A large part of Jyutdou was occupied, the assembly evacuated- there can be no denying that it is far more significant than just another riot. However."
Caihou cocked his head- he'd anticipated that Song would stolidly support Sun and Chuan, pushing for the Golden Eye to expand operations to try and whip up further discontent in Jyutdou and the other cities of the Pearl Delta.

Biming cleared his throat again. "However. It is worth considering that the factors that led to this incident in Jyutdou, and which could lead to further incidents in Jyutdou or across Yue, also exist here in Hangzhou, and across many of our own cities. Word of these riots has spread very quickly, as I'm sure you all know. Encouraging rebellion in Yue may end up like catapulting plague corpses over the walls of a city we aim to take- the disease will spread and strike us back just as hard."

He put his hands up slightly, palms open and facing outward in a submissive, defensive gesture, as Sun and Chuan both frowned, and continued. "I believe for now we should attempt to move forward in encouraging lower-class discontent in Yue, but I merely offer caution. It is something to be handled with delicacy."

Caihou drummed his fingers on the table. "I'm afraid, Court Secretary, that I fall with the Commander, the Foreign Secretary, and the Secretary Without Portfolio on this matter. Shall we take a quick vote, to hear the opinions of those who have not yet spoken, or may I have the Chancellery move ahead on this?"

She shrugged. "I seem to be outnumbered. But I will sustain my comment that this will provoke unnecessary friction with Yue and is unlikely to be as serious a challenge as seems to be hoped." Caihou smiled and started to open his mouth, but she continued speaking. "If the matter of the Jyutdou Incident has been addressed, I would like to raise a matter not on the agenda, which should only take a moment."

"Very well," Caihou said, frowning sharply. Damn woman. What is she talking about?
"East Sea Viceroy Zhu's uncle, Zhu Jianguo, has fallen gravely ill and is expected to die within weeks or months now. Word has gone back and forth from Hangzhou and the Sandalwood Isles, where he is currently in residence at Zhunzhugang, and the Viceroy has sent you, Chancellor Cao, and His Radiance the Emperor, a request to return to Hangzhou to mourn for his uncle when he passes, who he was very close with all his life."

The room was going silent as she spoke, the sound of the hissing rain increasingly noticeable behind her voice. Caihou gritted his teeth. I wonder if it'd be any better if her voice weren't so shrill. I doubt it. Calculating bitch- no, this must be the Empress Dowager's engineering. Ought to have the uncle's body tested for poison.
"Thank you for bringing it to my attention, Court Secretary," Caihou replied tensely. "I'm sure some arrangement can be made for the Viceroy."

---

"His uncle has been dying for months or weeks? How did we miss that, exactly?", Caihou hissed at Bolin as he strode down the corridor and out of the building. Two servants immediately unfurled umbrellas above them as they splashed across the cobblestones of the Daming's courtyards, rain splattering off the stone and their boots.

"I don't know, Excellency, I apologize for this failure- I'll get some people down to review all the Golden Eye reports from the last few months, it must've just been missed somehow."
"Well, it's not like I can justifiably deny him permission to come to his uncle's funeral," the Chancellor raged. "Fucking bitch blindsided me. I expect they've been poisoning him for months or some shit, this is all too convenient."

"My apologies, Excellency. A failure on my behalf, I should have had the intelligence and prepared you." The eunuch was shorter than him, had to scurry to keep up. "However, on another front, I believe investigations have been concluded satisfactorily- Commander Sun's rifle orders."

They were beginning to draw nearer to the great looming mass of the Hall of the Chancellery, and Caihou tuned Bolin out, hearing only the roar of the rain and thinking blackly about Zhu Heng's upcoming return to the capital. As they strode up the steps, he shook his head slightly, snapping his fingers at Bolin. "Repeat all that about the rifles, I wasn't paying attention."

Bolin bowed his head patiently, his face never betraying even a twitch of annoyance as the Chancellery's doors were flung open and the servants with the umbrellas vanished. "My own research indicates that Commander Sun has not been compromised by Lady Shen on the subject of the rifles. She has actually been spending much of her time lately in Shanghai, anyways, and their correspondence has been minimal and un-notable, I've read copies of every letter they've exchanged for the last eighteen months. None of their meetings have been particularly notable or suspicious- there have only been three, after all. I've arranged for the Secretary Without Portfolio to speak with you briefly on the matter, since you'll be discussing the Northern Problem with him and Foreign Secretary Chuan as well, and Viceroy Shen was also willing to meet briefly to confirm Secretary Song's and my own accounts and probably offer other insights into the Shen family. If you feel up to it, Commander Sun was also happy to loan me a platoon of Imperial Guards to give you a demonstration of the new weapon afterwards."

