It is my unfortunate duty to inform you that due to a recent incursion of Sudanese raiders my forces will be required along the border to strike out against these raiders and teach them a lesson about stealing from me. These operations will take quite awhile and as such I will be unavailable on the home front for some time.
Ras Hailu Tekle Haymanot
Addis Ababa, Ethiopian Empire
Seyum Mangasha was the only person in the room to move, sighing heavily in relief as he sat back down in his seat. "Well that is one crisis averted at least. Good thing those Sudanese showed up when they did."
Makonnen Endelkachew and Heruy Welde Sellase snorted at the same time. Endelkachew spoke up. "There are no Sudanese raiding groups large enough to warrant Haymanot using that much force over that long of a time. Haymanot simply wanted to make it clear that he doesn't support either side in this fight."
Tafari Makonnen spoke up then, his voice quiet and controlled. "Heruy, what of other nations, where do they stand?"
Heruy smiled. "Well all we've gotten thus far are wishes of good will and prayers that we succeed in putting down this coup attempt. My sources in the Confederations say that their troops aren't getting ready for an invasion, if anything they say they are looking out for us while we look internally."
Tafari's eyebrows rose for a moment before he nodded slowly. "And the French?"
Heruy shrugged. "Much the same. Wishes for our best health and all that. I can see why since Gugsa Welle is well known for his antagonism against France." Heruy paused. "They've also offered their assistance. With troops."
Mangasha was on his feet as soon as it was said. "You tell those French bastards that if any of their troops cross that border they'll only be coming back in body bags!"
Tafari got to his feet. "Seyum, please. Calm yourself. There is no need for such an outburst." He turned to Heruy. "Right?"
Heruy smiled just a little. "There is no need to worry, I informed them that French troops were not necessary. When they asked again I informed them again that it would not be necessary, and would also not be looked kindly upon."
Tafari nodded and looked to Mangasha, who sat down again. "Keep the border guard on high alert. We don't want any mistakes happening. If we find any French troops crossing the border, they are to be captured and sent back. Do not kill unless absolutely necessary."
Mangasha lowered his head in compliance. "What of Gugsa Welle?"
Tafari sighed. "He will be coming here, I think. But I am not certain whether it will be to apologize or to attack. Keep your troops ready."
Shashemene, Ethiopian Empire
Gugsa Welle crushed the letter he had received in one fist, then slammed it down on his table. "Damn those insufferable cowards!"
One of the Ras that had joined Welle spoke up "Perhaps we should stop now, go to Tafari and ask for his forgiveness."
Welle glared daggers at the man who immediately fell silent. "No, no. That is exactly what he wants me to do. He wants to castrate me like he did Balcha Safo. Add another Ras to his pitiful collection. I will not stand for it! I will strike against Tafari even if it is just myself!" He looked at the collection of Ras who had supported him, half looked uneasy, but they did not speak out against him.
"How many men do we have?" He called out. One of the Ras responded. "About 20,000 men, and a collection of tanks."
Gugsa Welle grinned. "That is more than enough. The size of Tafari's armies will slow them down. They will not be able to catch us. Gather the troops!"
"Damn Ethiopes..." muttered the most senior member. "They couldn't have picked a worst time to melt down could they?"
The middle chair, a quiet mousy looking man with a knack for accurate longterm predictions and cautious planning replied "It could have been worse; don't jinx it. Our border has been quiet, and we're not embroiled in anything else that would give the impression that our territory in the region is somehow up for grabs."
"How many troops do you think would be an appropriate show to send without the implication of possible offensive maneuvers?"
"For now, I don't even think that would be necessary. A tighter border patrol, maybe move some of the troops from inland stations to the border. It's important to give the right impression here, in case the situation turns... unpredictable. Stability and security will do more for us than any obvious show of force."
"Seems reasonable for now. We can always beef up our deployment later, and I don't think that anything could develop fast enough that our troops on the ground couldn't handle it until reinforced. There's a reason we have an elite guard regiment deployed there; no reason not to utilize it. You've been quiet over there; something on your mind?"
Pierre had been woolgathering, not really paying attention to the conversation. "Not particularly. As you've said, Ethiopia is something to keep an eye on but nothing we need worry ourselves about currently. I'm more concerned with the rumblings in the Caribbean and America flexing her muscle. I'm glad our new world colonies are farther south away from the mess, but it's another indication of the building tensions."
"Agreed. And it's becoming harder to project power with the expanded globe; messages are quick enough but hardware hardly seems improved from a century ago."
"I'd like to see an increase in funding for carrier plane development. It seems the ability to engage with the enemy at a distance farther than cannon range would be beneficial. With the recent super heavy battleship developments, I'm leery of our ability to successfully engage in any kind of open water skirmish."
"They don't use cannons anymore."
"Poetic license if you will. I've seen some reports of possibly modifying some bombs to act as torpedoes; no reason we couldn't modify our current crop of fighters to carry a few of them and run some field tests."
"Sounds reasonable. I'll have a draft mocked up and we can present it on the floor next session. Anything else come from your meetings with the military chiefs?"
"Aside from the usual demands for more money and materials, nothing serious. I read an interesting, if not highly disturbing, paper about some developments that I'd like to get some more information about before we look into funding that research. I'll have it delivered to your office if you'd like."
"As you will. If there's nothing else, it looks like we might get out of here in time for a reasonable dinner hour."
Never shall innocent blood be shed, yet the blood of the wicked shall flow like a river.
The three shall spread their blackened wings and be the vengeful striking hammer of god.
Gabor Ilona put her feet on the desk and exhaled a cloud of cigarette smoke. There was a knock on her door. "Yes?"
"The Prime Minister is here to see you," said her secretary.
"Well send him in, of course," she said as she took another drag on her ebony cigarette holder.
"Ilona," said Anton. "Somehow you're not quite the image of a stodgy politician. Very Bohemian."
"Either are you, my dapper aristocratic friend."
"I hope you were more conventional when meeting our German friends."
"I was the model of decorum. You would have been proud."
"So what did our German friends want?"
"You'll love this Prime Minister. They're prepared to recognize any and all claims of ours to the Balkans."
"How generous of them," said Constantinescu. "To give us territory we already own or belongs to the Romans."
"Yes," she said. "One would think they want us to fight the Romans. Or that the Americans disturbed their confidence."
"Their confidence that France and Germany would easily crush the Roman Empire and ascend to being the dominant European powers? Yes, that. I suppose they intend the rest of the Roman's territory between them."
"So?" she asked. "
"So," he replied, "I will bring this to the king and General Staff and then we'll see."
Summary
Germans recognize Hungarian claims in the Balkans
Last edited by Cynical Cat on Wed Jan 06, 2010 1:02 am, edited 1 time in total.
It's not that I'm unforgiving, it's that most of the people who wrong me are unrepentant assholes.
To: The Embassies of all Governments
From: Staatsminister Johann Frosch, Deutches Federalische Republik
To all Heads of State and Designated Delegations,
The world's economy is changing. Recent advances in technology have made trade on a global scale more profitable than it has been at any point in the history of the world, leading to rapid increases in prosperity for people of all nations and of all levels of society. It is past time that leaders from all nations come together and openly discuss these developments and what implications they have for policy decisions and with luck work toward the development of a common framework upon which to conduct international trade and finance, and to facilitate the free and open exchange of information so that policy makers can make decisions that are better informed and thus take advantage of new developments as they come about.
As a result of these considerations we wish to formally invite you to attend a three day International Trade and Policy Summit to be held on September 21st, 1930. The location is to be Bundestag Building located in Hamburg, the capital city and largest port in our Republic. It is our sincere hope that each nation sends a delegation to this conference and that we can work together to benefit not just ourselves, but eachother and future generations.
"Nothing in biology makes sense except in the light of evolution."
- Theodosius Dobzhansky
There is no word harsh enough for this. No verbal edge sharp and cold enough to set forth the flaying needed. English is to young and the elder languages of the earth beyond me. ~Frigid
The Holocaust was an Amazing Logistical Achievement~Havoc
Ao Gangrong ran his hands down the massive page of his Bible. It was a large book, red leather with golden bindings. One of the first prints from after the Heavenly Uprising. It had the Old Testament, the New Testament and the Testament of Hong Xuoqang. The pages were thin with large artistic Chinese characters printed on them. It was beautiful. His father had given to him before he left as a gift, perhaps the greatest gift he could have given.
He looked up, it was dim in the back room of the store he was set up in. He couldn't have a proper church, the Demon Worshiping Japanese would not allow it. They were harsh on the Catholics and Muslims considering them adherents of foreign faiths, encouraging conservation to worship of the Japanese Emperor and Buddhism. Both groups were stiff necked though and in the main refused to turn.
Chinese Missionaries on the other hand found the ground softer. With the deaths of many Catholic priests and Bishops, there were a need for priests and learned clergy. That was where the Taiping came in.
His converts filtered in and he smiled.
"I will read from John Chapter 3 today." He said..
Xian Imperial:
Jiang Shiming kept his head low as he walked past the Xian soldiers. He dare not draw attention to himself on the way to service. The numbers of the faithful were low in the lands of Xian. He touched his pocket with the medal inside. He would do his part to help those numbers grow.
He drew closer to the house of the merchant that hosted the church. The faithful instead met in their homes. Where ever there are 3 or more gather in his name there he is also. He trudged to the back door, like a servant. He would keep up the pretense in order to serve his flock.
Thailand:
Tao Junli stood in front of the chapel bowing to the exiting congregation after the sermon. The church was small honestly but healthy. His members bowed back has they left as they did every week. One an old lady came little closer then others as she bowed touching his hand.
