Experimental NES - A 14 Day Narrative Experiment - Retired Players and IOTers Welcome

mrrandomplayer said:

Alright, I'm gonna start to end my short hiatus from S&T to play in this.

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OH MY GOD RANDOM IS BACK, CELEBRATE!

Hey,

EDIT: No longer worth a . But was appreciated for my contribution.

The Devil, The Fleet & the Nobles of Sinopheim.

Enrico, though bruised and battered, was unharmed. He walked into his home to see seven young men reading the paper. The headlines read, “Crown Prince Hanged!”. Enrico took his cane, kindly provided by the scum at Huge’s palace, and used it to lower the paper from the boys’ faces. Behind the paper were seven adolescents, all the spitting image of the late Julian.

Enrico sighed. “I hate it when you do this to me,” he said. “Which one of you is Julian?”

“I am,” all seven said in unison. They all laughed, then the boy sitting in the center stood up. “We’re just fooling around. I’m Julian,” he said, showing Enrico the scar on his shoulder.

The man, however, was in a more serious mood. “Why are you laughing?” he asked. “You just sent Darius to his death.”

The rightmost boy shook his head, handing Julian a small flyer.

“We got this in the mail,” he explained, handing the flyer to Enrico. It read:

Shadowbound said:

A Notice

To All Men of Patriotism and Faith

Do Not Despair

His Royal Majesty, King Julian, BTGOG Regnant Over Fausten, Is Alive And Well In the Care of Defenders of the Crown

By Royal Decree, Christian Huge and All His Ministers Are Found GUILTY of the Crimes of TREASON and REGICIDE

They Have Set Upon the People of Faustenberg with Musket and Shot, MURDERING Their Fellows In The Street

They Have CONSPIRED With Our Enemies, Tiveria, To Render You Widows and Orphans In Return for Recognition Of Their Vile Regime

They Have HOARDED FOOD and Wealth in the Palace, Ignoring the Sufferings of Their Citizens

For This, The Punishment Can Only be Death

Let No Patriot of Fausten Give Succor Or Aid to the Republican Regime

Let No Patriot of Fausten Impede the Executioners of the Royal Decree

Let All Patriots of Fausten Rally To the Flag of Albert Hauge, Lord Regent of Fausten

Long Live the King!​

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Though relieved, the Italian printer was worried. “Where is Darius now? He hasn’t come back here, has he?” The boys shook their heads. Enrico sighed again.

“Well, it’s good that it wasn’t Julian,” remarked the boy who handed Julian the flyer, a 14 year-old Tiverian immigrant named Rudolph. He was the brains of the operation. Rudolph had managed to track Julian all the way to Enrico’s hovel. Since the night the King had died, all of the Prince’s personal bodyguard had been forced into hiding. Though bodyguard they may have been, they would be rubbish at actually fighting. The main purpose of the Prince’s Guard was to act as a stand-in for the Prince. In many of Julian’s public appearances, it was not actually him in the center of the procession. It was instead often one of his lookalikes who served as a replacement for the actual prince. This was engineered by the genius Queen Mother, who had three close family members assassinated even before the last king was coronated. She knew how useless a conventional bodyguard was, so she wanted to find another way to protect her grandson. This morning, her wisdom had proved essential in foiling Huge’s plans. Rudolph had assembled the squad last night, convincing Julian to let Darius, always the Prince’s best lookalike, to scout out the tunnel system. It had turned out that Rudolph’s hunch was right, and that the secret police had known about the outskirts of the labyrinth. He saved the prince’s life.

“Yeah,” Enrico continued. “I guess that is fortunate. But that leaves us with one question. What are we going to do now?”

Sorry this took so long! Here's the sketch of Faustenburg.



G.D. - Grand District. Walled-off home to the noble maisons and the royal palace, as well as a number of important landmarks.

A.D. - Azure District. Well to do neighborhood with poverty on the fringes. Broad avenue connecting the palace to the harbor district.

H. - Harbor District, connected to the Azure District and Scanzburg by a number of bridges. Very poor.

Sc. - Scanzburg, lower and working class neighborhood. Many mills making grain, pig iron, and other industrial applications.

J. - Jarrow. The vast area of slums and factories home to most of the city's poor.

S.V. - St. Virgil. Mixed income neighborhood with pockets of wealth and poverty. Defining landmark is the Cathedral of St. Virgil that gives the district its name.

V. - Valkerst. Middle income neighborhood home to shops and small family homes. Home to servants, bureaucrats, and gendarmes, as well as some slums.