They had arrived at his office door, and Caihou nodded. "That sounds excellent. Well done on that- get cracking on this Viceroy Zhu business."
"Of course. If there's nothing else for the moment, Excellency?"
"No, that's all. I'll ring if I need you." Caihou inclined his head, and pushed open the door to his office, while Bolin bowed and hurried off down the hall.

Inside, Viceroy Shen, the governor of the Capital Region, and Secretary Song both rose from the chairs they'd been waiting in, bowing to him.
"Viceroy, Secretary," Caihou said gruffly, proceeding to his own chair and sitting down behind his desk to regard them. "Please, be seated." They both folded back down into their seats. "Now, my chief of staff tells me you're here to corroborate the intelligence he's gathered about this rifle order, and the Shen family's influence on Commander Sun."

"My reports show no indication that his former wife has played any role in pushing Commander Sun to place larger order requests," Biming said with a slight shrug. "I won't rule out that something has been missed, but Lady Shen has spent most of her time over the last two years- while the Model 18 has been in production- in Shanghai and has been in infrequent correspondence with Commander Sun and has met him even more infrequently, and mostly at large social occasions. What's more, she generally only sees her father, uncle, and great-uncle- Viceroy Shen's uncle, father, and grandfather- at formal social events and family gatherings, and it seems unlikely that there's any basis for her to be some tool of the Shen Group here."

The Viceroy of Hangzhou nodded. "My cousin has never had much interest in the family business, and my grandfather doesn't like her much anyways, never has, to be honest. He actually threatened to cut her off three years ago, because she had an affair he particularly disapproved of- and she gambles some, which he detests. She's not much involved in the family business these days, to the extent that she ever was, even when their marriage was intact after my father arranged the match."

"Hmm. I see. I appreciate the information, gentlemen," Caihou said. "Viceroy, you're excused- I have other business to discuss with Secretary Song, but thank you for your assistance on this matter."
"Of course," Gang said with a smile, inclining his head to Caihou.
"Secretary Chuan should be waiting outside- tell him to come in as you go out," the Chancellor said.

Shen went out, and a moment later Chuan, his bald head shining under the gas fixtures, strolled in, bowing to Caihou and seating himself beside Biming.

The Chancellor was the first to speak. "Let's start with the whispers out of Yanjing, and then move to Zhou..."

---

The volley went off, an earsplitting chorus of thunderclaps, and Caihou nodded, impressed. The Imperial Guards were well-drilled in their riflery, so professional and precise they moved like automatons even in the cold and the incessant rain. Their percussion-cap rifles were equally unaffected by the elements, and the Chancellor waved a hand and coughed slightly as he was enveloped in another cloud of powder smoke.

"Quite something, eh?", he said, turning to Bolin with a grin. His chief of staff nodded and smiled.
"It's certainly quite a long ways off from muskets and ball ammunition," Bolin replied, pointing at the targets. Watermelons, squash, pumpkins, and even a few very large oranges or grapefruit from the palace's eternally-overflowing larder had been placed atop chest-high posts, between a hundred paces and two hundred paces downrange. Nearly all had now been blown to bits by the viciously accurate fire- but despite their use of the older Model 14 rifles, the Guards had been able to reload as fast as a musketman with a smoothbore, thanks to the innovative cone-shaped ammunition that was now becoming close to universal among the Wu army's ranks.

The squad saluted and began marching off, and the second squad of 18 men marched forwards in unison as servants hurriedly went about replacing the targets with more assorted fruit, this time at greater range.

The Chancellor squinted at the rifles against their shoulders. It looked as if they had bolts sticking out of them, around the breech mechanism- he'd seen breech-loaders before, here and there, but these guns seemed slightly unusual, and their dark gray paint schemes added an aura of slightly alarming modernity to them.

The servants finished re-setting the targets, and one man from the platoon suddenly extended his rifle.
"Start your watch," an Imperial Guard officer standing next to Bolin said, and his chief of staff smiled and pulled out a small watch, ticking once every second around a circle divided into sixty parts.

BANG!

A watermelon nearly two hundred paces away exploded in a spray of red chunks. Caihou smiled, impressed- nothing he'd not seen an Imperial Guard do with a muzzle-loader, but impressive nonetheless.

The man grabbed the bolt, fiddled briefly with the mechanism, and suddenly, not more than five seconds after the first shot-

BANG!

A pumpkin was the next victim, blown into orange goop. Another swift crank of the bolt, and another- fruits were exploding left and right under the hail of bullets and Caihou's jaw drifted open slightly.

Suddenly, the man lay down prone, his uniform instantly drenched by contact with the soaked cobblestones of the courtyard they'd hijacked for this demonstration.
"What is he-"

BANG!