Tao tucked the paper into his robe. He would read it after sundown. He turned to look at his church, it was a single room building made of stone and wood. Simple and modest, but it served the needs of his church. The cross with a sword stood out front.
Mongolia:
"Good evening, pastor." whispered the man. He was a minor official of the Khan's court. A clerk. A recent convert who kept his conversion a secret and has such met his priest only when he was sure to be unobserved.
Angou smiled at the young man and opened his door wider. He was staying above a small shop he ran. An herbal shop, Angou was a fairly skilled at medicine both western and traditional. Not only was he able to support himself, but it allowed him to met with his flock discreetly.
"Come in my friend. Let us tend to what is troubling you." He said with a smile.
"it takes two sides to end a war but only one to start one. And those who do not have swords may still die upon them." Tolken
Reginald Baden-Grey had been looking forward to a quiet Sunday after the morning's Church services with his wife and grandchildren when the footman at his home had informed him of the call. An hour later the Foreign Secretary was presenting himself to men of Californian complexion in the formal uniform of the King's Own Spanish Guards at the entrance to the Caroline Palace, somewhat irritated at being taken from his family on one of the rare days he was available to them.
Within one of the smaller dining rooms he found those who had called him. King Alexander and Queen Larissa were seated side by side, wearing comfortable but still formal attire, with the PM in a suit as Baden-Grey now was across from them. A light lunch of sandwiches and various vittles was laid out. "Your Majesties..." Baden-Grey bowed formally to his Sovereign and the Queen before nodding and saying, "Prime Minister" to Stephen, who sat quietly across from the Royals. "How may I assist you?"
"Lord Reginald, please, have a seat. Have you had lunch?"
"Yes, Your Majesty," Baden-Grey answered politely, in doing so refusing to take from what was likely a very enjoyable lunch selection. He preferred to get this business over with.
"We asked you here to consult on the issue growing to the east," Stephen stated, rather unsettled himself. PMs only truly had Sundays off, it was said, and the President had a son studying intently to go to Prep school for a Naval career it was known. It occurred to Baden-Grey that he had not been the first to be given a summons to the Caroline Palace this day. "The papers are reporting a breakdown in the Yankee-Mexican talks and that troop movements on their borders are growing. We are faced with the prospect of a major North American War the likes of which has not been seen in sixty years."
"Yes, it would be a most dreadful thing," Baden-Grey agreed. The nightmare of Pacifican policy had always been the issue of a US-Mexico conflict breaking out finally, as it opened thorny questions about the choices Pacifica could and would make, all with potentially severe consequences.
"Stephen convinced us we should run our proposal by you, Lord Reginald," Alexander noted, his use of the plural not being any formal court language - to denote a monarch using plural to refer to himself as both an individual and as the Sovereign, embodiment of the State - but rather to indicate the role his wife had undoubtedly played in formulating this. "It occured to us that we could extent to our neighbors our mediation in their disputes, as a way to ensure peace."
Baden-Grey gave no outward indication of how he felt about that, but he knew the Prime Minister could see his apprehension and likely felt it as well. "Your Majesty, to become involved in this situation is to subject the nation to the danger of the crisis. If the talks fail, there will be war anyway and our intervention can be used as blame on our part for causing it. If they succeed, then those who approve of the outcome will expect us to help maintain it and those who disapprove will blame us for that result."
"Should we not at least seek re-assurance that our neutrality would be recognized and honored?", Larissa asked.
"We could, yes, but even such might be dangerous. Some might wonder why we seek such re-assurances, if we are planning to exploit any war to our own ends. Honestly, Your Majesty, the safest route is to stay out."
"And yet...." Stephen had sipped at his tea and now breathed a sigh. "I am haunted by the warning of the Florentine Machiavelli."
"Hrm, Prime Minister?"
Looking at the Baden-Grey and then the Royals, Stephen sipped the tea again and then explained. "The Prince, Chapter 21. Machiavelli relates a story from antiquity, of the preparations of Antiochus to attack Rome at behest of the Aetolians. Antiochus dispatches an envoy to the Aegeans, friendly to Rome, to seek their neutrality. Rome's legation points out to their assembly afterward that neutrality was not safe. That it would simply leave the Aegeans at the mercy of the victor with the loser having no motive to help them. Machiavelli agrees with this, restating the point that neutrality, sought by the irresolute, was usually not safe, but a danger in of itself."
"Are you suggesting we take sides?", the King asked pointedly.
"No, but I am suggesting we do not rely too strongly on our neutrality, Your Majesty. Certainly we are best served by the maintenance of the balance of power in the Continent. If either state becomes too powerful at the expense of the other it threatens our security. But we must tread carefully in our policies and remember not to exceed our means. Our armies are not the vast motorized forces Mexico and the US field. They are orientated to the defense of our territories, and with the need to restore our economy and infrastructure we will not be able to field the forces to match their offensive mobility for many years." Stephen leaned forward, putting his hands on the table. "Your Majesties' intentions are honorable and noble. The desire for peace is always such. But in the realm of international politics a desire for peace is not always taken at face value, but as a public gesture and diplomatic tool to hide more selfish desires. The US and Mexico may see in such attempts to secure peace a desire to play them against each other and dominate the continent. If they both agree to treaties of peace with us, they may come to see it as us standing by to have them devastate each other and grant us superiority over both by default. If only one signs peace, they may yet suspect we desire to have them become ruined in war with the other so that we might fall upon the weakened victor, while the side that does not sign peace may fear being boxed in by its two neighbors and will escalate plans for war. If neither signs then we are back where we started, but with the added loss that they will undoubtedly feel reason to suspect our commitment to peace due to our talks with them failing."
Alexander and Larissa listened quietly at Stephen's remarks. "Would Presidents Kincaid and del Fuego truly think such of our intentions?", Alexander asked with a somber tone. He clearly didn't like what his Prime Minister had just pointed out to him.
"Perhaps not, but their subordinates might. Individual legislators, generals and admirals, newspapermen. Key advisors or leading men of state who wield influence and can pressure the government to enact their views. You cannot convince all of either nation of our sincerity, sadly."
"So we can do nothing?" Larissa's voice retained its usual intelligent gentleness but there was more than a hint of genuine sadness there. "We must simply stand and wait for war to threaten everything we cherish, directly or indirectly? My King, do we not have an obligation to try anyway? In the name of God and of Humanity as a whole, should we not make a strong appeal for peace regardless of the way lesser men may unfairly suspect our motives? Is it not the thing for a Christian ruler, and for a Christian nation, to do?"
Baden-Grey tensed, well aware of how the Queen's words could sway the young monarch who's heart she had long stolen. Stephen watched silently. Her words struck a chord with him too. As a young man, not yet 20, he had smelled his whiffs of gunpowder in the Battle of Cape York near the end of the Klavo-Pacifican War. As a midshipman on HMS Majestic, given an early commission due to war, he had felt the ship shake hard from the impact of a Klavostani naval gun, had seen the bodies of other young men fly into the sea or cover the deck with blood, some he had known, talked with, ate with. To this day he still had a ring in his ears from the firing of the guns he had helped to man. He, more than the life-long civil servant Baden-Grey, knew well what war would mean for many young men, the families it could shatter, the mothers left widowed and children orphaned.
Alexander looked somberly at his wife and then to the two Government ministers before him. "It would please us if you were to try anyway, gentlemen," he said, his voice firm in tone if soft in word. "We will allow others to think of our offers as they will, but we will not allow fear of how our motives may be misread to stop us from doing what is right."
That prompted nods. The two ministers asked the King's pardon to leave and it was granted. On the way through the courtyard and to the motor pool where their vehicles and attendant drivers awaited, Baden-Grey showed a disappointed look at Stephen. "Mister Prime Minister, this will be dangerous. Shouldn't we delay, maybe give time for the rest of the Cabinet in joining is in persuading the King to desist from this unwise act? Hopefully in a session where the Queen's naivety will not manage to sway his romantic heart against his rational mind?"
"Yes, Reginald, it will be dangerous," Stephen replied. "But this is not an issue on which the Government and Parliament easily could, or should, stand in opposition to the wishes of the Sovereign. Let his statement and offer be known. It is clear that no matter what position we take, the Empire will be under risk in some way or another should this crisis become war. Perhaps it is even better if we are more proactive than reactive and seek to appeal to the better angels of our neighbors' nature to avoid the war now looming upon the horizon. The alternative is to do nothing and pray our inaction does not become a sin of omission."
Communique sent to the United States Government and the Republic of the Golden Sun
It is with great sorrow that we witness the strain in relations between our neighbours and the growing whispers of war. Terrible enough is the spectre of war upon the soil of North America and the vitality of two of its great nations being expended in great bloodshed and devastation; even worse is that in a world as dangerous and turbulent as our's, even a local crisis or conflict might ignite the fumes of tension elsewhere and set off the catastrophe of a global war. It is with such knowledge and the desire to avoid such horrible events that His Majesty's Government, under the direction of His Majesty King Alexander the Pacific Emperor, calls upon both nations to join the United Kingdom in talks to settle the difficulties that strain the relations of our great continent. It will be our honour to host representatives of the United States and the Republic of the Golden Sun and to provide assistance to the settlement of the problems and disputes causing the current crisis.
His Majesty's Government has great hope that your acceptance of this offer will provide the basis for a lasting peace for all Americans.
Chatniks on the (nonexistant) risks of the Large Hadron Collector:
"The chance of Shep talking his way into the control room for an ICBM is probably higher than that." - Seth
"Come on, who wouldn't trade a few dozen square miles of French countryside for Warp 3.5?" - Marina
Anton Constantinescu bowed. The king waved him into his office. "I take it this is about the German offer?"
"Indeed, your majesty."
