Alternate History Thread V

I don't like necroposting, but this thread's only been abandoned for a couple months, and I felt this to be the most appropriate place to pose this question. I've been hoping to write a TL in which the Habsburg colony of Klein Venedig manages to survive to the present day, resulting in a German-speaking republic or federation in the region of OTL Venezuela. What PoDs would have to occur to lead to a more successful Klein Venedig colony? The fact that there seems to be very little helpful information about that colony on the internet has proven a bit annoying, and I doubt I could find this information at the library.
 
I don't like necroposting, but this thread's only been abandoned for a couple months, and I felt this to be the most appropriate place to pose this question. I've been hoping to write a TL in which the Habsburg colony of Klein Venedig manages to survive to the present day, resulting in a German-speaking republic or federation in the region of OTL Venezuela. What PoDs would have to occur to lead to a more successful Klein Venedig colony? The fact that there seems to be very little helpful information about that colony on the internet has proven a bit annoying, and I doubt I could find this information at the library.

While I don't specifically have an answer for you Gruekiller (nice Civ4 stories btw :)), I'm sure someone here will gladly help you if you get their attention, and there's also the World History subforum to ask if you'd want. :)
 
It isn't necroposting. This thread has periods of quiet all the time.
 
Oh! That's fine, then. I'm hoping that one of our many history buffs can help me out here. This would be my first serious alternate history timeline, and I'm sure that once it's up and running, it should be pretty interesting.
 
It would appear Klein Venedic was mostly doomed due to politics, no? As a sidenote, actually making it be a Hapsburg colony might be a good step in the right direction. :p But yeah, I think altering the overall political situation would be the most likely step. Something to impair Spain's hegemony of the Carribean Sea, allowing for a more multiplayer colonisation of OTL Latin America. That'd have heavy consequences elsewhere as well. So if that's not what you want, I guess we'll have to look for a more surgical solution - but I can't see one yet...
 
So far, I've found the colony would probably have to receive more German colonists, the Welsers would have to give up on the whole El Dorado thing from the start, and the Welsers would have to maintain posession of it after the death of Charles V.
 
... I'm not sure how one makes a colony profitable without gold or silver to underwrite the expenses of actually maintaining the colony in the short-to-medium term.
 
Mighty mighty Ansbach!

Lol sorry~ That joke is just so funny for me on varied number of levels coz of a clueless yet somewhat highly successful game of Europa Universalis III I played. And I'm not kidding when I say clueless and highly successful.

Basically I knew nothing of inflation and also spent the first one hundred and fifty years poking at the Ottoman Empire attempting to advance in the Balkans and even Italy from behind a single province (to some effect!) then I got annoyed and decided to make it big when I got a large sum of money (well it was just a few thousand, but still) for some treaty in some minor conflict I was in. Eastern Europe was in total collapse as Austria and Hungary and everyone else fought each other and I soon subsumed a great and mighty but devestatingly primitive and lopsided large-size Austrian-style Empire (a bit more of the Balkans and northern Italy and a lot more of Germany, but no low countries territories) by the end of the game thanks to well played oppertunish and good diplomacy, but like there were gigantic wars that could've gone so much better and were horrendously hairraising (I raised a lot of other people's inflation as well), two or more of which could've been avoided if I'd remembered to pay my soldiers before the last six months. :D

But all in all it worked, as the Ottoman Empire was never defeated in war by me but never dared to declare war and was pushed back early in my empire building and a bit by my Russian allies calling for me to war with them.

Yeaaap, working your way around not understanding the rules and laziness, always make for a darned fun game.


There was also this time I was playing as the Vatican and had an Empire larger than the OTL British one towards the end of the game and had even worse inflation (I got to 250 something with Mighty Mighty Ansbach, but the Vatican reached the 425-450s). It never collapsed and wouldn't have till after the game but for the sake of Christianity I set half my Empire (as much as I could) free a decade before the end to wipe off some of their inflation. Oh yeah that's the game I finally understood inflation for being ten times higher than I thought towards the end. :P
Could've gotten further if I hadn't been so darn innovative on the narrow-minded innovative slider in a desperate and futile attempt to catch up. Lost a lot of missionaries I could've helped further out with rather than stagnating in my expansion (and maybe I would've joined the Spanish for that war the Ottomans used to collapse them and a Christian Grenada took them over... but hey... Islam was back into central Greece (not Southern), most of the Maghreb, the bulk of Egypt minus some Holy Land and the Syrian provinces and only a few Indonesian and Indian provinces... oooh and I egged on Russia to be bigger than in real life coz after I foolishly didn't respond to one of France's calls I sucked up to them with my massive bribes and kept wardeccing their neighbors.

Ahhhh I wish I had time to play Europea Universalis III again sometime soon. It seems so intimidating the idea of not having a money press running but it can't be that hard, can it (lol, guess I'll have to make sure nothing actually dies and decisively defeat my enemies quickly)? I imagine not being centuries behind in tech must be nice too.




