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1907: Alternative Divergence [AH][IC-OPEN]

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Alt Div Admin
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Inoffensive Centrist Democracy

1907: Alternative Divergence [AH][IC-OPEN]

Postby Alt Div Admin » Sat Mar 21, 2020 5:48 pm

1907 :Alternative Divergence

IC THREAD


[CURRENT ANNOUNCEMENTS]





Image

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

– Karl Marx


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

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





Hello and welcome to Another Alternative Divergence, an AH/AW RP where the world is your oyster to do whatever you wish. For the sake of continuity, the time now is 1907 C.E., and nations are expanding in a world not quite yet sobered by war for annihilation. What would be your vision of a world shaped by the nation that you call your own?





House rules for dispute settlement


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

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

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

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

Annexing Rule
  • If no RP-nation exists, assume IRL history at earliest possible point (i.e. Since Ottomans did not exist, Egypt would have to follow post-Napoleon Mamulks or something of that nature). Questions on this can be asked to OP for more direction.
  • When attacking NPC nation without anyone's intervention, quote the post to any OPs after 1 page of occupation.
    • you can claim up to five (5) provinces at once in this way
    • Should you be challenged before 1 page has passed, standard procedure for war and negotiations begins.
  • After 1 page of waiting, contact the OP (or OP just sees you sitting with your soldiers) and it is yours for the rest of the RP until otherwise.

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

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

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

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


Current Events - Updated 22.03.2020
[url=####][EVENT #0] – Filler Space[/url] [Completed]
Last edited by Alt Div Admin on Tue Aug 04, 2020 7:02 am, edited 7 times in total.

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Inoffensive Centrist Democracy

Postby Alt Div Admin » Sat Mar 21, 2020 5:49 pm

Last edited by Alt Div Admin on Sun Jul 12, 2020 1:23 pm, edited 5 times in total.

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Alt Div Admin
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Inoffensive Centrist Democracy

Postby Alt Div Admin » Sat Mar 21, 2020 5:49 pm

Current Events in Progress - Updated 23.03.2020

N//A
Last edited by Alt Div Admin on Sat Mar 21, 2020 5:51 pm, edited 1 time in total.

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Inoffensive Centrist Democracy

Postby Alt Div Admin » Sat Mar 21, 2020 5:49 pm

reserved

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The Ik Ka Ek Akai
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Scandinavian Liberal Paradise

Postby The Ik Ka Ek Akai » Thu Apr 02, 2020 11:53 pm

A bit of context for those unaware

L'impero romano d'Occidente
Image
"How many things, too, are looked upon as quite impossible until they have actually been effected?"



Roma

Did he just say that?

Did he?

Alessandra felt the world she knew unraveling, lost in shadow, as she heard those impossible words from her Eastern counterpart. So simple, yet the hardest sentence to say in either Latin or Greek persistently throughout history. It did not stop there, though, for Michael continued to exposit, to explain, and for a moment she believed his dialogue was merely to try to guilt her into some sorry state, some apologetic mood; this did not come to fruition, as much as she expected, even hoped for it to, when he said the simple words: "Perché importa?" 'Perché v'importa', she thought to respond, if only she could muster the words to do so amidst the maelstrom brewing in her gut telling her to loosen her belt and run away.

But she did not. She stood firm, digging her heels in. Michael told her it didn't matter, that Caesar wasn't here, Andronikos wasn't here, it was just them, alone. These legacies were for naught, he said, and they were here, now, and that is all that matters. Alessandra blinked a few times, unsure if her eyes were twitching or maybe watery or perhaps a bit itchy, but she just felt like she had to blink at that moment. When Michael finished his speech, she took a deep sigh, her upper-chest heaving with the motion and falling back down when she, shakily, breathed back out once more.

Alessandra began to fiddle with her belt, a length of golden cord wrapped twice around her waist at different heights, tied and slightly dangling on the lower band right around the middle of the waist. She didn't seem sure of her actions, mostly picking at the knot, like a nervous habit. She looked up at the painting of herself as a Vestal and pondered her choice of words carefully. Her feet twisted slightly, the ebony heels of her characteristic red boots potentially scuffing the floor beneath as she did so. Finally, a quote came to mind, a response, and just perhaps the test she needed. With no pomp or circumstance, and hardly the slightest sign of inflection of any sort, she presented it to Michael:

"Proprium humani ingenii est odisse quem laeseris"




Many years ago

They were alone, at least, with no prying eyes. There was no Papa, no Abominable Andronicus, just Cesara and Cesare in a room, princess and prince, no legacies, no weight, no expectations. Alessandra and Michael, alone, then and there, and nothing else mattered. The boy, Michael, he smiled - it wasn't so confident like he put on, but it was a smile all the same - and it put Alessandra at ease. She could almost crack a smile, especially when he seemed to apologize for the awkwardness. It was sweet, in a way. The boy didn't know how to be friends!

Now, Alessandra didn't have the greatest record of friends either. Being so important a child necessarily gave a level of isolation, but she had a few she considered to be close enough. The Mysticus and the Protostratore were both quite good and friendly people for the most part, always making sure she was safe, and her needs were tended to. The Protostratore even took care of her pony, and that pony always seemed quite happy about it too. Was that all friendship was? Taking care of one another? Surely not, there was an attitude to it, and a socializing aspect, there was a lot, but taking care of each other seemed like a half-decent start.

Alessandra looked Michael up and down, and cocked her head slightly. He seemed to shake a bit, and she walked over to him gently. The clicky-clack of the wooden heels on her lil kiddie boots carried her forward - a sound that would be all too familiar in years to come - and she took off her fur. She presented it to Michael - nay - she reached and draped it over him instead. "You need this more than I do," she said, rubbing the long sleeves of her denim dress with her gloved hand, "I am covered!" With this, she offered a warmer smile to try to banish the cold further, and wondered if this sense of friendship might sink in with him too.




Ravioli ravioli we're back to the storioli

The city of Rome outside looked like a painting. It did. Averting her gaze to Michael, daring not to look him in the eye out of a sense of confusion, a slight bit of shame, and moreover her utter inability to comprehend his actions, she looked over her home and its wonderful scene. The distant marbles glistening in the sunlight and the fluffy clouds in the distance would make a fine painting indeed, if only the Michael before her was the Angelo sort and not this cursed Greek she'd come to know. Why couldn't he have been more like his father? That would've been easier, that would've been preferable. Why could he not simply be someone to continue to hate, why did he have to be like this?

Alessandra awaited a response, and began to frantically dig through the drawers of the desk in front of her. She knew what to do, she knew what final test to provide to Michael, to prove his trust and his worth and that he truly meant it. It would break him, she was sure of it - Andronikos had taught him well but there was one thing he would never do. Well, two things. He would never say 'sorry' under any circumstance, which Michael had already violated like a Sabine virgin, but the other would be to make a display of humility beyond mere words. As she sifted through the various items within the drawers, she tried to reach back and felt a furious tug at her waist and a jerk forward. Looking down, all her picking and fidgeting with her belt had wound up entangling her wrists in the cord - she glanced once more to her Vestal painting and felt the crushing symbolism bearing down upon her.

Once more, Michael had reduced her, reduced the West to a slave. Silent, under control - she tugged against the cord with this thought - and at his mercy. She dared not let him see, mostly by not turning around - if he saw, who knows what he might do? He could spring a trap, for all she knew. The Greeks were known for their slyness, after all: what if this apology was a mere Trojan Horse? It would be far out of character for Andronikos, but Michael was different. He said so himself.

Leaning over her desk for a bit more reach, she pulled it out - a signet ring, passed through the Occidental lineage for a few hundred years now. Borne atop was an imperial eagle, and the weighty gold in her palm was a testament to its worth. It almost felt heavier for the non-material value such a thing held, and seeing her own reflection within the eagle she felt more self-assured than before. She felt a sense of truth and calm returning, chilling her to her bones. Was that calm? It wasn't panic, at least, it was something much more controlled. She slipped the ring upon her gloved finger - the glove helped to fill out since her hand was too small for it naturally - and thought about turning back to face him. That's when she remembered the bind she had gotten herself into.

Should she keep it? The symbolism, the dread and weight on her soul she felt as a victim to the oppression of the East, could be effectively weaponized against him. It was not quite the quick wit she'd displayed earlier, but perhaps his reaction could be the best truth of all. She listened to what Michael had to say, how he might respond to the quote she had given him - refusing to budge if he stayed silent, maybe even glancing over her shoulder if he still refused to answer in some way. Once he finished, though, she would shut the drawer at the desk and turn around for him to see - her hands would be awkwardly wrapped together with her golden belt, and the imperial ring on her finger. Her arms outstretched as far as she could without suffocating herself, and the ringed hand daintily drooped in preparation - "You have but a few options here, Augusto."

Alessandra narrowed her gaze like a raptor, an eagle closing in on prey. "Will you treat me as they see me?" She gestured with her head and eyes to the painting one last time, and tugged the cord for emphasis - "Or will you break from it? Am I but your captive, your slave, your servant, or will you kiss the eagle?" With this last question, she wiggled her ringed finger for him to see, the golden eagle shining in the sun beams coming through her fancy window. She almost expected him to pull a dagger, and prepared both her feet and her voice for just such a scenario - but truly she did hope it wouldn't come to that.

There was no going back now. It was time for Michael to make his choice.

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Sao Nova Europa
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New York Times Democracy

Postby Sao Nova Europa » Fri Apr 03, 2020 6:03 am

Image


The President Santiago de Solis was sitting at his desk, waiting in his office for the Senate and House Majority leaders to arrive. Both of them belonged to his party, the conservative Federalist Party. Sentiago understood very well, though, that he did not truly have control over the Congress. His majority relied on the congressmen of the Andean Front, a regionalist political party that pursued greater infrastructure spending for the backwater Andean region of the country. The alliance between the Federalists and the Andeans was a precarious one; the Federalists distrusted spending and opposed taxes that could fund such spending. Santiago would have to keep a balance between his party's desire for a fiscal conservative agenda and the Andeans' desire for increased spending in their region.

Juan Carlos and Pedro de Sainz arrived in the President's office. Juan was the Senate Majority leader; a lawyer by profession and an experienced politician in his sixties, he belonged to the moderate faction of the Federalists. Pedro, House Majority leader, belonged to the moderate faction as well, albeit being somewhat more conservative than Juan. Both of them greeted warmly their President.

"Gentlemen, please, take seats!" the President said, and the two men took up his offer. "As you know, I was elected with the promise to keep up high rates of growth and to ensure that all of South America prospers. However, not all of South America benefits from our current growth. The Andean states have been left behind and if we want to maintain our Union, we need to address this inequality."

"When did you become a Nationalist?" Pedro quipped, referring to the centrist, fiscally moderate Nationalist Party. It was intended as a joke rather than as a criticism of the President, but it was true to the extend that the Nationalist agenda was one of a strong federal government bringing prosperity to all regions of the country.

"I believe we can bring prosperity to all corners of our nation without increasing the powers of the federal government or creating tens of new government programs," Santiago replied. "I am only asking for one bill that will provide cash to the Andean states for necessary updates in local infrastructure. Nothing extravagant. My difference with the Nationalists is that I am willing to spend money only on a limited scale and only in cases where doing so is absolutely required while they would not be satisfied with a simple infrastructure spending bill; they would be spending billions upon billion of cash in various 'social programs'..."

"I would support such a bill," Juan said. "As long as it is not financed by increased taxation that is. We have a healthy budget surplus, so we can draw cash from there. Of course, the Nationalists will complain about how it is irresponsible to take money from our surplus..."

"They might complain, but they will not dare to oppose the bill," Santiago replied. "At least not the moderate faction of the Nationalists. Increased spending for the Andean region has been one of their major campaign slogans for some time now, so I do not think they are going to make a u-turn and oppose it out of some dissatisfaction about the specifics of the bill."

"Indeed," Pedro interjected. "The problem will not be the Nationalists but the conservative wing of our own party. I know that at least some Federalist House Representatives will vote against such a bill. It will not be easy to sell it to them."

"Same thing in the Senate," Juan said, "but we don't really have to sell it to them. In both chambers, the moderate Nationalists will support the bill and thus more than make up for any losses we will have from the conservative wing. And, in the House of Aristocrats, the bill will pass with quite a majority, since most Aristocrats tend to be moderates. The bill will surely pass through Congress. What worries me is what comes next, after we have passed the bill; we will need to placate the conservative wing, perhaps with some minor tax cuts for a start."

"Indeed," Santiago concurred. "I will be looking with the Minister of Finance on ways to speed up our plans for tax cuts, in order to placate the conservative wing after all this. Anyway, I expect both of you to begin negotiations with the Nationalist leadership in the House and Senate."

After the typical pleasantries, the two congressmen left, leaving Santiago alone to sip his hot, green tea. "Nice... At last, I can relax a bit."
Signature:

"I’ve just bitten a snake. Never mind me, I’ve got business to look after."
- Guo Jing ‘The Brave Archer’.

“In war, to keep the upper hand, you have to think two or three moves ahead of the enemy.”
- Char Aznable

"Strategy without tactics is the slowest route to victory. Tactics without strategy is the noise before defeat."
- Sun Tzu

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Nouveau Quebecois
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Ex-Nation

Postby Nouveau Quebecois » Sat Apr 04, 2020 10:54 am

Royalistisch Vlaanderen

Regent Gustave Sap.
Image

De Vlaamse Leeuw
Port of Antwerp, Royalist Flanders.
January 1906

Every winter, it was customary for the honoured militiamen and Student Regiments of the Flemish Defence Force to rally for inspections. Leading up to the Springtime Academy years, it would befall graduating soldiers a final opportunity to appeal themselves to their respective commanders, and for those who weren't in the ambitious field of Defence, it was a final note to be remember by. The event was of much more particular concern for the officers, however. Annually, they present their companies and their achievements to the lawmakers of the Regency Government. Word to spread for this year was that for the first time since coming to Regency, Prime Minister Gustave will be personally inspecting the troops. Gustave was not a military man by any means of the mark, but he has military friends, and comes from a long line of particularly talented riflemen. To underestimate his knowledge of the front isn't a mistake the common lieutenant was keen on making, and every uniform upon every kit was polished and shined to perfection, despite the blistering cold.

"Aandacht!"


Image


A voice with a commanding presence echoed through the docks as FDF men in uniformed transitioned from ease to attention, filling the lines, shoulder to shoulder. Policemen, Ground Troops, Boyscouts, and Sailors formed the bulk of the formation. Rarely does one outside of the normative branches achieve honour, especially not the disgrace of the Légion Wallonie.

Gustave, holding the hand of his Adjutant even if he didn't need to, stepped out of a tinted and covered vehicle from a line of many. Dressed rather unenthusiastically for the occasion, several soldiers immediately broke eye-commands to inspect the Regent himself; white dress-shirt, tie, and a black overcoat to be hung overtop his shoulders. The shiniest object on his person was a cross he bore from his pocket where most men would put a pocket-watch, and the silver buttons to design. He faced the crowd of uniforms, raised his right hand in leisure salute, and spoke;

"Mijn soldaten. Op zijn gemak."

The Regent gave a nod, motioned to his military escort, and followed forwards. Though he maintained perfect eye-contact with each soldier he passed, Gustave was instead distracted with the esteem affairs of governance, silently but seldom respectfully speaking with his Adjutant as he walked. His accent was firm but his actions unsure, and a soldier who lacked the discipline to refrain from snooping could read so.

"Zaken in Frankrijk moet worden afgewikkeld. Diplomaten aan onze beide buren. Begrepen?"

"Ja meneer. Natuurlijk."

The very existence of the State of Flanders, nevermind this triumphant inspection of it's guard, was a miracle by birth. The geographical impossibility made it the practical successor to Switzerland in geopolitics, formidable, yet vulnerable. Gustave bore the burden of the impossible task to not end up like the wayward country, swallowed by history in 1805, as Flanders emerged.

"Blijf de Fransen- Er, Walen sussen. Halt."

Gustave turned from his Adjutant and for the first time, gave a lonely soldier his full attention.

"Soldat. Pour moi, où iras-tu?"

"Je vais mourir à Berlin or à Paris pour toi, mon Gouverneur."

"C'est bien."

Gustave phased and forgot the soldier as he continued to walk with his Adjutant, loyally continuing to scribble notes. His transitions between languages native to his people, smooth and elegant as the silver-tongued politician he presented. Though the proper response was "for the country", Gustave nevertheless appreciated the nationally snide and more personal remark. He didn't want to proclaim that his jingoistic rise to power was popular, but he certainly wouldn't be wrong if he did.

"Voor het interieur, arbeid voor de mensen. Door te investeren in openbare werken kan de crisis worden verminderd."

"Zeker, Gouverneur"

For the interior, a focus on the labour parties. The recent reclamation of control over rebellious Wallonia deserved the attention of the people, and Gustave was happy to capitulate. The result of the people versus state mentality could be disastrous if left unchecked, and the popular candidate wanted to remain popular. French lingo was a start, appealing to the Communists is a second. Flanders must continue the great public works started in the late 1800s. The reclamation of service and the construction of new canals, roads, and tunnels not only creates jobs, but also serves to improve well-being and prosperity of the nation. No Walloonian worker could reject that.

"Eindelijk grote plannen voor Congo. Handel en industrie voorop. Olie is ons levensbloed."

"Ik zal kapitein Léon Roger informeren."

Always the backdrop but never forgotten, the continued question of colony prevailed itself it all matters Flanders; be it economic, political, or military. The Congo and it's sweets were the lifeblood of all branches of Flanders. A constant supply of manpower, oil, resources, and agricultural reserve. Governor Gustave had an in-depth plan for his Captain of the Colony to enact; one that would exploit the colony 'till it ran dry; a policy of Deep Southern Dirt. The irony was not lost on himself, the very reason the Catholic Bloc rose to power in the first place, but this was aside Catholicism, this was for the people. His people. His Flemish people. Gustave loved the Empire, but he loved his sons more.

Though their neighbours maybe strongly anti-colonialist, even if just to undermine the next overseas Empire, both France and the Kaiserreich may have nevertheless habour an economic interest in Dutch colonies, in particular the now Flemish-Congo. Along with the British and the Japanese, they surely yearn to make investments in Flander's colonial development, both in the West as in the East. Gustave wanted to encourage this, and the De Telegraaf will be the Media corporation to front this.