"Our claims in the Balkans are old history. We argue with the Romans where the borders should be and in the mean time we trade with each other and keep our soldiers in forts guarding the points where the borders actually are. This is not like that. This is a provocation."
"It is."
"I'm not a fool Anton. I know war is coming. The Poles and the Russians went at it a decade ago and now everyone is arming with the new weapons. The French and the Germans don't even bother to conceal their desire to rearrange the balance of power. This is crass."
"It's also meaningless," said Anton. "The French and Germans are promising to pay us territory that will never be theirs. They want us at least on the sidelines while they dismember the Romans. If we take it they'll think we're weak or fools. Or both."
"We haven't been spending all those florins on the army to be thought weak," remarked Bela V.
"True enough," said Constantinescu. "Besides, we already own the best Balkan territory north of Greece. The Romans know their fortifications. Fighting in the hills and mountains will be bloody work. And the offer? A chunk of the tail end of the Roman Empire? For giving them victory and opening up the Mediterranean? As our Foreign Minister might say, you can call me a whore, but not a cheap one."
"I don't know why you insist on having that woman in your cabinet Anton. She's at least half a witch."
"And a quarter Gypsy. She's as smart as a whip and knows how to knife fight. Also, she can't rise much higher so she's loyaler than a man in her position would be."
Bela shook his head. "As you wish. How will you deal with the Germans and the French?"
Constantinescu grinned. "Well, I was thinking of sending them a quarter Gypsy witch and seeing them twist in the wind. She is our Minister of Foreign Affairs."
"You are an evil man Anton."
"I'm a politician your majesty. It's required."
Summary: Hungarian Foreign Minister Gabor Ilona sent to Germany
It's not that I'm unforgiving, it's that most of the people who wrong me are unrepentant assholes.
Lord Protector Immanuel Cromwell loved the sea and had loved it ever since the first time he had gone on a sea voyage at the age of 5 to visit Ireland with his father on business fifty years prior. Ever since then, even after ascending to the Lord Protectorship at the age of 17, he had still contrived to go out on to the waters as much as his duties and responsibilities would let him.
Thus it was fitting that he was taking a trip back to Ireland with his own son, who too had felt the tug of the oceans. There was trouble with the Irish and some matters of personal justice with regards to men of high importance had to be settled personally and seeing that he had gone the year mostly pent up in London dealing with the Parliament, Immanuel had decided to personally oversee the matter.
However, the current Irish plot would be dealt with later, what mattered now was a rare moment for him to talk with his adult son and to try and impart some of the wisdom that he had gained to the next Lord Protector.
“Jeremiah what do you see as the most important factor that has contributed to our realm’s prosperity and wealth?â€
Last edited by Silence on Thu Jan 07, 2010 8:08 pm, edited 2 times in total.
The Admiral: A game of chess, my dear.
The Woman: I don't play.
The Admiral: You should learn. We're all pawns, my dear. -The Prisoner
"The United States are pushing hard against the KKK menace recently, even activating their reserves, Mi Presidente. I come here now to secure the authorization needed to fully ready our defenses, with the possibility later of activating our reserves. The game is now afoot, as the English say." The speaker was the top aide to Commandant-General de Icaza, now on her fourth visit with his President about this matter. All research and due diligence had been performed, as per rules - it was now time to put plans into reality.
Sitting down with the proffered set of papers, El Presidente del Fuego added his signature to the documents, seeing that his signature was the last one needed to authorize this use of force - the others were added by the other members of the Council. "Thank you. Please, refresh my memory with these plans of the Commandant-General's - are these for fall-back positions along the US-Mexico border?"
"Yes, Mi Presidente," the aide replied, still standing stock still as she answered his President's query. "They are not only to activate our own reserves, but also to establish numerous defenses along that border to support its defense, such as bottlenecks, choke points, dug-in defenses, mines, traps, and the like, as well as adjustable supply lines for all of them."
Nodding somewhat absently, the Mexican President added his signature to the additional forms before handing them back to the aide to the Commandant-General. "Here you are, Melisande," he said with a smile.
Saluting crisply, the aide spun on her heel and walked back toward the trolley that led to the military command complex. Just as her Commandant-General had thought, it hadn't taken long to get authorization after recent events had come to light. It seemed the world was a sleeping giant, beginning to stir - and its thrashings would redraw maps and rethink nations.
(EDIT: April, not March - and not activating reserves just yet)
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"Before you diagnose yourself with depression or low self-esteem, make sure that you are not, in fact, just surrounded by assholes."
- William Gibson
Josh wrote:What? There's nothing weird about having a pet housefly. He smuggles cigarettes for me.
President Kincaid looked at the assembled men before him with a grim look on his face. A map of North America dominated the wall behind him as the discussion of strategies and plans continued. Vice President Vicious was absent from this particular meeting, no doubt in one of his own in Mexico, one that would ideally make none of this ultimately necessary. The northeast zone looked positively barren now, with more and more troops converging in the midwest zone of the United States, there wasn't any real question as to what was likely to happen next, at least without something to change the course of the river. Idly, he thought of the message the Nortons had sent, and shook his head. A delegate had been sent, David Simpson, but so far there had been no response from Mexico. Thus, the military plans continued. The Caribbean Fleet had started moving through the Canal to the Pacific, something that unavoidably raised attention, since one could not hide warships moving through such a narrow space. Several merchant ships noticed the travel of the third fleet, but with luck, very few would notice the fourth fleet's mobilization towards the north.
"..and we'll clearly need to mobilize our reserves soon," said General Summerall.
"Which reserves do you think we'll need, General?" Kincaid asked.
"All of them, sir. Every last man and machine," The older man's voice was final.
"I see. I don't like it, but I'm not seeing many options here. Wait until the end of the month, then start calling up the reserves. Let's hope that sends the message we need, but I want to make sure Alan has a chance down there, and I'd rather not have him get stuck down there with no way back. If we did, we might not have to fight a war at all," The room let a slight chuckle wash over it.
March 31, 1930
The Fields of T'afi, Ethiopian Empire
Gugsa Welle sat atop his pride horse as his units of riflemen and cavalry lined up for battle. They were in a classic formation, ready to strike out at the enemy as was needed. His tanks were right in front, ready to plow through any resistance that they may face. The upstart Marshal would have no chance against his heavy tanks, as he had no doubt been forced to leave much of his supplies behind in order to get here as quickly as he did.
The sun had just risen over the horizon, but there was no sign of his enemy. Welle snorted in disgust. Perhaps the coward had decided not to show after all.
"Sir, look!"
Welle glanced at his scout, then up to where he was pointing. 10 large blimps were just coming into view now and a murmur ran through the assembled me. Air power was still relatively new to Ethiopia, many of these men had never seen an airplane, let alone one of the monstrous blimps which were now coming closer.
Feeling the tension rising, Welle rode out in front of his troops. "Do not fret my brothers! These are merely scouts! Meant to frighten us! But they can do us no harm, eh? Stand strong! The day will be ours!"
Welle was from an old family, and an old tradition. Tanks were still new. Planes were little more than the toys of imbeciles that would never amount to a military threat. Which is why his confidence was shattered when the first of the bombs was dropped. At first Welle thought they were under Artillery bombardment, so loud were the explosions which tore through his carefully organized lines and tore apart his tanks. Then he realized that the Airships were dropping bombs, lots of bombs. The stench of dirt, gunpowder, blood, metal and bile was already heavy in the air from just the first pass. The men who hadn't been blown to pieces were scattering for cover from the death that came from above.
Welle was a powerful man though, and a proud man. Ushering his soldiers he spread them out and prepared for a second pass, what few anti-aircraft guns he had brought that had not been destroyed in the first pass were brought up and were ready by the time the blimps turned around for their second pass. Guns fired into the air, but if they hit anything, it was impossible to tell as the Airships did not falter and did not fall. If anything, their response seemed to be to drop more bombs. Having spread out his troops, the effect physically was not as damaging as the first attack run, but psychologically it was even more devastating than the first. By the time the first line of enemy tanks appeared, a quarter of Welle's men had panicked and run. By the time the first shots had been fired, tearing apart what few tanks he had remaining, half of Welle's army had run. Welle though refused to flee, though many of the Ras around him fled with their men.
Rounding up his remaining men, Welle led a valiant counter-charge against his enemy, but his demoralized and shattered troops quickly lost their momentum and Welle was left isolated among Ethiopian soldiers. One man among the enemy who looked to be high ranking called out to Welle.
"We call upon you to surrender! Give up your arms!"
Welle laughed at the impudent man. He was a warrior, and he would die a warrior. Welle charged forward valiantly, and bullets filled the air, tearing through Welle's horse as well as himself. Both came crashing to the ground, where Welle breathed his last.
April 2, 1930
Addis Ababa, Ethiopian Empire
Empress Zauditu sat in her cold bath, staring blankly at the wall ahead of her. She had not moved in twenty minutes, her breath was coming quicker though as her heart beat wildly, trying to gain control again. Her flu was worse than ever, and the news of her husband's death had hit her hard. Zauditu's head bobbed repeatedly and her eyelids fluttered, then suddenly her body went stiff for one gutwrenching second before it finally relaxed and the Empress Zauditu I's last breath escaped her lips.
Summary:
- The rebel, Ras Gugsa Welle, was defeated in battle at the fields of T'afi, during the course of battle, Ras Gugsa Welle was shot repeatedly and killed.
- The Empress, Zauditu I, having long suffered from a fever among other medical conditions, upon the news of her husband's death, took a bath to calm herself. The Empress died there.