Au. - Auxmor, a small farming village.

A.E. - Army Encampments. Barracks and mustering grounds located to the south of the city.

If someone wants to make a more detailed map with all the landmarks mentioned in stories going off of this, I wouldn't mind.

With the new map, please consider my actions taken at the South Gate actually took place at the North

Where's the Penny district I mentioned in my story?

Sounds like it belongs in Valkerst. Not rich, but a place where people might have actual pennies. I'll consider it an alternate name.

Also, if you have a cool idea and want to introduce a new district into the city for any reason, just say where it's near and I'll make sure to add it in, at least mentally.

Mild apologies; Day 4 should be up sometime tomorrow morning.

Christian Huge had received a letter from Commander in Chief of the Army of the Republic, Van Klong Junker, detailing the situation at Wilhem Pass. Although Christian Huge was now a political leader, he had been a military man and still had the desire to fight wars. After all, he had previously been Commander in Chief of the Royal Army.

So, he said to Minister Adolph Bismarck, his most loyal Minister: "Sir, please take care of the Palace and the administration here. Continue to bribe the soldiers and guard the nobles. Fortify the Palace for Captain Albert Hauge may march here at any moment."

Christian Huge had no idea that the Captain was indeed marching to the Palace. He was just taking precautions in case he did, not an unlikely scenario considering he did not answer to his offer of national unity for the war against the Tiverians.

"I will do my best, sir."

"Thank you. Once I return victorious from the Southern Campaign, I will have the military glory needed to end once and for all this civil war. "

And so, Christian Huge left the Palace with few very loyal bodyguards. They rode with their horses as fast as possible, exhausting the animals almost to the point of death, and they finally reached the Pass.

Once the soldiers saw their President coming in person, the shouted in unison: "Long live the Republic! Long live the President!"

If Christian Huge managed to push back the 75,000 Tiverians with just 600 men, he would gain such glory that all would bow before him.

Out of the house for the first time he could remember since the shooting. Amy was at his side propping him up. He still couldn't move his head without jabs of pain going right through him but at least he was alive and right now he needed to show them that.

Assembled in front of him were the leaders of the Unions and other leaders of the poor who had risen up in response to the call of the Unions. "I wish to thank you all for your kind words and thoughts." Cuthbert began. Behind the leaders the streets were packed with workers and their families.

"I was very badly injured yesterday and stand now before you to congratualte you on the gains that we have made so far. The authority can not hope to ignore us as a threat now - We have the support of all of Jarrow, Irontown and most of Scanzburg have also left their factories and rise with us, the steel mills of Fitzpatrick Dock have closed and the Unions have control of the whole district. Across the city the poor are rising up against the old regime as they starve while the decadent factory owners sit happy and gorging themselves. They think they are protected by their wall.

"But that wall was founded on the backs of the common man, it was people like us who would have built it, the oppressed and those without voice. In the coming days we will show those snobs that just as we can take away all that they took from us. We built that wall, we can tear it down!

"But Vengeance is mine, I will repay sayeth the Lord. So we shall not try and take such things for ourselves. That is the dominion of our Lord. Do not seek death or slaughter. Seek only justice. Bring all here to be judged."


Later that evening the nobles who had so foolishly stayed the night in a Jarrow tavern were brought before Cuthbert and he had them put in the makeshift prison in the Chapel's Crypt. After they had been locked away Cuthbert retreated to the vestry.

There was a light knock on the door and Cuthbert grunted some affirmative. Amy entered and he smiled. "Art tha alright Cuth?" She asked softly.

"No," he replied, there was no point in trying to hide things from Amy. She was loyal and honest and would find out anyway "It was painful, standing up there, speaking to people. It hurts so much I can hardly think."

"Tha was shot Cuth, its to be expected." She went to fill a cup with water from the standing jug "What's that going to do with them in crypt?"

"I really don't know Amy," she passed him the cup and he took a sip. "I didn't want to lead like this, I just wanted to help. But if I stop now then I fear the bitterness held by these people will overcome them. We can't turn into what we set out to end."

DAY 4 - THE TIVERIAN AFFAIR

Matters in Faustenburg took a critical turn the day before with the so-called proclamation of war from the Imperial Sovereignty of Tiveria. Despite the fact that Tiverian forces, even if already marshaled on the Fausten border, would take weeks to threaten Westenhal, let alone the capital, many were willing to set aside their factional feuds in order to deal with this pressing threat. Klaus Van and Christian Huge set aside their differences in the defense of Fausten, and Van marched from the city to confront this threat, ceding control of the Azure District to Huge's forces.