As the inspection reached a close, and the weather grew harsher, Gustave dawned his overcoat and returned to his vehicle. Soldiers were now marching back to barracks in just as disciplined an order in which they arrived. Gustave left his Adjutant to his vehicle of his own, tapping his notepad he held in front of him as he stepped into his vehicle.

"Zorg ervoor dat dit zijn bestemming bereikt."

Offended that his superior thought otherwise, the Adjutant simply nodded.

"Vlaanderen is een rijk. Vlaanderen is koninklijk. Ik heb dat besloten."

Gustave closed the door, and his dark car escaped the convoy, leaving his Adjutant in wake to find his way home.


Summary:
  • Flanders Defence Force at low-alert, stationed at home.
  • Diplomats are sent to both France, England, and the Central Empire.
  • In attempt to appease rebellious Communist and Walloon elements, a national focus is dedicated to improving public works and labour sectors, with an emphasis on creating jobs.
  • 'De Telegraaf' publishes international dispatches to private and public companies around the world promoting Flemish goods, economics, and trade.
  • Cheap exotic goods are promoted for sale from Flemish Congo Company.
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Remnants of Exilvania
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Founded: Mar 29, 2015
Iron Fist Consumerists

Postby Remnants of Exilvania » Sun Apr 05, 2020 7:15 am

Image


January 1906
Castle Wewelsburg
Duchy of Hesse

A strong wind from the southwest carried the screams away from the village clustered around the east of the notorious castle and down into the lowlands towards Paderborn...but never far enough to reach the ears of the citizens of Paderborn, who were mercifully spared the sound of agony that the prisoner, currently in the courtyard of Castle Wewelsburg, was going through.

Philipp Scheidemann quickly averted his eyes from the gruesome scene, unsure how much longer he could watch it without breaking inside. But averting his eyes did not make the screams go away, did not make the sickeningly sweet smell of burned human flesh go away. In fact, it only made his imagination go wilder, making the entire experience 100 times worse. And so he forced himself to look out through the iron bars let into the window of his cell, to look down into the small yard and watch the gruesome spectacle there. And he was not the only one, every window facing the yard containing atleast one face looking down at the scene playing out. Gaunt faces, scarred by poor treatment, starvation and disease, the revolutionary or idealistic light in their eyes long dimmed by the hardships they were forced to go through.

A fair bunch of people were in the yard. Guards posted at the entryways with old Bavarian Werder rifles with black powder ammunition. And in the centre of the courtyard, locked in an ancient pillory which the guards probably got out of the castle basement or from somewhere in the village, was a young lad, not even out of his teens. Philipp knew him well, which made watching what was going on down there all the more painful. Especcially because he knew the lad was being tormented because of him. They had brought him in just mere hours ago, caught in flagranti distributing pamphlets with socialist paroles, a thorn in the eyes of those who ruled. Next to the boy was the Warden. The man everyone here feared. Nobody knew his name because he didn't tell it to any of the prisoners and the guards were similarly heartless bastards who wouldn't tell the prisoners either. He wore thick welder's gloves right now and was busy rummaging around in a brazied filled with hot coals and various iron tools.

"Ha, da haben wirs!"
(Ha, there it is!)

The Warden was now brandishing a new iron tool, this one showing a glowing hot, red Imperial Eagle at its top. The Warden seemed to hesitate as he looked at the poor prisoner who was barely conscious at this point, already having had the Hessian Lion burned onto his chest and the christian cross onto his back. But it was no true hesitation, no hesitation out of pity or concern. No, it was merely a game to draw out the moments before he would stick the hot iron into the prisoner again, before he would rip him out of the wonderful, soft darkness of unconsciousness and back into this world of pain and anguish. Before he would leave yet another mark that would accompany the lad for the rest of his life. And he was probably also wondering where to put that mark this time.

Seemingly coming to no conclusion, the Warden grabbed the lad's hair and brutally pulled at it, lifting up his head so he could look him in the face. He knew that the boy could barely hear him which was why he shouted right into that face till his spit started flying onto it:

"Wer hat die Flugblätter geschrieben!?! Wer, du dreckiges Stück Kommunistenscheiße?!? Sag's mir oder du kannst dich gleich auf noch eine fette Narbe freuen!"
(Who wrote the pamphlets!?! Who, you filthy piece of communist shit?!? Tell me or you can look forward to another fat scar!)

The lad didn't answer, not in the least because he was probably incapable of answering anything by now. Just as the Warden had wanted. With a dirty smile he shouted:

"Na dann! Sag bloß nicht ich hätte es dir nicht ersparen wollen!"
(Well then! Don't say I didn't try to spare you!)

Philipp looked away again, unable to bear the sight but again he could hear the hissing sound of the hot iron meeting flesh, immediately overshadowed by the screams of the lad. The smell of burned flesh permeating the courtyard thickened. Then he heard the telltale sign of iron hitting iron which meant that the Warden had dropped his tool back into the brazier and would probably look for the next one. The man would continue untill the boy was either dead or he thought that all the prisoners had got the lesson. Because the lad was an example to them all for what could happen to them here. Torment straight out of the middle ages. It would cow them, keep them in line which was what the Warden intended. He didn't care about who had written the pamphlets. That was something the police could care about. He only cared about running his detention facility for political undesirables.

"Ich kann das nicht mehr mit ansehen."
(I can't look at this anymore.)

, Philipp muttered before trying to rattle against the iron bars to hopefully draw the Warden's attention and relieve the boy. Afterall it was him who had written the pamphlet. Who had gotten the boy into this mess. But before he could, his fellow cellmate, Friedrich Westmeyer, a good albeit more extremist man from the Duchy of Hannover who had been grabbed by the police while in Hesse, stopped him, hissing:

"Tu's nicht. Die werden dich umbringen."
(Don't do it. They'll kill you.)

Philipp just sadly shook his head at Friedrich, saying:

"Wenn ich es nicht tue bin ich nicht besser als sie. Dann wird ihr Herrschaft für immer andauern."
(If I don't do it, I am no better than them. Then their reign will last forever.)

He tried to free his arm but Friedrich wouldn't let go, plainly stating:

"Wenn alle guten Männer sich umbringen lassen, dann gewinnen die sowieso weil sie die einzigen sind die übrig sind. Komm zur Vernunft Philipp, das kannst du nicht machen!"
(If all good men let themselves be killed then they win anyway because they're the only one's left. Come to your senses Philipp, you can't do this!)

But Philipp remained stubborn, ripping his arm out of Friedrich's hands and saying calmly, with a certain sadness to his eyes:

"Es ist nie unvernünftig ein junges Leben zu retten. Und Opfer inspirieren Friedrich, vergiß das nie. Eines Tages werden die Paläste derer da oben zusammenbrechen. Eines Tages werden ihre Throne wackeln und ihre Intrigen ihnen um die Ohren fliegen."
(It is never senseless to to save a young life. And sacrifices inspire Friedrich, never forget that. One day the palaces of those up there will fall apart. One day their thrones will shake and their intrigues will blow up in their faces.)

Then he rattled the iron bars. Of course not much since these were still very much iron bars, let into solid stone, but enough to create a sound that would catch the attention of the Warden who immediately looked up see who was trying to interrupt his fun. When he saw that it was just one person, just Philipp, a smile spread across his bewildered face. One prisoner causing a ruckus he could easily deal with.

"Was ist Herr Scheidemann? Hätten Ihre alten Knochen auch gern etwas Wärme?"
(What is it Mr. Scheidemann? Would your bones also like some warmth?)

Philipp looked as dignified as he could as he answered, though distaste for the Warden lingered in his eyes:

"Lassen Sie den Jungen in Ruhe. Ich habe das Flugblatt entworfen."
(Leave the boy in peace. I authored the pamphlet.)

Confusion and surprise flashed across the Warden's face before he realized what Philipp had said. He really hadn't expected one of his inmates to have been the author, had only known that the lad must've had someone somewhere who had written and printed these pamphlets for him to distribute. Now that his example had unexpectedly led him to the culprit, he was...ecstatic and immediately forgot about the boy, just like Philipp had planned. The Warden dropped the next hot iron he had brought out, this one featuring the simple word AUFRÜHRER (Rebel) and rubbed his hands with a gleeful smile on his face.

"Wunderbar Herr Scheidemann. Ich bewundere Ihren Schneid. Seien Sie versichert, ich bin gleich bei Ihnen."
(Wonderful Mr. Scheidemann. I admire your courage. Be assured that I'll be with you shortly.)

Philipp slightly inclined his head before stepping back from the window and into his cell, moving to sort his view personal belongings as well as try to get himself into a somewhat presentable state in front of the mirror they had been given. He then turned around and faced Friedrich who stared at him with a mixture of respect and pity.

"Es war mir eine Freude eine Zelle mit Ihnen zu teilen Herr Westmeyer. Ich hoffe, dass Sie das neue Zentraleuropa noch erleben werden."
(It was a pleasure to share a cell with you Mr. Westmeyer. Ich hope that you will still witness the new Central Europe.)

The two men shook hands, tears forming in Friedrich's eyes as he said:

"Sie werden nicht vergessen werden mein Freund, dafür sorge ich."
(You will not be forgotten my friend, that I will assure.)

On the corridor outside of their cell the sound of heavy boots, multiple pairs of them, became audible and was quickly closing in. The Warden was coming, clearly recognisable by the tune he whistled, a butchered version of Ludwig van Beethofen's musical version of the Ode to Joy. Fate was approaching rapidly.
Last edited by Remnants of Exilvania on Sun Apr 05, 2020 7:15 am, edited 1 time in total.
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REST IN PEACE HERZOG FRIEDRICH VON WÜRTTEMBERG! † 9. May 2018
Furchtlos und Treu dem Hause Württemberg für alle Ewigkeit!

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Plzen
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Postby Plzen » Sun Apr 05, 2020 10:49 am

Kjalar Randversson,
Kaupmannahafn, Danmark, Norðurríkjasambandið
Evening, 12th January, 1906


The freezing winter drizzle batters against my coat as I step off the tram car onto the cobblestone sidewalks of Amagervogur, the intense fog dulling the soft reds of the setting sun that would otherwise be colouring the picturesque houses that fill the district for which the street was named. Posters stuck up on the walls, calling for everything from parliamentary votes to women and an eight-hour workday to the devolution of the colonies or Nordic national pride, shake violently against the weather. I huddle my arms closer. Yet, through this cold and wet, forcing myself to put one foot in front of another and very much feeling each and every one of my twenty-six years (okay, granted, I was the youngest by far of my colleagues), a gentle smile still somehow graced my features.

Heh. Something shared across the Associated States, I would imagine. Be that man a professor, a factory worker, or a clerk, when a man comes out of his place of work on a Friday evening a smile invariably graces his features. It was quite amusing, really. Sundays off, his grandfather told him, was once a matter of mere convenience. An arbitrary choice. When you were choosing which day you would be letting your workers rest on, it made sense to choose the same day that all the Christian nations on the Continent that Scandinavia traded with also rested on. But now, two generations down the line, a Friday evening smile seems no less quintessentially Scandinavian than a raven banner fluttering in the wind.

My thoughts carry me to my destination. Perhaps one day, I reflect as I push the doors open and let the warm heated air melt the frost off my bones, the many disparate customs and ways of life that the world is divided into today will merge into one, convenience dictating that with each passing year, all of those customs drift ever-so-slightly towards the rest.

"So, Kjalar, don't keep me waiting," the pub-keeper asks, "how did it go?"

The pub quiets down, the mood anticipatory, subtle gazes cast in my direction. Ah, right. That happened today. It takes me a few seconds to remember what he means, funny enough considering how many sleepless nights I went through waiting for exactly this. The smile already on my face grew wider.

"They published it!"

Cheers adore my way as I put my coat away and make my way to the bar, arms belonging to people who are not quite my friends reaching out to me in congratulations as the owner starts pouring out a glass of my usual good-news beer, well-aware of what I wanted before I even had a chance to order it. Perhaps one day, I again reflect, the world will be all the same, but that day is not today. After all, where except in these northern lands would I be cheered on so? Where else in the world would celebrate their neighbourhood physicist as a hero?

Science is inherently an international affair. I talk to my colleagues in Russia, in Central Europe, in France, and I can make vague guesses as to what the answer to that question would be. Only in the Associated States do classes of schoolgirls confidently say that they wish to be scientists and engineers when they grow up. Only in these northern lands are our exploits and achievements plastered across the daily papers year after year.

I am not a nationalist, and I hold no patience for those strangely-dressed Norse Bloc fanatics that seem to crawl into every political rally like rats crawl through the smallest of cracks. But I am very proud to live where I am, because here I am prided for who I am.

Let the ignorant German aristocrats continue to bicker and to try and force the clock to turn backwards, jealously guarding a thousand petty privileges they have inherited from the ancestors of their ancestors somewhere far off in the fog of antiquity. Let the short-sighted Russian militarists pump the blood of its best and brightest on their extended frontiers, putting more and more titles on a Style that was already preposterously long and drooling over new provinces like some kind of stamp collector.

The future belongs to our North, because we seem to be the only people who cares about the future.
Last edited by Plzen on Sun Apr 05, 2020 10:50 am, edited 1 time in total.
Forward, my comrades, march to your stations,
Righteous and proud! Win, we most surely can.
This is a triumph of peace and of nations,
A dawn of friendship for all people of man!

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TENNOHEIKA BANZAI NIHON
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Postby TENNOHEIKA BANZAI NIHON » Sun Apr 05, 2020 5:29 pm

Tokyo, Empire of Japan
Imperial General Headquarters
January, 1906


Aides and advisers rushed about the war room as commanders were planning the next movements of the Imperial Fleet, yet most importantly a meeting would be taking place with the highest ranking commanders, diplomats, and the Shogun himself.

The meeting was closed doors, just the leaders in their fields, and it was chaos, all the chatter and movement. But when the door opened and the Shogun entered followed by his two Bafuku Army guards, the room fell silent, and everyone turned and bowed. Shogun Tokugawa simply nodded and replied with a slight nod.

The men sat and the room fell to an utter silence. Tokugawa gave a small grin. He was getting old, but he never got used to the joy he felt being in a military base. He knew a number of the men that sat before him from his days as a young commander, serving his father in the Bafuku Army. He got tired rather quickly of having to deal with the constant squabbling of the political debates, not to mention being stuck in the Bafuku Palace all the time. While he was a skillful ruler who had a good knowledge of politics, he preferred the military side of being Shogun, effectively the commander of the entire Japanese military. After a moment or two he said, “Report of our current agricultural production?”

A member from the Council of Advisers rose. “Sir we have continued to plant crops across our territories, spreading out and acquiring more land or making it useful for agriculture. Currently we are working to increase rice and other crop production in Karafuto (Sakhalin), Papua, and the other island chains surrounding. We believe with imports we should be fine, and during a crisis, we should be self-sufficient for a fair period of time sir.”

The Shogun grinned, remembering the famines that had caused issues for his ancestors in the past. He had promised to himself, and the nation, that it would never happen again. “Very good. What is the economic situation looking like this week?”

Another adviser rose to say, “Sir, we are doing fine so far and meeting expected export and import levels. We are keeping things steady, although there are several interesting offers and deals on the table. Sir, I read the De Telegraaf today sir, and the Dutch are offering trade and such. I was thinking it would be fitting to make some investments in their colonial holdings, maybe specifically metals and oil.”

“Hmm, we will have that arranged.”

The adviser nodded. “Yes sir, I will be in contact with them sir.” He paused. “On another note, we have been in talks with the Mexican government about investing in their oil industry and their work on building a canal. While we do get the vast majority of our oil and some metals from the Kingdom of Taiping, through our agreements, it would never hurt to diversify. There is the ever likely possibility in war, for a period of time, our supply from Taiping may get cut off, and Mexico is a good alternative, as they are not troubled generally with our issues in Asia.”

Admiral of the Fleet Yamamoto Gonnohyōe nodded. He had vast military experience, having served in the Bafuku Navy and the beginnings of the Imperial Navy through many conflicts, participating in actions against rebels, during conflict in the Pacific islands, and having commanded forces during tense situations with Korea. “Gentlemen, what is of even greater importance is the canal. If we supported them in this, imagine the possibilities. Surely our ships would be granted rights to navigate the canal, and it could be used very effectively in trade, and possibly even in military confrontations with Europe or the Americas. Sir, if we went to war with Korea right now, Busang would declare war and start to attack our Pacific islands. If Mexico is our ally, in conflict, it ties up Busang. At the very least, it makes them think twice before they attack our interests.”

The Shogun was nodding. “That is a very great proposal. Inform our embassy in Mexico to contact the proper authorities at once to discuss funding of their oil and canal… This could be very profitable for both of our nations. On this subject of finances how are our expansion programs going? ”

Yamamoto gave a smile. He was quite happy to be getting new ships soon. “Sir, we have quite a number of ships currently being built. The three Satsuma Class battleships are underway and expected to be commissioned in 1909. We have the Yodo Class dispatch ships under construction. Let me see sir, the Tsukuba class battlecruisers are nearing completion, and we are currently working on submarine prototypes. Our current ones are not fit for battle and from observing how Taiping plans to use them and utilizes them, they could be very effective. They lack the range I would desire, but we are scheduled to build 2 larger prototypes that may become active service vessels if deemed fit. They could be very good for intelligence gathering. According to our naval plans, we are scheduled to build 5 new destroyers this year. The benefits of our secret trade agreement with Taiping is very nice, we wouldn’t be able to produce the extra battleship without it. And after our large expansion of the Kamikaze Class torpedo boat destroyers, we wouldn’t have been able to afford the resources to build the other destroyers. We will have to replace our aging torpedo boat fleet with destroyers eventually, and this is giving us a good start.”

The Shogun smiled for the first time of the meeting, and replied with, “Excellent. Our fleet expansions should soon be enough; we might be able to replace our sloops, and most of our torpedo boats within a few years! How is the modernization in the Army, Marshal?”