April 7, 1930
Taraka, Mindanao
Philippines
Empire of Japan
Only a well-trained ear would even notice that the attack had begun, as Chu-i Matsumae Morimitsu's soft snoring suddenly ceased. The startled young Kempeitai officer awoke in pain and terror, but he could not scream, for the steel wire around his throat had crushed and sliced it to uselessness. He could only futilely struggle, and stare up at his assassin, who easily overpowered his dying struggles.
"We remember when you ordered a flamethrower turned on an elderly couple when you could not find the rebels you thought went into their home. " Abdul Sabaya kept his hands tight on the wooden handles of the garrote as he spoke. The last startled thought to go through Matsumae's mind before his oxygen-starved brain went black was how good his assassin's Japanese was.
Once he was sure, Abdul lowered the body back down onto the silk bedsheets, and unwound the weapon from his throat, grabbing a handful of the rich white fabric and cleaning it off before pocketing it. Going to the window, he looked out into the night, and then hung the drapes over it in the way his compatriots had agreed upon earlier. Then he drew his pistol, checking it over, and went to the door, and waited.
He didn't have long to wait. A machinegun's angry chatter suddenly split the quiet of the night, accompanied by the barking of rifles, and the screams of dying Japanese soldiers. Abdul counted to three, and then opened the door, checking both ways down the hall, his gun out. He didn't see anyone, and cautiously advanced into the hallway, making for the end of the hall opposite the stairs.
The Japanese, while surprised, did not take long to respond, laying down a hail of rifle fire into the night in the direction of the Moro rebels' shooting, joined by a machinegun on the second floor of the hotel - exactly where Abdul was headed. He got to the door, and pressed himself against the wall beside it. There was shouting on the other side of the door, and then it burst open to reveal a Jap, who stared in shock down the barrel of Abdul's pistol.
He pulled the trigger twice in rapid succession, and then shoved the dying man out of the way, bursting into the room. The machinegun's loader was scrambling for his rifle, and the gunner was just beginning to react. He shot them both once, and then emptied the last three rounds in the magazine into them, ejecting it and reloading. The .45 ACP was a Pacifican bullet the Klavostanis had come to respect enough that they'd simply copied it, and it worked just as well against Japs.
Looking out the window from the machinegun nest, he could see the backs of Japanese soldiers as they took cover and returned fire. Taking hold of the weapon, Abdul fired it until it was empty, and then ducked out of the way of return fire as the panicked survivors shot at him to cover their retreat.
At least, he hoped they were retreating. He dragged the corpse away from the door, and then slid it closed all but a crack, holding a mirror in the doorway in one hand, pistol in the other, as he waited breathlessly. There was more gunfire downstairs for a minute, and then silence. Abdul's breath exploded out of him in relief at who he saw coming up the stairs.
"It's me!" he shouted in Maranao, and then opened the door, stepping out into the hallway. Laughing, both men embraced one another.
"You asshole, brother-in-law!" The man slapped Abdul on the back heartily, and then let go, taking hold of the submachinegun slung on his shoulder again. "I should have never let you sneak in here alone. My sister could be a widow right now!" He laughed again, and made for the stairs. "Now come on, let's get out of here before the Japs come back."
Once the hotel was long behind, Abdul adjusted the rifle he now carried on his back, and pulled out his cigarette case, and pulled out a neatly-wrapped joint, putting it between his lips, cupping a hand against the wind as he lit it, puffing on it and then passing it to his brother-in-law. Yes, life as Abdul Sabaya, even if that name had been given to him by the Klavostani Intelligence Service, was good.
The ongoing low-intensity warfare of the Moro rebellion was the perfect environment to insert agents in plain sight - The name of some dead young man who looked close enough to an agent would slip past Japanese record-keeping, and then he'd ended up married to the sister of the leader of this group of fighters. So long as Klavostan kept bullets covertly flowing into the Philippines, the Moro would continue killing Japs. But how long would the Empire of the Rising Sun put up with it - or would Klavostan strike first? Either way, it was the job of men like Abdul to keep the situation volatile.
Sarina Kellius was jostled out of her sleep that morning to find Helena already departed from their bed and her irate-looking sister standing in the doorway, in her own morning clothes. Amber Kellius, Countess of San Luis, was clearly her sibling if one looked at appearances; the same eye color, same rough jaw and facial structure, though Amber favored their Latino mother more strongly in the rounded shape of her face, and nearly the same height despite their age difference of five years. Amber was, arguably, the more attractive of the sisters if one went by curves, though the difference was not great, leading to all the raunchy jokes and humor of their respective lovers mistaking them for each other in dark bedrooms.
"How is it possible, Sarina, for you to spend this much money?!," Sarina demanded, holding a piece of paper. "What possessed you to buy a...."
"Oh come on now, it was only a hundred pounds," Sarina mumbled, clambering out of bed and taking a wild guess at which bill it was. Conscious of her state of undress, she went straight for her morning clothes; one had to keep up appearances if the maid or butler was to appear. "Helena and I are always conscious of the bank accounts."
"It shows. It seems you two cannot enjoy a weekend that doesn't involve spending at least a hundred pounds. Actually..." Still clearly fuming, Amber turned to a bit of sarcastic, biting humor. "I stand corrected. When you only spend a hundred pounds, I should probably thank you for restraining yourself."
"Amber..."
"No, Sarina... I swear to the Virgin I love you as my little sister, but you have got to stop." Amber slammed the paper on the nearby shelf. "I'm not some Baron from Kingsland who gets a massive sinecure just for coming to Parliament. I get just enough to maintain these apartments and the servants to maintain them and to pay for our train rides home and back. Outside of that we live entirely off of the family money and what income we get from the land we rent out back home. And trust me, Sarina, it is not a lot of money. Our father was rich in many things but not in money. And why the Hell do I have to keep telling you this?!"
"Well, it's a good thing you regularly lick the cunt of one of the wealthiest peers in the Kingdom," Sarina retorted. Tired and hung over from the prior night, she was not in the mood to deal with her sister's speeches.
Of course, this was not a good thing. Amber's cheeks flushed red. "You have to do this?", she rasped.
"Do what? Point out that while Father might not have minded too greatly our preference for other girls, he most certainly wouldn't approve of you with her. The Duchess Danielle is everything he despised about the Capital elite. Ostentatiously wealthy, inconsiderate of the social obligations of rank...."
"I don't need you to remind me of Father's 'Patricians of Society' creed, Sarina!", Amber shouted.
"Then why have you hooked up with her? Someone perfectly fine to the cutting social benefits for the poor, the elderly, and the unemployed so long as the Government funds her precious battleships?"
"You know nothing of how Danielle feels about such things." Amber's blush was clearly one of anger now, not any embarrassment. "But I'm just a poor Countess from the southern valley, and you're my sister. We can say what we please and not cause much trouble. Danielle holds the oldest peerage in the Kingdom and her husband is the highest ranking officer of the Admiralty. She can't just go around supporting heavy land taxes or tweaking the Tories without jeopardizing her husband's position. And I hate to go to her for money, even if she can afford it."
"So that is why you spent the winter in the Gulf of California. And you say I overspend when Helena and I ring up a 100 pound bill for a good weekend!"
At that, Amber could only let out a scream of exasperation, after which she stormed out of the room.
Norfolk Manor, Sacramento
The Norfolk Manor was one of the finest upper class structures in the city, to the east near the Caroline River (like the Palace and the island off Puget Sound, it was named for the ill-fated Queen Caroline in the 19th Century). Built by James Howard, 14th Duke of Norfolk (in exile), the estate contained its own small park, a remnant horse stable as well as new motor pool, a great fountain and adjoining pool that was added by the short-ruling 16th Duke in 1914 that employed electric-heating to maintain warmth even in brisk evenings, all of which required a staff of at least five dozen servants and mechanics to maintain. This ostentatious wealth was made further sustained by the 16th Duke's earlier marriage into the respected Spanish Californian line of the Verdes, Dukes of San Joaquin, and their wealth from part ownership of gold mines in the "Mother Lode" and land ownership of sections of rich San Joaquin Valley farmland. The 17th Duke had not ruled long at all either, being born early in his father's life and only marrying successfully later in his own, producing a single legitimate heiress: Danielle Bethany Diane.
Danielle was now in her late 20s, a brilliant woman who was the first to graduate from a top-level engineering class in which she'd overcome the conservative gender bias solely by the aide of her father's wealth. She was yet estranged from her mother Agnes, older aunt of the current Count of Tijuana, who had disapproved of Danielle's private habits. Currently she lived with her husband, Adm. Reginald von Gotha the Earl of Esquimalt and First Sea Lord in the Admiralty, and whatever cousins were living in Sacramento to attend House of Lords sessions.
Her place in the House of Lords was... interesting. As a member of the Californian peerage she had the right to sit in it, a right that stretched to the foundation of the Kingdom of California when Henry IX and his loyalists, needing to acknowledge the historic rights of the Spanish gentry and peers, permitted women to sit in the re-established House of Lords for the first time (as they enjoyed such rights in the Cortes of Spain). However, older English peerages had been primarily governed by Salic law and when it became clear there would be no immediate male heir to the ancient line of the Duke of Norfolk - and their hereditary office of Earl Marshal of the House of Lords - her father had carefully negotiated the passage of a special Act of Parliament. The threat of a split through the House and of internal stress between the Californian peerage and the more conservative Australian and Cascadian peerages, who insisted on the Earl Marshal being male as was tradition, was ended by her father's careful diplomacy on the issue. The outcome was that Danielle would get to pick a male peer to hold the Office in her stead, that peer being the Duke of Somerset, and that her first male heir would attain the office and be formally styled Duke of Norfolk upon that time, though he would only fully inherit upon her death.