"Oh, wow," the Chancellor murmured. Firing prone, the Guardsman was just as fast, blowing away squash, grapefruit, another pumpkin. By the time a minute had fully turned on Bolin's little watch, twelve fruits had been blown to smithereens.
"Well," Caihou began as the Guardsman stood again, "I think I'm-"

All 17 men behind him now lowered their rifles, and Caihou covered his ears as another chorus of thunderclaps rang out across the courtyard. Another minute later, and the targets had been peppered with hundreds of bullets- he now noticed the little red circles painted on the posts, how many had holes through their centers and splinters sticking out.
"When we get back to the office, bring me the approval papers for that order," Caihou said quietly to Bolin.
"Yes, Excellency."

---

February 28
Shenshengmen Square

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The Spring Festival had ended, in most of the rest of the Middle Kingdom, eight days previously- but not in Hangzhou. It had been the custom in the city for more than two centuries for the celebrations to last an additional eight days, since a decree by the Chenghua Emperor lengthening the festival to commemorate and celebrate the victory of the Wu army over Yue and Gan forces at the Battle of the Fengxi River. Revelers from around the country had come to watch the fireworks on the last day of the festival, when two dozen barges packed with rockets bombarded the stars with the most colossal extravaganza in the country.

The Emperor smiled to himself, putting an arm around Biming as the float rocked slightly in the crowd. The brilliant light of the thousands of lamps and candles and torches, along with the occasional flashes of fireworks outside, filtered through the paper and silk skin of the float they stood within as it bobbed through the crowd. They were bathed in red and gold light, their skin seeming orange in the glow.

From the outside, all that was visible was a colossal dragon's head, the float borne atop a huge, decorated platform on wheels, with Imperial Guardsmen in glittering golden armor and carrying gold-painted Model 18s and bayonets standing among dancers wearing elaborate plumes of quetzal, peacock, and kingfisher feathers all around it. Masses of revelers crowded the entire square, cheering and setting off firecrackers as more fireworks boomed in the sky. The dragon's head float led a series of other floats and lines of dancers through the crush, heading away from the Divine Gate towards the Left Bank Highway and the Bridge of the White Phoenix.

Elsewhere in the city, though, crowds were growing more restive. Across the river, on the Right Bank, the night's disorder had begun earlier, when street children and youth, rampaging through the crowded streets, had stormed several confectionaries and bakeries and restaurants, stealing food and causing disruption. As the night had gone on, sparked by this incident, looting had begun to spread, popping up here and there, at first being stamped out as it popped up by police and garrison soldiers. It had taken on an increasingly dangerous tone, though, as disgruntled workers from a silk-weaving factory had gone to their workplace and smashed the looms, before starting fires and brutally beating several overseers who they'd tracked to their homes.

The Left Bank remained calm, and the celebrations continued, but some people began looking askance at one another as they noticed units of garrison troops marching crisply through the crowds, all heading for the bridges.

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The dragon's head was swerving across the Bridge of the White Phoenix and onto the Right Bank when the Emperor suddenly heard angry shouting, faint and almost inaudible under the sound of fireworks and cheering and music. Outside, music stopped, people's voices growing discordant- pickpockets and thieves, most of them just children, waist-high, were rushing through the crowd. Looking around, the Imperial Guards on the outside of the float could see people slinking out of doors, carrying armfuls of things, and smoke was drifting up from somewhere. Suddenly, the faces in the crowd were twisting, growing angry- what was happening?

There was a distant sound of hundreds of voices in unison, but it was impossible to make out quite what they were saying. The Emperor did hear some shouts from the Guards officers, though only barely over the cacophony.
"-turn around, not safe-"
Biming, draped across his lap as they reclined on a couch, just below a hole between the dragon's horn that the Emperor could pop up through and wave from, suddenly sat up.
"What's going on?"
The Emperor frowned. "I'm not sure-"

There was a thud from the side of the dragon, and the yelling and shouting from outside was growing louder and angrier.
Biming stood, walking towards the rear of the float, and suddenly it sounded as if a firecracker had gone off right outside. Then there was another, almost immediately afterwards, and then an earsplitting blast as a dozen seemed to go off at once. The acrid scent of gunpowder filled the air, and screams of pain and fear rose from outside as the float suddenly pitched and began to come around. There was another thud, and then the sound of someone hitting the side of the float repeatedly- the Emperor heard a shout of "fire!", but no volley of gunfire followed, only the thumping for a moment.

The float lurched again as Chang tried to get to his feet to follow Biming, accelerating, and there was a crashing noise from outside and a jolt, as if they'd hit something. The Emperor heaved himself up, but the float lurched again, sending him crashing into one of the walls- his hand went entirely through the thin paper and fabric construction, his body deforming it as if the dragon had grown a tumor.