Field Marshal Terauchi Masatake bowed as he stood. “Sir, I believe our current forces are not adequate to match any of our neighbors, even some weaker states. While our army is very well trained, we are suffering from manpower shortages. Sir, our smaller islands in the Pacific are manned by a couple dozen men, if they are manned at all! The majority of the Imperial Army is stationed across Japan and Papua as it should be. But simply put, 250,000 men is not enough. We have roughly 100,000 combat men in Japan, 40,000 in Papua, and 10,000 spread out with around 100,000 men in support roles. Such could be enough in a defensive, but I would recommend calling for a small group of men to enlist. Since our planning for Operation Ashika is underway, why not call for 20,000 more men? It will supplement our forces and since training takes two to three months, possibly longer, it is looking ahead. Our Operation is set for a month and a half from now, and those men could be useful if Busang for example doesn’t like our plan. On the technological front, we have been developing zeppelin, which my officers have told me could be very valuable for intelligence gathering. We are also working on aeroplanes for the same purpose, and we are experimenting with using trucks to transport our men and supplies. Although for such to be successful, we need to improve the infrastructure around the mountains, and build it from scratch on our colonies, something that will cost a lot of yen. Although we are looking into models that can move on less advanced roads. We are currently building new trains to speed up our mobilization process. Notably, to counter Korean rocket technologies, we have been looking into advancing our current rocket arsenal, but so far all the test rockets have a very short range and are still rather inaccurate. We would need to launch hundreds to hit a target. I vastly prefer artillery. It is cheaper, more effective, and more accurate. ”

The Shogun looked more grim now. “You have a good point. I agree, it doesn’t hurt to expand our forces a little. Call for 20,000 men to the Imperial Japanese Army Reserve. If you have to, we can organize a draft. But I think it would be a good time to do some recruitment for the Bafuku Army too. I think we shall call for 500 volunteers. Anyways, these men have six months of training ahead of them, if they qualify. But good work on your research.”

The Shogun thinking about the operation plans said, “So how is the Operation planning going?”

Yamamoto nodded. “Sir the planning for the operation is nearly complete. In fact we are holding massive drills right now. That is in fact where the Emperor is right now.”

“Ah, Excellent.”

With that the meeting concluded, and the men went to contact the Dutch and Mexicans about possible investment, while commanders were now looking to recruit more men as ordered.

Kume Island, Empire of Japan
OPERATION ASHIKA
January, 1906


“FIRE!” The guns roared from the cruisers, sending a salvo of shells arcing towards the island… and the commander watched as they landed sending up clouds of dust.

The training dummy shells were being used today to not waste ammo, or cause an accident. Admiral Kuroki Tamemoto smiled. He hadn’t seen combat since the war to take the Pacific islands.

The drill was just kicking off, and he despite his age was eager to go back into battle, but right now, his goal was to impress the Emperor, who was watching from the Asahi Class battleship that formed this fleet’s protection against foreign interference or spying. If a Taiping Y-boat or any vessel really reported seeing the fleet doing its drills, they would be suspicious. It was bad enough they were practicing a landing, not to mention the flagship, his flagship, was the HIJMS Fuso, an ironclad battleship assigned to Papua. If Korea saw this, they would likely assume command was planning to invade one of the small Pacific islands, since historically the Fuso played this role throughout, being effectively an old battleship. This was clearly a small invasion fleet, yet the hope was the fleet attempting to keep the drills secure would throw anyone watching off.

The actual invasion fleet consisted of one ironclad, three protected cruisers, five torpedo boat destroyers, one sloop, ten torpedo boats, one dispatch ship, one oiler, four colliers, one minesweeper, five food ships, twelve supply ships, and thirty transports. While their detail securing the drills consisted of one battleship, two armored cruisers, ten torpedo boat destroyers, two gunboats, one oiler, and one collier. The hope was the presence of the other ships would be able to stop any boats from entering the area, and if seen, make it look like routine drills.

Admiral Tamemoto had a lust for battle and he was finally getting his chance. He had been serving previously as commander of the second fleet, and before that as a lieutenant in the Imperial Navy, battling natives across the Pacific islands. He was very skilled and loyal, so for such he was given this task. Secrecy of the mission was critical and that was why this remote location was selected for the drills. That way there would be no civilians watching the drills, no media either.

The main concern was not the invasion itself. The target was Johnston Atoll, which according to intelligence is uninhabited except for the occasional native from the Kingdom of Hawaii. The goal for this was to take the island, its resources, and eventually use it as a naval base or staging base to attack Midway from. The concern was Busang or some other power might attempt to intervene. If executed perfectly, no one would know the island was Japanese until someone decided to go out there and found a Japanese flag on it. And such could take weeks or months.

The admiral continued to gaze out at the mass of small boats approaching shore, and he smiled.

Lieutenant Colonel Tachibana could be seen smiling from his lead boat, as he watched dozens of these wooden landing craft being rowed to shore. “Row men row! Do you think the natives are going to wait for you to get to shore before they start firing? Move!”

He was in charge of this first wave of Imperial Special Naval Landing Forces troopers and while he was young and lacking actual experience, he was anxious to see battle. He had graduated with honors from the Imperial Navy Academy and had been serving since. Now he had the honor of being in charge of an entire regiment, and he was not one to simply watch from aboard the command ship. They were nearing shore now, and he gave the order, “Affix bayonets!”

The whole first wave consisted of 1,000 men, and was expected to take the island with little resistance, but of course there were two more waves planned just in case something went wrong.

With the thud of the small craft hitting the beach, Tachibana ran out, leading his troops, sword drawn up to a small mound of sand. When they reached this, they began firing at the paper targets rapidly, sending holes into the “enemies.”

This wasn't a real battle, but as he fired his Nambu pistol, he enjoyed it. After a few minutes, he gave orders to advance, and the men continued onwards simulating fighting the enemy in brush, and then practicing capturing a “local village.” This would continue on as the second and third wave landed, before Imperial Army men landed practicing how to land and quickly deploy artillery, before conducting a live fire test. In his mind, his men were ready, and they would be finding out soon.

Admiral Tamemoto was impressed with the speed the marines had been able to move to capture the beachhead, and when word arrived the Emperor was in approval, he knew he had to begin to ready the men and ships for war. They will be sailing out tomorrow for the atoll..The weather was supposed to be nice, and the mission easy, although the trip to the islands would take some time.

He thought it was unfortunate on the day of departure that no one was allowed to cheer the men or even see them as they left, but he knew it was necessary. So instead he offered a speech. To his soldiers and sailors on the dock he told them, “Gentlemen, we are now setting off on the greatest expedition the Empire of Japan has seen in the twentieth century. I am proud of all of your success, and I know we will be victorious! I order you to honor your country, your family, and make the Shogun and your Emperor proud! Die with honor, and you will be immortalized, a hero to our nation and our security! We must defend our interests, and it is your job to execute them!” He raised both arms towards the sky. “Tenno Heika Banzai!”

And he grinned at the men’s reply; “TENNO HEIKA BANZAI!”
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Sao Nova Europa
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New York Times Democracy

Postby Sao Nova Europa » Mon Apr 06, 2020 8:17 am

Buenos Aires, South American Congress

President Santiago de Solis stood before the common session of the three houses of Congress: the Senate, the House of Representatives and the House of Aristocrats. He was to propose the 'ACT OF ECONOMIC DEVELOPMENTAL ASSISTANCE FOR THE ANDEAN STATES' bill, sponsored by two members of each of the three houses of Congress.

"Gentlemen," the President said with a loud and clear voice. "The bill which I am proposing aims to correct errors of the past and to move our country forward. Thanks to the prudent economic management of successive Federalist administrations, our Union prospers. It is a safe haven among a world of authoritarian and statist regimes. Low taxation, limited government and free trade have brought us wealth, stability and prosperity. Yet, the northern states of our Union have had lower rates of growth and investment, missing out many of the benefits enjoyed by the southern states."

"One approach, the one favored by radical Nationalists, is to create tens of expensive social programs that will not help in any way the Andean states, but rather will get their population dependent on welfare checks and unable to truly prosper. The other approach, favored by a few radical Federalists, wants us to ignore the northern part of our Union and to go on as if it isn't our business to ensure that the entire country prospers."

"My approach is one of a targeted spending package that will be used to update local infrastructure, thus creating the necessary preconditions for a dynamic local market economy to emerge in the region. The cash attached to this bill will be provided directly to the state governments of Santa Cruz, Beni, La Paz and Potosi. In turn, they shall invest in much needed updates to bring local infrastructure up to date. Aside from the jobs and wealth created as a result of those projects being undertaken, the improved economic environment created by having modern infrastructure shall attract domestic and foreign investment in the region."

"This bill will invest 280bn$, none of which will come from increased taxation. I will not raise a single tax. For years, our Union has had a healthy budget surplus and we can take out money from our surplus to finance this bill. Some Nationalists seem to believe that we should strangle our nation by keeping an overtly tight lease on state finances. I say that there is no reason having a budget surplus, if the money produced from such surpluses cannot be used in times of crisis. Between increasing taxation and reducing our surpluses for a few years, I prefer the second option."

"I call upon the moderate Nationalists to support this bill. Many of you have for years been asking for increased government spending in the Andean region and now that our government wants to legislate such a bill, you have no excuse to not support it. I also ask all Federalists to support this bill. Our government will make sure that this cash transaction will be an one-off payment, which shall be prudently managed and not be wasted."

"It is time for everyone in this room to take upon themselves the responsibility to lift up our nation. I expect everyone to act in a responsible manner and to not let ideological extremism blind them. We can all move forward together."




The next day

The debate raged in the Senate as Federalist, Nationalist and Andean Front Senators debated the merits of the bill. Many moderate Nationalists came out in support of the bill and so did most Federalists but conservative Federalists and radical Nationalists both attacked it, albeit for different reasons.

Juan Carlos, Senate Majority (Federalist) Leader, made the case for supporting the bill:

"Dear gentlemen, we are here to debate the merits of a bill that will provide some necessary financial assistance to our Andean states. Our country is rich, prosperous and stable. We are powerful. Yet, we have allowed a part of our country to fall behind economically and socially. We cannot simply ignore this problem, wishing it would go away. Nor can this be used as an excuse to hand over considerable and unlawful powers to the federal government and implement statist policies that would demolish the foundations of our overall success."

"The current bill is of corrective nature. It neither ignores the problem nor proposes a radical restructuring of our economy. It instead makes an one-off transfer of resources to the Andean states to update their local infrastructure and allow them to stand up on their own two feet. To attract the necessary investment that would allow them to finally modernize and prosper."

"The money will be handed directly to the state governments, thus there is no merit to fears about federal overreach. The cash transfer will be, however, accompanied by strict terms that will make sure that the cash will be spent on infrastructure updates. It will not be a waste of money. No taxes shall be raised or established to fund this bill. The money will instead come from our budget surplus. As such, there will be no additional burdens on the back of the taxpayers nor will economic liberty be threatened."

"I urge both moderate Nationalists and all Federalists to support this bill. It is vital that we all work together so that all of our country can move forward. We need to be a house united."


Senate Minority (Nationalist) Leader Evo Tejedor also supported the bill, albeit with criticism towards the government:

"This bill, which we are debating, has long been overdue. The Andean states have lost years of growth and prosperity due to Federalist insistence in ignoring this tragic inequality plaguing our nation. South America is one nation. We are one people, united by common ideals and dreams. If we do not take head on such regional inequalities, our nation shall crack. We shall be divided, weak. We cannot allow this to happen!"

"A Nationalist administration would have proposed a bill that would be four times more ambitious than the current one. Aside from the - indeed much needed - infrastructure updates, it would fund programs of social welfare to alleviate the effects of the protracted undergrowth and poverty in those states. A Nationalist administration would not simply throw some cash, but it would restructure the economy to ensure that the Andeans enjoy the same level of prosperity as their southern compatriots."

"I support this bill and will vote in favor for it, but this should not be misconstrued as approval of the President and his agenda. The current bill is far from sufficient. However, it is a first step in the right direction and as such, it has to be supported by us Nationalists. We cannot delay this much required assistance to score some political points."


Most Nationalists in the Senate, belonging to the moderate faction, approved of Evo's speech but the Nationalist Senator Alberto Cafiero made a fiery speech against the bill. Alberto belonged to the radical faction of the Nationalists.

"This current bill, dear gentlemen, solves no problem and is simply a trickery, of the worst kind if I might say, because it raises the hopes of desperate people, hopes that are doomed to be let down. The money allocated to this bill are insufficient. We are among the richest countries on earth and we cannot afford to make a substantial investment to ensure that all of our nation enjoys the same standards of living and prosperity? Ridiculous!"

"Updating local infrastructure is all good, but what about the structural inequalities in the north of our nation? How they will be dealt with? Due to years of Federalist negligence, the people in the Andes region have had less available income, less education and less opportunities. Simply giving away some cash will not allow undereducated people to suddenly obtain skills nor will it help bring up the living standards of the Andeans to the same level as that of the rest of South Americans."

"Worst of all, instead of raising even a little our absurdly low taxation, especially on high earners who are getting fatter and fatter thanks to their exploitation of their workers' labor, this bill will be funded by grabbing the money we have managed to put aside thanks to years of prudent financial management. This is the height of fiscal irresponsibility. If the government abandons our policy of fiscal surpluses, it will not be long before deficits and debt come next."

"I refuse to vote for this deplorable bill!"


Although most Federalists in the Senate supported the bill, in support of their President and their Senate Leader, Federalist Senator Mariano Sanchez opposed the bill. He was a rising star among the conservative faction of the Federalists.

"Dear gentlemen, I am very displeased that a Federalist administration would bring such an irresponsible, statist bill to the Senate. Unfortunately, our President and the party establishment have abandoned the liberal principles of fiscal conservatism and limited governance in favor of satisfying their political allies in the Andean Front."

"This current bill is essentially a transfer of resources from the successful, productive, hard-working states of our country to the unproductive, failed and mismanaged states of the north. This is punishment for those being prudent and productive and rewarding for those who mismanage! I sympathize with our Andean brothers and sisters, I really do! We belong to the same nation and they are fellow compatriots. We indeed need to help them. But we need to help them by telling them that they should follow the example of their southern brethren; to work hard and have prudent administration. Instead of making the Andean people productive and prosperous, this bill will make them dependent on the government."

"This bill is a waste of cash and time. It will not only further grow the powers of the federal government at the expense of the states, it will take us one step closer to tyranny and authoritarianism. We did not revolt against Spain to have a tyrant ruling over us! We must be careful, lest we find ourselves slaves once more! I refuse to vote for this bill!"


The bill managed to pass through the Senate thanks to the support of the moderate Federalists and Nationalists and the Andean Front Senators. Now, the next 'fight' would be fought in the House of Representatives.
Last edited by Sao Nova Europa on Mon Apr 06, 2020 6:00 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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- Guo Jing ‘The Brave Archer’.

“In war, to keep the upper hand, you have to think two or three moves ahead of the enemy.”
- Char Aznable

"Strategy without tactics is the slowest route to victory. Tactics without strategy is the noise before defeat."
- Sun Tzu

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Sao Nova Europa
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Founded: Apr 20, 2019
New York Times Democracy

Postby Sao Nova Europa » Wed Apr 08, 2020 4:43 pm

Buenos Aires News


The 'Act of Economic Developmental Assistance for the Andean States' Bill has passed through Congress. The bill was approved by broad majorities in the Senate, House of Representatives and House of Aristocrats. In an act of bipartisanship, moderate Federalists and Nationalists united in support of the bill. President Santiago de Solis stated that, "this bill will finally ensure that all the regions in our country share the prosperity brought by our liberal economic policies. This bill will create thousands of new jobs and will act as a magnet for foreign investment."

The Chairman of the Nationalist Central Committee, Mr. Antonio Hernadez, also made a public statement. "This bill is a step in the right direction," he said, "but one that comes a bit too late. The Andean states could have enjoyed far greater living standards, comparable to the rest of our nation, if the Federalists hadn't ignored this issue for so long. We also wished for the bill to be far more ambitious in scope. Nevertheless, we welcome this bill. When a Nationalist administration is elected, and it will, we shall expand this economic project."

The Chairman of the Andean Front Central Committee Carlos Quiroga stated, "today is a great day for the Andean peoples. At last, the federal government is undertaking a concerted effort to ensure that we enjoy the same standards of living as our compatriots in the south. Hurrah South America!"

Critics on the right argue that the bill is a waste of resources and that it shifts the burden of the Andean states' underdevelopment to the southern states. Critics on the left argue that the bill does not go nearly far enough and that its financing through reducing the budget surplus instead of raising taxation on high earners will prove to be a fiscally disastrous policy. Nevertheless, so far the bill seems to enjoying popular approval.


"Nice work!" the president said, putting down his paper on his wooden desk. He was looking at Juan Carlos and Pedro de Sainz, sitting before him. "I do have to thank you for managing to pass this bill through Congress without too many loses on the right."

"You do need to give us something to sooth the conservatives, though, President," Pedro interrupted. "Our right wing is lenient since it does not really want to go into all out war with its own President, but you have to understand that some of the more hardcore conservatives will be stirring trouble and this will not be good for the public image of this government. If the public believes we cannot hold together our party, do you think they will be trusting us to run the country? The Nationalists will have a decent chance of capitalizing on our internal discord."

"So far, the majority of Federalist congressmen stand behind our administration," Juan said. "And so does the base. I do agree, however, that we need to placate our right wing, lest we see a conservative revolt flaring up. We don't want a repeat of the 1884 elections." Pedro was referring to the (in)famous defeat of the Federalists after a conservative firebrand Federalist Senator decided to mount an independent presidential campaign, thus splitting the right of center vote.

"Do not worry," Santiago assured them. "I am already in talks with our financial department to see if we can legislate some, even minor, tax cuts. This will be only the beginning. In 1907, I plan even more ambitious tax cuts. You can rest assured that such bills shall win over the vast majority of conservatives."

"Increasing spending and cutting taxes does not sound like the most prudent fiscal policy," Pedro said. "But I guess we can expect with increased economic growth, especially in the Andean states if the stimulus package succeeds, to see increased revenues."

"That is the plan," the President replied. "Economic growth will increase the overall revenues of government. With steady economic growth, lessened tax burden and the investment in the Andes, we will be able to win the 1908 elections. I can already see our slogan; 'Stability and Growth'."

"All that is good," Juan interjected, "but until you can bring that tax bill in Congress, let me use my connections to try to ease the tensions in the party. For a start, I should get them to lessen their critic."