Such negotiation was held when Danielle was but a young girl. As she grew up, however, she came to understand she wasn't quite the norm, as men held little interest to her compared to the allure of intimacy with other girls. This tendency, visible from the time she was 14 and a couple attempts at trysts while in school, had led to her current estrangment from her mother and a great deal of grief for her poor father, who knew well the social consequences of her leanings if he found her a normal husband.
There had been various attempts to marry her in her father's final years; he had cajoled and pleaded, aiming at every male her age or older he could find available in the Court. Finally, in his last year of life, Danielle had found her own suitor, her husband Reginald, while attending university. Quickly learning his reputation and his sudden need to father an heir of his own - his only nephew had died without issue due to a tragic accident while serving at sea - it had occurred to her that he was the natural husband. They would be together only enough to have the child they sought, then they would be free to pursue their own predilections without worry. Her father was too desperate by that point to contest her choice of husband - who was at least a peer of decent rank it was said - and had spent much of his remaining strength in his final year in the task of walking her down the aisle as was his ceremonial right.
That had been seven years ago. The task of fathering a child had quickly proved quite challenging for Reginald due to his inability to even remotely enjoy the process with her. Danielle herself was growing more desperate as she approached thirty, even if it didn't stop her from seeking the attentions of other lovely ladies of Sacramento when she desired romantic company, the most recent being the Countess of San Luis, an acquaintance of thirty months and romantic one for over twenty-six of them.
Fresh from a daily swim in the pool, Danielle was relaxing poolside in a two-piece suit and a towel draped over her shoulders as the afternoon came on, engrossed in an issue of Jane's detailing the fleet of the African Confederation and its new superbattleships' powerful guns. "Such fools," she grumbled, imagining how difficult loading such guns would be with their shells of over three thousand pounds. The 17"/50 caliber guns she had taken the lead in designing, which armed the Royal Navy's own powerful Excalibur-class superbattleships, was considered by her and other naval analysts in the Empire the heaviest one's guns could get before reaching diminishing returns of effective magazine size and rate of fire versus the power and range advantage of the larger gun. She continued to muse, "Maybe if more robust loading equipment could be built.... an 18-inch gun or larger would be quite useful I imagine. Though the size of the vessel...."
The cost of the Excalibur had been stupendous; when combined with the costs of maintaining the army needed to face the Yanks and Mexicans, the 1920s construction of the Navy had nearly bankrupted the country and prevented national funding of necessary infrastructure projects. Pacifica was now in the grips of economic difficulty, the Exchequer exhausted, and the Tories resisting bitterly any effort to draw more taxes out of the economy on the grounds that in times of economic slenderness the private economy needed every penny it could get.
The national budget had been one of those things that tested her romance with Amber Kellius. Danielle was not a Tory in inclination and had sympathies for those impacted by the cuts, or at least lack of needed increases, to the social service budget. But she had still voted for the "Notorious" Budget of 1928 in the House of Lords that had authorized the completion of the battleships she had helped bring about while leaving the services budget unaided. It had been a difficult decision, drawn by her agreement on the needs of the Navy to remain strong in the face of potential threats from Japan, Klavostan, and more regionally Mexico and the US. And that decision had cost her dearly. Amber, the daughter of one of those old proud Roman lines that preached austerity in the elite and supporting the lower classes, had nearly broken up with her over it, and it had earned her the enmity of Amber's younger sister Sarina. There were times that Danielle wondered darkly if the only thing that had kept Amber from actually leaving her was not any real romantic attachment but her family's wealth. The the Kellius estates were rather small and didn't yield much in the way of an annual income, nor did the meager living stipend the government granted to Californian peers attending sessions of the House of Lords compared to their counterparts from across the Pacific. And despite their father's habits and his attempts to imprint them on his daughters, the two Kellius sisters did widely appreciate the vibrant social life and luxuries of Sacramento and San Francisco. It was with some dark amusement that Danielle considered that Sarina Kellius and her lover usually dined and enjoyed shows on tabs and bills that were inevitably paid from the Howard-Verdes combined fortune.
The thoughts of money, love, and politics were interrupted as a shadow loomed over Danielle. She looked up to watch her husband, about twenty years her senior, ease himself onto the chair opposite. "Long day at the office, dear?", she said, setting Jane's down.
"Generally. And they will get longer with this business between the Yanks and Mexico. I was going to ask..."
"No." Seeing her husband's expression Danielle glowered. "I gave you the weekend with Eric, Reginald. Remember, we were to try four times a week."
"But Dani, I..."
"...am tired, yes, I understand. And I am childless."
"Surely just three times..."
"When I've had our first child, and the child is healthy, yes, we scale back to three times a week, with one week off per month." Danielle stood up, being quite tall herself, and glowered over him. "God dammit, Reggie, our seventh anniversary is coming up! Every year you keep telling me you'll try harder and it seems you spend that following year trying to try less hard. Dammit, I'm not getting any younger, and I must have at least two children, preferably three, to make sure the line remains intact! At this rate the Queen will finally have a child, hell, Amber's little hellion of a sister will have had one before me!"
Groaning, Reginald laid his head back. "Not today, dear, just not today. Don't you undestand? We may...."
"...be at war? Is that what you were going to say? Are you actually going to tell me that the King and the PM are going to do more than wring their hands and fret about the Yanks and Mexicans? When the Moros are revolting in the Philippines and the Japs and Klavos are glaring at each other? Ha!" Seeing her husband's expression, Danielle frowned. "Okay, fine, I'll let you off the hook tonight. But if you don't follow through, Reginald, I don't want to hear a damn thing about this summer trip you want to take with Eric. At least not unless you intend to fund the excursion entirely off of your Navy salary."
Reginald gave her a stiff nod. Danielle stomped off - whether to check on when dinner would be coming or to call Amber to arrange a night together was not his concern - and left him to check his newspaper. The Times was announcing what Reginald already knew from the government circles; the Government was sending Bruce Mencken, former President of the Board of Trade and a retired MP, by train and passenger liner to Hamburg to join the upcoming German trade summit under special emissary appointment. It was causing a bit of interest as most other governments were simply having their ambassadors attend or delegate staff to do so.
Breathing a heavy sigh he leaned back and enjoyed the warmth of the sun, even with the brisk spring air beginning to cool, desiring to enjoy rest from his exertions. He briefly wondered if he should let Danielle try this evening, knowing how desperate she was growing, but he simply could not manage the will. He dozed off quietly in the lounge chair as the sun set over the western horizon.
10 Marlborough Street, Westminster Square, Sacramento
7 April 1930
In the private residence attached to Marlborough Palace for the use of the PM, Stephen was enjoying a quiet Monday dinner with his family. The girls were being generally well-behaved, Rafael was being quiet despite his brother's attempts to speak to him, and he and Rachel remained quiet as the meal was consumed.
Truthfully, to say he enjoyed it was a stretch. It was quiet and he was with those he loved the most in the world, true, but it was hardly the kind of dinner one "enjoyed". The silence was becoming oppressive. He could see worry in Rachel's eyes and a bit of apprehension in Rafael's, enough to tell him what may have been transpiring. With his plate nearly done he looked to his son and asked, "I guess the reply didn't come yet?"
"Not yet," he said with clear disappointment.
"Give it time. My admission notice was two weeks late."
"They had slower trains in your day, Dad," Rafael answered. "And they had to go farther."
"Guess you got me there," Stephen answered, not giving voice to the sarcastic voice in his head that noted that given the state of Pacifica's infrastructure, the trains hadn't much improved in the three decades that had passed since. "Still, give it time before you start worrying. As they say, 'no news is good news'."
"Hey, Dad," Thomas spoke up. "My schoolmates told me we were gonna have a war."
An oppressive chill came over the table; even three year old Gabriela seemed to know just what that three letter word entailed. Rachel looking to him pleadingly and, with his best politician poker face on, he answered, "Your schoolmates are mistaken."
"So the Yanks and Mexis aren't going to war?" God I hope not. "I don't know if they will or not, they both want to settle things diplomatically," he answered very carefully. "But even if they did, we're not getting involved."
"Why not? We could help one kick around the other, or wait until they're..."
"Thomas, you're upsetting your sisters," Rachel said sharply, giving a displeased look at Stephen afterward, though when one considered how Sophie and Gabriela looked it was clear that the weren't the ones being upset by what was being said. "I want to hear no more of this talk at the dinner table, you understand?"
Before Thomas could give a defeated "Yes mom", Rafael chimed in, "Thomas, just because your schoolyard mates do these kinds of things in fights doesn't mean it happens that way in real life."
"So says the Navy boy who'll end up getting blasted to pieces..."
"Thomas Richard!" Stephen had beaten Rachel's likely response by barking his younger son's name first, using his middle name for maximum effect. "I'll hear no more of this. Your schoolyard friends can think what they want, but I am the one who actually makes these kinds of decisions and I say it's not happening! Understand?"
"Yes Dad," Thomas answered in defeat.
Rafael looked at his father and lowered his head, finishing a bite of vegetables and taking a drink. "Can you say for sure, Dad?", he asked carefully upon completing the drink. "Can you say for absolute sure, without a shadow of a doubt, that we won't get involved in a war on either end, between the Yanks or Mexis and the Japs or Klavos?"
"It's not going to happen," Stephen remarked insistantly. But he could see afterward that neither of his sons or his wife were quite convinced.
Later that night, with paperwork done and the kids seen off to bed (even Rafael, who had been coaxed to sleep by his fretting mother), Stephen and Rachel were alone in the living room. Looking up from a newspaper he had just finished, Stephen could tell that what had come up at dinner was still eating at her. He stood up and walked over to where she was arranging things on the wall, occupying her mind as she sometimes would when agitated. He put his hands on her shoulders. It was a sympathetic gesture, as was the kiss he put on the base of her neck. "What's wrong, dear?"