He finally managed to peek out from between the dragon's horn- the street was in chaos, the Imperial Guards firing seemingly indiscriminately into the crowd. A wave of people was sweeping down the street, waving torches and breaking windows, and the bullets seemed only to briefly hold them back, causing ripples in the crowd like stones thrown into a pond. He could hear shattering glass, more gunfire- this time from the crowd, and an Imperial Guard toppled off the platform.

A hand yanked him down, and Chang gave a slight cry of surprise before he realized it was Biming.
"Stay down," the Secretary Without Portfolio said sharply. "We're going back to the palace, they're sending more guards to clear our path."
"What's going on?", the Emperor said, alarmed.
"Hard to say yet," Biming said cryptically.

---

The gaps between the broken clouds had been filled by smoke plumes roiling up from a dozen locales across the city. The crackle of gunfire had replaced firecrackers, the fireworks display cut short in the bay.

The rioters had been largely dispersed- a few barricades were no obstacle to the Imperial Guard or the city garrison's light cannons, and they lacked the discipline to stand up to a hail of rifle fire or the army's bayonets. But the city still simmered, firefighters cautious as they rushed about with armed guards to support them.

Biming stared out from the top of the Divine Gate over the now-empty square, a few bodies laying here and there, burning bits of paper and smashed splinters scattered across the cobblestone, and shook his head.
There'll be a reckoning for this.

---

March 1
Tehran
Persia

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It had been a long, long journey for Qin Jian. He had hopped on a steamer from Johore to Ceylon as soon as the order had come through from Hangzhou, then voyaged by clipper to Muscat before boarding a dhow for Bandar. Almost as soon as he'd arrived, he'd had to ride hard for Shiraz, spending a few exhausted hours wandering the city's streets to see the sights- then it was off to Isfahan, which he spent one evening in before continuing on to Tehran.

Officially, he was only the new deputy steward to the Foreign Secretariat ambassador in Tehran- but Hangzhou had been far more specific in his instructions, and he knew the embassy was prepared for his arrival. He would not have time to dally and visit the splendid sites of Tehran, or vacation on the placid shores of the Caspian- there were meetings to arrange, barbarians to talk to.

While the Tuvans slavered over the Middle Kingdom, thousands of miles to the east, the Son of Heaven's servants busily made their preparations to set the west on fire.

---

POST SUMMARY:
-Hangzhou has issued secret directives to its operatives and diplomats on how to handle the situation in Qi and the construction of an anti-Qian coalition, and the Chancellor, Foreign Secretary, and Secretary Without Portfolio have met to develop specific approaches for Yan and Zhou.
-Ambassador Jing meets with the Emperor in Hanseong on the subject of Qian.
-Wu operatives ordered to make efforts to cause further unrest in Yue, particularly in Jyutdou and the Pearl River Delta cities.
-East Sea Viceroy Zhu Heng will be returning to Hangzhou in a move orchestrated by Court Secretary Chang and the Empress Dowager, ostensibly to see his dying uncle or go to his funeral.
-The Chancellery has approved mass orders of the Model 18 rifle to equip all frontline units after investigating Commander Sun's connections to the Shen family.
-The last day of the Spring Festival in Hangzhou was marred by violence as riots broke out, though the unrest was harshly suppressed by the city garrison and the Imperial Guard.

[Jaslandia]

Kingdom of Bohemia, Moravia, and Silesia

Prague Castle, Prague, Bohemia
February 10th, 1848

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Crown Prince Maximilian sat on the royal throne, surrounded by Chancellor Franz von Streissburg and the rest of the Cabinet. The crowd of protestors had gotten larger, and their chants louder, and the inner circle could see and hear it all from an upper-level window of Prague Castle.

“The situation is escalating,” Streissburg said to the gathering in the room. “It’s a slow escalation, but an escalation nonetheless. Anyone got any ideas?”

“If I may,” Internal Affairs Minister Jakub Vlasák began, “I have an inside man among the protestors, and he’s a close adviser to one of the protest leaders, Matouš Hruška. This might be to our advantage.”

“What are you suggesting?” Finance Minister Vladislav Sedlak inquired.

“I think we could kill two birds with one stone. Here’s my plan: We’ve been thinking about annexing Saxe-Coburg and Gotha, right?”

“There’s been some idle discussion, yes,” the Chancellor conceded.