"Do that. Don't worry. This bill enjoys broad popular approval, and it has won us the loyalty of the Andean Front. It was a good move to make. We will keep our party united, placate the conservative wing with the tax cuts and move forward in 1908 united and bolstered in the polls."
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Postby Nazeroth » Wed Apr 08, 2020 8:59 pm

Caliphate of Al-Maghrib / الخلافة المغاربية




Fajr, the dawn prayer had begun upon the city of Marrakesh, capital of the Caliphate. It's Caliph, Abdul Ghani II, took part in the holy moment with his court as they showed there devotion to the one true faith and to it's prophet. The Caliphate was the last bastion of Islam in the world, a golden empire that preserved the Islamic faith after the Romans legions and Babylonian armies destroyed the holy lands to the east, where Muhammed was born and where Mecca now lay in heathen hands. This was a fate that Islam had suffered but, with the destruction came new life and beginnings, and Ghani II knew this. Upon finishing his prayer he returned to his grand court in the city where he ruled the whole of the west african continent. The last of the Iberians had been driven away, with no recent visions of retaking african lands. This victory, and after some executions, had consolidated the Caliphs power and he had become a new icon, bigger than his father could have dreamed.

The Caliphate was becoming organized, a force of strategy in the world but also of faith and with faith and strength they could take on any obstacle. The world stage was beginning to set and the shifting sands of time and war would no doubt rear there ugly head in the near future. Ghani II sipped on some tea as one by one his advisers spoke to him, informing him of the news of the world, diplomatic requests, the usual bickering of political matters. He layed on a silk rest, stroking his beard as he issued declarations to the people. Unfortunately he did ask quite a bit of his people, he was dragging them into a new age it seemed. Taxes had been risen to help pay for new roads and to improve industry in the nation, the basics and essentials first of course. Electricity was still not all that common here, minus some of the coastal cities in some capacity. It gave the Caliph a headache but the nation was indeed improving day by day.

Promises of future trade were also circulating as his economic advisers were clear to point out that many nations were most likely willing to foster relations, and the Caliph knew that his nation had a great many resources to export. Ghani II concluded his business and took to what would be the future train station of Marrakesh. This would be a most excellent addition to his people, for reasons beyond counting. It would be a grand station, and one of the vital infrastructure project he had promised. The future was here, as long as he grasped it and held on...
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TENNOHEIKA BANZAI NIHON
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Ready for War

Postby TENNOHEIKA BANZAI NIHON » Wed Apr 08, 2020 9:07 pm

Tokyo, Empire of Japan
Imperial General Headquarters
January 6, 1906


Emperor Mutsuhito stepped out after being briefed by his advisers and the Shogun to face the press. He smiled flanked by members of the Imperial Guard as he prepared to address the nation. He paused, looking out upon his subjects and the reporters waiting on his announcement. Then he began. “Imperial subjects of our divine Shogunate! I come before you today to announce with the decree of the Shogun, and the power invested in me by heaven, the Empire will be instituting new laws into place to further secure our nation. As a result of the mounting threat to our peace-loving nation, I am forced to take action to secure our borders from attack by asserting our superiority. I am here today to call upon you, the faithful and loyal subjects of our Empire to take up arms and enlist in the Imperial Army Reserve. The Empire is looking for 20,000 brave and strong men to serve their nation, their people, and their Shogun with distinction, and honor their family name! I call upon you to save the divinity of the Imperial Court and the pride of our Shogunate. That alas is not your only opportunity to serve your nation. To properly reinforce our forces on Papua, the Shogun has created the Southern Imperial National Guards Force, where all men ages 15 to 65 may join and serve their country. They will only be required to train two days each month and two weeks a year. That small amount of training will benefit the Empire and you the people by far in conflict. Our resolve to defend our interests must never be broken, and so we have also formed the Imperial Bafuku National Guards Force, so the same principal can be applied to our homeland, so it never goes undefended! We must be ready to fight any foe that stands in the way of the Empire, and be prepared. We do not seek war, but we must stand ready, and that is what the Shogun has done.”

“Long live the Shogun! Banzai!”

He smiled at his supporters, the Imperialists and the supporters of the Bafuku cheered yelling a united “Banzai!”

Field Marshal Masatake walked up as the Emperor was leaving and smiled at him as he said, “It seems the factions of the people are united on one thing. We should get going, your majesty, the Shogun is about to get his briefing on the status of…” he whispered “Operation Ashika.”

“Ah yes. We should hurry to get to the car then.”

Tokyo, Empire of Japan
Bafuku Palace
January 6, 1906


As Masatake and the Emperor arrived the meeting was beginning. There were many nods of acknowledgement as the two men took their seats, listening to Admiral Yamamoto Gonnohyōe.

Pointing to a map, “Our forces having departed five days ago are currently traveling at 10 knots to reach their destination on the 15th. As planned, they will refuel, and launch the strike. We expect there to be no resistance, but of course, we should refuel if we need to retreat quickly. Our dispatch ship in Papua made contact with the fleet yesterday, and according to them all is going according to plan.”

“Now what we must be ready for is a reaction internationally. Our allies in secret will surely be fine with this action, but we must be ready for what happens when Busang or Korea finds out. That may spell trouble. I already have my top war planners getting together plans for naval conflict with Busang over the Johnston Atoll, Midway, and Hawaii. We would be extending our reach very far in such a conflict, even if it be minor, or undeclared. That is why Johnston Atoll will be such a critical refueling base. Assuming we have a few months without intervention, we can quickly build a small outpost in which we can place a few fuel tanks, full with oil and coal from either Taiping or Mexico. If not, we can anchor a few oilers and colliers and hope some land artillery will be enough to protect them. We are also planning a series of drills soon to mask the Operation, so the focus of our press and the world is on our mainland.

I assume Europe will not involve itself, but should they choose to, it will not really affect our standing as the projection capabilities required are effectively impossible.”

The Shogun stood pacing. “Gentlemen, we are poised for total victory over the islands, and the world can’t do anything virtually. That is if they even find out about our little invasion. It will be different when we attempt to take Hawaii, but this seems like an easy victory we must exploit. Thank you all. Your dedication to our empire is unwavering, and will lead us to prosperity. Banzai!”

The room rose to return his greeting, stretching their arms to the air, “BANZAI!”

Somewhere in the Pacific
HIJMS FUSO
January 6, 1906


Admiral Tamemoto paced about the deck of his aging command ship. The ironclad had seen its fair share of battle, and its service life was nearing its end. The sea was calm, and the ship seemed to be inching its way towards the destination slowly, but steadily. For any other officer appointment to this vessel would be a punishment, but this would be some of the first combat the navy had seen in decades. He was quick to seize upon the change to see some action, and had volunteered straight away. The initial strike would be far from glorious, rather would be landing unopposed on a beach and marching in on an uninhabited island, but it was something. The guns of the ship were well maintained and he saw to it that they were kept that way. The black hull cut through the water as he paced, looking to the escorts and transports. It was his duty to the Shogun to be successful in this mission, and personally, he was excited for the prospect of an invasion of Midway. It was just speculation among the other officers, but he assumed the order would be coming down soon. He stared out smiling at the peaceful sea as the sun set, watching the men rush about the decks, doing their duties across the different ships and they moved through the blue ocean waves. He turned his back and re entered the ship smiling now, happy to finally be out ready to wage war.
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Intermountain States
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Postby Intermountain States » Fri Apr 10, 2020 1:26 am

January 07, 1906
Hanshi, North Mississippi Province
Grand Republic of Busang


Jeon Wang peered through his monocular at the campsite. If the local's description is correct, then the campsite should be inhabited by the highwayman Kal Gun. Kal Gun and his gangs were infamous for their crimes, receiving the ire of the Wigung Railroads Corporation for robbing a train station and shooting the conductor. Sheriff Kim Yong-su raised a posse to bring the highwayman to justice but after a shootout between the deputies and Kal's gang in which Gun was shot on his right hand, the highwayman managed to flee from authorities with some of his gang members with him. The posse managed to capture one of the gang members and after interrogation and a promise of legal protection, the prisoner spilled the beans of all of Kal Gun's hideouts. However, all investigations into the hideouts yielded no fruitful results and for a while, the investigation went nowhere.

That changed a few hours back when some old man in winter clothing stepped into Yong-su's office. The old man claimed to be living in the woods when he saw a group of armed men including figure matching the description of Kal Gun, bandaged hand and all, residing on a mountain. Jeon Wang, one of the sheriff's deputy was to lead a four man team to apprehend Kal Gun alive.

"I see two armed men walking around the campsite," Jeon Wang whispered to the team as he looked through the monocular. "I see four others sitting around the campfire."

"Do you see anyone matching the description?" Yi Min-ho asked. Wang shook his head.

"All of them are wearing gloves so I see no bandaged hands," Wang added. "One of the men sitting around the campfire his back towards us so I can't see his face. The other men who I can see their faces from this scope, I see no scars on the faces. Our best bet is to see who comes from the two tents and make our move from there."

"It's still early in the morning, we're told that there were seven men at the campsite. We see six outside so one must still be in the tents," Go Sung-min concluded. "However, can we be sure that this is the right camping area?"

"The tents match the descriptions," Min-ho explained. "We have't seen any other occupied campsites in this mountain and I don't think most hunting party are out this side of the mountain, patrolling around the campsite with rifles at the ready."

"Hold up, I see one of the tent flaps opening," Wang said. "Let me take a look and see if that man fits the description." Through the scope, a man with a fur hat and thick clothing stepped out of the tent while putting on a glove on his bandaged right hand. The scope then moved up into the man's face and a scar across the man's nose was seen, the same scar as Kal Gun.

"That's him," Wang said as he picked up his revolver. "Get ready for an assault." The other deputies readied their guns.

"Remember, we take Kal Gun alive, his companions are free game," Wang added before turning to Yi Shin and Go Sung-min. "Try to take out the guards patrolling the campsite and provide covering fire while we move in."

"Roger that," Yi Shin as the sharpshooters picked their targets. The patrolling bandits crumpled to the floor as the cracks from the snipers' rifles filled the air. The deputies moved in while the remaining gang members grabbed their rifles to fire back.

Gunshots were exchanged between the gang members and the deputies. Wang fired a shot from his revolver before ducking behind a log to avoid getting shot and fired another round. Two other gang members were hit by gun fires. Out from the corner of Wang's eyes, he could see Kal Gun firing a blind shot from his revolver with his left hand before taking cover behind a tent.

"Don't let him escape, push forward!" Wang commanded as he hopped over the log. More gun fires were exchanged but the deputies made it to the campsite with no casualties. The two remaining gunmen dropped their rifles and held their hands up in surrender. Gun hesitated for a minute before dropping his revolver.

"Mr. Kal Gun, you are under arrest for multiple counts of robbery, murder, and cattle rustling," Jeon Wang said as the deputies tied the Gun and the other gunmen's hands and placed burlap bags over their heads. "Welcome to your new life in the slammer, with your criminal history, I doubt you have much to look forward to."
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TENNOHEIKA BANZAI NIHON
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Timely Defense

Postby TENNOHEIKA BANZAI NIHON » Fri Apr 10, 2020 5:46 pm

Tokyo, Empire of Japan
Tokyo Bay
January 10, 1906


The port was bustling with activity as Admiral Yamamoto stared out of the bridge of the HIJMS KATORI, of the newest class of battleships in the Fleet. He watched as the men ran about preparing her powerful 12 inch guns to be ready to fire ahead of the drills. He was usually too important to lead such a drill, but what was at stake was the success of Operation Ashika. The goal was to make this the center of focus of both the media and the outside world. He had specifically ordered a sloop, which could be thought to be the Fuso from afar with its bow’s antique appearance and masts, as to hopefully fool everyone on the whereabouts of the ship. The drill would be occurring near the Ryukyu, as Special Naval Landing Forces men practiced landing to conduct defensive measures on Tsushima. That drill might be viewed with suspicion from the Koreans, but little would they know that such was mere politics, the Navy asserting its domination over the Army, and showing how important it was to defense, which would only result in a bigger check next year.

More important was the Ryukyu drills. His drill fleet was powerful, consisting of half of the fleet’s battleships, and would definitely be seen as a show of force for a fleet that rarely left port as according to the doctrine of keeping the fleet in strategic reserve for one decisive battle. They were set to head out today at noon to prepare for the drills. They were fully armed with live ordnance, so he felt confident if anyone tried anything aggressive, they would regret it. The men were working now to load up the food stocks and the fleet would be off in an hour. He sighed watching as some members from the state press were getting onboard the Fuji. He hated the thought of them getting in the way, but it would be useful to keeping Operation Ashika quiet. He was happy. He hadn’t been at sea for a while now, being stuck at headquarters in Tokyo, managing the entire fleet. His second-in-command was fulfilling that role for the time being, so he could see to the success of this. He worried about Koreans, yet in his belief personally, he did not want to see Asians fighting Asians. They should be united against the true enemy. To him, it was the Europeans, but the Shogun seemed to like them so nothing could be done for the time being. They were getting ready to leave port as the tugs moved in. He looked about his charts, ready to give the press a show.

Tokyo, Empire of Japan
Tsushima Island
January 10, 1906


There had always been tensions with the Korean, they were a powerful empire afterall, but it seemed Tokyo was afraid. Or maybe just the Shogun. Captain Sato had been in the Imperial Army for a few years now, but he had never seen more bureaucrats on his island. His company was a part of the battalion that was tasked with defending the island, yet it was bustling with activity now. High ranking men and soldiers of the Bafuku were moving about, making notes on maps, exploring the limited fortifications, and examining the old pieces of coastal artillery strewn about. The island was relatively militarized compared to the rest, being the location planners assumed would be invaded first. He didn’t think he would see the Koreans attempt such a move anytime soon, but he guessed it didn’t hurt to be prepared. It was a good position nonetheless.

The men were specifically interested in Uni Island, far to the north, yet very close to Tsushima. It had always been a defensive post, but rumor was they were planning to dig a series of bunkers and tunnels there. He didn’t know why, but it seemed the northern tip of Tsushima was the main focus. He looked on gazing through his binoculars as the government men scaled cliffs and did their markings on their papers. He frowned as one approached, apparently some bigwig from the SNLF. The man was wearing a navy blue uniform with a sword at his side, flanked by three of the marines. “Sir, how do you do? I assume you are the captain of the local garrison stationed in this section of the island?”

He forced a smile, “Yes sir. What is your business here on our Army fortifications?”

“Captain, my name is Major General Hashimoto of the Special Naval Landing Forces. The Shogunate has taken more interest in this fine island most recently, and as a matter of fact, we are planning to drill our forces taking defensive positions here.”

“Ah. How long will these last? I mean how long are your men going to stay?”

“Well sir, with orders from Tokyo, we will be staying indefinitely. Your commander, Colonel Furukawa, now reports to me.”

“I was not informed of such. Are…”

“Do not worry captain. We are just deploying our own battalion here to take up positions. You will stay here and still lead. Just think of it as… reinforcements. Here is your new counterpart, Captain Maeda.”

The man simply nodded. “Konnichiwa.”

“Ah konnichiwa. Welcome to Tsushima Island! Dozo yoroshiku onegaishimasu.”

The other captain just gave a grin and the Navy men moved on.

For Sato, he was frustrated, but there was nothing he could do. It seemed the government was really getting ready for war. Not an offensive one, their navy men were loading heavy equipment onto the island, stuff too heavy for any use in an invasion. They must be fearful for something he figured. What did they know he didn’t?

Tokyo, Empire of Japan
Imperial General Headquarters
January 10, 1906


Admiral Yoshimura glanced around the room before he began after getting a nod from the Shogun and the Emperor. He for the time being, was in charge of the entire navy until Marshal Admiral Yamamoto returned. He was eager to take the position, for with the power the Navy had these days made him effectively second to only the Shogun or his highest advisers. “Gentlemen, after consulting our war planners, They have worked day and night to create scenarios centering a conflict starting over Johnston Atoll. As you already know, we do not know how Busang will react, and rather, if they act out rashly, we have played war games involving different scenarios. We believe Korea will attempt to not get involved, but if Busang sends one of their battleships, and we sink it or they experience a large amount of loss of life, we predict Korea will intervene. The Korean fleet is regarded by many as a vast, strong fleet. I am here today to dispute that. Our plan is simple, we capitalize on the weakness of their chain of command. We believe they have six individual fleets along with many much smaller ones. If their format is similar to that of their patrols we see in the Tsushima Strait and patrolling those waterways, we believe their fleets consist of one battleship large, one battleship small, and dozens of protected cruisers. While such a fleet if totaled up would be very formidable, they are spread out across thousands of miles of territory. They will see to protect their trade routes, and in our simulations, we capitalize on their independent states.

They will protect their shores and keep them close. Meaning our Combined Fleet is stronger. They operate off of confidence in their battleships. We haven’t seen them in battle yet, but we believe they are sinkable like any other ship. We have heard rumors from Taiping’s last war with them, where they utilized rockets at close range to devastate the Taiping battleships. But looking at our own rockets, they surely can only be fired from fairly close range. Even then, if they hit a part of the ship that is highly armored, it will be just like any other shell. Personally, I think using a rocket to deliver a shell like this is extremely foolish and a complete waste of resources, but that is not our focus. Our Fuji Class ships are the most armored in the fleet, and they will be the only battleships allowed to approach the battleship larges within 14,000 meters. We will destroy each of their fleets individually on our terms. We will not mount an attack on Korea, rather allow them to come to us. Where they will face 12 battleships against their two. They may have superior numbers, but we will concentrate our forces. All of our battleships have maximum ranges from around 17,000 meters. Such is enough to be able to avoid their rockets. What we will use to our advantage is our coastal artillery, should they get close enough, and our destroyers. The Kamikaze Class can be quickly produced, but also are deadly. Their battleships are slow, and their rockets and their big guns are relatively unfit to combat them. They are too fast for the rockets to be aimed correctly, so the chances of getting hit by one are very slim. With torpedos, they can sink the enemy very effectively, before fleeing at superior speeds. We are the defensive side gentlemen, but our plan is good enough to sink their entire fleet while they are individually weak. Remember this plan does not leave this room gentlemen. This is a matter of national security. We are not ready for offensive war, so we must use our defensive capabilities to the maximum.”

A scientist from the Army raised a hand.

Yoshimura turned and nodded.
“Sir, I have an interesting concept to present to you. Everyone knows you can’t shoot a shell down. It is a hunk of metal. But modern technology I believe would enable us to shoot down a rocket in theory. The rocket is sizable, and is much more easily seen than a shell. Theoretically, using our Type 1 Pom Pom gun, which fires at an automatic rate of 300 rounds per minute, we could shoot down their rockets if we created sights to account for it. With their 4,100 meter range, we could theoretically shoot down the enemy rocket while it is in its first stage. It would be nearly impossible for one gun to shoot down a single rocket, but what if we equipped our ships with these, or Maxim guns? We have also been experimenting with shrapnel or high explosive shells that could be used in already existing secondary armaments, enabling us to potentially have hundreds of guns firing at once, greatly increasing the chances of shooting down a rocket hypothetically.”

