Anonymous2U
Deadly Serious
Bavaria and Baden will sign the treaty once they know what their share of the 15,000,000 pounds is and the timetable for payments.
A Brave New World
- Thread starter EQandcivfanatic
- Start date
THe next update will be Tuesday.
Toltec
Dragon Tamer
From the Kingdom of Piedmont
To the Allies
We grudgingly accept the terms of peace proposed by Austria. Our King Charles Albert abdicates in favour of his son Victor Emmanuel, due to ill health.
To the Allies
We grudgingly accept the terms of peace proposed by Austria. Our King Charles Albert abdicates in favour of his son Victor Emmanuel, due to ill health.
qoou
Emperor
- Joined
- Dec 13, 2007
- Messages
- 1,991
How about:
Treaty of Konigsberg
- Hostilities between Russia, Prussia, Britain, Bavaria, Baden, Austria, and China will cease immediately.
- The Russian and Prussian states agrees to pay 15,000,000 pounds over the course of five years, to be split evenly.
- The Russian and Prussians will accept responsibility for the war.
- The Russians and Prussians will officially apologize to all nations harmed by this conflict.
- Prussia's claims to Hanover will be forever dropped.
- A naval cap of 90 IC's worth of ships will be imposed on Russia and Prussia.
- Russia will withdraw all merchants and renounce all lands gained from China.
- China will agree to cease expansion into central Asia.
- A 10 year Non-Aggression Pact will be signed by the above-mentioned states.
Treaty of Konigsberg
- Hostilities between Russia, Prussia, Britain, Bavaria, Baden, Austria, and China will cease immediately.
- The Russian and Prussian states agrees to pay 15,000,000 pounds over the course of five years, to be split evenly.
- The Russian and Prussians will accept responsibility for the war.
- The Russians and Prussians will officially apologize to all nations harmed by this conflict.
- Prussia's claims to Hanover will be forever dropped.
- A naval cap of 90 IC's worth of ships will be imposed on Russia and Prussia.
- Russia will withdraw all merchants and renounce all lands gained from China.
- China will agree to cease expansion into central Asia.
- A 10 year Non-Aggression Pact will be signed by the above-mentioned states.
Terrance888
Discord Reigns
OOC: 90 IC is still 270 Frigates and/or 90Man'o Wars.
I suggest arround 50. Don't have to but...
150 Frigates and/or 50 Man'o Wars sound MUCH better.
I suggest arround 50. Don't have to but...
150 Frigates and/or 50 Man'o Wars sound MUCH better.
qoou
Emperor
- Joined
- Dec 13, 2007
- Messages
- 1,991
I know, but I don't want to disband my... aww nm: my navy's gone...
Please edit the second part out...
OOC: This makes a lot of sense, actually. The cap should be reduced if it's supposed to be at all meaningful.
OOC: Yes Britains not going to let you have 270 Frigates and/or 90 Man-o-Wars. Seeing as you have no navy left because we obliterated it we find our cap to be quite reasonable. as its unlikely with your economic situation that more than that could be produced for a very long time anyway.
OCC: OMG!!!!!!!!!!!
I hope this works.
Treaty of Berlin
- Hostilities between Russia, Prussia, Britain, Bavaria, Baden, Austria, and China will cease immediately.
- The Russian and Prussian states agrees to pay 15,000,000 pounds over the course of five years, to be split evenly.
- The Russian and Prussians will accept responsibility for the war.
- The Russians and Prussians will officially apologize to all nations harmed by this conflict.
- Prussia's claims to Hanover will be forever dropped.
- A naval cap of 20 Man-o-Wars and 30 Frigates for each nation
- Russia will withdraw all merchants and renounce all lands gained from China.
- China will agree to cease expansion into central Asia.
- A 10 year Non-Aggression Pact will be signed by the above-mentioned states.
Prussia of course signs the treaty.
I hope this works.
Treaty of Berlin
- Hostilities between Russia, Prussia, Britain, Bavaria, Baden, Austria, and China will cease immediately.
- The Russian and Prussian states agrees to pay 15,000,000 pounds over the course of five years, to be split evenly.