“What if my inside man tells Mr. Hruška that Hruška is about to be arrested by royal authorities,” Vlasák explained, “but that the Duchy of Saxe-Coburg and Gotha is willing to provide shelter and financial support to Hruška. Hruška flees to Saxe-Coburg and Gotha, we invade on the pretext that they’re harboring a rebel leader, and the protestors rally around us in the face of the war effort. Not to mention that tying the protests to a foreign enemy might discredit their little movement.”

There was a pause. “It’s risky,” Chancellor von Streissburg said after a moment.

“And it’s not worth it,” Crown Prince Maximilian chimed in, as he stood up from the throne. “I don’t think this ‘rally-around-the-flag’ effect will have as a big an impact as we’re hoping, and I imagine the protestors won’t like us arresting on of their leaders. Plus, judging by this group of protestors,” the Crown Prince glanced out the window, “I don’t think they’ll give up their cause so easily.”

“Do you have a better idea, Your Majesty?” von Streissburg asked.

“Yes, in fact. Let me talk to them. Obviously we can’t implement any changes or reforms with my father and Marcel still out of the country, but I can give a speech to the protestors talking about how I sympathize with their plight, that I’ll push my father to adopt some reforms as soon as he comes home, maybe even throw in some reminders of civic pride and all that good stuff.”

“It might not work,” Finance Minister Sedlak responded, “and if it doesn’t, then this semblance of divided leadership makes us look weak.”

“So what other choice do we have? It’s either this, do nothing and let the situation get worse, or we try some crazy scheme to incite war with Coburg. Besides, even if we do look weak, how bad could the consequences be? The Commonwealth won’t attack us for fear of inciting the rest of the German Confederation, so that just leaves Saxony and Austria. Both of them have their own problems I’m sure, so I doubt they would want a prolonged war with a fairly-powerful nation like Bohemia. I think we can survive.”

Von Streissburg sighed. “I guess this is our best bet. I’ll give you and your staff some time to write a speech.”

“No need,” the Crown Prince replied. At that moment, an aide walked up to Maximilian, and handed him a stack of papers. “I had a feeling we’d be doing this, so I had this prepared ahead of time. Just give me a little bit to warm up, and then I shall address the people.”

The Crown Prince gave his speech a couple of hours later, to a receptive audience. As predicted, the Crown Prince was more popular than the King, and the protestors were pleased to hear that they had someone in the royal court advocating on their behalf. While Prince Maximillian’s speech did slightly reduce the size of the crowds, the crowds were still there, and through their chants they announced that they weren’t going home until King Ludwig returned and enacted political reform. Maximilian had put off the protestors for the time being, but the crisis was still far from over. Now everything depended on King Louis, and what he would do once he returned to Prague. Now it was just a matter of waiting.


Royal Palace of Brussels, Brussels, Belgium
February 12th, 1848

After half a day of leisure and sight-seeing (much to Foreign Minister Falkenrath’s annoyance, as he as was hoping for a quick and to-the-point meeting), the Belgian and Bohemian delegations finally sat down at the table to begin their negotiations.

“Alright then,” Falkenrath began after King Charles presented his opening remarks, “I see we have a lot to discuss. First off, we agree that the Pan-Germanist movement is a threat, but we may have some differences in regards to how we shall combat this problem. From Minister d'Hoffschmidt’s letter, I thought we were talking about attempts to minimize Pan-Germanist agitation from the populace and the intelligentsia, which we are certainly in favor of. Combating state-sponsored Pan-Germanism is quite another matter. If a small state like Hesse or Westphalia were to endorse Pan-Germanism, than yes, we’d gladly join you in embargoing and isolating that state. But if a great power like Saxony or Austria were to form a German empire, than we might not be so eager to condemn them. Both nations are strong enough already, and we fear Bohemia may be crushed if she openly stands up to one of them.” Falkenrath paused.

“If Bohemia and Belgium are to stand up to a Pan-Germanist Saxony or Austria,” the Bohemian Foreign Minister went on, “we must get the support of another great power. I suggest France for this, as I imagine they wouldn’t want a great German empire right on their border. What I’m trying to say, essentially, is that we’d be happy to embargo and isolate Pan-Germanism if it’s confined to a small state; but if Saxony or Austria try to form a Pan-Germanist empire, than we must get the support of at least one of the great powers before we publicly oppose a Pan-Germanist empire.”

“However,” King Louis added, “though we do have our concerns regarding the combatting of Pan-Germanism, we do agree to a general defensive alliance between our two kingdoms. Though, considering the position of both our nations in terms of geography and power, I’m not sure how much we could effectively support each other, and we many need to get a great power like France on board in order to give this alliance any teeth.”