There were looks going around in the room. Some had previously thought the Korean’s rockets didn’t have such weaknesses. Yoshimura gave a smile. That was some of the best news he had heard. “Well I have heard of guns from Europe being used to shoot down balloons or zeppelin. These guns could have dual usage! Sir, you have full funding and permission to being testing and building our own Rocket Defense Program.”

Yoshimura was smiling, Yamamoto would be proud to know the day he had left, Yoshimura had established the most promising program to combat the Koreans yet.

The meeting continued on, discussing how the war would primarily be defensive, how they would choke off Korea with help from Taiping, what the colonies would do, how the call to enlistees was going, if this was all really worth Johnston Atoll. But the most important part had passed. Japan would become the first nation to attempt to shoot down a rocket.
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Elerian
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Postby Elerian » Fri Apr 10, 2020 9:15 pm

Rossiyskaya respublika


Over the last few decades, the Republic's focus had shifted away from military conquests, and instead towards the people of the Republic. They implemented dozens of projects to further consolidate their control over their eastern territories, and others that were dedicated to improving the quality of life there. In mainly Yakutsk, Central Asia, and Manchuria, resources went to work restoring and maintaining infrastructure, installing electric lighting, and upgrading the bottlenecked rail lines that were laid in decades prior. The Republic brought new tools and knowledge to small communities, and assisted them in becoming more productive members of the Russian economy. There was also an initiative that helped organize settlements together into a more modern system of governance, so that each town is run by elected officials rather than elders or unelected officials. A highly contentious move, that saw much resistance. For now, the people were unhappy, but it gave them a more transparent government, and a democratic one. To an extent, the local administrations could make rules by helping decide where the money would go, what town needs what, while also administering conscription practices in their jurisdictions. The Eastern territories had begun on the path to modernization, but they still had a long way to go.

Though the Republic hadn't only become invested in the East, but spent a great deal of effort ensuring that it's influence was felt well outside of its own borders. In various locations throughout the Republic, shipyards were hard at work building, maintaining and retrofitting the Russian Fleet. The Veche, feeling ever so inferior, presented its new supplementary naval bil in the Spring caucus. They felt that an increase in spending towards the navy was necessary. And in doing so alot for the construction of two battleships and one armored cruiser per year. Fears regarding the inferiority of the Pacific fleet in comparison to her competition made for this to be an easy sell.

Riga was the site of the largest Russian shipyard, which contained a number of specialised cranes, dry docks, slipways, dust-free warehouses, painting facilities and a yard for the fabrication of ships. Teams of men swarmed the area each day as construction on new ships began. The Rigan shipyard was the logical choice for the construction of the Republic's two new battleships. The need for an expanded Navy had been on the mind of the budgeting committee for sometime, but something had often gotten in the way. The approval of their construction and the green light on funds meant that construction could begin. It would take many thousands of men, hundreds of thousands of man hours, and several years to complete the project.

There were many naval competitors to the Russians, but the aggression of foreign powers proved the need of these new ships. Not to mention the need for a more proactive coastal defense. It would now be all the more easy to protect their own coastlines, and certainly project their influence further still.

Amurskaya oblast


After months of work, the Birobidzhan rail station was completed. A sprawling complex, it was a testament to not just to Russian greatness, but to the Republic's future. It was a lavishly built facility, with offices and a yard for at least a dozen trains. The indoor ceilings themselves were even decorated with reproductions of famous artwork of the Republic's past. Different sections dedicated to important eras of their past; their humble beginnings as Novgorod the Great, their triumph over the Muscovites, and finally their expansion Eastward. Each wing was ordained with celebrations of the motherland, and by extension, the country's lineage. This concerned Petrovsky little, however. Heading up the security of a station that, to him, was little more than a propaganda piece for Novgorod, which was the most morally bankrupt work he'd done for the government in years. Watching the representatives assemble in the lobby, he couldn't help but scoff. Just a bunch of strongmen in suits, reactionaries ready to stake their claims on the outer frontiers.

Was this what he had fought for? Was this what his friends had given their lives for?

He sighed, snubbing out a cigarette against a nearby railing before heading for the offices dedicated to the local administration. He shoved the door open, finding the deputy Finance Minister behind a desk. Malinovsky sat behind the desk, feet propped up without a care in the world. The other representatives had made their way to the floor, but Malinovsky had instead busied himself trying to get through a bottle of vodka. Petrovsky shot him a dirty look, and Malinovsky rose from his chair. He quickly dusted off his suit, straightening himself up. This was all about appearances, of course. Petrovsky merely motioned to the door.

"They're waiting for you. Hurry up."

Malinovsky's face curled into a toothy grin as he headed for the door, Petrovsky calling to him as he left.

"By the way, I thought you should know that that vodka was for the local elders. An offering from Novgorod."

He paused in the doorway, muttering some expletive under his breath. Then, he was off, slamming the door behind him. Petrovsky sighed, looking to the back of the office. A window overlooked the filled trainyard. He quietly stepped over to the desk, took a seat, and helped himself to the half finished bottle of vodka. It wasn’t like they were still going to be presenting it to the local elders after Malinovsky got his hands on it.

Russkiy Turkestan


Aksyonov sat atop his horse, ambling down a local road looking glum as ever. His wish had been granted, he was no longer in charge of the defenses near to the Roman border. Yet, he now found himself in charge of the recruitment office of Russian Turkestan. Certainly a more exciting assignment than his last, but also somehow worse. His job as of late was to chase down draft dodgers and empress criminals into military service. His pay was better, but that did little to ease Aksyonov’s mind.

Aksyonov had been given a new quota the previous week that was almost double normal, and he concluded it almost certainly meant trouble. It meant the possibility of some sort of war, but also a great headache for Aksyonov. He sincerely hoped that war wasn’t on the horizon, but it wasn’t as if there was anything he could do out in the middle of nowhere.

He would need to cough up a couple thousand men by the end of the month or Novgorod would have his ass. He almost wished he was at his boring old post in the Ukraine, but at least this way he was farther from any border. But here he was, trying to track down uncooperative locals in an alien environment.
Last edited by Elerian on Fri Apr 10, 2020 9:15 pm, edited 1 time in total.

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Kenobot
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Posts: 24
Founded: Apr 09, 2020
Inoffensive Centrist Democracy

Postby Kenobot » Mon Apr 13, 2020 7:45 am

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Yavanarajya Socialist Republic


The People’s Revolutionary Council,
Alexandria in the Āryāvarta

January 1906


20 years had passed since the glorious socialist revolution of 1886. The Emperor, royal family and all the symbols of monarchy were but a distant memory for the people of Yavanarajya thanks to the reeducation camps of the Γραφείο Εσωτερικής Ασφάλειας (Internal Security Bureau). Counter-revolutionaries had been rooted out across the country and the People's Revolutionary Council headed by President Euthydemus Theos could finally begin to finish the reforms of the Army and complete the 5 year plan which was set to be completed at the end of the year, while beginning to turn their attention towards the outside world much more and step onto the world stage.

Attending the first meeting of the People's Revolutionary Council of 1906 was General-Secretary of the Socialist Worker's Party (Sometimes named the Communist Party in an interchangeable fashion) and Minister of War, Diodotus Antimachus. Diodotus had spent the last 5 years undertaking significant reforms of the Army; reducing it in size from its post-revolution bloated state, while updating its formations, tactics, weaponry and training. While no longer as large as it once was; finally the People's Army could claim to be a professional army and not merely an army of partisans.

Also present were the various ministers of the cabinet of Euthydemus Theos, including Foreign Minister Alexandros Ligyron. The main agenda of this meeting was the establishment of a new International, following the collapse of the First International and split in the socialist cause following our own revolution. While focused on internal reforms for the previous 20 years, the party now turned outwards; looking for new friends of the cause and failing that, having the means to make friends through spreading our revolutionary fervour across Asia and indeed the globe. President Theos moved aside, giving Foreign Minister Ligyron the floor to explain to his comrades what this entailed.

“Comrades, the Third International; or as it’s official title shall be ‘The Comintern’, short for the Communist International, will be headquartered in our capital of Alexandria in the Āryāvarta. It’s purpose is simple and straightforward; the promotion of the Communist revolution across the globe...in our image of course” He said. “The first Congress of the Comintern shall be held in two months and will be marked with a grand march of the People’s Army through the capital’s landmarks, with representatives from our comrades in arms across the globe being present in this march. Before the Congress however, we will seek friendship with those who might otherwise seek to destroy our revolution; for they are many in number and, for now, we are few. And as our brothers in British India are being oppressed, we will need to seek powerful allies in our national cause of reunification. We will seek to open relations with potential allies across the globe. We will offer to open our nation to trade with state-owned business and be open to suggestions on how that may work with our neigbours."

Following this speech, the General-Secretary echoed the Foreign Minister’s statements and closed the meeting for the day. Heading straight to the Foreign Office, the Foreign Minister sent this Diplomatic Correspondence to all the Nations of the World but for Britain.


To Whom It May Concern,

I write to you today on behalf of the Government of the Yavanarajya Socialist Republic. 20 years have passed since our revolution overthrew the ruling Imperial dynasty of our nation, and for 20 long years nations across the globe have despised us and sought to destroy us.
No More! The Yavanarajya Socialist Republic seeks to restore full diplomatic relations with the nations of the world. While we are a socialist state, we would be open to working with any state-owned business that you might control if they sought to expand into our nation, and we would also be open to exporting products such as steel, grain and textiles to your nation should there be the demand for this.
We look forward to hearing your reply.

Regards,

Theos Ligyron
Foreign Minister of Yavanarajya


With the grand overtures to all nations complete, the Foreign Minister now wrote to our neigbours; Taiping and Babylon.

Your Imperial Majesty, Emperor Satohnkedezhar and Representative Alakis Abutaris,

Until our revolution 20 years ago, Yavanarajya and Babylon had long been friends. And over the last 20 years, between our border instability and ideological opposition to each other, that friendship has been neglected.
It is our belief that if we work with each other, we will be far more prosperous and strong for it. Therefore, we propose the following:
- A treaty formalizing our border
- The construction of a rail line connecting your capital of Babylon with ours, Alexandria in the Āryāvarta, to facilitate trade between our nations
- and finally, we propose an informal arrangement. If you go to war in the West or we in the South or East, that we will remove our troops from our shared border in the interests of peace.

We hope that you can agree to most, if not all of these terms.

Regards,

Theos Ligyron
Foreign Minister of Yavanarajya


Your most Holy Imperial Majesty,
Heavenly King (太平天王)

We in Yavanarajya have long admired the great revolutionary reforms undertaken by you during your reign. After 20 years, we now seek to open ourselves up to the world, and particularly our neigbours such as yourself.
We have 3 proposals for your most Holy Imperial Majesty.
1. That a treaty be signed, formalizing our shared borders.
2. That a road and rail line be constructed between our Capital of Alexandria in the Āryāvarta and your city of Chongqing, via Kunming.
3. That should either of us be attacked, in the interests of the balance of power in the region, that we intervene on each other's behalf.

We look forward to your response.

Regards,

Theos Ligyron
Foreign Minister of Yavanarajya
Last edited by Kenobot on Mon Apr 13, 2020 5:01 pm, edited 4 times in total.
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Kazarogkai
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Moralistic Democracy

Postby Kazarogkai » Fri Apr 17, 2020 1:25 am

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Within this land known by many as the continent of North America lying south of the twin Tennessee and Spartan rivers, east of the mighty Mississippi, west of the great and bitter Atlantic and north from that of the seemingly boiling and ever turbulent Caribbean; there lies a nation under God, who is greatest of all, whose birth was from the fires of revolution and has since it's inception been bathed in the blood of patriots. In this nation there live a proud peoples, a pious people whose faith lies in God and the guns that lay in their hands and who have since the beginning have been tested and despite the adversity while bloodied remain unbowed in the face of all but God. While the tides might be great they persevere. While time itself gnaws without teeth at a nation still so young their rage does not tire. While others fall like quiet footnotes in the grand labyrinth of History itself this nation beams like a candle in a weary and dark world.

To the east in the Upper Plains of Adamia

Next to the small Allapaha River there lied a small village by the name of Braxton Hill named after an old general of small renown. It was a quiet community of only around two thousand with most of the population living closely packed together in small box shaped homes made from a mixture of stone and mud roofed via baked clay barrel roof tiles. Like many municipalities it was laid along the sides of a hill organized into a series of descending concentric circles from top to bottom leading to a sort of stacking effect with the topmost floors of inner homes being higher than those on the outer homes. This along with the light stockade and the rather noticeable lack of first floor windows in any of the homes characterized the defensive mindset that was the norm of the people of this land. "To every home a shotgun, and for every village a fort" was a common saying among the common folk in reference to this.

The streets were busy buzzing with activity among the villagers making their way from this way and there all with different intentions and motivations all to their own. Among this throng was a young man by the name of Emmett. Emmett was a flour mill worker by trade plying his trade in the local grain mill that lay at the summit of the hill that his village was erected upon alongside the villages two churches, government house, and school building. He was regarded as a young man despite being of voting age, 25, and having finished both school and national service. The reasoning was simple, he wasn't married yet. For Emmett and many young Adamite men he hadn't been given much opportunity to do so up until now. While most girls finished up school around 14 and married not too long after boys were expected to wait until they were at a point when they had the means to support a family. That meant a home and with that a decent job alongside the other important marks of Adulthood within Adamite society that were formerly mentioned. It took a decent amount of money to get to a comfortable point and afford such things. Despite young men being allowed as part of their regular schooling the ability to engage in paid apprenticeships starting in secondary school this didn't pay all that greatly. When schooling finally ended they still had another obstacle in the form of the 2 year period of service that all men must engage upon completing their education. That being serving in the Iron Legion, or Navy for those unfortunate to live in a coastal village, which while prestigious again didn't pay tremendously. For many young men this all together they had to wait and wait most not having the opportunity up until their late 20s and even that was sometimes not guaranteed. Most fathers wanting the best shot they could get for their young daughters not surprisingly and getting on the good side of one was no simple tasks with most fathers preferring to marry their daughters off to older more "experienced" men who could provide the best offer in the form of a nice bride price which was customary especially in rural Adamia.

All this led to the present situation of Emmett who continued to live within the home of his father the middle of 5 siblings. Not having a family of his own their wasn't much need for him to have a house as of now. Being that as it may it was still something he had to be mindful of. While in other cultures an exchange of gifts at the wedding was the norm within Adamia rather than rings a man was expected to provide a house instead. Since the beginning of his partial apprenticeship up until now Emmett had gone through great lengths to save his money to prepare for this eventuality and hence was in a good position in this regard. Land wasn't the issue one must note for all land along with water and air was within the Iron Order common property of all being held communally via local communities with all men being entitled upon request to a parcel of land enough to support himself and his family. Even with that a man still had to pay for the home either buying one off another, inheriting it as the eldest child, or having it built from scratch with the latter being most likely in the case of are character Emmett.

All this and more troubled the mind of the young Emmett as he along with many others made their way to earn their daily bread in whatever vocation that they happened to be involved with. This was not a wealthy country the signs being visible all around. From the clothes of those who walked the streets with the majority wearing clothes that while clean were patchy and clearly aging, onto the fields with the various hands working the land in a manner little different to that of their ancestors, and so on and so on. The homes were cheaply made and partially rickety, the mill ran with ancient machinery. Though a train station and with it tracks were present only about 3 miles away from the village itself in in the nearby town of Rose Creek, a beneficiary of the central governments "Every village a factory every town a station", said train ran on a narrow gauge and was rather unreliable due to frequent breakdowns especially in winter. A victim of the trains and the tracks having been built not with quality but with quantity in mind.

Upon arriving at his workplace Emmett having arrived somewhat early was able to spend content himself with a light breakfast of corn bread, a smoked sausage wrapped in a slice of bread topped with cheese and sauce, and finally but not least a cup of sweet tea all made by his kind and endearing mother Julia. Though a few other men joined Emmett in his meal the young man was clearly distracted not being particularly inclined towards whatever conversation was taking place. His mind was wandering as he looked out upon the land surrounding his village which lay deep within the Adamite Heartlands. The thing that lay at the center of Emmett's thoughts at the moment where that of a girl by the name of Anna who lived far from his home. She was a mousy girl of about 18 years who lived not far from his home and had recently drawn the young Emmett's attention via a sweet potato pie she gifted to him not too long ago during a feast day. Such was the usual norm within Adamite culture with it being somewhat expected for young women if they had interest in a another to provide gifts usually of food to one they chose. Anna was a quiet peasant girl who worked in the fields during the growing season and as a seamstress during the winter alongside her mother and sisters with Emmett having known of her via his younger sister making friends with her during their schooling years. Due to her advanced age along with having birthed a child as a bastard she wasn't regarded as much of a catch by the standards of this land. While her legal virginity was restored due to the circumstances surrounding the latter incident her Father had still felt compelled to set up a dowry for her to hopefully attract suitors for the poor girl. But due to a lack of wealth on his families part said dowry wasn't particularly great hence it was of seemingly limited effect. Hence the issue around the pie. Said pie served as a sort of invitation to court the girl and as such was a unique opportunity that Emmett had to weigh on whether it would be best to simply pass up. One could argue there were better fish in the sea and all. Such was the central thing that bothered the mind of Emmett along with all the other worries a young man might have growing up in the land of the Adamites as the work bell rang and he made his way onto another 8 hour day of drudgery.

To the center in the Capital of Atlanta

In the Piedmont region of inner Adamia not far from the Low and foreboding Blue Ridge mountains stood the Capital of this nation. When one first set their eyes upon this place one shouldn't be ashamed for having expected more. Being a rather humble small city of only 100,000 souls of which only 30,000 actually live in the city itself with the remainder in surrounding incorporated tows and a large series of interconnected neighborhoods that formed the "outer boroughs" as they were known. This was no Rome or Paris nor was it expected to be by the men who made this nation the way it is today. Said men generally preferred the focus on large numbers of mostly rural towns and villages rather than a handful of small cities to be the typical population pattern of Adamia. This has been encouraged via free land helping spread out the population from east to west, the requirement that all agriculture above that of the yeoman level to be run cooperatively preventing excess individual land accumulation; this along with various policies like the aforementioned "Every village a factory, every town a rail station" preventing the concentration of industrialization in a handful of regions helped maintain this pattern into the modern era. Hence this was a land despite having a reasonably urban population of about a quarter of the population and a good amount of population density to boot was typified by small cities or Polises as they were called with the aforementioned capital being the largest of the bunch.