"You didn't answer his question," she answered softly. "He asked you if you were sure we wouldn't have a war and all you'd say was 'it's not going to happen'."
"Isn't that answer enough?" The question was carefully put, and Stephen was no fool to think that his bright wife was not going to see what had been behind that answer.
Sure enough, her reply revealed just that, as she turned around and faced him directly. "It wasn't an answer, Stephen, and you know it, we all knew it. 'It's not going to happen'? That's an expression of what you want to happen, not what will actually happen. Look me in the eye." She put her hands on his head and made their eyes level at each other's. Her green eyes were intent upon his with all the intellectual force they were capable of. "Look me in the eye and tell me that no matter what happens you will never let a war happen to us."
He looked her in the eye. He opened his mouth to speak.
He said nothing.
There were tears forming in Rachel's eyes as her mouth hung open, in the realization that he could not do as she asked. "You can't do it," she said hoarsely, her voice threatening to break. "Oh my God, you can't do it. You can't...."
"Darling, I... I am the chief minister of the Empire, I have to make decisions..."
"What could be worth it?! My God, Rafael will be in the Navy in three years, Thomas will be conscripted to the Territorial Army in five! Our sons will be out there! And you can't promise me they won't get sent to die?!"
"I won't let that happen." He clasped her tightly, feeling her cry as she put her head against his shoulder. Tears were in his eyes at the fears she had expressed, fears he already had, possibilities he already dreaded. "No, God no, I'll do everything to stop it, my love."
As his wife cried in his arms, and him in her's really, he looked over to see that Sophie and Gabriela were standing in the hallway leading to their room, Gabriela clasping her favorite doll in one hand and Sophie's hand in the other. "Papa?", she gently asked.
Before he could speak, it was clear they were not alone. Rafael stepped up behind his little sisters and gently set his hands on their shoulders. "Come on, let's go back to bed," he said, ever the caring big brother. "I'll go get you a glass of water if you get back in bed." Looking back at his parents, more than old enough to understand fully what was going on, he gave them a nod and brought the girls back into their rooms. The door closed in the distance, and the Prime Minister of the Pacific Empire was left to try and console his wife, and himself, to the grim possibilities of a future that was so painfully uncertain.
Last edited by Steve on Sat Jan 09, 2010 4:28 am, edited 3 times in total.
Chatniks on the (nonexistant) risks of the Large Hadron Collector:
"The chance of Shep talking his way into the control room for an ICBM is probably higher than that." - Seth
"Come on, who wouldn't trade a few dozen square miles of French countryside for Warp 3.5?" - Marina
Marcus Sarpaedius had seen the mood in the Consularum Militarius vary from gloom to anger to smug superiority to outright triumph, sometimes within the same meeting. Never before today however, had he seen this.
Utter shock.
The announcement yesterday that the German government had officially recognized and publicly endorsed the Hungarian claims to primacy in the Balkan peninsula had hit Rome like a bolt of lightning from a bright blue sky. Already, the Observatorium was running daily editorials castigating the "Teutonic belligerency" in the region, denouncing the Germans for involving themselves in claims which they were no party to.
"Have they taken leave of their senses?" asked Georgius Atticus Rufus Navarchus Suffectus, his voice laced with it.
"Far from it, I'm afraid," came the sure voice of Mustaphus Cemal Paterturcii. The Junior Consul was not strictly a member of the Consularum, but as the reigning consul for the month, had the right to sit in on meetings as he wished, a right he had exercised more and more frequently since assuming office.
"This..." said Gaius Messius, "this is... an act of war!"
The surprise in Gaius Messius' voice was shock enough to the rest of them. Of all the members of the Consularum, Marcus Sarpaedius considered Gaius Messius to be his greatest adversary in the nebulous semi-political world of military leadership. Commander of the elite First "Primagenita" Legion, Messius had long resented Sarpaedius' place in the Consularum, believing that tradition as well as merit had earned him the commanding voice on the high council. Many times they had clashed over defense strategy and recommendations to the senate, but today there was no time for such things. Today was a day of infamy and shock.
"Not quite war," said Italus Balbus, the Legatus Aeronauticus, who had replaced the venerable Julius Douhetius upon his death earlier that year, "but close enough. It's as I predicted."
"Many among us predicted this," said Sarpaedius, "but this is not a political counsel. The senate has demanded our assessment of the situation."
"Assessment?" asked Georgius Atticus Rufus, leaning forward over the table. "If this is the signal I assume it is, my personal assessment is that this is a disaster."
"How so?" asked Mustaphus Cemal Paterturcii.
"How so?" demanded Italus Balbus. "Junior Consul, can you not read a map?"
"Presume that I can," said Paterturcii, refusing to be baited by the Legate. "I would like an official analysis to take to the Senate."
"Hungary's addition to the coalition against us places us at a position of supreme disadvantage," said Gaius Messius. "We have three legions protecting our Hungarian border, an area large enough to require double that force if we were to seek security, nevermind the possibilities of a counterattack. It lays Thrace, Macedonia, and ultimately Greece itself open to invasion. Given the... forwardness... of the German move, I assume we are to interpret this as a hostile act?"
"I would make that assumption," said Marcus Sarpaedius. "The Germans overtly promise away territories of our Empire. They make no effort to disguise their intentions. With Hungary's army added to Germany and Francia - "
"Do we know the Franks to be party to this?" asked Italus Balbus
"Unfortunately, it appears we do," said Paterturcii. "We received their reply to our missive two days ago."
"They admitted to being in alliance with Germany?"
"Of course not. They claimed to wish only our friendship and that we are terribly mistaken."
"Then is it not possible - "
"That's all they said," insisted Paterturcii. "We accused them directly of being involved in an alliance hostile to Rome, and they did not so much as object to the assertion or seek to counteract it. We were clear enough as to our concerns regarding their position vis-a-vis Germania, and did not bother to address a single one of them, nor even respond to our offer of an alliance of our own."
"Gods above," said Georgius Atticus Rufus, still visibly reeling at the threat to his homeland of Greece. "Do they think us blind?"
"More likely they do not care that we see," said Messius darkly. "Their disconcern is a message. They do not bother to conceal their involvement with Germany from us because they do not fear the consequences of our knowing."
"Given the forces they can array against us," said Italus Balbus, "they may not be wrong."
"Which is why it is important the Senate be fully aware of the odds we face," said Mustaphus Cemal. "Ivanus Bonomius and I were to travel to this trade meeting that the Germans have called. I have asked the Senior Consul to permit me instead to go to Budapest, and see if we cannot determine for ourselves what the lay of the land is there. The Hungarian claim to Greece is one we had thought as long-buried as our claim to Illyria. If they've suddenly decided to announce it once more, we must assume they are preparing to enforce it."
"I suggest at this point that we order the Army of the Balkans placed on war alert status," said Marcus Sarpaedius. "We have no spare troops to send to it, but three legions is still a sizable force. The Hungarians cannot break through with their frontier garrisons alone. If they come, we will have some warning at least.
"And I suggest that the fleet make a demonstration into the Adriatic," said Georgius Atticus Rufus. "The Hungarians believe that sea to be their property. It is long-since time that they were reminded of their place in Mare Nostrum. Should it come to war, we will send their fleet to the bottom of the sea."
* The Roman Army of the Balkans (Ninth, Eleventh, and Fifteenth Legions, and attendant units) is placed on Alert status. Soldiers and airmen are recalled to their units. Reconnaissance and maintenance schedules are accelerated throughout the theater.
* A battlegroup from the Roman Mediterranean Fleet, codenamed "Sigma Force" is assembled and dispatched to Brindisium, on the Adriatic Coast, there to perform naval maneuvers in conjunction with the Roman 4th Air Fleet (Balkans). The battlegroup is comprised of the Battleship Athena, the Carrier Napoleon Buonapartus Magnus Restutditor, the Cruisers Venicia and Ancyra, the Destroyers Hector, Achilles, Andreas Dorias, and Leonidas, and the Submarines Padus, Nilus, and Lobregat.
Last edited by General Havoc on Mon Jan 11, 2010 4:39 pm, edited 2 times in total.
Gaze upon my works, ye mighty, and despair...
Havoc: "So basically if you side against him, he summons Cthulu."
Hotfoot: "Yes, which is reasonable."
It was hotter then was the usual for this time of year and that effected the temper of the people. The police were out in numbers and nervous. The main excuse for this display of force was a strike of factory workers. The workers demands were the standard for the time, better pay, safer working conditions, etc. The factory owners however, did not see those demands as reasonable.
Conrado was an anarchist. He was in attendance to show support for the workers against their owners and the government bully boys arrayed against them. He was also passing out pamphlets and water. Both were appreciated by the workers who were drying out under the hot Spanish sun. A number of them however used the water cups for throwing at the police. Which ended up being a poorly thought out move. Not that bother Conrado really, he felt the police deserved whatever they called down on themselves.
The police however felt differently and moved into the crowd swinging clubs. They had been standing all day in the hot sun in heavy gear and were at the end of their patience. Behind them a number of men in black shirts cheered them on. The workers didn't take this laying down, a number of them had signs, cardboard tacked to wooden sticks. Turns out a wooden stick used for a protest sign works well as a club to.
Conrado rushed to the confrontation calling his fellow anarchists for reinforcements even has more police plowed into the crowd. Pushing his way to the front he grabbed a cobble stone from the street and swung it up to bash down on a helmeted head.
That's when the bomb went off, about 2 feet from Conrado, killing him and 12 workers and 20 police men. 50 workers were injured and 34 police men as well. With howls of fury the black shirted men piled into the mess and the death count started raising.