By the end of the day, however, word came to the Grand District from the Harbor, courtesy of the minority of sailors who had defected to Huge: A Tiverian invasion was a complete and total fabrication. In fact, the Imperial Sovereignty had launched a renewed invasion of the Pashman Caliphate, far across the sea, to support the Entarikan rebellion. There would in truth be no Tiverian invasion at all.

It remains unclear who was responsible for this fabrication, though Klaus Van's troops, in a forced march to the south of the city, did encounter and kill a detachment of Royal Hussars, who they mistook for Tiverian troops. By the end of the day, however, Huge, Van, and Haust all realized that the "Tiverian affair" had been nothing more than a rumor printed in the city's seedier publications, the editor of one such journal fleeing the Azure District for the harbor by the end of the day.

---

Two other major affairs transfixed the city. First, the decisive attack of Commander Hauge and his Totenkopfen guard battalion on the Grand District. This was enabled thanks to the betrayal of a gendarme commander, a so-called Captain Altrius, himself a noble with monarchist sympathies. Advance units of the Totenkopfen gained access to the South Gate and entered into the Grand District, before meeting fierce resistance.

This attack completely postponed President Huge and General Junker's plans to leave the Grand District to command the troops in the field, as they were forced to redeploy their units to counter Hauge's attack. The second major affair, the claimed survival of Prince, now King, Julian, remains unconfirmed. Supposedly he was hung in the morning, but by the evening, a broadside printed by a Mssr. Enrico for the benefit of "Lord Regent" Hauge claimed that Julian had survived his execution. Confusion on the Prince's status reigns.

How and if he survived remains unknown, but Julian, if he lives, has been spirited away to an undisclosed location for protection from the secret police or other assassins.

Bolstered by the cease-fire with Van's forces, however, Huge's troops were able to halt the Totenkopfen before Commander Hauge's forces were able to penetrate to the Palace itself. Hauge has also been restrained by an unwillingness to use his heavier artillery within the city itself, especially on the public symbols of the monarchy, neutering him of his main advantage over Huge's Republican Guards.

The heart of the fighting rages around South Gate, which Hauge's forces have secured and fortified, but they remain pinned down by superior numbers. Both sides have taken heavy casualties, but as night falls, a no-man's land exists along the Avenue of Victory between the South Gate and the Royal Palace. Snipers have taken positions in upper rooftops along the avenue, forcing troops from both sides into cover behind barricades.

Hauge's troops have managed to mount artillery atop the walls overlooking South Gate; with telescopic lenses they can see through the swirling smoke of the dying fires around the southern Grand District to the tower of the Grand Hall of Audiences, from which the Republican tricolor flutters.

---

The trade unionist forces, as republicans and monarchists fought bitterly to the death for control over the Grand District, remained somewhat passive, securing control of their neighborhoods, fortifying them, and forming neighborhood watch committees. The upper echelons of the church, presumably taken by surprise by these events, have no clear instructions for Cuthbert on how to proceed, and at any rate he has remained weak as he recovers from his injuries, albeit continuing to advocate mercy for the helpless and imprisonment, not murder, for those responsible for the ills of the working class.

By the end of the day, however, a vicious assault from a company of gendarmes led by the self-same Captain Altrius who betrayed the South Gate to monarchist forces hardened the opinions of the Jarrow mob against any sort of reconciliation with the governing classes of society.

Fierce fires burned as the gendarmes sought to clear out firing space between the Grand District and the slums of Jarrow, which had grown up almost to the walls themselves. Opposition was fierce from the Unionists, but gradually melted away as their lack of discipline and on the ground leadership (William and Cuthbert not being present) could not stand before volleys of grapeshot.

As of now, most of eastern Jarrow has been engulfed in flames, causing thousands of panicked families to flee west, towards the headquarters of Unionist forces, as well as a growing field hospital and soup kitchen for the red-and-blacks, located at the 'Workers' Chapel' on Holgarth Street. It remains to be seen if there are resources to deal with this human tide, but the assault of the gendarmes has certainly earned new potential recruits, including even women.

With his small number of gendarmes, Altrius was obviously unable to penetrate more than a few miles into Jarrow, but his forces have erected fortified outposts of rubble, enfilades and mounted his gatling guns atop them, as if daring the red-and-blacks to march into the line of fire and be mowed down.