“Now,” Louis said, “it sounds like you also want to discuss some dynastic matters? I would certainly be open to formal dynastic ties between our two nations. You are referring to a marriage between our two families, right? If so, I have two unmarried children: Princess Alexandria and Prince Adalbert. Alexandria is in fragile health, and she is quite happy pursuing a religious and literary career as an unmarried woman, but if you have a daughter or another unwed woman in your family, I’d be much more willing to arrange something with Prince Adalbert.” Louis paused before moving on the next topic.

“So, you also want to know about Bavaria, do you?” Louis asked with a chuckle. “I think the Wittelsbachs’ days in Bavaria are over. We’re well-established in Bohemia at this point, and since trying to rule two large and geographically separated territories like Bavaria and Bohemia would likely be quite the challenge, I just don’t think trying to wrest Bavaria from Austria is worth it at this point.” Louis leaned in close to King Charles and lowered his voice. “Between you and me, my advisers and I have occasionally discussed annexing the small Duchy of Saxe-Coburg and Gotha, right on the edge of old Bavaria, but I think that’s the closest we’ll come to re-taking Bavaria. Right now, we’re firmly focused on Bohemia, and how we can increase Bohemia’s power and influence.”

[The Industrial States of Columbia]

And the Sun Rises

Addressed to the Leaders of the Honourable States of Persia, Hellas, and the Dual Kingdom

I send warm regards to you all, though I wish that our communications were under better circumstances. Britain has long aimed to preserve balance and prosperity throughout Europe and abroad, often supporting regional powers in the pursuit of this endeavour. However, it is now impossible to rely on the weight of the Ottoman Empire as a pillar of stability in the mid-east. Chaos now threatens to consume that state, bringing death and desolation to lands across Anatolia, the Levant, Mesopotamia, Arabia and the Balkans.

It is the duty of civilized powers to ensure balance and stability for peoples both their own and those that cannot protect themselves. Thus the burden falls to us to ensure a future of prosperity and safety for the peoples of the collapsing Ottoman State. Towards achieving this end, I propose that a joint conference be held in Naples to discuss coordinated action to be undertaken for the security of the region and the return to stable governance for the benighted citizens of the terminally ill Sublime Porte.

Signed by the Right Honourable Henry John Temple, 3rd Viscount Palmerston, Foreign Secretary of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland

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February 24th, 1848, Hangzhou

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Smoke and steam rose in silken sheets over the city of Hangzhou. The early morning sun painted the clouds shades of vibrant pink and fiery orange, while the gleam of gilded palaces from ages past and glass constructions from more recent times sparkled through the haze. The City of a Thousand Delights was a a marvel to behold, even from a great distance, yet as the British ambassador bent over the side of the H.M.S Amphion to retch he gave no real attention to the scenery.

William Charles Gordon was an averagely proportioned man in his early 50s, but years of stress in the diplomatic service had added a decade to his appearance. Truth be told, he did not have many truly striking features, save for a pair of bright blue eyes, further emphasized by the round spectacles that he wore. His resume, however, was far more appealing. Twenty-Five years of experience as a diplomat and ambassador, familiar to the closer courts of Europe and those of more distant, exotic locales.
All through that time he had garnered friendships with many powerful and influential figures, from the wealthy merchant families of the Hansa to the perfumed aristocrats of the decadent Hungarian Empire, even coming to include the Shahanshah of Persia among his associates.

The negotiations with Wu he hoped would be just as successful as his previous endeavors. Unfamiliar cultures with alien customs were nothing new to Gordon, and cloak and dagger courts, no matter how objectionable he found them, weren't either. He squinted over points in a well-worn letter from the foreign secretary, as he had done innumerable times during the voyage.

-Observe and attempt to negotiate for Wu armaments.

-Secure Wu assistance in the event of hostilities with Yue or Min.

-Negotiate favorable trade with Wu.

Easy enough in theory he thought to himself. Certainly more difficult in practice, but no where near impossible. Britain after all, had more than a few carrots to offer Wu.

As the bustling city began to be more defined, the captain of the Amphion interrupted Gordon's contemplations, “Sir, I thought you should know, we will be reaching the docks very shortly, if you would like to prepare.”

Gordon gave a quick, pained smile at the captain, nodding and stifling the urge to lean over the railing again before descending to his room.

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February 25th, 1848, Hangzhou

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“Sir, your head must touch the floor, not merely hover above it. No, sir... “

Gordon gave an exasperated sigh, much to the bemusement of his children. Though exhausted, he smirked back at them, ”I should probably tell you that you will be required to perform this as well. Mr. Clay, would you mind aiding in their instruction?”

Giggling could be heard from his daughters as they joined his more mature son in practicing the kowtow. He was sure that they would all perform admirably, and he needed a moment of rest anyway. He glanced out of his second story window to the bustling streets below. Though the climate was far less hospitable than the previous day, the cold gray rain did nothing to stem the tides of people in the streets. If anything it just made them carry themselves quicker, like bees whose nest had been disturbed.