May 4th 1930 radio broadcast (translated from Spanish)
The voice coming over the radio was that of a young man, it was a clear ringing voice vibrant with fury and full of certainty.
"The riots in Madrid were clearly started by Roman agents! The pagan mongrel of that debased, unnatural state guided by their Jewish Bank Masters are seeking to divide and weaken the Spanish people so they may conquer and enslave us! Even now one of the greatest cities in the kingdom is still burning! Our weak government in Lisbon does nothing in response to this clear case of foreign meddling and rabble rousing! Spaniards! Awake! The enemies of Limpieza de sangre, of Spain, of Catholicism itself are not simply standing outside your door, they are sending rats into your home! Pagan Rome in alliance with Jewish Bankers seeks to destroy your nation, your purity and your people. Will you see your sons made slaves to Turks and Africans? Your daughters into whores for Muslims and Jews? Join Us! Spaniards! Awake!"
"it takes two sides to end a war but only one to start one. And those who do not have swords may still die upon them." Tolken
"He said what?" asked Galeatius Cianus Comes Orator.
"The broadcast indicated that we were responsible for the bombing in Madrid. The usual clerical language. We're still not certain who made the broadcast, but our agents estimate it was probably tied to nationalist and right-wing elements."
"That seems logical enough. Of all the damned things we don't need right now."
"Shall we advise the Senate?"
"We must," said Cianus. "But I think it's time we took a more active role in ensuring the security of our Iberian flank. As I recall, there was a contingency plan for the Iberians that was bandied about a while back.
"Yes sir, they called it Sertorius."
"That's the one. I will meet with Paterturcii and Mediator. Tell the Ordo Indicium to initiate Sertorius."
Last edited by General Havoc on Mon Jan 11, 2010 7:17 pm, edited 1 time in total.
Gaze upon my works, ye mighty, and despair...
Havoc: "So basically if you side against him, he summons Cthulu."
Hotfoot: "Yes, which is reasonable."
To: The Embassies of all Governments
From: Staatsminister Johann Frosch, Deutches Federalische Republik
To all Heads of State and Designated Delegations,
The world's economy is changing. Recent advances in technology have made trade on a global scale more profitable than it has been at any point in the history of the world, leading to rapid increases in prosperity for people of all nations and of all levels of society. It is past time that leaders from all nations come together and openly discuss these developments and what implications they have for policy decisions and with luck work toward the development of a common framework upon which to conduct international trade and finance, and to facilitate the free and open exchange of information so that policy makers can make decisions that are better informed and thus take advantage of new developments as they come about.
As a result of these considerations we wish to formally invite you to attend a three day International Trade and Policy Summit to be held on September 21st, 1930. The location is to be Bundestag Building located in Hamburg, the capital city and largest port in our Republic. It is our sincere hope that each nation sends a delegation to this conference and that we can work together to benefit not just ourselves, but each other and future generations.
April 11, 1930
The Empire of Ethiopia, as an economic leader, would be glad to attend such a summit. Unfortunately many of our officials will be busy mourning the death of our Empress or preparing themselves for the assendency of Tafari Makonnen. Ethiopia will be represented in the matter however.
Makonnen Endelkachew snorted. "If all of Europe hasn't exploded into war by then. Rome is building up, preparing for the worst."
Heruy Welde Sellase smiled. "You have no idea how many pretty words I am getting from the Franco-Germans and the Romans. On top of the reminders and the offers. I'd swear the Roman dignitary was about ready to offer me his daughter in marriage. He wouldn't of course, Roman dignity and all that. But he might have been tempted."
This caused a chorus of chuckles from the rest of the people in the room.
Tafari spoke up. "Leave them guessing for now Sellase. We have more pressing matters than the Europeans."
The others nodded and Endelkachew spoke up. "In accordance with our deal with the Mughal Empire, several of their advisers have arrived and have gotten to work already. The materials they've sent are good and we haven't had any problems."
Tafari nodded. "Alright then. That's good at least, bettering our relations with our neighbors will be important. What about the Confederation?"
Sellase smiled. "Majid talks prettily enough. The Confederation seems very honest in their offers. As the older nation, I think it would be good of us to look out for the younger as they set their feet, it doesn't hurt that their own doctrine towards the Europeans isn't very far away from our own. We should talk more with them."
"Once I have been crowned Emperor, I will make no action towards them until I have been granted that position." Tafari glanced at Endelkachew. "What of the Ras?"
"They're quiet as sleeping cubs. Lion cubs though. The war quieted them down, but you can expect more resistance eventually."
Tafari nodded and looked to Seyum Mangasha, who had been quiet up to now. "Seyum, I believe it is time for Ethiopia to awaken. The Sudan has been a thorn in the side of the Empire for too long. Inform Ras Haymanot that he is to prepare his troops for an extended mission into the Sudan." He looked over at Sellase. "Speak with the Confederation and the Romans and the French. Assure them that we are simply dealing with additional rebellious matters and have no intention of crossing their international borders with our troops."
All those present were quiet for several seconds before they nodded and got to their feet to complete their duties.
Summery
- Ethiopia will attend the Economy summit.
- Ethiopian troops are beginning to mobilize for a strike into the Sudan.
"Is this the 'brilliant' mind at work?" shouted Kun Marian across the aisle. The dark haired Magyar was a big bull of a man who must have weighed half again as much as his slimmer target. "Is this the work of a mind that has praised so much in the conservative press? You've nearly started a war with Rome. Rome! A nation that half surrounds us and whose territory stretches from Gibraltar to the Orient! Their army is on high alert and their navy, a navy far stronger than our own, threatens our few Mediterranean ports. The damage to trade alone will devastate countless families."
Contantinescu rose to speak. The Hungarian parliamentary system was crude graft of the English system instead of a local development, a development based on royal will and distrust of the the fractious and powerful nobility that had wielded great power until broken by successive lines of strong kings backed by increasingly powerful commoners and the best army in Central Europe.
"What would you like to hear?" Constantinescu replied. "That there will be no war? That would be a lie. They had see the slaver on the fangs of German hounds in America, clear across the Atlantic. France says nothing, but steps in sync with Germany. They have set their gaze upon Rome and there will be war. That will happen. Hungary's fate remains open.
"It is true that for the last hundred odd years the Romans have been good neighbors and that does count for something. It is also true that we have old territorial disputes with them and those disputes are less important than peace. But we will not have peace. We must live with war.
"That being the case, our first duty is to Hungary. To our king, to our land, and to our people. France and Germany have powerful, modern armies and are intent on devouring Rome and becoming even stronger. What is Hungary's place in such a world? What would our fate be against an alliance powerful enough to vanquish Rome and then strengthened from acquiring her territories? An alliance that would owe us nothing and would be looking for more lands to conquer.
"Do we spend an ocean of Hungarian blood to defend Rome? What will that gain us? A bloody grinding war as the Poles and Russians fought or a duel of Hungarian machines against German engineered weapons? The only surety with that is blood, a lot of it. It was our blood, our steel, our cannon that broke the Turk. Who gained most from that? Rome. They have profited greatly from our valor. They do not fear us. Germany does not fear us. France does not fear us. The west see a once mighty warrior who has known peace for too long and is past his prime, one from another age that is always a step behind. Should we send our young men into death and throw away our wealth in order to protect a nation of ingrates? How does that aid Hungary?
"Or we can take back what is ours by ancient right. We can take rich territories and show ourselves to be an equal partner when the map of Europe is redrawn. We are not Romans. We are not Germans. We are not French. We have already shed enough blood in the defence of other nations. We are Hungarians, a host of people under one banner, a proud people who are leaders in science and technology with cities and culture second to none. Our swords have slept, but the shadow of war lies across all of Europe. Let us draw them forth and redraw the map. Let us put Hungary's stamp on Europe and let them all remember the days when they trembled at the thought of our wrath!"
Hands slapped banisters in a rough form of applause. "You're drunk on power Constantinescu!" Kun shouted. "You want a war to get your way into the history books and you don't care who will die because of it. You'll sell out our honour to be mercenary dogs for the French and Germans!"
"The rest of us live in the real world," Constantinescu shouted back. "If there will be war, we need to think of getting the greatest gain for the lightest cost! Your high minded prattling will be nothing but curses if we are conquered!"
The argument dissolved in shouting back and forth across the aisles. The Speaker hammered everything back into order eventually, but nothing more would be accomplished.
Summary: A pro Franco-German political stance is controversial, but dominant in Hungary. War in Europe is seen as inevitable.
Last edited by Cynical Cat on Thu Jan 14, 2010 11:50 am, edited 2 times in total.
It's not that I'm unforgiving, it's that most of the people who wrong me are unrepentant assholes.
The Vasan Commonwealth makes public a position on the geopolitical situation in Europe. We will look very dimly upon any unwarranted aggression by any of Europe's great powers against any other. We feel any disruption of the balance of power in Europe is intolerable and will be met by the full force of the Vasan military.
That said, we also desire peace, and are willing to offer the impeccable diplomatic services of the Vasan dynasty in continuing the peace of Europe.
"So the first of our engineering advisors are away to the Ethiopians to help them with their rather lacking transit structure. I turn, their own bankers and gold are starting to trickle in, although the true repayments will not begin for some months," First Minister of the Nation Brahmabuhti Narayan states at the monthly meeting.
"Excellent," Shaheen states. "Too long has our economy relied more on the brute force of our holdings rather than the finesse of other nations. We will bring wealth to the people instead of storing it all in the palaces..." he grins and pauses before looking about the vaulted ceilings of the palace, "Not that the palaces will suffer any, of course."