- The Russian and Prussians will accept responsibility for the war.
- The Russians and Prussians will officially apologize to all nations harmed by this conflict.
- Prussia's claims to Hanover will be forever dropped.
- A naval cap of 20 Man-o-Wars and 30 Frigates for each nation
- Russia will withdraw all merchants and renounce all lands gained from China.
- China will agree to cease expansion into central Asia.
- A 10 year Non-Aggression Pact will be signed by the above-mentioned states.
Prussia of course signs the treaty.
flyingchicken
Deity
- Joined
- Feb 3, 2007
- Messages
- 3,783
EDIT: Changed the ending sentence. I hate myself for the original.
OOC: Please don't mind my utter disregard for OTL timetables and the fact that I'm making up everything about historical personages without doing really extensive research.
@Anonymous2U: I hope you don't mind me being so liberal with my usage of characters from Bavaria—not excluding Bavaria's own king—in my stories.
____________________
Georg Ludwig von Maurer
The man who would become Prime Minister
Under the directive of King Ludwig I of Bavaria, Georg Ludwig von Maurer was forced into a long and tiring journey from his comfortable little office in the Munich to the distant and antique land of the Greeks to become one of the council of three regents who advised King Otto I. It was an important job, at least for the people of the fledgling state of Greece, and this honored the humble Bavarian official greatly.
Of course, the office would not have been open if a Karl von Abel did not have the misfortune of having a stone block breaking his skull irreparably, a misfortune that proved to be fatal for the poor man. Investigations on whether it was an assassination or not are still ongoing, but considering that the dead man and his absolutist views and policies often clashed violently with the Greek ex-klephts[1], the local Greek nobility (of both sides of the libertarian spectrum), and businessmen of varying ethnicity and nationality, it would come to no surprise if it turned out to be so.
Meanwhile, there those who claim that von Maurer was chosen for he was the exact opposite of everything von Abel stood for—he was regarded by many as a liberal and a proponent of modernization, while von Abel was a staunch and sometimes extreme conservative in all respects—and that Bavaria did not wish to see the deaths of more able ministers. But I digress, for these matters are all tangential. The focus of this story is on Georg Ludwig von Maurer, the Bavarian official sent to manage Greek affairs under King Otto I.
As of May the sixth of eighteen thirty-four, von Maurer was sitting aboard a little French sloop whose name was hard to pronounce (much less remember) which had been sailing at full speed towards Athens in the past few days. He was writing the introduction to his history of Greece (the ship was thankfully steady), a little pet project he will be working on in his time there. The working title of the book was Das griechische Volk in öffentlicher, kirchlicher, und privatrechtlicher Beziehung vor und nach dem Freiheitskampf bis zum Ich bin fertig (The Greek people in public, church and private matters before and after their struggle for freedom until I am finished). He did not know until when he was to stay there, but he knew he had a good few years ahead of him and that he might as well spend his vacant time writing a history or two.
It was midday when the ship finally set anchor at a dock in Athens. This journey not being a very important one, the Kingdom of Bavaria did not bother itself to directly pay for his traveling expenses; instead, he was given a few coins to see him on his way and a bank note for himself as a civil servant of Bavaria. Future salaries, of course, would be paid for by the Kingdom of Greece. As a professional, von Maurer greatly appreciated the payment, but as a civil servant, he thought it was his God-given duty to manage the affairs of the state for it and its constituents. Aside from money, von Maurer had with him a bag of papers, an inkwell and a steel-nub pen, and a flintlock pistol hanging visibly by his side.
Ah, that reminded him: Neither his home country nor Greece had a constitution. Though loyal to king and country, von Maurer was a liberal when it came to such matters being a freethinking professor at heart. Back in Bavaria, he would be shot down for such "destabilizing ideas," but he heard that the atmosphere in Greece was different—it had a certain libertarian flavor to it. Though still bound by a Church and an absolutist state, the power of those outside the autocephaly and the government was great and the spirit of the Greek revolution had not withered away just yet.