The fires threaten to burn out of control and perhaps spread to Scanzburg or the Grand District itself if nothing further is done. What remains to be seen is if Cuthbert and Carter order a full-scale assault on the gendarmes' undermanned positions, or if they attempt to negotiate, but the mood of the crowd is STRONGLY in favor of retaliation en masse for this unprovoked atrocity.

---

Further afield, Westenhal declares itself to be ruled by a 'People's Council' headed by the First Rector of the City Collegium. They have endorsed the efforts of General Klaus Van to establish a true republic, following news of his engagements with the Royal Hussars, and urge him to negotiate with the workers' councils to eliminate the remaining Royalist influences in the nation.

Demands have been sent by a self-styled representative of the colony of Sinophiem, Captain Voss of HRMS Freya, which has declared continuing royalist sentiments in alliance with those of the majority of the Navy. They have required the reinstatement of the Queen Mother, whose whereabouts remain unknown, at the head of a regency council, as well as an immediate cease-fire between Republican and Royalist forces.

With the revelation of the Tiverian threat being a hoax, however, it remains to be seen if any negotiation between the fleet and the Republican government is possible. Skirmishing continues for a second day at the harbor; Republican marines loyal to Huge control the docks but more than 50 meters in, the harbor district and majority of the island remains under unionist control.

---

OOC: I have decided to tamp down the Tiverian matters in order to re-focus the narrative on Fausten itself. The fact remains that even if Fausten is a small country, and the Tiverian onslaught overwhelming, two weeks in-game is not enough time to bring that sort of war story to any reasonable conclusion with the technology we are considering.

I apologize if this interferes with any of your narratives, but I'd like to keep the focus on the nation of Fausten, rather than expanding too far outward and losing our ability to drive forward the central narrative.

Blaze, your last story was a little incoherent and riddled with typos. I tried to clarify what I thought your positions really meant, but it was a little difficult to parse. Try to do a little more editing next time before posting! I appreciate your contributions.

SO BEGINS DAY 5.

There's plenty of space for new factions and movements to take hold, both in Faustenburg, in Westenhal, and elsewhere in the country. Do your best to continue your stories! I'm proud of how well everyone has done with very little guidance.

Day 5, 9 AM

The advance had stopped for now. The Jarrow was aflame, both physically and spiritually. Altraius smiled. A spark of enjoyment of his task seemed to now have grown to a raging fire within him. He chuckled and shook his head. Still, his work here was mostly done. He watched the dancing flames, and suddenly remembered that the Streetwatch was responsible for firefighting. He wondered what had happened to their equipment. But that was not his concern.

He pondered his choices as he wrote his letter. Burning the Jarrow might be the best thing that had ever happened to the city. Architects would one day toast to his name. The denizens of the city might have a different view of him but still. It needed to be done though, as he penned his letter. While waiting, he ordered his men to launch their last incendiary round. His men had gotten over eager at the start, but to be fair, a sizable buffer had been made, and the message had been delivered....or it would be when he finished.

He looked it over before sending. Cuthbert was a learned man he had heard, and Altraius wanted to be certain that the letter had a good effect both on him, and his vagabonds.

Dear Father Cuthbert, and the "Black and Red" rebels,

You have been beaten thoroughly, that much is clear. Your days of defiance must be at an end, and you must return to this country's lawful authority, or your people will pay an even heavier price. This is what happened when 200 of my men attacked you; imagine what will happen when I bring the full force of my troops against you.

I give you one last chance. Have your fighters lay down their arms, and surrender yourself. You will be imprisoned, and your rebel soldiers will be allowed to return to peace and labor. If not, death awaits you all.

Do not decline our graciousness. End your rebellion, and we will bother you no more. A Republic has been established that will guide Fausten into a new era of prosperity and glory. And if that does not appeal to you, know that the allegiance of General Van now lies with us. 8,000 men, all prepared to burn the rest of your miserable hive to the ground.

Signed,

His Excellency, President Christian Huge.


As the bombardment subsided, he gave the message to one of the few prisoners he had bothered taking. A mother, whose child he also held. He wasn't going to send his own man to be slaughtered. He tied the woman's hands together, as well as a flag of the Gendarmes, and the message. He said to the woman "Take this to Father Cuthbert. Do this for me, and your child lives" as he motioned to the boy, two pistols pointed at him. The woman nodded gravely. It wasn't as if she had a choice in the matter.

As the woman left, he shouted to his men "Alright men, let's load up and get on out of here!" The men looked at him quizzically. A sergeant asked "Sir, shouldn't we try to hold the positions here?" motioning to the mounds of debris they had turned into make shift fortifications.