All this and more would be something one would have to keep in mind as they made their way around the capital of the Adamites. The lack of any skyscraper as one would find in many great cities around the world was a jarring one with the law of the land preventing any building being higher than the nearest church with even government buildings being made to comply. The narrow, geometrically aligned streets, the churches one would find seemingly on every corner, the mostly archaic mason and wood construction of the buildings and the seemingly military esque and seemingly pre-planned mindset of the architects who had built this city all created for a rather interesting style and atmosphere not really found in many other places. Unlike most the city of Atlanta was organized not into blocks but a series of concentric circles that started from within and made their way out to the outskirts. The majority of All the buildings within were organized further into a series of small circles with entrances facing a central courtyard accessible via a single maybe two gates. The Buildings like many in Adamia lacked windows on the first floor only having them from the second floor up in part to hinder raiders and aid the inhabitants in case of attack. Though no great walls were atleast in theory present a series of gates that could serve as barricades were found on many individual streets. At center of all of this lied the old Lebanon Hill neighborhood within which were the very seat of government itself with National Parliament building lying across from the Great Tribune Hall on a large courtyard that served on specific events as a parade ground. The National Parliament building was large for the area being approximately 5 stories tall filled with an almost byzantine mix of shadowy passageways and halls and rooms and caverns that were burrowed throughout the whole structure. The Room where the Parliament met was at the top most floor, closest to god, designed to specifically host all 1728 members of the parliament along with a large number of guests who would routinely enter and leave on a regular basis.

While Parliament not in session at the moment the business of government continued on with the various aforementioned rooms and halls serving as meeting places for members of government but also where influential members of society: labor leaders, church deacons, community chiefs and all the like met where backroom deals where made, patronage was gained and granted, clients rewarded and in general where the game of politics was conducted on a grand scale in the heart of the Iron Order. Within these dark passageways and mysterious places the offices of the Committee of Diplomacy could be found. Within here one would find a small office of a man by the name of Citizen Reo. Reo while an immigrant, born in the land of the rising sun and having immigrated in his young adulthood, had over the course of many years been able to bring himself into a rather comfortable position within his new home by the age of 48. Serving with distinction in the Iron legion during his period of mandatory military service before finally being honorably discharged Reo making use of his skills in pen and paper along with a sharp mind gained himself a position as clerk in a local political machine in Free Town. As he rose through the ranks carefully navigating his way through the complicated and wire laden webs of interlocking patronage networks that lay within the local government he was able to acquire a good amount of money. This granted Reo the ability to pay for passage for his wife and child along with allowing him the ability to sponsor 3 of his brothers and their families over the years to come over from the home islands to make a new home in this land. Though immigrants were not common due in part to the relatively poor economy compared to their neighbors said immigrants were generally welcomed which was to the surprise of many considering the reputation of this isolated land. The few who came over usually were drawn via the offers of easy land or due to the efforts of religious proselytizing efforts done by local religions or some combination thereof. Reo himself came over in part due to his father and by extension his family running afoul of the Shogun. After his father's death he sought a fresh start for himself along with his family.

With that in mind Reo had found himself in a reasonably stable job position as a clerk in the capital functioning in the role of a bookkeeper of sorts collecting and receiving various diplomatic missives archiving, noting, and distributed them as needed based on their relative importance or lack thereof. While on his daily rounds Reo found within his possession a telegram all way from the land of India. The people there having been noted to have had a significant rebellion overthrowing the monarchy and had fallen out of contact with much of the world with the Adamites themselves having little knowledge of the situation on the ground. Now here had come a rather brief correspondence mentioning a desire to potentially open diplomatic channels with the nations of the world in peaceful trade. Mulling over the telegram for a minute or two Reo decided it deserved a mild degree of priority. Upon the telegram he laid forth a imprint indicating medium priority and for it to be directed to the Consul of Diplomacy at his pleasure along with a seal indicating it had gone through Reo himself personally. And with that he archived the Telegram and went on with Business.

To the west in the Misssissipi Delta Region

A sounds of sandals and horses plodding along the wet slushy snow that dotted the land during the last stages of the mild winter that typified this land were all that could be heard of the quiet band of scouts as they made their way along the banks of the mighty Mississippi. The temperature was above freezing hence the men paid head making sure to wear their ponchos nice and tight along with an extra pair of socks on their shoes and scarves on their necks. These men were from a rather backwater portion of central Florida and hence unlike the locals were initially more effected by the above freezing temperatures of winter but with time learned to adapt. Thrust from their home villages upon the completion of general schooling they ranged in age from a low 14 all the way to 20 years of age. This section of men was led by the eldest among them a veteran Crusader by the name of Sergeant Malcolm. As the group of men made their way along Sergeant Malcolm kept a close watch not only on his charges but also on the road trying to find signs of movement. Reports from locals had come in of a small group of cross border river pirates led by an outlaw by the name of Captain Yule. They were said to have committed an act of arson in a nearby village known as Burke Landing and were further wanted for a series of highway robberies upon local residents and flatboat wrecking in the area. What Sergeant Malcolm was looking for was a crossing point where the bandits in question had made their way to and from Adamia. The goal was upon locating said crossing point to notify their Pack Commander and set an ambush hopefully catching Captain Yule and his band in a vulnerable point. Hence the point of this section of scouts composed of about 11 members, there 12th member back at camp laid up with a bad flu, of the VII Infantry Chapter patrolling in this area.

Among this section of men and boys there was one named Initiate Amos who at the age of 14 was one of the younger members of his section. Initiate Amos had been born in a village of barely 200 people known as Marion not far from the Great Southern Florida Lake to a humble family of shepherds. Going on 10 months now he along with a few other local boys after completing their basic primary school education had been called to go to the local Sheriffs office where after inspection he was sent to his local Legionary Chapter home offices and began his period of training which lasted for about 4 months with the period immediately following he along with other members of his Cavalry Pack being deployed west to the border with Busang where he has sat for the last couple months. His period of military service was long from over but he was already missing home to be honest, his mothers hot meals and his warm bed were remembered with a degree of nostalgia almost. Legionary Chapters while all raised and with members trained together coming from the same rough area were for various reasons rarely deployed in their home districts. This was in part meant to discourage separatist mentalities and other unfavorable political mentalities along with other reasons including but not limited to encouraging young men to be to view themselves not as exclusive members of their individual communities but as greater members of a large nation. Whatever good might come of it this still left Young Amos in a rather melancholy mood.

As the section made it's way along keeping an eye out for potential movement the grizzled Sergeant named Malcolm called out a halt having found potential marks of an old camp that showed signs having recently been used. Sergeant Malcolm sensing potential in this area decided to trust his instincts continuing to search the area eventually coming upon a new camp this one inhabited.Said inhabitants where a small group of about 30 armed men of what seemed to be rough disposition and feeling danger lurked sent 1 of his troops back to camp to notify the Pack Commander while having his boys take position around the north of the camp in question hiding behind rocks and tree trunks. This was done not too late for not long after the group of potential bandits seemed to be readying a small flatboat with the intention of crossing the river and making an escape. Sergeant Malcolm knew he had to make a decision for it wouldn't take too long for the men in question to escape and decided to be a bit proactive. Rising from his cover about 200 yards away from the enemy position Sergeant Malcolm in a booming voice gave the order to ready and fire. The unwieldy 50 inch long SR-20s(not*lebels) used by the men almost immediately proved to be awkward in the dense brush but atleast gave them an immediate firepower advantage against the largely pistol and shotgun armed Bandits who were caught near completely by surprise who due to lack of range couldn't effectively engage the Legionaries. With that in mind this was an untenable situation with the bandits outnumbering Sergeant Malcolm and his men 3 to 1 they began to slowly advance forward making their way towards the small sections position creeping closer and closer despite the continuous fire delivered by the scouts It wouldn't be long before they could overrun the scout's position. All this while another group of bandits were beginning to cross the river coming over to support their pinned brethren.
Last edited by Kazarogkai on Sun May 03, 2020 7:59 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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Elerian
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Founded: Aug 31, 2012
Father Knows Best State

Postby Elerian » Wed Apr 22, 2020 2:27 pm

On the 2nd of March, in accordance with the decision of the Veche of Great Novgorod, addressed in the name of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, a proposal to the Northern States Association (NSA) Embassies to begin negotiations for an immediate cession of the Karelian and Aland Island territories. At the same time, the Ministry of Foreign Affairs would cede the Pechengsky (Petsamo) area to the NSA. As instructed by the Veche, military authorities of the army and navy of the Russia Republic have taken preliminary steps to ensure the safety of Russian borders.

The Nordic embassy in Novgorod, contacted and given in no uncertain terms that discussions will need to begin forthwith. To brief the Nordic Ambassadors in regard to this matter, a memorandum with the following information was forwarded:

1. To work out a general plan for the liquidation of any NSA military fortifications from the Finnish region

2. To begin immediate talks for the cession of the Aland Islands and Karelia in return for Pechengsky (Petsamo)

3. Lease of a Militarily Suitable Port on the Faroe Islands for the term of 50 years

4. Plan for appropriate indemnities to be paid by the Russian Government





Addendum to point 20, of February 20, 1906

ON FORCED RUSSIFICATION OF NATIVE POPULATIONS
Resolution of the Education Council of the Rossiyskaya Respublika

In many regions of our country we can observe the Russification of native populations by forcible means.
This practice is a flagrant violation of repeatedly issued directives by the Education Council,
as well as of the provisions contained in the statutes of the Ministry of Nationalities.

The Education Council stresses that only enemies of the people would permit forced Russification of native populations.
The Education Council emphasizes that the forced re-education of native populations is contrary to the State's political program.
The goal of the government is that every citizen of the state may be raised and educated by the wishes of their respective communities.....

The Education Council proposes to all relevant organizations:

1. Cease all attempts of forced re-education of Native
Populations and immediate termination of those found guilty of
Vvolating directives.

2. Organize appropriate administration for overseeing
nationalities deemed vulnerable to forced Russification.

Signed: Education Minister Ivan Ivanovich Tolstoy






INTERNAL MEMORANDUM

Should Japan, in consequence of an open or tacit understanding with Taiping or without such an understanding, attempt to seize Vladivostok and the Eastern-Siberian Railway, which would threaten to cut off Russia from the Pacific Ocean and would greatly impede the concentration of Republican troops toward the East about the Urals, in such case what steps would be taken by the government, particularly and especially by the Russian military, to prevent a Japanese landing on our Far East and to insure uninterrupted communications with Great Novgorod through the Siberian route?

In the opinion of the military attache, to what extent, under the above-mentioned circumstances, could aid be assured from Korea? What steps could the Government undertake in order to assure this aid and thereby to undermine the foundation of the rumors of the hostile plans against Russia on the part of Taiping and Japan in the nearest future?

All these questions are conditioned with the self-understood assumption that the internal and foreign policies of the Russian government will continue to be directed in accord with the principles of the All-Russian nation and that the Republican government retains its complete independence of all foreign influences.
Last edited by Elerian on Wed Apr 22, 2020 2:29 pm, edited 1 time in total.

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Plzen
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Founded: Mar 19, 2014
Civil Rights Lovefest

Postby Plzen » Wed Apr 22, 2020 10:01 pm

Norðurríkjasambandið
05th March 1906


Unlike some other governments of the Continent and abroad, the Civil Service of the Northern States Association was very much a middle class institution. The clerks at the Northern embassy in Novgorod and the Ministry of Foreign Affairs in Kaupmannahafn all expected to be home over the weekend, and since the Russian note was delivered on a Friday evening, it was not until morning on the 5th of March, a Monday, that a copy of the note finally found its way into the hands of the Minister and, from him, to the Chancellor of the Association and the President of the Finnish Republic.

While Åbo was hundreds of kilometres away, and thus the initial reactions of the Finnish government not known in Copenhagen until several days later, the reaction from the Chancellor's office was quite instant.

"...this is a joke, right?"

"About what I thought, sir," replied the Minister. "But apparently not. I thought the matter was serious enough to bring to your attention. This could be, and I suspect that it is, the Russians starting to lay the groundwork for justifying their next offensive war into our territory, Chancellor."

The 1760 Baltic War was ancient history, at least in the halls of politics where men thought in terms of election cycles and cabinet terms instead of decades and centuries, but even as the decades passed the long and poorly-developed frontier between the Association and Russia have always been regarded as the greatest security threat poised against the relatively small Northern army, a perception that was reinforced by the open secret that was Russian designs on Finland.

Territorial concessions were completely out of the question, nor was the Association about to dismantle its border fortifications at the request of the very enemy against whom those fortifications were designed and built. Not to mention, the Association was hardly going to permit the Russians to establish any kind of presence in the North Sea - the Baltic being so contested was quite enough, as far as maritime risks were concerned.

"I think it's worth letting the Secretary-General know about it, Dagfinn, so that he will take the measures necessary to demonstrate our determined spirit of defence. I trust that you will do what is required to keep our country safe on the diplomatic front."

"Of course, sir."

"It saddens me, Dagfinn, it truly does, that most of our neighbours still seem to be unable to see beyond the simple animalistic desire to expand their borders."



Stjórnarráð Norðurríkjasambandsins

Note from the Northern Mission to the Russian Republic in Novgorod, 07th March 1906,
To the Russian Ministry of Foreign Affairs,


The Association's Ministry of Foreign Affairs has received and given due consideration to the requests of your government as delivered to the memorandum to this Mission on this past 2nd of March.

This Ministry expresses its deep displeasure and outrage at the Russian presumption that the indivisible integrity, self-defence, and territorial sovereignty of this Association is a potential subject of negotiation between the Association and any external states, and further declares that no further requests or demands whose fulfillment would result in the violation of the rights of an independent state held by this Association will be considered.

In accordance with this principle, under no circumstance will this Association accept making any territorial concessions to Russia except on grounds well-justified by natural law and international custom regardless of any indemnities offered by the Russian Government in exchange for such concessions. It is the opinion of the Ministry of Defence, furthermore, that the Association's military installations in the Finnish Republic are vital to the ability of this Association to defend its State, people, and territory, and thus this Government cannot accept the dismantling of such installations. Finally, it is the Chancellor's position that the presence of a foreign and alien military on the sovereign territory of this Association will cause undue distress to the general affairs of the Northern people and disruption to the consistent application of the rule of law in this Association, and the Northern States Association faces no threats against which a Russian military presence in the North Sea will be beneficial to an extent justifying this distress and disruption.

Since this Ministry sees the requests made as being grievously injurious to the interests and principles of the Government of the Northern States Association and sees very little benefit from satisfying the requests made on this past 2nd of March, this Ministry must apologetically decline the Russian Government's request to open discussions on these requests.

- K. Stauning, Ambassador of the Northern States Association to Russia
Last edited by Plzen on Wed Apr 22, 2020 10:47 pm, edited 7 times in total.
Forward, my comrades, march to your stations,
Righteous and proud! Win, we most surely can.
This is a triumph of peace and of nations,
A dawn of friendship for all people of man!

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TENNOHEIKA BANZAI NIHON
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Founded: Feb 19, 2019
Iron Fist Consumerists

Postby TENNOHEIKA BANZAI NIHON » Thu Apr 23, 2020 11:38 pm

Johnston Atoll
Operation Ashika
January 15, 1906


Admiral Tamemoto smiled as he drank his cup of ocha. This was supposedly a serious mission, but the fleet had been near the atoll for hours now without any resistance. Though being a battle-hardened commander, he felt it was safe enough to assume they would not encounter any organized army of sorts, afterall, the island was supposedly uninhabited. Major General Hashiguchi had come to him earlier just before dawn, requesting a light bombardment, but he had simply dismissed the lower ranking Army man, so he hoped he would not prove wrong.

Men were already on the landing craft, (fairly simple wooden rowboats), that floated above the calm seas as men moved towards shore. It was quite impressive, watching as hundreds of rowboats advanced towards the beach. Destroyers swept the surroundings, searching for possible enemy vessels and protecting the landing craft. The other ships of the fleet sat calmly, men bustling around the decks, grabbing their packs and rifle, ready to head out. They were fairly relaxed, though sailors remained at their guns hoping to see a bit of action. Leading the men was Lieutenant Colonel Tachibana. He was calm, watching the beach through his binoculars, carbine resting by his legs. He saw nothing, but naturally rested one hand on the stock of his rifle, the other on the sheath of his sword. He had ordered the men to proceed in silence, as to not wake any potential locals on the atoll. All that could be heard was the lapping of the waves along with the sound of the oars, tearing through the waters.

The sea around the atoll was covered in reefs, forcing some boats to be stopped short, many yards out from shore. As Tachibana jumped off his boat, he made sure to keep his rifle above his head, as the water was at his waist. It was very cold, but he ordered his marines to press on. They were used to the cold, but he thought it was rather unfortunate he would have to clean all the gear now that they were at risk being tarnished and rusty from the saltwater. As the men waded ashore, once the water was knee-deep, he yelled out, “Affix bayonets! Advance men! Advance!” The mass of men surged forwards, scattered about. Upon reaching shore, he was shivering, but made his best attempt to not show it. The sun was rising now, and he figured he would soon be dry.

The troops steadily advanced, and upon finding the islands to be fairly empty, decided to search the entirety. As they neared the eastern shore, Tachibana sighted a small shack in the distance. Motioning to his men to encircle, he chambered a round into his carbine. They marched forwards, glancing around, fearful a native would jump out and shoot them. He was not afraid, and as his men moved around the shack, he gripped his rifle ready. He nodded, and two marines burst through the door, startling two natives. They were both about his age, and were unarmed, so as the marines fanned out, he took the opportunity to question them. The admiral would be happy with his results, and he gave a little smile watching the second wave braving the cold as they could be seen making their way up a southern beachhead. Lighting a fire in the camp to dry off, he asked the men in Japanese, “What language do you speak?” They appeared confused, but genuine, seeing as thus far they had not resisted. He had ordered they be treated nicely like locals. They began in a sort of native tongue, one he did not understand. He was too impatient to wait for a translator, assuming what they were speaking was even known. He tried again, this time in rough Korean, “Do you speak Korean?” One of the natives lit up, seeming familiar to the language, but seemed to not speak it. Then the older one spoke in yet a different language, one familiar to Tachibana. One of his second-in-commands nodded to him, “Sir he is speaking in ego - English.”