He walked down the street with an academic knowledge of the Greek language, trying to follow signs and streets to a small inn by the sea. He was told that King Otto himself readied a horse fit for nobility for him for his arrival, and that the horse was in the hands of a Theodoros Dimitriou in the aforementioned inn; as much as von Maurer appreciated the gesture, he was not much of a rider and preferred the soft seats of carriages over saddles, not matter how ornate the saddles or how magnificent the horses wearing them may be.
Upon reaching the inn at dusk—wasting an hour or two getting lost—he knocked on the thick wooden doors thrice. It was a quaint building, with a good chunk of the concrete wall of the second story of the three-story building was missing. It might have been a sign of the innkeepers' neglect or poverty, or it might have been a memento from the Greek Revolution. Von Maurer hoped it was the latter; otherwise, he feared, it was going to be a very busy tenure for him.
“It is late!” yelled someone in Greek, with a native accent mixed in with a gruffness that could only come from a hard day. “In any case, there is no room for you here! Go away, or I sic the dogs at you!”
“Is this the His Majesty’s Own?” shouted von Maurer back in the politest tone imaginable, at the same time deliberately making it a point to emphasize his German accent. All of a sudden, the Bavarian official heard heavy footsteps coming towards the door, with a light clinking of what he assumed to be keys or coins. He knew that his accent was to catch attention, especially if this was the right place.
The door opened, revealing a slightly flushed man with a harried look and manner. It seemed as though the day did not go well for him. The innkeeper—at least, that’s who von Maurer thought he was—was short and portly with squinty eyes that that took in von Maurer’s every feature. Contrasting the small Greek man, the German was of great height and athletic build, with an aristocratic air that he carried unthinkingly both as a distinguished servant of the state and as member of the academia. He had a spring in his step and voice that indicated great reserves of energy, something which the small portly man looked lacking in.
The little Greek man stared at the thin leather bag which hung by von Maurer’s side, kept there by a strap slung about his shoulder. Meanwhile, von Maurer looked towards the interior of the inn, not looking at anything in particular, noticing two very young boys and a young girl scrubbing and mopping. After a long and awkward pause, the innkeeper looked up at von Maurer and asked in a tone with slightly more politeness than before, “Do you have the papers?”
“Yes,” said von Maurer, opening his bag. He rummaged through the contents—all of which were paperwork of varying importance, from decrees from King Ludwig to plans to be submitted to King Otto to his history of Greece to his own personal journal. Finally, he found what he was looking for and continued, saying, “Yes, here, I have it.”
The Bavarian standing at the inn’s doorway in the long-since-fading sunlight produced a thin piece of paper with a bare minimum of words on it. It was an official letter that declared that he, Georg Ludwig von Maurer, was to stay in His Majesty’s Own by decree of the absolute monarch, King Otto I of Greece. At the top of the sheet was King Otto’s monogram, and at the bottom the king’s signature was displayed prominently. The innkeeper read and re-read it silently, taking out a folded piece of paper from one of his pockets as he did. After the Greek man unfolded the once-pocketed piece of paper, von Maurer saw that it, too, contained the king’s monogram and signature.
“Alright,” said the innkeeper, now in a superficially polite tone. He puffed out his chest and continued, this time speaking as though by rote, “Master von Maurer, you are stay for the night by His Majesty, the King of Greece, unless urgency demands that you leave immediately. You are to be served dinner will up in your room“—the portly little man handed over a worn brass key—“within an hour of your arrival. The reddish-brown gelding will be released tomorrow—or earlier if authorized by the proper authorities—to be ridden by you. I hope that you find His Majesty’s Own to be more than accommodating.” Not once did the little Greek man stop squinting.
Von Maurer nodded, frowning at how the man conducted himself. It seemed as him as though the man was spiteful of the Bavarian’s presence—of course, as far as he knew, most Greeks liked the monarchy. Mr. Dimitriou (at least, that’s who von Maurer thought the little Greek man was) must be one of the few who disliked King Otto’s government. As the old adage goes, you can’t please everybody. It was a mystery to von Maurer as to why King Otto led him to such a—shall we say—hostile place.
Climbing up the flight of stairs, von Maurer briefly checked the brass key to see where he was going to sleep. Engraved on the key were the words Floor three, room seven. Quite concise, he thought, and he hurried up to his designated room, expecting nothing more than a comfortable bed on which to sleep before he headed for the palace proper.