That brings forth a chuckle from the various worthies gathered around for the meeting. And they were high enough in rank that laughing at the padshah's jokes were not required, although still recommended.
"I must say that the other parts to your economic reform are... interesting, brother. Our factories are churning out quite the number of tractors," Prime Minister Rashne Sher states, looking over some of the reports.
"Far too many of our people still labour in the old ways, without benefitting from the modern wonders of mechanisation," Shaheen notes.
Snorting, his other brother Shazubin Payam notes, "The fact that we can make tank parts just as easily as tractor parts was not lost on you, was it brother?"
"No Marshall, it was not. You will get your independent tank division as you have been pushing for. Which means that since the aircraft carriers soaked up the majority of last year's budget, it is now the Army's turn," Shaheen, to which his other brother Sohrab Mirza just gives his elder brother an irritated look.
"Like I would be so competitive as to demand more than my fair share... although if you are open to it..." Sohrab begins impishly, to which the other royals and worthies in attendance boo. For centuries casual brotherly competition had been bred into the princes to keep them sharp but not at each other's throats, a measure against the destructive civil wars that had wracked imperial transitions in the early empire. Away from the public gravitas fled, but could be donned once again just as easily as a jacket against the cold.
"As for the remainder of the budget, I give it over to the discretionary purposes of my son Javed. Your younger brother has proven his toys sucessful, now you may have a turn with a chunk of the budget to see what modernizations you can do with the army," Shaheen says, nodding to his eldest son.
Bowing his head respectfully, the young man says, "Thank you father. Uncle Shahzubin and I have some ideas for improving tank doctrine by improving the tanks. We will use the new models in production as testbeds for new technologies."
"Excellent. Anything else?" Shaheen asks.
"There is the matter of the pirates..." Sohrab brings up.
"Move the fleets as you see fit. I want them swept away once and for all," Shaheen replies, clearly annoyed. "With our new trade agreement with the Ethiopians, I want the seas safe."
"Thank you brother. I will redeploy a few of our escort squadrons from the Western Fleet to the East," Sohrab replies.
"Oh yes father... I have had an idea kicking around for reorganizing the army a bit. Might I have the funds to perform experimental deployments with some of the regiments against the remains of some of the ruined Aghfan fortresses?" Javed asks.
"It will come out of your already allocated budget, but yes," Shaheed replies. He then states, "If there are no further questions, on to lunch!"
May 1, 1930
Dehli, Mughal Empire
Grinning while reading through his personal morning missives the way a lesser man might read the morning paper, Shaheen chuckles to himself and says, "Looks like my reforms are already paying dividends."
Drifting over to him at the table, his first wife and queen Malai looks down and asks, "What is it dear?"
"The first delivery of tractors was such a surprise to one of the provinces that many of the men there spontaneously formed a militia on top of the standard reserve unit in gratitude, buying their own equipment. I will have to award them with some royal cannon to encourage such behaviour, but that will be for later when we have the industry to spare," Shaheen replies warmly.
---
+Resources allocated towards upgrading Ethiopian infrastructure
+Resources allocated towards upgrading Economy
+Resources allocated towards building heavy tank division
+Research begun
~2 frigate and 1 destroyer squadron redeploying from Western Fleet to Eastern fleet
+Random event: Spontaneous formation of militia, add one infantry division to reserves
Last edited by Academia Nut on Thu Jan 14, 2010 12:20 am, edited 1 time in total.
50 points to Research - Subs (munitions)
50 points to Research - Infantry (special deployment groups)
50 points to Build Infantry
50 points to Build Heavy tank brigade
Never shall innocent blood be shed, yet the blood of the wicked shall flow like a river.
The three shall spread their blackened wings and be the vengeful striking hammer of god.
Rome, Roman Empire: In the strongest signal yet of rapidly escalating tensions across the various European powers, Junior Consul Mustaphus Cemal Paterturcii denounced "Northern agressivity" and "hostile diplomacy", on the part of the Hungarian Kingdom and their allies. Declaring that an alliance between the German, French, and Hungarian kingdoms was "to be regarded as fact" by the Roman Empire, Cemal Paterturcii said that "a cabal of hostile interests seeks the dissolution of our Empire, by any means necessary," in what is understood to be a vague reference to both Budapest and Hamburg.
The remarks, spoken yesterday in the Roman Senate, have touched off a firestorm of debate, and in some cases criticism from political elements in the Empire. Speaking from the Rostra in the Forum, former chair of the FSIR Benitus Andreus Mussolinius Fabricus denounced Paterturcii as a "Turcian hayseed seeking to force Romans to jump at his call". Reporters claim that the mood on the streets of Rome is more apprehensive than they have seen in years.
With the Roman "Sigma" fleet still in Brindisium, shadowing the Hungarian Fleet, and persistent rumors of major Roman re-enforcements being sent to the Antilles islands of Cuba and Jamaica, it appears that the situation is becoming more, not less, dangerous.
*------------------------------------------------------------*
18 Maius MMDCLXXXIII Ab Urbe Condita
AP Newswire:
Rome, Roman Empire: Speaking before the Senate, Marcus Sarpaedius, President of the Roman Comitia Militarium or Military commission, accepted the order by acclamation of the Senate to proceed with the Comitia's "Guarantor" plan, the substance of which involves major naval shifts within the Empire. 'Sigma' Force, the Roman Adriatic Fleet, has been ordered to positions off the coast of Dalmatia, near the major Hungarian ports of Split and Dubrovnik. This move furthers persistent rumors of impending war between the Hungarian Kingdom and the Roman Empire. Massive troop movements in recent days have seen the activation of the Roman 9th, 11th, and 15th Legions, and witnesses claim that preparations are underway for rapid movement of these formations.
But the most discussed move was the impending transfer of massive Roman naval forces to the Caribbean. Press releases indicate that the Comitia has authorized the transfer of the so-called "First Strike Fleet" to the port city of Havanna, capital of the Roman Caribbean province of Antillia Major. As the "First Strike Fleet" is not a regular Roman naval formation, speculation by AP analysts is that this will be a hand-tailored battlegroup consisting of heavy units, such as Battleships and Aircraft Carriers. If so, this move represents the largest deployment of Roman force outside the Mediterranean Basin in history, and represents an enormous escalation of the arms race in the region, coming as it does in the wake of unusually blunt language from the American government concerning German naval and air force deployments in the same region.
* Sigma Force moves to just outside Hungarian waters near Split and Dubrovnik, there to patrol on war alert maneuvers.
* Rolling train stock in Hungarian rail gauges is assembled behind the Ninth, Eleventh, and Fifteenth Legions. Civilians within thirty miles of the Hungarian border are advised to evacuate. Roman 4th Air Fleet is ordered to dispersal fields.
* Roman Mediterranean Fleet is placed on four hours' steam notice. Transport ships dispatched to Alexandria and Cyrene. Roman Fourteenth Legion (Alexandria) is alerted to prepare to move west, destination Cuba, at short notice.
* Roman Fourth Legion (Havanna) is alerted to move on short notice for distribution as garrison forces to Antillia Minor and the Roman Atlantic islands.
* Mustaphus Cemal Paterturcii flies to Budapest on abrupt notice. Press releases indicate that the Junior Consul Ordinarius will be attempting to negotiate a peaceful end to tensions in the region between the Hungarian Kingdom and the Roman Empire.
* Quintus Rienzus Princeps Senatus is dispatched to Warsaw for discussions with the Vasan Commonwealth on matters of defense and trade.
* In an open letter to the German Republic, the Roman Senior Consul Ivanus Bonomius Mediator, requests an invitation to Hamburg or a suitable other city within Germany for immediate talks regarding the "increasingly unstable" situation in Europe.
Gaze upon my works, ye mighty, and despair...
Havoc: "So basically if you side against him, he summons Cthulu."
Hotfoot: "Yes, which is reasonable."
"Thibor, what the hell is going on?" asked the young blond soldier. "I mean, captain sir, what the hell is going on? My leave just got canceled. I had two weeks and so did Rebekka . . ."
"Sorry Ferenc," said the older man. "All military leaves canceled. We're being redeployed."
"Oh shit. Where?"
"Orders say Romania."
"Sir, with respect, we can't really be expecting to go to war against Rome?"
"If they aren't, they're doing a real good impression of it. Oil and gas exports are being slashed to the bone, they just announced it today. Bet the Poles and our new friends are going to love that. Can't exactly start buying from Rome, America isn't going to sell to them, and getting Russian oil from the Med is going to be a problem. Travel advisory warning Hungarians to get the fuck out of France, Germany, and the Roman Empire. The Navy's on alert. And now we're moving."
"Jesus. We're a siege regiment. Crack troops, super heavy arty, and engineers. Sending us to the border means only one thing."
"Yeah, either Constantinescu is trying to squeeze concessions from the Romans by waving the sword or we're really getting ready to hammer those border forts."
"Oh Christ. Rebekka and I well, we're talking marriage. The Romans . . ."
"Second best army in Europe. Second biggest army in Europe and that's a close second. And all those fortified fucking mountains. Yeah."
"Shit."
Redeploying from Hungary to Romania:
1 Infantry Division with Field Artillery
3 Elite Infantry Divisions with Siege Artillery and Engineering Regiments
1 Infantry Division with Field Artillery and Artillery Regiments
Summary:
Hungarian military on alert. Civilians urged to leave Rome, France, and Germany.
Fuel exports cut, domestic civilian production reduced to increase military supplies
Forces deployed to Romanian/Roman border.
Last edited by Cynical Cat on Fri Jan 15, 2010 5:24 pm, edited 1 time in total.
It's not that I'm unforgiving, it's that most of the people who wrong me are unrepentant assholes.