He personally did not know the language, but he was surprised to know Major Saeki’s last position had been naval attache to England.

He chuckled, “Ah I wonder how they English rather than Korean. Question them and report back to me.” He then continued walking towards the bulk of his men, searching for any other natives.

As dusk set in, and equipment was being landed on the side of the island more suitable for smaller craft Tachibana made his way up to the bridge of the Fuso to speak with the Admiral. He bowed as he entered.

“Admiral Tamemoto! I am glad to see your plan successful.”

“Likewise I am proud of your men, performing so professionally… I assume you are here to give your report?”

“Yes sir. Sir, we have captured two natives, one speaking English. According to them, they came by boat from the Kingdom of Hawaii to fish. They speak the native language, but luckily one of my commanders does speak English. They did state the situation of Johnston is similar to Midway, fairly unoccupied, although Midway is more populated. Something interesting is the resources on this island. While across the Empire there are many fisheries, my men have found large deposits of guano.”

“My apologies, what is this guano?”

“Sir to be honest, it is bird and bat excrement, but according to some of the men, it makes great fertilizer. There might be some profit to be gained here, apparently it goes for 60 yen per ton! That’s more than Iron ore! ”

“I am not quite sure how profitable that will be seeing as though the cost of shipping it to the mainland, but I will make note of that.”

“Yes sir.”

“Make sure our forces get their rest and start building shelters right away in the morning. Orders are for us to conduct construction for two weeks before leaving 350 men and moving on to attack Midway. We await resupply vessels heading out from Tokyo. For now, rest and celebrate your victory!”
Tachibana smiled, bowed once again, and left. He and his men had executed the raid perfectly, good practice for their next target; a serious one.


East Taiping Sea, Ryukyu Islands
January 15, 1906


The fleet’s flagship Katori sat in the front of the formation, surrounded by its escorts and five other battleships from the fleet. At its head was its commander, Marshal Admiral Yamamoto, head of the entire fleet. He had planned extensive drills, both provocative and aggressive in nature with the sole goal of diverting attention. As an experienced commander, he knew the press was always a bad thing. They could reveal positions, and act as a hindrance. Yet today his main goal was to focus the press and the world on the mainland, not its expedition outwards. He was well aware of the defensive doctrine of the Imperial Navy, so any competent military strategist would be able to see this was out of the norm.

Having obtained several old retired sloops, he figured that the fact they were made out of wood primarily made them less worth scrapping and good targets. He smiled as the ships sailed into battle range. The battleships turned, forming a line as their turrets moved into position as cruisers with long range guns did the same. A volley of shells erupted from maximum range sending towers of water around the target up into the air. The second volley hit home, and as the ships neared the targets, they produced further results. By now the first target was sinking, so the destroyers moved into close range, firing their light guns tearing up the old sloop. As they surged forwards, they sent a spread of torpedoes towards target number two. As the torpedos struck home, the sloop split into two, sinking with explosions from further torpedoes striking her hull.

Now the fleet moved in to conduct maneuvers, practicing weaving in and out to evade submarines and torpedoes. They practiced reconnaissance, and upon using their secondaries, sunk a third and final target.

Now was the most provocative portion of the drills. Using transport ships and gunboats to simulate enemy battleships, cruisers, and destroyers, the fleet broke up, launching a simulated “attack” Such was meant to simulate an encounter with a Korean fleet patrolling the coast. First the battleships “engaged” from long range, firing blanks in volleys. As this occured, faster cruisers and destroyers broke off, “fighting” their enemy counterparts and launching training torpedoes towards the two capital ships of the “enemy” fleet.

With the “victory” achieved, Admiral Yamamoto gave a rare smile as fireworks from the decks of the transports exploded across the evening sky, launching bright colors, amusing both sailors and reporters. He would now just have to hope the press, and Korea would be looking towards this, rather than his precious operation in the east Pacific.

He knew a similar operation was being held on Tsushima Island, marines rushing up the slopes to secure positions, simulating a response to a Korean attack from across the channel. He was not pleased the marines had decided to field more artillery on the island, for it would lessen his supply for use on Sakhalin Island, but such was necessary to protect it. Now his goal was to make it to port quickly, otherwise have to sail back in the dark. But his main objective was now done, he could only pray for the same was happening on Johnston Atoll.
A proud Conservative.
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Of Leben
Spokesperson
 
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Founded: Jul 11, 2015
Inoffensive Centrist Democracy

Postby Of Leben » Mon Apr 27, 2020 11:45 am

I.
January 1906
Panama Canal Zone

Enrique ducked for cover just behind a ledge, where the shouting of several dozen men could be heard. A large explosion reverberated through the air and ground causing huge rocks to come crashing down to the earth. Dust from the explosion gripped the thick soupy air, making it almost unbreathable. Enrique started coughing violently, the air would be totally unbreathable if it weren’t for his cotton mask. It was just a handkerchief, but it was just enough so he could get far away from the immediate site of explosion to get to better air. Enrique continued to cough, but he managed to crawl his way to somewhat clearer air. A few minutes passed and he still couldn’t see much. Even though he wore goggles the dust obscured vision beyond just a few feet. The shouting and confusion disoriented him, and he tried getting up but the ringing in his ears caused him to collapse. Enrique sat down, “Indian style” hoping his disorientation wore off soon. Although he could hear people, he didn’t see anyone else. Soon the silhouettes of two men appeared, and then the vague person-shaped figures took full form. The first, a stocky thick browed mestizo man grabbed him and rested him on his shoulder, half-heartedly asking him if he was okay. The second was an average looking black man with no distinguishing features except for his lack of a right ear. He said nothing but he helped pull Enrique off his feet. They started back to the main site.

Enrique’s throat was itchy, and every breath he took seem to tickle his throat just enough to trigger another fit of coughing. The black one offered him his canteen of water. Accepting, Enrique raised the cantina to his mouth to take a few drops but couldn’t resist drinking the whole canteen. His throat was still itchy, but the water did help some. Enrique felt he could walk on his own and the man let him go. With hoarse voice, Enrique felt he could make a few words come out from his throat.

“Who are you?”

The thick browed man didn’t answer his question, but he did give a reply – “We saw the explosion and came to help. So, we came to see if you were okay.”

Enrique stayed silent, as if he was unable to process the answer given. He and the other two men kept walking. In a short time, they made it to the main work site. The narrow valley that they had created by excavating the ground was littered with broken rocks. They were flanked on all sides by workers, who with pickaxes and shovels hammered away at the ground. Steam shovels and excavators aided the work, creating a large amount of displaced dirt. The dirt had to be carried away somewhere else manually, which required the constant labor of hundreds of workers. Some men in uniform – army men – were armed with rifles to make sure there was no conflict with the workers (and sometimes between the workers). The artificial depression they made in the ground branched into different parts- and Enrique had been digging some latrines in a new section before someone had thrown dynamite carelessly. The three men had finally gotten away from the dust, enough so they could see all the workers with good clarity. The noise the work site created dominated the sites ambience. The mestizo man with thick eyebrows spoke up in a raised voice-

“You probably shouldn’t go back. Wait for the dust to settle.”

Enrique ignored him. “What’s your name?” – he asked.

“Jorge. Jorge Cayos.”- the man relented.

For the first time the seemingly mute black man spoke up – “And I’m Jaser Santos.”

Enrique turned to both men and thanked them. “We should get back to work, before one of the supervisors yell at us” Jaser said. And right after Jorge and Jaser left Enrique. Since his task was now impossible, he headed to the foreman to ask for a new task. The foreman was a somewhat short but bulky man with chestnut hair and “Asian” eyes. Other workers who had fled the section after the explosion had come to him, who were gathered around him like a small mob. It had grown large enough for it to gain the guards attention. Enrique joined the crowd, but he could barely hear what the foreman was saying.

“Go grab some shovels and start help clear the dirt cleared by the steam shovels.” – yelled the foreman. Enrique and the other workers did as he ordered, and they started on their task. The foreman waited for the crowd to clear out, and then went inside his “office” – which was just a shed with no door and large windowless openings to let air in. The foreman was reviewing some documents sent from the project leaders. They were directives for the foremen to inform them of their new tasks and quotas. The whole thing was behind schedule. Due to the delays and overbudget expenses the former lead engineer, Alejandro Ramos had been sacked. The new project lead, Antonio Rios, had a new plan. Instead of building a sea level canal, the canal would be operated using a series of locks which would lift the boats up and then lower them back to sea level as they went through the canal. The foreman had a vague understanding of the plan, but he fully understood what he had to do. His job was a hard one, many workers frequently got hurt and many also died from disease. The previous foreman, an older fellow from Mexico died of a fever. The current foreman, Marco felt a great sense of foreboding. Something told him that this project was cursed, and that was a sentiment felt by many of the laborers.

Suddenly, he heard a group of men calling for him.

“Marco! The steam shovel is out of order! What do we do?!”

“Damn it.” – he uttered under his breath. He stepped outside the shed and went to deal with days newest crisis.

Mexico City, National Palace

As the sun settled under the hills and mountains, most citizens of the empire were having their last meal of the day before bed. For Mexicans, dinner is a sacred tradition. The act of eating together in a communal setting is the sign of a healthy family, and healthy families are the sign of a healthy community. Healthy communities of course, are the sign of God’s grace. But as every Mexican knows, elites worship their own gods and their gods confer different kinds of “graces”. For the one who is more elite than all the elites, this fact is a constant source of consternation and frustration. The Mexican emperor Salvador II de Iturbide, sits at the head of the table, representing his status at the head of the Mexican hierarchy. The only one above him, resides in heaven, and according to the true faith, he will one day return to judge the living and the dead. However, as the Chinese would say – “The emperor is high, and heaven is far away.” Thus, everyone (to different degrees) makes it a habit to take liberties with the rules. But then again, the Chinese are heretics and blasphemers, so what do they know?

Below the emperor, were his closest advisors and confidants, - as well as his daughters. They, unlike the rest of the people at the table are not just there for cynical reasons or even out of necessity. They are the emperor’s kin and friends- subjects who have proved their utmost loyalty to him and the family bonds which no earthly authority can break. Sitting left perpendicular to the emperor are his three daughters, Maria Josepha, Maria Gizella, and Maria Teresa. They, along with the emperor represent the last of Mexico’s native Iturbide dynasty. As his closest relatives, the emperor cherishes them as a proper father should. Sitting right-perpendicular to him is his deputy-representative Salazar Augustin Davila, next to Salazar is his brother Tomas Augustin Davila, deputy-head of the department of diplomatic affairs. And next to the Davila brothers is Colonel Hans Hermann Ritter, commander of the 1st Eagle Warrior guard regiment and head of the emperor’s personal protection detail.

Further down the hierarchy, are other leaders and elites- industry magnates like Joaquin Maria Tanaka, president of the government owned Petromex, and owner of controlling interests in several other key industries (it’s always important to keep a close contact with all the elites of society, not just the formal ones) sits next to Maria Teresa. Governor Armando Caramel Calles, head of the Veracruz division, and Army Chief of Staff Saturnino Bahamonde sit opposite each other, but next to the “inner circle.” Tanaka, Bahamonde, and Caramel together represent three fifths of what is unofficially known as the “Mexican Cathedral” or the power network which keeps the emperor in charge- in the truest sense one can say, “in charge”.

Farther down this hierarchy are obscure government officials, bureaucrats, cultural leaders, and low-ranking civil servants. They all have their place. Not all of them are loyal to the emperor for ideological or personal reasons, many are there because they recognize that they are wholly dependent on the emperor for their status, and thus stay loyal for mercenary reasons. They sit far away from the emperor as a tacit acknowledgement of this possibility but are rewarded anyways for their service. Some would-be revolutionaries would dismiss the idea that a free dinner was any kind of worthy reward, but only ingrates scoff at free food.

And food was not scarce here. The long table – “La mesa larga” – as it is colloquially known, was stuffed with food. Just over a dozen kinds of dishes were on the table. Every evening the cooks would prepare different kinds of meals, and guests would enjoy a large variety of meals. It was generally considered rude to talk about politics (among other unpleasant things) but here it was very normal. For most this dinner would be the only place any of the government magistrates could meet with the emperor outside of a scheduled meeting. Yesterday, the conversation was about the canal. Today, its about Japan. Tomas had managed to earn the emperors ear.

“The Japanese have expressed interest in investing in our petroleum industry. I also have telegrams expressing interest in developing closer ties…”

The emperor looked at Tomas and finished chewing his food. He started; “You know how I feel about foreigners investing in our economy.”

“I know however it may prove important towards supercharging our oil industry. It is a government imperative…”
The emperor cut him off – “I know the importance of the oil industry. However, we should not be eager to accept money from anyone who offers us talents.”

The Emperor paused for a few moments to take another bite out of his food. He seemed to be in contemplation, and when he finished, he spoke once more -“Let them know we are interested and would like to make a meeting between our countries representatives. Make no promises but assure them that we are willing to come to terms. Don’t bother me with the details.”

Tomas nodded and the following day after the meeting he sent the following telegram to the relevant Japanese authorities:

We endeavor to foster closer relations between our nations and to that end we invite your representatives to our capital in order to discuss the things proposed in earlier diplomatic channels. We send our regards to the emperor.

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Tracian Empire
Postmaster of the Fleet
 
Posts: 24417
Founded: Mar 01, 2014
Father Knows Best State

Postby Tracian Empire » Fri May 01, 2020 7:25 pm

Image
Βασιλεία τῶν Ῥωμαίων
Basileia tōn Rhōmaiōn
The Empire of the Romans

Βασιλεία Ῥωμαίων
Basileía Rhōmaíōn
The Roman Empire

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

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



Ρώμη, 1906 μ.Χ., 7414 ε.Κ
Roma, MMDCLIX AUC
An Emperor and an Empress


He had no idea what to expect. Moments of agonising silence passed as she simply looked at him, as she was thinking, as if.. as if she didn't believe him. She sighed, looking away from him and fiddling with her belt, leaving him to desperately think whether he had said something wrong, whether he should have said something more.. He had no idea what to do. There was no chapter in the Book of Ceremonies about how to deal with such a situation, and he had never been taught how to deal with something like this, and he had no one to turn towards..and no one to use a model. He didn't even want to think about his father. He knew all too well what Andronikos would have said, if he would have seen him, right here, and right now, if he would have listened, and heard what he had said. Even if his father was dead, Michael couldn't' help but still feel a little afraid, as if this..betrayal of his father's beliefs could still invoke his wrath. And as for what his father would have done or said, had he been in his position.. he couldn't afford to even entertain that line of thought. He wasn't his father, and yet sometimes, he was afraid that deep inside, he was..and yet, this entire situation should have been more than enough to convince anyone that he wasn't. He had been just so naive..when he had decided to come to Rome, he had thought that this was going to be like their meeting as children. That she would be friendly, that she would understand him, that he could easily convince her of his good intentions.. how childish of him. And how egoistical. He had only ever thought about this from his perspective, from his point of view alone.. never from hers.

And then he heard the sound of her heels on the floor, and she finally said something.

"Proprium humani ingenii est odisse quem laeseris"

"It belongs to human nature to hate those you have injured.", he murmured in response, smiling sadly. "Tacitus." And despite how opaque it seemed to be, to answer his question with a quote from an ancient author, he understood.. or at least he tried to. He had injured her. Not directly, and not personally.. not as Michael, but as the Basileus. It seemed that she had expected him to be a second Andronikos.. like most others. And while it was difficult.. he tried to understand how she thought. He tried to understand, what changed. From when they
were little..

Many years ago

The little girl had looked carefully at him, and once again, the boy was worried...and a little afraid. Was.. was him telling her that he had no idea how to make friends.. a sign of weakness? Something that would make his father angry? Something that would make her angry? Could it be? Could it have been.. a mistake? Was his father going to come back and scream?

But no, instead of that, they continued to remain alone, just the two of them.. and Alessandra did something that he would have never expected her to. He was a little cold, as the simple and yet ceremonial attire that he was wearing was not very well suited for this weather.. but he had of course not told his father or any of the servants anything about it. A little cold is something that he should just endure, right? What if he would have been a legionary in Britannia? As a prince, he had to be ready to resist some cold at least. But despite his commitment, he was shaking a little, and she noticed it. The girl walked to him, took off her fur, and draped it over him with a smile and with kind words..he suddenly felt warm, and it wasn't just because of the fur. He wasn't.. used to people being nice to him.. not this way. Most of them were nice, one way or another.. but their niceness was always.. cold. Far away. Hers.. hers was something else. It reminded him of his sister a little.. but not quite. And he and Alessandra were not siblings to begin with, so this niceness.. was this.. was this part of being friends?


"Thank you..", he tried to tell her, hesitatingly, clearly affected, and in a voice that was a lot softer and less confident than before. "I.. I'm not sure, but..", he seemed to hesitate a little yet again, but he smiled. "If we're friends, and you'll never need help.. about anything.. you can always ask me!"


How times change

"Not if you had injured them without realising...", he finally said. "I thought that I could just repair everything that my father had broken, without actually thinking about the things that he had done. It was naive of me to think that I could just fix everything just by coming here.. and I was an egoist to only think about myself and what I wanted... I am sorry. I am sorry for all that you had to endure because of my father. I am sorry that I came to Rome without announcing you, and.. I'm sorry if anything that I have done since my arrival was wrong. I'm still too inexperienced to know how diplomacy works, but, I know that words can be shallow.. so just tell me.. what I can do to prove it."

And he almost instantly regretted saying that.

She turned around, telling him that he had but one choice..and that's when he saw it. Her hands seemed to be tied by or tangled in the cord that was tied around her waist, even if it took him a few more moments to realise the symbolism, but on her hand, or well, over her glove.. there was a ring.. a ring with the single-headed eagle of the West. And she was asking him to kiss it.

And for a moment.. he felt angry.. he felt.. he felt betrayed. It was as if she was mocking all of his attempts at being friendly, at bringing reconciliation.. it was as if she was just messing around with him and everything he believed in, and all of his hopes.. was he so naive? Did she hate him this much? But the simple thought of his father was enough to douse the flames of this anger before they could even be seen. He was never going to act like Andronikos.. never, no matter what. And then, he noticed just how tense she was.. and tried... he really tried to think like her. To put himself in her position. Not that he could have..but he tried to understand. Was he this threatening? So much so, that the one way through which he could prove that he was telling the truth was to humiliate himself? But he was the one to tell her that he would do anything to prove it.. and at the same time, he..