“Floor three, room seven,” whispered von Maurer upon arriving at the door of his room. At that point he realized just how tired from traveling he was. He looked forward to having an early dinner so that he can sleep off his exhaustion as soon as possible. Using the brass key given to him, he opened the locked door and met a grim-faced man who was staring straight at the doorway until von Maurer opened it.
The startled von Maurer quickly reached for his flintlock, not hesitating for a second. In moments, he had an armed pistol between him and the menacing stranger. Though not the best course of action (as he might have been given the wrong key to a wrong room), he was too tired and too flustered to have done anything about it.
“Who are you?” he shouted in German. The grim-faced man raised his hands, showing that they are empty. As a man of manners, von Maurer withdrew his firearm, albeit reluctantly. He was looking straight at the man’s eyes when he asked again, this time in Greek, “Who are you?”
“I am Theodoros Dimitriou,” said the man in perfect German, his hands still up. Von Maurer eyed the man before him suspiciously. He never did get the innkeeper’s name. “King Otto has sent me to fetch you. We are to ride to the palace immediately.” The man suddenly reached for his vest pocket, to which von Maurer reacted by placing his gun between him and the man claiming to be Theodoros Dimitriou in one rapid move.
To von Maurer’s relief, the man simply took out a piece of folded paper. Without warning but at the same time unsurprisingly, there was a great rush of footsteps from the inn’s staircase. Within moments, the innkeeper and two servant boys armed with heavy-looking sticks appeared at one end of the corridor.
“What’s the problem here?” asked the innkeeper, his eyes shifting from the pistol-armed von Maurer to the paper-wielding man who claimed to be Theodoros Dimitriou. After a short “standoff,” the innkeeper waved his servant boys to put down their sticks. “Get back to cleaning, you two.” The two boys, somewhat confused and somewhat disappointed, quickly ran down the stairs to get back to their chores.
“I’m sorry for not warning you,” said the innkeeper, addressing von Maurer. The Bavarian was not able to tell whether the innkeeper was genuinely apologetic or not. “Master Theodoros Dimitriou has ‘important business’ with you, regarding affairs of the state, he says.” The innkeeper was hiding amusement in his eyes, or so von Maurer thought. It did not matter, though.
“You are pardoned,” said von Maurer contemptuously. He was not easily distressed, but he did not take well to such shocks after long and tiring journeys. Speaking deliberately, he continued, saying, “But next time this ever happens again, I will personally confront you as an official of the Greek court and charge you with obstruction of governmental procedure by negligence. Is that clear, Mister Innkeeper?”
No longer visibly amused, the innkeeper bowed deeply and said, “Yes sir.” He quietly went away without anything further to say. Von Maurer now turned to Theodoros Dimitriou, who—as von Maurer now noticed—was wearing livery in the colors of the House of Wittelsbach. No longer fazed as he was, the Bavarian official walked into the small room and sat down on a chair opposite where Dimitriou was sitting.
“Sit down, Mister Dimitriou,” said von Maurer, taking on a commanding tone. They were to talk in Greek, them being in Greek soil after all. The king’s servant complied and faced the Bavarian official as he sat. Von Maurer cocked his head in approval. “What business do you have with me?”
“King Otto has instructed me to educate you on the matter of von Abel,” replied Dimitriou. “There is renewed tension between the powerful parties and the regency-monarchy, no thanks to that man.”
All that has been said about von Abel earlier was repeated by Theodoros. The manservant described how von Abel’s staunch absolutism, though often overruled by his more lily-livered partners, had incited the anger of everyone from the klephts to the nobility to the businessmen. Even the Greek Church—which von Abel supported as part of his policies—was angry with him for not being able to legislate the ingraining of the autocephaly into the government. Currently it was a dangerous time for government officials to go about the city streets, according to Dimitriou.