Hmmm still looking for gtpod. OK found it on page 13 :).
 
what is this i dont even
 
Basically I like making troubles for myself then finding ways to work around them. It's fun ^^ to some at least
Sort of like trying to climb a mountain with crutches. You might only get up halfways, but you feel pretty awesome and still conflicted about not making it to the top and desperately whacking the NPCs with your crutches to keep them from getting there without you...
I dunno I do total wipeouts/wins sometimes when playing games properly, but I think that tends to lean towards timekiller and you don't get feelings of both victory and embitteredness like most polities have in real life and some of the better games.
 
Trotsky takes over the Soviet Union after Lenin, Stalin is a successful Georgian novelist or whatever.

On Hitler' invasion of Poland Leon sees it as an opportunity to spread the Revolution, and he deploys the Red Army (although, obviously not the Red Army Stalin built, but still a large number of people) to support the Poles.

It is not an overnight solution, but it causes no small amount of problems for Hitler, and eventually the Soviets come to be seen as the saviors of Western Europe in much the same way that the United States was, replete with a Soviet style Marshall Plan, the United States remains isolationist and focused on protecting Western Hemisphere Capitalism.

A Cold War ensues, beginning with Castro's revolution, and all of Europe starts to focus on the severe corroding threat of American Capitalism.

-

Now, reading this I imagine you have built a whole psychological profile of the sort of person who would have a fetish for such a divergence and timeline. In that regard, well, you're probably right, I'm probably being that guy right now. It doesn't have anything to do with the timeline though, I found it amusing. Of course this is unlikely to be popular if you insist that the difference between these two economic systems is something more than arbitrary, I'd rather not focus on the ideological aspect of it.
 
The problem is more that it actually seems highly unlikely Trotsky's foreign policy would've been at all different from Stalin's in this regard. If anything, I could easily see him allying with Hitler; it's just the kind of radical and unexpected step that he loved taking back when he had power.

That said, Stalin could've as easily helped the Poles in theory; there were negotiations to that effect with the Western Allies prior to the war, after all. Poles were understandable wary of letting the Red Army in, though, and even when they became more pliable, the Soviets realised that they would bear the brunt of the fighting without really becoming "saviours of the West" - because the West wouldn't need saving in that scenario, and would probably keep the Soviets from taking over Germany as well as soon as Hitler is inevitably overthrown.

There might be some way to arrange the required scenario, but I don't see it yet.
 
Sāsānian Expansion and Roman Decline, 587-626.

“I’ve seen angels fall from blinding heights,
But you yourself are nothing so divine…just next in line.”
-Chris Cornell, You Know My Name

The latter half of the sixth century saw Roman fortunes decline to a low point, as bad as the worst parts of the reigns of Honorius or Constantinus III. While Roman arms remained largely successful against external opponents, civil wars wracked the Empire, the treasury was perpetually empty, and Roman clients ringing the Mediterranean suffered heavy defeats against foreign opponents. At the same time, the ability of the Roman Emperors to hold the disparate interest groups of the Empire together declined. Everything came disastrously together during the regency of Candidianus in the 580s, as a massive Sāsānian invasion destroyed the client kingdoms of the Greek East, the Balkans fell out of Rome’s orbit, and when Candidianus was finally overthrown in 586, a massive rebellion ignited in Roman Gaul and Iberia.

Rome’s problems with regionalism had existed as far back as the late fourth century. The Empire had been developing in separate directions for a very long time – not economically, as the Western Mediterranean trading core was still intact and active, but politically and even ethnolinguistically. In the fourth century, Emperors had recognized this divergence, and had made sure to properly spread patronage around; rulers like Valentinianus I had resided in the Rhineland and increased the troop allotments there to stimulate the local economy and provide military commands for the Gallic aristocracy. When Gratianus moved the capital back to Italy in the 380s, the resulting split with the powerful Gallic aristocracy touched off a series of civil wars that didn’t really end for fifty years, by which time it was impossible to move the capital back to Gaul, as Italy was once more under serious military threat. Since then, Emperors had attempted to conciliate Gallic interests with shorter-term expedients, with varying degrees of success. Procopius and Probus had been perhaps the best at it, but neither of them solved the fundamental problem.

During Candidianus’ dominance in the 580s, Gallic calls for a tougher line against the Thuringians had been largely met with approval from the center. The regent had beefed up the Gallic field army while spreading his troops thin in the East, a baffling choice that sparked accusations of incompetence at Ravenna. But it had helped to tie Gallic interests closely to Candidianus’ person. It has been suggested that Gaul was his backup plan, and that in the event of a palace coup he intended to flee to Arelate and use it as a power base to take back control. In the event, when Emperor Constantius IV launched his plot against Candidianus, the regent was imprisoned before he had got wind of the proceedings against him, and his plan, if it existed in the first place, was not put into action.