It reminded Gordon both of his visits to London and his boyhood home in Boston. Both cities shared the same buzzing atmosphere, though after passing by certain establishments after arriving at the docks, the ambassador could say that Wu had a decidedly more liberal view on propriety. A small clock he had brought from the ship began to chime, and Gordon read the hands. “Two hours,” he thought out loud. Two hours until he was presented in front of the entirety of Wu court, and till he effectively would become Britain on the opposite side of the world.

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The palace was grander than anything the ambassador had ever seen. One could take the sum of all the Queen's residences, combine them into one splendid estate designed by the greatest architects in the United Kingdom, and they still would pale in comparison to the Palace of Wu. Fine gold blended with jade, accenting rich wood panels of monumental scale. Exquisitely carved figures of creatures of legend guarded various points stoically, no doubt guarding the hoards of treasure that filled the atmosphere of every hall and room.

Though the Gordons were dressed respectably, the ambassador felt that their attire was nonetheless out of place when compared to the grandeur of the palace and the flamboyant clothing of the officials they had seen. This was further reinforced by the mess of whispers that were uttered whenever the family passed by a pair of minor officials. Gordon tried to pick up what they were saying, he had spent a year trying to pick up Wu, but still struggled to interpret it at standard volumes, let alone corrupted hissing of the language.

“This way please,” their interpreter directed with heavily accented English. The group rounded yet another corner, halting before an immense set of intricately gilded doors. “Wait here,” their guide directed as the doors slowly heaved open. The interpreter approached a mountain of jade and gold, carved into a multitude of buildings, animals, and ships, far too many to examine in the time Gordon figured he would wait.

Their guide bent and touched his head to the floor, and though he spoke with clarity and purpose, Gordon did not understand the flowery language that he was sure the man was using. After and uncomfortable silence, Gordon and his party were motioned forward by a man standing below a vision in yellow atop the massive jade throne. As they reached the position where their interpreter was hunched over, each member of the family bent and touched their heads to the floor. Other nations may have thought this degrading, but Gordon thought of it much as an alternate version of the reverences performed to his own monarch. The triple bow that foreign dignitaries were required to pay the Queen came to mind in particular.

The figure on the throne rose, speaking once again in the elegant terminology that Gordon's comprehension of Wu had not yet reached. The British ambassador began to wonder how long he would be kept like this, as an itch began to build on the left side of his nose. Just as soon as the emperor spoke it seemed, he sat down, surprising Gordon somewhat, but more allowing an immense sense of relief to wash over him. An eruption of clapping followed, filling the echoing room with waves of sound.

Their interpreter told them to rise and bow before a group of gold clad guards escorted them from the throne room to their next appointments. After what seemed an eternity, they crossed a corner to confront a middle-aged woman in the dressings of a Court Official, “Ambassador Gordon, we are glad you could join us. The guards will escort your family to their quarters, while we have an appointment with the Chancellor.”

Gordon smiled, and replied with his best, if simple Wu, “I am glad to be here, and I look forward to seeing what cooperation between Wu and Britain will bring.”

She returned a polite smile, and the pair were quickly escorted to the numerous appointments of Gordon's schedule.

[Military Lands of the Scottish People]

Highlights of the 4th Council of the GroBHerzog Josef...
Lasting an antagonizing thirteen hours, the Council viciously debated the induction of a large reserve force, such as a National Guard or something of the same use, as the Military was nothing more then a corps compared to the professional Armies of major powers that number to the Hundreds of Thousands. Highlights introduced a small tax increase, very minimal, even after several budgets were reorganized. The pro-Reservists had won the Majority as well as the Premier. The King was opposed however he understood the use and believed it was a "necessary evil" as the military force could not protect state interests. In the end, however, it was agreed that the Reserve would rely on a ballot (which city and town governments required to set up), which 1/10th of the male population had to go into the "Westfallen Volkswache" or pay a price to avoid it. Unemployed may also join the force completely on free will, which may lead to them being inducted into the professional military. Those in the force will have pay sent to their wife and kids. This would be basic training in which would last a year or longer depending on them, at max being three. The force would provide a basic education as well, a interesting feature, especially for those in rural regions. Eventually the debating got heated as it was viewed by a group of mix "Liberals" and "Traditionalists" as a danger to the economy (as hard working men would lose their jobs and so forth, as well as increased government spending and increase in taxes), leading to insulting and derogatory claims being made, by both sides. Uniforms were designed on a basic design which would be produced easily and efficiently. From left to right, "Soldat" (3 Month Service, passed tests), "Burgerwehr Infanterist" (Newly recruited or failed tests), "Neue Bestellung Soldat" (1+ Year of Service or excelled tests. Most are hired into the military). The force is to be capped at one hundred thousand men at any time, which can be extended to higher numbers if the times call for it. Within the end of the year this will begin.