“Theobald Piscatory, Gabriel Catacazy and Edmund Lyons have all left posthaste to report the trouble to their home governments,” said Theodoros, lowering his voice as though part of a conspiracy. “The Great Powers are not going to like this, but there is little we can do. Order will come about naturally—we have had similar incidents in the past, only with lesser-ranking officials. The safest thing to do now is to have the government hide behind the palace walls until the dissenters are rooted out. There are few of them, sure, but a good few with arms and money is hardly something to simply scoff at.”
Von Maurer shook his head in disbelief, but he knew he had to accept it. No, no, he was going to do something about it. He had to know what troubled the few Greeks who were, apparently, responsible for von Abel’s death. But first, he had to get to the safety of the palace.
“Mister Dimitriou,” interrupted von Maurer as he wiped off beads of sweat forming on his forehead. They were just being careful about his safety was all, but the off-chance that any replacement for von Abel was going to be killed was still a very real one. “I think I have heard enough for one night. I believe I can find out more in the palace.” It was getting late; eleven forty-three, according to von Maurer’s pocket-watch.
The manservant stopped, gave the room’s window a quick glance, and then gave a curt nod. He replied, saying, “We will ride in the morning.”
____________________
[1] Klepht: literally “thief,” has positive connotation in Greece because this is the what they called the freedom fighters back in the days of the revolution. Now they feel their contributions are unappreciated by the government because there's little room for them in the official Greek Army.
* Note: Made-up characters include: The manservant Theodoros (from previous story) and the unnamed characters.
OOC: Please don't mind my utter disregard for OTL timetables and the fact that I'm making up everything about historical personages without doing really extensive research.
@Anonymous2U: I hope you don't mind me being so liberal with my usage of characters from Bavaria—not excluding Bavaria's own king—in my stories.
____________________
Georg Ludwig von Maurer
The man who would become Prime Minister
Under the directive of King Ludwig I of Bavaria, Georg Ludwig von Maurer was forced into a long and tiring journey from his comfortable little office in the Munich to the distant and antique land of the Greeks to become one of the council of three regents who advised King Otto I. It was an important job, at least for the people of the fledgling state of Greece, and this honored the humble Bavarian official greatly.
Of course, the office would not have been open if a Karl von Abel did not have the misfortune of having a stone block breaking his skull irreparably, a misfortune that proved to be fatal for the poor man. Investigations on whether it was an assassination or not are still ongoing, but considering that the dead man and his absolutist views and policies often clashed violently with the Greek ex-klephts[1], the local Greek nobility (of both sides of the libertarian spectrum), and businessmen of varying ethnicity and nationality, it would come to no surprise if it turned out to be so.
Meanwhile, there those who claim that von Maurer was chosen for he was the exact opposite of everything von Abel stood for—he was regarded by many as a liberal and a proponent of modernization, while von Abel was a staunch and sometimes extreme conservative in all respects—and that Bavaria did not wish to see the deaths of more able ministers. But I digress, for these matters are all tangential. The focus of this story is on Georg Ludwig von Maurer, the Bavarian official sent to manage Greek affairs under King Otto I.
As of May the sixth of eighteen thirty-four, von Maurer was sitting aboard a little French sloop whose name was hard to pronounce (much less remember) which had been sailing at full speed towards Athens in the past few days. He was writing the introduction to his history of Greece (the ship was thankfully steady), a little pet project he will be working on in his time there. The working title of the book was Das griechische Volk in öffentlicher, kirchlicher, und privatrechtlicher Beziehung vor und nach dem Freiheitskampf bis zum Ich bin fertig (The Greek people in public, church and private matters before and after their struggle for freedom until I am finished). He did not know until when he was to stay there, but he knew he had a good few years ahead of him and that he might as well spend his vacant time writing a history or two.
It was midday when the ship finally set anchor at a dock in Athens. This journey not being a very important one, the Kingdom of Bavaria did not bother itself to directly pay for his traveling expenses; instead, he was given a few coins to see him on his way and a bank note for himself as a civil servant of Bavaria. Future salaries, of course, would be paid for by the Kingdom of Greece. As a professional, von Maurer greatly appreciated the payment, but as a civil servant, he thought it was his God-given duty to manage the affairs of the state for it and its constituents. Aside from money, von Maurer had with him a bag of papers, an inkwell and a steel-nub pen, and a flintlock pistol hanging visibly by his side.