Altraius shrugged "Do you really want to be here when 5,000 unwashed peasants are storming us? I don't think we have 5,000 bullets left even. No, back to the Grand." he said, as he loaded his pistol. Haugh or Huge? Huge or Haugh? Well he'd find out soon he supposed, perhaps he'd try to find Eisel?

As the Gendarmerie marched through the West Gate. He contemplated leaving it open, but no. The message had to look real.

Besides, even peasants weren't that stupid.

Due to only getting one story today, I'll delay Day 5 for one day.

Shadowbound, Can't, Christos come on guys D: Slow day sunday maybe?

The Old Man's useless legs were contorted beneath him, gutter water soaking his shredded trousers. Most pedestrians hurried past him. His constant moans were unnerving enough, never mind his ravaged face. His nose was but a flat, gnarled lump on his face, pummeled in by countless fists and clubs. His teeth were likewise long gone. The shattering of his legs had come before the squalor, and was a relic of his time as an infantry man.

A pair of street guards gave him a wide berth, though they spat an insult his way, telling him to move soon or they'd throw him into a new pile of filth. The Old Man chuckled to himself, hoping they would. Of all those who beat him, he preferred the guards. Not because they were gentle - oh no, they were regularly the harshest, beating him about the torso with clubs - but because they often moved him in the process, and that was the only time had had a change of scenery. The worst were the drunks. They were unpredictable, and lacked all self control. It was to them he could thank for his ravaged face.

On this fine day, he was in a gutter, greasy water providing his sustenance. To most everyone, his moans were that of pure misery. But to some, the few who spoke the language of the damned, could hear the melody beneath it. A hymn that paid no mind to circumstance or consistency, shifting tone and cadence at a whim. He had heard news of a war, heard news of a hoax, heard news of regicide, heard news of revolt. He preferred his song.

Occasionally, someone similarly crushed by civilisation would stop and listen, grasping the true melody. They may approach the man, exchange words. Then they would leave, on their lips a tune of the complete rejection of circumstance.

If one was to watch, they may also see that street children would sometimes appear from the shadows, and whisper into the old man's ear. Then after hearing a reply, would scurry back into the darkness. But none would notice this. None would look at an old, broken man, moaning in a ditch. There was news of war and revolt to pay mind to.

Similarly, few payed mind to the darkness of streets in the night, or the lack of lamp lighters. As soldiers marched to war or fought each other within the city walls, lamp-oil stores were low on officials' minds. A few drops lost here and there were simply lost in the rivers of blood.

" Westenhal " muttered Klaus Van to himself. " How amazing " he thought, as he was reading the Rector's invitation to discuss any possible issues they had, so that they may get rid of aristocracy together.

But such a task would not be easy. Even Klaus Van, an idealist, knew that getting rid of the higher - class or at the very least severely limiting their influence would require a common, unified force consisted from all the lower classes. Such would be the costs of the most holy of all goals: establishing a true Republic.

It seems that Westenhal had achieved this true level of republicanism, or so it wanted to appear. First Rector? City Collegium? These titles were indeed something Van had not expected to arise form a Republic, but yet again cultural influences had to be taken into account.

And so it was decided. Klaus Van could not waste any more time. He would meet the First Rector and the People's Council of Westenhal, so that he could help them destroy royalism in their lands once and for all. This was the right step. He could not doubt himself from now on. Long Live the True Republic!

Day 5, 10:45 AM

As the Gendarmerie returned to Station #6, Altraius shouted an order “An hour of rest men, and then we have to get moving! I know you’re tired, but we don’t want to get caught in the crossfire!” The men groaned, but moved to obey. For the first time in his career, Altraius actually had developed a respect for the men of the Gendarmerie. Though he had long condemned his men as lazy, cowardly and most of the time corrupt (unlike himself as a man who would fight on the frontline if he wasn’t his family’s only son, and a moment of temporary weakness had tarnished his good name). But these past few days, they had their mettle tested, and by any reasonable measure they had succeeded. But for little good it seemed. Hauge seemed unwilling to march into the palace, and General Huge’s defense stood stalwart for now. As he ascended the staircase, Altraius hoped that Eisel would be back with something, anything. The situation grew more and more tense, and as the days went by, it seemed that Huge moved closer and closer to victory. The Crowned Heads would break soon he feared, and then the mob….