(oops forgot lol)

The GroBherzog Josef would have just left the Council room, making his way back to his Palace. Oberst der Garde und der königlichen Familie (honorary title of whoever Commands the Royal and Palace Guard) Erwin Hohefeld would converse with Josef, speaking on the matters of the Cologne and the Reserve act. They would head to the river front where Josef's wife would be, and spend an evening, despite fatigue from the council, simply enjoying the day. However, they would stay too late as news of the approvement of the Reserve act reached that of extreme radicalists, who wished to take their anger out on the GroBherzog. Despite their small numbers, they constantly plotted against the Government. These malcontents have existed in small circles ever since the (shit ill finish it later)

[Intermountain States]

February 5th, 1848
Imperial Palace
Hanseong, Joseon

The court was silent at the sight of the Wu ambassador Jing Honghui, the elderly delegate's voice still echoes a command of respect. If he was a Joseon citizen, he would've easily been a general or a prime minister, Rites Minister Yi Geol thought.

"Welcome, Ambassador Jing," the Emperor said. "I hope the embassy is up to your liking."

"The subject of the Tuvans are certainly a concern to Joseon and much of the states in China," Yi Geol said. "Even though the Emperor had sent delegates in hopes to uncover some more informations regarding the Qians, it's necessary for nations to present a unified front to stop continual expansion from these Mongol upstarts."

"If you have anything to provide to Joseon regarding the barbarians, feel free to speak now," Wang Jun-min added.

February 28th, 1848
Daegu, Joseon

"The Imperial government has requested for a new rifle to replace the current models in service," Hwang Tae-woo said as he helped himself to piece of pork hock. "They've mentioned emphasis on an improved rate of fire. Along with that, they want a new anti-infantry crew-served weapon to replace the Hwacha."

"That sounds a little difficult to manage," Gu Jang-young responded before taking a sip of tea. "We've tried to convert revolvers into rifles and all that happened was a worker with a burned left arm. The barrel is going to be a massive issue to not have the same results. Regarding replacements for Hwachas, the best I could think of would be multiple rifles firing one at a time but that has a lot of logistical issues."

"Well Young-chul was sent to Yue to see any new weapons developed by Yue to purchase for the Arsenal," Yi In-tak added. "I know that Yue and Wu are developing weapons, likely against each other or against barbarians in their territories so maybe we can get access to such weapons."

"I'm pretty sure Hangang Solutions and Barbarian Arms, our main competitors, are doing the same thing," Jang-young retorted. "Going to Wu, Qi, or Yue to beg to their main arms company for access to new weapons."

"Let's hope that Young-chul will be quick then," Tae-woo said. "Getting those sweet government contract is all we need to dominate the arms market in Joseon. Even though Silla Arsenal now produce revolvers for the officers and some private citizens, it's not exactly a lucrative business compared to mass-produced rifles for the entire Imperial Army."

[Kisinger]

Commonwealth of Four Kingdoms

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Содружество четырех королевств

Keturių Karalių sandrauga

Commonwealth des quatre royaumes

Співдружність Чотирьох Королівств

Wspólnota czterech królestw

Chapter One: An Empire Under Fire

Theme

February 15th, 1848
Moscow, Tsardom of Russia, The Commonwealth

“Soon the Emperor will die Nicholas and we must be ready to strike! The Poles will never let you be elected!” Viktor Panin, a close friend of the Tsar and the General Procurator General of the Governing Senate, had shouted.

The Tsar merely looked at him and stood up abruptly, “Do you think I don’t know? Do you think that I expect it to be handed to me? Not to mention there is something that worries me even more than the upcoming death of the Emperor… The revolt in Milan...”

“Another mere peasant revolt that’ll be put down by the powers that be, nothing we should concern ourselves with overly.” Victor replied swiftly as he took a seat across from the Tsar.

“Is that not what my father said as the Polish rebels stormed Warsaw and started a civil war that broke Commonwealth?” Nicholas’s hand formed into a fist. “I will not make the same mistakes as my father we will watch the situation carefully.”

“Very well… Anything else?” Viktor asked.

“I will write a letter to the expected heir and one to the Duke of Lithuania, we will discuss my ascension to the throne of the Commonwealth, no matter what the costs.” Nicholas stood, and walked away to look out a window. “That is all.”

February 17th, 1848
Warsaw, Kingdom of Poland, The Commonwealth

Something something warsaw revolutionaries plox don’t kill me Col for this you did the same.