Ah, that reminded him: Neither his home country nor Greece had a constitution. Though loyal to king and country, von Maurer was a liberal when it came to such matters being a freethinking professor at heart. Back in Bavaria, he would be shot down for such "destabilizing ideas," but he heard that the atmosphere in Greece was different—it had a certain libertarian flavor to it. Though still bound by a Church and an absolutist state, the power of those outside the autocephaly and the government was great and the spirit of the Greek revolution had not withered away just yet.
He walked down the street with an academic knowledge of the Greek language, trying to follow signs and streets to a small inn by the sea. He was told that King Otto himself readied a horse fit for nobility for him for his arrival, and that the horse was in the hands of a Theodoros Dimitriou in the aforementioned inn; as much as von Maurer appreciated the gesture, he was not much of a rider and preferred the soft seats of carriages over saddles, not matter how ornate the saddles or how magnificent the horses wearing them may be.
Upon reaching the inn at dusk—wasting an hour or two getting lost—he knocked on the thick wooden doors thrice. It was a quaint building, with a good chunk of the concrete wall of the second story of the three-story building was missing. It might have been a sign of the innkeepers' neglect or poverty, or it might have been a memento from the Greek Revolution. Von Maurer hoped it was the latter; otherwise, he feared, it was going to be a very busy tenure for him.
“It is late!” yelled someone in Greek, with a native accent mixed in with a gruffness that could only come from a hard day. “In any case, there is no room for you here! Go away, or I sic the dogs at you!”
“Is this the His Majesty’s Own?” shouted von Maurer back in the politest tone imaginable, at the same time deliberately making it a point to emphasize his German accent. All of a sudden, the Bavarian official heard heavy footsteps coming towards the door, with a light clinking of what he assumed to be keys or coins. He knew that his accent was to catch attention, especially if this was the right place.
The door opened, revealing a slightly flushed man with a harried look and manner. It seemed as though the day did not go well for him. The innkeeper—at least, that’s who von Maurer thought he was—was short and portly with squinty eyes that that took in von Maurer’s every feature. Contrasting the small Greek man, the German was of great height and athletic build, with an aristocratic air that he carried unthinkingly both as a distinguished servant of the state and as member of the academia. He had a spring in his step and voice that indicated great reserves of energy, something which the small portly man looked lacking in.
The little Greek man stared at the thin leather bag which hung by von Maurer’s side, kept there by a strap slung about his shoulder. Meanwhile, von Maurer looked towards the interior of the inn, not looking at anything in particular, noticing two very young boys and a young girl scrubbing and mopping. After a long and awkward pause, the innkeeper looked up at von Maurer and asked in a tone with slightly more politeness than before, “Do you have the papers?”
“Yes,” said von Maurer, opening his bag. He rummaged through the contents—all of which were paperwork of varying importance, from decrees from King Ludwig to plans to be submitted to King Otto to his history of Greece to his own personal journal. Finally, he found what he was looking for and continued, saying, “Yes, here, I have it.”
The Bavarian standing at the inn’s doorway in the long-since-fading sunlight produced a thin piece of paper with a bare minimum of words on it. It was an official letter that declared that he, Georg Ludwig von Maurer, was to stay in His Majesty’s Own by decree of the absolute monarch, King Otto I of Greece. At the top of the sheet was King Otto’s monogram, and at the bottom the king’s signature was displayed prominently. The innkeeper read and re-read it silently, taking out a folded piece of paper from one of his pockets as he did. After the Greek man unfolded the once-pocketed piece of paper, von Maurer saw that it, too, contained the king’s monogram and signature.
“Alright,” said the innkeeper, now in a superficially polite tone. He puffed out his chest and continued, this time speaking as though by rote, “Master von Maurer, you are stay for the night by His Majesty, the King of Greece, unless urgency demands that you leave immediately. You are to be served dinner will up in your room“—the portly little man handed over a worn brass key—“within an hour of your arrival. The reddish-brown gelding will be released tomorrow—or earlier if authorized by the proper authorities—to be ridden by you. I hope that you find His Majesty’s Own to be more than accommodating.” Not once did the little Greek man stop squinting.