He admired her. For standing up like this to him, for coming up with such an idea, even for all those thinly veiled jabs.. it was weird.. to have someone standing up to him like that. She might have not realised it, but she was treating him like an equal.. and being treated like an equal was something that he had always wanted. And even more than that, she was just..she was just perfect. He had missed her. Ever since that meeting that they had as children, he had missed her.

"I however only see a single option"..

Michael hesitated awkwardly for a few good moments as he slowly realized that there was no servant around to take care of the scepter, and with no other choice to his disposal, he gently placed it on a nearby table, even if he was fairly certain that he could hear the Master of Ceremonies screeching from somewhere outside of the palace. Just randomly leaving the medieval scepter of the Roman emperors on a table, one of the most important pieces of the imperial insignia, an ancient artifact with what was considered to be one of the nails from Jesus' crucifixion inside? He felt as if all of his ancestors and all of his predecessors on the imperial throne were just looking at him with disappointment. But there was no time to worry about such things. Looking back at her, he took one or two steps forward.. before he hesitated yet again. This was ridiculous. And somewhat ironic. He had fought with rebels as a regular soldier in the deserts of Africa. He had delivered speeches in front of the entire Hippodrome. He had personally talked with all of the members of the Senate. All of those should have been more difficult, in all those instances he should have felt more afraid. Right now, he should have been calm, at ease. He was talking to someone he knew, to the one person in this world that was anywhere close to his rank and position.. and yet he was feeling like Caesar when he was about to cross the Rubicon. Actually, starting a civil war right now suddenly seemed like a viable option.


But no, he had to do it, as intimidating as it was. He had to earn her trust. He had to deserve her trust.

"I meant.. what I said.", he told her, taking another step and coming to a stop right in front of her. It wasn't difficult to see just how tense she was.. but he was clearly just as, or perhaps even a little more anxious. His voice was as confident as always, but his eyes couldn't lie. "Rome can not afford more bloodshed between brothers, more senseless fighting. What use does pride have when you have a dagger to your throat? We can't be Honorius and Arcadius, bickering as the world falls around us. Rome started with fratricide, but we are not bound by a curse. We are not Romulus and Remus, and neither of us has to kill the other."Michael sighed. "I am not my father, and I am not bound by his sins and desires. Or by the beliefs and hopes of my ancestors. I will not treat you as the others see you.", he tried to tell her, as he gently put his hands on the cord, carefully trying to untangle it and help her remove her hands from it. "Titles and ranks are what people perceive them as. I do not see you as a slave, or as a servant, even if your realm has been captive to mine for so long. When I arrived in Rome, I thought that I was going to.. that I was going to meet a friend.. but I hadn't realised that I lost the right to call myself your friend long ago."

Surprisingly, the Basileus managed to return the cord to more or less its original position, with a dexterity that seemed to indicate that he was either used to dealing with ceremonial costumes or with tying the hands of the people, but he left her no time to think about it. "But I would do anything to earn that right again." Saying that, the amber eyed man bowed, as deeply as he could without his ridiculously heavy crown falling. He took her hand into his, and after a moment of dither, his lips touched the ring. "For you, and for Rome."

Standing back up and straightening his back, Michael smiled as he looked at her again. "Will you help me then, Caesura? Not as my inferior, but as an empress and my equal. Will you stand together with me, as Augustus and Augusta, as a Basileus and a Basilissa?" Standing in front of her as he was, he leaned in to softly kiss her right cheek, before moving on to the left, in a calculated, ceremonial manner, as if he had done it a thousand times before. However, as soon as the ceremonial greeting was done, the Basileus seemed to suddenly realise something that he had completely missed before - that their faces were so close together that they could basically nearly touch. Instead of backing away, he looked directly in her eyes, for a few more moments, before he leaned in just a little again..until his lips touched hers. It only lasted for a heartbeat.. before Michael took a step back, his face turning just as red as the rubies on his loros...



Σῆρες, 1906 μ.Χ., 7414 ε.Κ
Seres, 1906 A.D., 7414 since the creation of the world
A lost prince


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

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

His father.

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

Until she arrived.

Three years had passed since they had met, since the procession from far away lands had reached the God-Guarded City. Three years since a princess from Seres had mocked him, only for them to become the best of friends.. only for her to become his first friend. Dinah. Dinah and Cixi had been the ones to teach him how to dream again, how to hope again. How even the darkest prisons sometimes had a way out.

And then of course, a year ago.. his father had as always decided to ruin and break and shatter everything. The foreign delegation had left, his friends had left with them, without him even being able to say goodbye.. and that was when he had truly abandoned all this pointless daydreaming. There was nothing he could do, nothing he could ever do. There was nothing wrong about accepting the truth. He wasn't one of those brave heroes of old, like Digenes Akritas or Alexios Komnenos, to rebel against the unjust world, to fight for what he believed in and win. Weak people simply had to submit, and to do what they were told. There was no way out.. and there was never going to be one..

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

And now, he was on a ship, further away than any Roman prince had ever been, so far away that Constantinople was but a dream..and he was going to meet her again... he hoped..

"My prince?"

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

The prince pushed the chair back and stood up. There was nothing remarkable about his height, taller than some, shorter than others, but he seemed to be pretty thin, even somewhat skinny. His skin was pretty pale for what you would expect from a Roman, and his messy blonde hair, and light green eyes weren't particularly helping his status as a son of the New Rome. Despite that, he was dressed in the conservative fashion of the imperial court, with a long white chiton, and a purple dalmatica over it. He seemed to hesitate for a few moments, looking at the book, before finally deciding to leave. And leaving at that moment was probably a good choice, as it allowed him to see something that he might have otherwise missed.

As soon as he set foot on the ship's main deck, he saw it above them - the largest and tallest bridge he had ever seen in his entire life. The river they were on, the Yangtze, was already gargantuan - putting the Dounavis to shame, but to think that someone would be able to build such a bridge over it was truly awe-inspiring. The Basiléus Ioustinianós was a pre-dreadnought battleship, one of the biggest the Romaïkó Nautikó was able to offer, but even it was able to just barely pass underneath it. And yet the prince chuckled - thinking what his father's reaction would have been was rather amusing - it would seem that the barbarians of Seres weren't as barbaric as the previous Basileus would have thought.

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

Soon..




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Βασιλεία τῶν Ῥωμαίων
Basileia tōn Rhōmaiōn
The Empire of the Romans

Βασιλεία Ῥωμαίων
Basileía Rhōmaíōn
The Roman Empire

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

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



To Theos Ligyron, Foreign Minister of Yavanarajya


As the people of Yavanarajya know, the violence and bloodshed of the past decades have been very shocking to the people of Rome, and many still bear a grudge due to the different ways in which our nations see the world, its order, and how it should be. But our new Basileus, may God grant him many years, has decided in his wisdom, to extend a hand of friendship to the people of Yavanarajya. As such, the Empire of the Romans would like to send Leonidas Vasko as our Legatos to Alexandria in the Āryāvarta. The Emperor, Senate, and People of Rome would also want to grant you the invitation to send a representative of Yavanarajya to Constantinople.



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

His Imperial Majesty, Mikhael Palaiologos, in Christ Basileus and Autokrator of the Romans, Kaisar and Despot of the New Rome, Forever Sebastos and Sotiras, Sebastokrator and Nobelissimos, Porphyrogennetos, Viceroy of Jesus Christ on Earth, the Pious and the Blessed, Defender of the One True Orthodox Faith, Great Protector of the Holy Cities of Constantinople, Rome, Antioch, Jerusalem, and Alexandria, Lord of Our Sea, Sovereign of the Holy Order of the True Cross, Grand Master of the Order of Saint Andrew, of the Order of Constantine the Great and of the Order of Justinian the Great, Emperor of Emperors, King of Kings, Ruling Over Those Who Rule
I'm a Romanian, a vampire, an anime enthusiast and a roleplayer.
Hello there! I am Tracian Empire! You can call me Tracian, Thrace, Thracian, Thracr, Thracc or whatever you want. Really.

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Remnants of Exilvania
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Postby Remnants of Exilvania » Sat May 02, 2020 7:26 am

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January 1906
Prague Castle
Kingdom of Bohemia

"Your majesty, the Mexicans have just informed us that there will be another delay and that they need an increase in funding if that delay is to remain minor."

, the humble advisor, Karel Frantisek, said, still holding the telegram from which he had received these news in his hands. It was 10 o'clock in the morning and his majesty, the Reichsverweser of the Central European Empire and King of Bohemia, Ottokar III of House Kolowrat, was only just waking up from yet another long night. Karel had heard the servants had found him asleep in his study, collapsed over a stack of maps, and then carried him into his bedroom where they had undressed the royal and put him in his bed. If the King noticed that he hadn't woken up where he had fallen asleep, he certainly masterfully concealed it, instead massaging his forehead while groaning, both out of frustration and because he was still tired:

"Again? For Christ's sake, did they oversleep on their siestas too often or what was the problem this time?"

More servants entered, bringing clothes for the king and helping him get into them. Karel took care to avert his eyes, not intent on breaching his majesty's privacy too much. When he looked again, his majesty was atleast already wearing pants and socks and was out of bed, buttoning up a plain white shirt.

"Oh, the usual. Plans having been made too optimistically."

The King was finished with his shirt, shooing away the servants now and demanding fresh coffee and a warm breakfast to be brought to his bedroom immediately. Karel knew why. The King and the Queen were...not on the best terms so the King tended to try and avoid the presence of his wife. One of the servants had opened a window, letting in some fresh air into the otherwise rather stuffy room. One had a good view from the window, seeing the Karlsbridge and much of the city. It was a view he knew the King enjoyed as he stood at the window and looked down at the city, his city.

"Well, there is little I can do. This entire project has been a huge budget-drain and I honestly have better things to spend our limited budget on. Send them an official missive that we will have to stop funding their canal project for the foreseeable future but hope that our past contributions will be remembered."

Karel bowed, memorizing that and trying to leave the room when suddenly the door came his way and smashed right into his face, sending him staggering backwards and holding his nose. Another servant had just entered and he looked mortified about what he had just done, stuttering:

"M-m-m-master Frantisek! I-I am so-so-so very very sorry! Are you al-alright?!?"

Karel, only further enraged by the servants dumb stuttering, surged forward with a roar and grabbed him by his collar, pinning him to the door and shouting at him:

"Can't you fucking knock you retarded dipshit!?! What the hell were you thi-"

"Frantisek!"

Karel immediately stopped when he heard the voice of his monarch. Albeit he still held the servant by his collar and his veins were still beating on his forehead and neck, he did not shout at the servant any more. Instead he tried to calm down, make himself a bit more presentable before turning his head and asking:

"Yes, your majesty?"

To which the king, still looking out over the city, replied:

"Keep it down please. I am not keen on hearing such a high amount of vulgar profanities this early in the day."

"Yes, your majesty!"

Karel then returned his attention to the servant, a grown man who was now having tears in his eyes. He was about to continue his tirade when he noticed that the servant held two telegrams in his hand.

"Give me that!"

, he spat, ripping those telegrams straight out of the servant's hand while letting go off his collar. Then he violently shoved him out of the door, telling him to scram.

"I see you decided against venting on that servant any further, Frantisek. I assume that has a reason?"

, the king said, still breathing the relatively fresh morning air into his lungs while Karel was busy reading through the telegrams he had received. These things were indeed much more important than screaming down some servant and threatening his family with lifelong imprisonment. News from the north and the east.

"News, your majesty. News. Both 'domestic' and foreign."

"The domestic news last please. They are always such a headache."

"Very well, your majesty. It appears that the revolutionary filth from the Indian subcontient, the Yadayadayada Socialist Republic, is attempting to...reconcile itself with the nations of the civilized world."

Both the king and Karel snorted at that before breaking out into a hearty laugh. The disdain of Central European nobility for any kind of political or social change was well documented and had been proven time and again. Predominantly by force of arms.

"I don't think those dirty savages deserve anything but the tip of our bayonets and you know that, Frantisek. Do inform the dukes and kings though that I suggest they keep a tight watch on any revolutionary elements within their countries. As for Bohemia...well...I suppose an example could be in order? Speak with the Police Minister and ask him to put together a list of a dozen of the most radical and influential revolutionaries we currently have in jail. Then have them executed."

Karel bowed, a smile still adorning his face. He would pass that order along with pleasure.

"Are those all the foreign issues that have been swept to my doorstep?"

"Yes, your majesty. Only the domestic news remain and these are merely reports from the north. The dukes there are growing restless with tensions increasing in the north. A war between the Northern States Association and the Russian Republic appears to be on the horizon."

The king groaned in annoyance, seemingly about to bash his skull against the window frame.

"As always the domestic issues are the worst. Of course, they're smelling blood, they're smelling opportunities. Opportunities to bash those damned Scandinavians' faces in."

The king's mood was deteriorating quickly after having soared so high just before. Probably because these news hit so much closer to home than those from the Yavanarajya Socialist Republic. Still, surely it couldn't be that bad. Karel knew that the militaries up north were small and poorly equipped. They wouldn't be able to put up much of a fight should it come to blows. In hopes of brightening the mood of his sovereign, he decided to voice that opinion:

"Well, your majesty, allow me to say this, the northern Duchies are poorly equipped for any kind of war. I doubt they would be able to deal much damage against the Scandinavians all on their own. Perhaps we could even make use of it a-"

He didn't get further, the king's fist slamming into the window frame with full force, slightly splintering it. As the fist withdrew, splinters stuck in it and a little bit of blood seeped out. Blood the king absent-mindedly wiped off on his fresh, white shirt.

"You don't understand. We can't let them get defeated. We can't afford to look weak, we can't afford to become weaker as well. I personally would much prefer it if they wouldn't set out on any adventures up in the north but there is little I can do to change their mind that wouldn't worsen the situation.

However, directly aiding them isn't a solution either. The Romans aren't far and I doubt the Austrians would put up anything but token resistance should they strike. Not to mention that Bohemia is the bulwark against the Russians and Slovaks should they decide to strike into the Empire.

No, perhaps...perhaps it is time for the Imperial Army to...'shine'."

"The Imperial Army?!?"

, Karel shouted, surprised at that. The Imperial Army was...well known within the entire Empire for being underfunded and highly, highly, highly unreliable, taking up arms for any cause or leader that would promise better times for them. Wether that was short term or long term and only as long as it looked achievable. Most of the time they were quite unsuccessful at what they did, owed largely to their poor equipment and poor training but that didn't erase the fact that they were a sizeable military force. Just...what good would it do to deploy them offensively?

"Yes, the Imperial Army. The at times revolutionary, at times oppressive force of armed idiots that we can throw at any problem. The force that has been increasingly problematic for us to handle. I think throwing them into a war up in the north would be the perfect opportunity to get rid of them."

That line of thinking would've made sense to Karel if it wasn't for one tiny little problem. The Imperial troops were quite fond of their lives. Getting them into a fight was already difficult enough. Getting them to actually attack the far superior Scandinavian troops was madness. A concern he of course voiced.

"You are correct there Frantisek. But if there is one thing the Imperial Army cannot resist, then it is the lure of a better life."

Karel was a question mark by this time. How was the king going to provide the Imperial Army with a better life or atleast the promise of one? Integrating them into the Royal Bohemian Army was not an option, both because it would cause an outcry among the dukes and also because it would be expensive and make the loyalty of the army to its monarch much more questionable. He remained quiet this time, knowing that his king would eloborate on what he meant anyway.

"We can be sure that the northern dukes will only start a war they believe they can win. Which would be after any potential invasion of Finland by the Russians. Such an invasion would inevitably lead to the Association withdrawing troops from the Eider, which will create the opportunity the northern dukes crave so badly.

We can also guess what they want. The duke of Mecklenburg-Holstein will doubtlessly be looking to absorb Slesvig into his realm. To that end he has garnered the support of both Hannover and Pommerania, both of which are looking towards having the Association knocked down a peg but don't have any immediate territorial wishes.

So what if we increase the stakes? The goal of the war extends from regaining Slesvig to kicking the Association completely off the Central European mainland. We take all of Jutland and offer the Imperial Troops to become the new rulers of Jutland. The title of Duke of Jutland for the commander of the army. Noble titles for all other officers. Land for the soldiers and secure pay for the soldiers. These promises coupled with the possibility of a weak enemy and little to no resistance should be all that would be required to get the Imperial Army on the offensive.

Not that we intend to actually do so. Once victory has been achieved, the northern dukes will move in and eliminate the remnants of the Imperial Army. Only loyal members instrumental in bringing about its end will be rewarded with lands and titles in Jutland. They will serve as a form of controlling mechanism to ensure that the new government we set up in the new Duchy of Jutland will not stray from the Empire.

Of course, the Dukes will have to go with me on this...but what if I offered my support for the annexation of Slesvig and offered to further cut the imperial tithe due to the lack of an Imperial Army to pay for? Of course not fully, I think I might just have a use for the budget that would be freed up by this. The Mexicans still need money for their canal and it is important that we continue having good relations and support from the only nation in the new world that shares our ideology and system."

Karel's mouth was hanging wide open when the king finished. He had to admit that he had not expected the king to have come up with such a detailed plan. This could indeed finally end the issue that was the Imperial Army, it would provide new funding for the Mexican Canal Project and better the relations between the two nations. And it would bind the northern dukes closer to Bohemia. A flawless plan if everything would truly go as planned.

Karel bowed deeply, knowing that it was now time for him to do his duties, to show just how useful he was to his monarch:

"Very well, your majesty. I will have telegrams composed for the Mexicans to inform them about a temporary draught in our spending for their project. I will also compose telegrams to all the monarchs to advise them on setting examples against revolutionary action. I will of course make additions to inform that that the Imperial Army will be gathered and deployed in the north to ensure that the ducal armies can escort them adequately northwards. And of course I will also propose your ideas to the northern dukes."

"Yes, do that Frantisek. And don't forget about the executions. I demand those to be done before the end of the week."

"Of course, your majesty."

Karel bowed again, keeping his head low as he backed out of the room and immediately started on his duties. Things were definitely getting interesting again.
Ex-NE Panzerwaffe Hauptmann; War Merit Cross & Knights Cross of the Iron Cross
Woodhouse Loyalist & Inactive BLITZKRIEG Foreign Relations Minister
REST IN PEACE HERZOG FRIEDRICH VON WÜRTTEMBERG! † 9. May 2018
Furchtlos und Treu dem Hause Württemberg für alle Ewigkeit!

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