Shuddering, Altrais stepped down into the meeting room and heard the door immediately slam “Sit down” said a gruff voice from behind “Turn around and I won’t hesitate to kill you” Altraius shrugged and sat. Eisel sat across the table, a pistol in one hand, and clapped. His style had changed significantly, gone was the mild stubble and the ridiculous hair and mannerisms. Though he clapped like before, it no longer seemed genuine and foolish; it was a sarcastic, slow clapping. The Eisel before had hidden depths it had seemed; here, he showed his dangerous interior bare. Altraius turned to his right. Captain Holst, dead, a bullet had torn through his chest. Eisel playfully toyed with the gun at Altraius and chuckled “Welcome back, Captain Rohan Altraius.”

Altraius looked back over to Eisel “Just who are you, exactly?” as the bodyguard blocked the entrance to the room.

“Would it make you feel better before dying? I suppose that makes enough sense. And I suppose you’ve been a bit more fun than the others to play with. Very well then, Captain Altraius.” He motioned for the man behind Altraius to step back, though Altraius dared not turn around as Eisel continued “My real name is Klaus Fischer. I grew up in the Azure District, and though my childhood was not as luxurious as yours, it was rather pleasant still. My father had worked as a cobbler, but the Jarrow’s machines put him out of business. He had always had a bad back though, and wouldn’t be able to cut it as a laborer. At this point, my mother went to work for us, but not at a factory. No, as my father faced near foreclosure, my mother sold his store to a noble who was willing to overpay to house his mistress and baseborn offspring. I didn’t know if she was inspired by that, or if it was already her plan, but she soon became a fixture in the Grand, on the arm of some noble or another. A courtesan is what she was, mistress to a man for but a night. And she was lovely Rohan, with a voice like a songbird. How she would sing to them, and then how they would sing to her. Eventually, she moved from trading her body to secrets. Hiding a woman from her ****old of a husband, providing a cover for a man’s rendezvous with another man.” he sighed “Truly the greatest information broker of her day”

Altraius snorted, but Eisel wagged his finger”Now now Altraius, information is very valuable. Imagine, five years from now. King Julian on the throne, the rebellion pacified, but the officers that had acted so evily, the Crimson Butcher, was never held accountable for his crimes. A group of relatives of a man you shot down in cold blood want to find him though, and bring him to justice. And I happen to have a name for them. And then with you running desperately for your life, you might pay anything for a new face, a new life. And I can provide that for you, or anyone, for a price.”

Altraius cocked his head “It seems your mother was better at this than you. Extoriting nobles seems far more profitable than collecting scraps from peasants.” Eisel laughed “Very true, very true. I do well for myself, but my mother did best me in that regard, yes. She did make more money, but for my mother she was only interested in the money. For me though, what I seek is fun. Fun, excitement, adventure, and most of all, a good story. The nobility are mostly hiding their sordid carnal affairs, but that gets boring after awhile Rohan. Even you must admit that.” Eisel said, shaking his head with a chuckle “The people of the Jarrow, of the Azure, of the Harbor...they are REAL people, with real stories. Real excitement... But no, I haven’t answered your question.

No, obviously I did not inherit my mother’s position. In fact, initially I had no interest. I had always wanted to paint. Paint, paint, paint, it was always so fashionable. My mother had gotten me tutors when she made her money, and I fell in love, meshing the colors, putting my ideas to paper and seeing them come to life! My dream was to attend the Royal Institute of Art, but by the time I was ready to go, homelife had taken a turn for the worse. Father’s back pain worsened and he had gotten sick, and mother’s money went to his doctors and medicine. Eventually, we went back into poverty. The typical nouveau riche, lost our money as quickly as we spent it, no investments to speak of alas. Both of them soon dead, I neither had the money nor the potential contacts to ease my way into the academy. But I was not deterred! I would enter not with familial aid, but on talent alone! I would take their test, and impress them so much they would offer me a full scholarship on the spot!

It was only then that I discovered that I had absolutely no talent at art whatsoever. It seems that private tutors are more concerned that the pupil enjoys painting to continue paying for lessons rather than sorting out the good from trash. I tried two more times, but was rejected again and again. I cried all night that third time, and during that frenzied crying, I had a vision of my mother. It filled me with resolve once more, determined to make it on the talents I DID have.

The next morning, I went to a restaurant my mother told me was ran by the secret police, showed them my paintings, and offered them a proposal. The deputy was interested enough, and agreed; I was to enter the Institute not just as a student, but as an informant! It seemed liberal ideas were on the rise, and they couldn’t arrest the country’s top talents wholesale. They needed to get the troublemakers. And I was to be their eyes and ears.