Von Maurer nodded, frowning at how the man conducted himself. It seemed as him as though the man was spiteful of the Bavarian’s presence—of course, as far as he knew, most Greeks liked the monarchy. Mr. Dimitriou (at least, that’s who von Maurer thought the little Greek man was) must be one of the few who disliked King Otto’s government. As the old adage goes, you can’t please everybody. It was a mystery to von Maurer as to why King Otto led him to such a—shall we say—hostile place.
Climbing up the flight of stairs, von Maurer briefly checked the brass key to see where he was going to sleep. Engraved on the key were the words Floor three, room seven. Quite concise, he thought, and he hurried up to his designated room, expecting nothing more than a comfortable bed on which to sleep before he headed for the palace proper.
“Floor three, room seven,” whispered von Maurer upon arriving at the door of his room. At that point he realized just how tired from traveling he was. He looked forward to having an early dinner so that he can sleep off his exhaustion as soon as possible. Using the brass key given to him, he opened the locked door and met a grim-faced man who was staring straight at the doorway until von Maurer opened it.
The startled von Maurer quickly reached for his flintlock, not hesitating for a second. In moments, he had an armed pistol between him and the menacing stranger. Though not the best course of action (as he might have been given the wrong key to a wrong room), he was too tired and too flustered to have done anything about it.
“Who are you?” he shouted in German. The grim-faced man raised his hands, showing that they are empty. As a man of manners, von Maurer withdrew his firearm, albeit reluctantly. He was looking straight at the man’s eyes when he asked again, this time in Greek, “Who are you?”
“I am Theodoros Dimitriou,” said the man in perfect German, his hands still up. Von Maurer eyed the man before him suspiciously. He never did get the innkeeper’s name. “King Otto has sent me to fetch you. We are to ride to the palace immediately.” The man suddenly reached for his vest pocket, to which von Maurer reacted by placing his gun between him and the man claiming to be Theodoros Dimitriou in one rapid move.
To von Maurer’s relief, the man simply took out a piece of folded paper. Without warning but at the same time unsurprisingly, there was a great rush of footsteps from the inn’s staircase. Within moments, the innkeeper and two servant boys armed with heavy-looking sticks appeared at one end of the corridor.
“What’s the problem here?” asked the innkeeper, his eyes shifting from the pistol-armed von Maurer to the paper-wielding man who claimed to be Theodoros Dimitriou. After a short “standoff,” the innkeeper waved his servant boys to put down their sticks. “Get back to cleaning, you two.” The two boys, somewhat confused and somewhat disappointed, quickly ran down the stairs to get back to their chores.
“I’m sorry for not warning you,” said the innkeeper, addressing von Maurer. The Bavarian was not able to tell whether the innkeeper was genuinely apologetic or not. “Master Theodoros Dimitriou has ‘important business’ with you, regarding affairs of the state, he says.” The innkeeper was hiding amusement in his eyes, or so von Maurer thought. It did not matter, though.
“You are pardoned,” said von Maurer contemptuously. He was not easily distressed, but he did not take well to such shocks after long and tiring journeys. Speaking deliberately, he continued, saying, “But next time this ever happens again, I will personally confront you as an official of the Greek court and charge you with obstruction of governmental procedure by negligence. Is that clear, Mister Innkeeper?”
No longer visibly amused, the innkeeper bowed deeply and said, “Yes sir.” He quietly went away without anything further to say. Von Maurer now turned to Theodoros Dimitriou, who—as von Maurer now noticed—was wearing livery in the colors of the House of Wittelsbach. No longer fazed as he was, the Bavarian official walked into the small room and sat down on a chair opposite where Dimitriou was sitting.
“Sit down, Mister Dimitriou,” said von Maurer, taking on a commanding tone. They were to talk in Greek, them being in Greek soil after all. The king’s servant complied and faced the Bavarian official as he sat. Von Maurer cocked his head in approval. “What business do you have with me?”
“King Otto has instructed me to educate you on the matter of von Abel,” replied Dimitriou. “There is renewed tension between the powerful parties and the regency-monarchy, no thanks to that man.”