I quickly became a force to be reckoned with. Though my skills as a painter did not improve, I soon discovered a knack for investigation, rumor starting, and blackmail. Some students I blackmailed, others that bullied me I turned over to the secret police. The best thing about secret police is that there’s no due process. A finger point, and you’ll never leave the tunnels. Unfortunately though, artists aren’t particularly more interesting than the nobility, and though there was no due process, the issue was that randomly naming art students as terrorists that had no such leanings led the secret police to abandon the project. Without their support keeping me in, I was expelled for a minor misunderstanding involving a goat and some very excitable beatles.

But the contacts I did make through the secret police at first were useful still. Working for local gangs, finding out information, when and where raids were coming, framing other gangs. That was the world I belonged in. The Jarrow and the Docks were my playground. I met men like our former Captain Holst there, and rose them so that one day I might have a friend in higher places. I had a network that surpassed the secret police, who later brought me back in to deal with a tax avoidance issue, and I expanded my own network even further.

But now, for today. Today, I am still a member of the Secret Police. While I am not foolish enough to challenge Bruno Stowe, I do know where they have fled, and so too will the Republican Hussars. I think they’ll be better suited to it than I, and the last of the direct royal line will end. Cousins and uncles can be hunted at the President’s leisure; no distant relative will be a threat to his Republic. “

Altraius shooks his head “HUGE Why, HUGE? He’s an idiot!”

Eisel nodded “Exactly! He is a special type of idiot though: an interesting one. Haugh is a bore; the most exciting thing he can talk about is mustaches” he said with a grimace “And Princess Joanna? I think she’s a textbook definition of the sequestered princess. But Huge? Huge had the royal heir right in front of him, he could have used him to end the monarchist rebellion then and there. But what does he do? He hangs him! He should have shot the brat while he was watching” he whispered to Altraius “By the way, if you ever want someone dead, do it yourself. Don’t just send two random soldiers away with him. Happens entirely too often. But yes. Huge. What he did wasn’t smart by any stretch of the imagination. But the man has stones. And that’s at least a bit interesting, the most interesting till that mob guts Cuthbert alive. Now that, that will be a sight to see. We’ll have to watch the city burn my friend” Eisel sadly shook his head.

But then he cocked the gun “Remember that part about though about killing the guy you want dead while you’re still there?”

Altraius nodded.

“Well I do take my own advice” said Eisel, raising the gun to Altraius.

Altraius closed his eyes. This was it. He knew it was coming. Not just for the past hour, but he had been feeling it when this revolution had started. He wasn’t going to live forever. He tried opening his eyes, but couldn’t. Then tears. Bravery? Pff. Altraius couldn’t laugh, he couldn’t even face his death like a man. A silent sob escaped him.

This was it.

The shot rang out.

The blackness….

It seemed to go on forever…

--------------------

"You begin to sound like a trade unionist," Riehle accused him. "What's next? Land reform, labor rights, public participation?"

"The nobility has demonstrated that it can no longer be trusted. They will sell out their divine monarch, God's regent on Earth, to preserve their petty privileges. The people have simple goals, and the strength of the crown has always, in the end, been derived from popular support. Not wealth, not nobility, and most certainly not the gendarmes."

"I wouldn't be so certain to discount the gendarmes."

"No? Altraius is worse than useless now. I may shoot him if I see him again."

"Ah," Riehle countered "but another captain is here, I am told. Last time he brought you the crown, and now he has come, via some secret passage, with a head for it to sit upon."

"Tha canst not do it Cuth!" Amy was angry - distraught, Carter stood nearby too. It was obvious he had made an unexpected call. The letter sat in front of them, only Cuthbert had read it but they all imagined what it was. "They'll kill tha and that'll be it, it'll all be over. All we've worked for."

"Er's right Cuth," Carter added. "Jarrow burns, we all see that, but we can't stop just because they tell us to. Yes they've put fear of god in us but we can put it int them. We'll fight back."

Cuthbert lay on his bed. He had come out in a fever overnight, his wounds were not healing well and all of Amy's tenderness and all of the bandages in the world weren't going to save him now. He was in God's hands. In a way it all made sense. God was forcing his hand here making him choose something that he wouldn't have otherwise considered an option. Instrument of his will. "Its not about fighting any more. Jarrow burns, they've destroyed not only our homes but our means of production. We no longer hold anything over them. I can't imagine this General Huge is in any way working with the support of the rich. The factory owners just lost there livelihoods, Huge made the wrong call in burning the industrial sector. He's alienated the rich and the poor."

"Exactly," Carter replied taking out a map from his pocket "This gives us the perfect time to strike at 'em, they must be losing support even amongst the best off - people of Grand District will rise too." He laid down the map on the beside table and for the next few minutes he told of a plan to storm the gates and enter the old city.

"It won't work," Amy retorted "T'rich won't join us they just sit in there homes and compplain and say thist all tha's doing. Tha can't rely on the rich coming to us."

Cuthbert gestured for Amy to come towards him. He gave a faint smile before continuing "This is I must go to speak with them. We can work out some terms. Think of it this way - if I am able to end their burning of Jarrow we can have a truce during which the rich will learn what it is to have the means of production taken from them. Otherwise I get locked up and it gives the men something to reach for, a target for our assault. They think I'm important so they will try and get me out of any jail I'm put in."

"But what if they kill tha!" Amy practically shouted at him. "Cuthbert this isn't worth tha dying for!"

"I will likely die anyway. If we fail I will be executed, if we succeed I may still die of there wounds."

Putting his map back in his pocket Carter made for the door. "I've heard enough of this, tha aint going to die. Tha'rt chosen by God, we all believe that." He opened the door and stepped through turning to say "Now it that donst mind I have some fires to fight."

He left and closed the door leaving Cuthbert with Amy - exactly where he didn't want to be right now. Maybe she was right and nothing could be accomplished by trying to negotiate with Huge, he hadn't shown the rest of them the letter and hadn't mentioned the threat that made up the end but from the window the smell of burning overpowered everything else - the smell of the factories and the opens ewers all gave way for the dank burnt smell of damp buildings that had been burnt to the ground.

The fires had been so hot that despite the torrential downpours of the past few days the district had still been set ablaze. All the factories - which Cuthbert had called to be preserved due to their status as the Unions' sole bargaining chip - were all now charred wood and heat warped machinery. Many a capitalist would read their newspaper with dread to see what damage had been done to their properties but non of them faced as much dread as Cuthbert did here trying to persuade Amy to let him try and negotiate with the Gendarmes.

"Close the window will you, I can smell the smoke." The window was lined with ash and charred pieces of wood that had been light enough to be lifted by the wind. Amy brushed this aside before closing the sash and cutting out the outside world slightly.

"Cuth, I don't think tha's well enough to be makken this choice. If you go to try and talk to them then they just takest that and put that in prison without any indication that they wont just kill tha."

"I'll decide by tomorrow Amy, but if you truly believe that god speakest through me then you'll agree that this may be something I have to do."

"Tha'st wrong Cuthbert, and tha'st always been wrong. These people are not like us, they dontst eat like us or sleep like us, they don't work like us or talk like us. They arenst us and we shouldnst think they art. We shouldn't be negotiating we should be fighting and if tha goes to negotiate and gets thaself killed or imprisoned tha'st not doing ought a favour."

Cuthbert sighed, she was of course right but she didn't have all the details. He felt bad about keeping things from her but even he wasn't sure what the thought of the message that had been communicated to him briefly by one of the royals in the cellar. Could a monarchy co-exist with the Unions? Could he ever forgive himself if the monarchy continued and they turned out to be just as bad? Would there be anything to stop it getting this bad again?
Even in a democracy what is to stop one man or woman coming to power and systematically crushing the unions?
Would the workers every be safe unless they themselves controlled the government?

These and more comprised the doubts and questions flowing through Cuthbert's mind.
"Ask me again tomorrow Amy. I'm tired, our efforts should be stopping the blaze before the Chapel is engulphed in flame and we become just another pile of ashes on someone else's windowsill."




Across the city Ord was reading the evening paper from his lavish mansion. He was going red with rage. It is true that little could disturb the great Mr Ord of Ord and Co. Textiles but with all his factories lying in ashes he could barley contain it. He screamed and shouted and threw thing at walls. He made plans and prepared schemes before becoming infuriated again. His life was an empire built on the textile mills of Jarrow. Now that they all lay in ashes by the works of the Gendarme he had absolutely nothing.

When his servant came in to bring him news of another factory burnt down he found Aribert Ord, the textiles king of Faustenburg one of the richest and most influential of the cotton barons was hanging from a rope attached to the ceiling beams of his room.

The rope was beginning to unravel under the immense weight of too many breakfasts

Just like the city was unravelling.For too long had too few enjoyed the labour of men. The end times were coming.