All that has been said about von Abel earlier was repeated by Theodoros. The manservant described how von Abel’s staunch absolutism, though often overruled by his more lily-livered partners, had incited the anger of everyone from the klephts to the nobility to the businessmen. Even the Greek Church—which von Abel supported as part of his policies—was angry with him for not being able to legislate the ingraining of the autocephaly into the government. Currently it was a dangerous time for government officials to go about the city streets, according to Dimitriou.
“Theobald Piscatory, Gabriel Catacazy and Edmund Lyons have all left posthaste to report the trouble to their home governments,” said Theodoros, lowering his voice as though part of a conspiracy. “The Great Powers are not going to like this, but there is little we can do. Order will come about naturally—we have had similar incidents in the past, only with lesser-ranking officials. The safest thing to do now is to have the government hide behind the palace walls until the dissenters are rooted out. There are few of them, sure, but a good few with arms and money is hardly something to simply scoff at.”
Von Maurer shook his head in disbelief, but he knew he had to accept it. No, no, he was going to do something about it. He had to know what troubled the few Greeks who were, apparently, responsible for von Abel’s death. But first, he had to get to the safety of the palace.
“Mister Dimitriou,” interrupted von Maurer as he wiped off beads of sweat forming on his forehead. They were just being careful about his safety was all, but the off-chance that any replacement for von Abel was going to be killed was still a very real one. “I think I have heard enough for one night. I believe I can find out more in the palace.” It was getting late; eleven forty-three, according to von Maurer’s pocket-watch.
The manservant stopped, gave the room’s window a quick glance, and then gave a curt nod. He replied, saying, “We will ride in the morning.”
____________________
[1] Klepht: literally “thief,” has positive connotation in Greece because this is the what they called the freedom fighters back in the days of the revolution. Now they feel their contributions are unappreciated by the government because there's little room for them in the official Greek Army.
* Note: Made-up characters include: The manservant Theodoros (from previous story) and the unnamed characters.
e350tb
Stupendously Illogical Englishman
Austria signs.
qoou
Emperor
- Joined
- Dec 13, 2007
- Messages
- 1,991
Le sigh...: S-P is not mentioned anywhere in the treaty in any way, shape, or form.
qoou
Emperor
- Joined
- Dec 13, 2007
- Messages
- 1,991
Anonymous2U
Deadly Serious
OOC: at Flyingchicken Since you did not slander them too badly. No Problem.
Please see the attachemnt. Sorry I could not get the Editor to format this correctly. So I copied a text file and attached it.
IC:
If this payment matrix is agreed to, then Bavaria will sign the treaty
OOC:
For those afraid of attachments. Here is the jumbled matrix
Year 1
Prussia Russia
Great Britain 1
Austria 1 1
Bavaria
Baden
Year 2
Prussia Russia
Great Britain 1 1
Austria
Bavaria 1
Baden
Year 3
Prussia Russia
Great Britain 1
Austria 1
Bavaria
Baden 1
Year 4
Prussia Russia
Great Britain 1
Austria 1
Bavaria 1
Baden
Year 5
Prussia Russia
Great Britain 1
Austria 1 1
Bavaria
Baden
Summary
Great Britain 6
Austria 6
Bavaria 2
Baden 1
Please see the attachemnt. Sorry I could not get the Editor to format this correctly. So I copied a text file and attached it.
IC:
If this payment matrix is agreed to, then Bavaria will sign the treaty
OOC:
For those afraid of attachments. Here is the jumbled matrix
Year 1
Prussia Russia
Great Britain 1
Austria 1 1
Bavaria
Baden
Year 2
Prussia Russia
Great Britain 1 1
Austria
Bavaria 1
Baden
Year 3
Prussia Russia
Great Britain 1
Austria 1
Bavaria
Baden 1
Year 4
Prussia Russia
Great Britain 1
Austria 1
Bavaria 1
Baden
Year 5
Prussia Russia
Great Britain 1
Austria 1 1
Bavaria
Baden
Summary
Great Britain 6
Austria 6
Bavaria 2
Baden 1