Seizing effective control of the Gallic field army would be essential if Constantius IV’s nascent regime were to survive: it was the largest remaining army in the state and a valuable potential source of reinforcements for Africa, the Balkans, and the Greek East. To that end, a few months after Candidianus’ arrest, the Emperor dispatched his ally Saturninus to gain control of the Gallic army and weed out pro-Candidianus conspirators. When Saturninus met with the magister militum per Gallias, Candidianus’ man Aufidius, at Lugdunum, the Gallic warlord apparently had Saturninus murdered. Aufidius was not acting alone: he had rallied most of the major Gallic families to his cause, playing on their fear of the Thuringians, and had an iron grip on his soldiers.

Initially, Aufidius didn’t make any effort towards claiming the purple, and attempted to paint himself as a loyal imperial subject. He immediately began raiding in Thuringian territory with his outsize army while attempting to get Constantius to confirm his place in command of the Gallic army. This fell flat; Constantius was unwilling to accept a challenge to his authority like that due to the repercussions it would have in Italy, and immediately ordered the comes Hispaniæ, Astirius, to attack Gaul and force Aufidius to submit. Astirius boldly marched his army through the Pyrenæan passes and headed towards Lugdunum; Aufidius immediately turned his own army around – letting the Thuringians raid parts of northern Roman Gaul – and crushed the loyalists at Nemausus. Part of the Gallic army, under the command of Maximilianus, pursued Astirius’ broken troops across the Pyrenæi into Tarraconensis with wild success before entering winter quarters in the Iberus valley. Another group stayed near Nemausus and besieged a small loyalist garrison in Arelate. The rest marched back north and engaged the largest body of Thuringian raiders at Aurelianum in Senonia, where the Thuringians, overburdened with plunder, were virtually annihilated.

Constantius was forced to make some unpalatable alliances to deal with the problem of Aufidius. A defeat in Africa had given him the opening to challenge Candidianus, but he lacked the ability to unseat the commander responsible for the defeat, Heraclianus. Instead, Constantius married Heraclianus’ niece Atilia, and gave Heraclianus himself extraordinary authority over both military and civil government in Africa. Astirius had also proven to be a failure, but he was also Constantius’ only real way of fighting Aufidius for the foreseeable future, and had to be confirmed in his command as well. To round things off, in the spring of 587 the Avars raided Italy through the Æmona pass, and were only staved off with a humiliating tribute payment.

While the Emperor feverishly worked to contain the disasters in the western Mediterranean, Rome was faced with new ones in the east. In the early spring of 587, the sad remnant of the Gothic soldiers fighting under Roman command in Anatolia defected to Nikētas, and was absorbed into his army as an autonomous fighting force. Its commander, Agila, promptly launched an attack on the isolated Roman garrison at Myra and forced it to surrender. Within a few months, Nikētas himself, after keeping his armies somewhat idle after the great victory at Synnada, renewed his offensive against the imperial territories in the Greek East. Priscus, the loyal commander in Roman Ionia, feebly attempted to parry the Pontic advance on Kios with his badly depleted army, but ended up barely distracting Nikētas’ army and was unable to prevent the fall of the city.

Rome’s allies were also suffering badly. The Ġassānids had taken a bad hit in 584 when most of their forces were killed or captured at the Battle of Gerasa, and the whole thing only got worse in the following year after the death of their king, al-Mundhir. Jabalah, his successor, was constantly being undermined by his younger brother, al-Harith, and was hardly able to do much of anything at all against the Laḫmid raiders, let alone the Sāsānian armies that were repositioning to strike Palæstina after their victories in Anatolia. When the Sāsānian armies began to besiege key forts south of Damaskos, they barely faced any resistance. By 590 the way was open for a massive Sāsānian attack on Jerusalem itself. The Ġassānid king tried to break up the Iranian advance by attacking their siege train on the shores of the Sea of Tiberias, but was trapped by Laḫmid cavalry and the armored Sāsānian dehkāns. Al-Harith, in charge of his brother’s reinforcements, fled the scene, and Jabalah only barely managed to cut his way out with a few thousand adherents. He and his men only had time to partially evacuate Jerusalem before Hormizd, the Iranian ērān-spāhbed, invested the city, which fell to assault a month later.

The fall of Jerusalem left the Levant in a mess. Al-Harith and his adherents were effectively in a civil war with Jabalah. Both clung to the margins of the old Ġassānid kingdom, with al-Harith ruling over the fortified ports along the coast and Jabalah hanging on by his fingernails along the edge of the Arabian Desert in the oasis towns. The Sāsānians held the central part of the country, but little else, and were soon absorbed in the slow conquest of the various poorly manned Ġassānid forts that choked the region. In 591, a new challenger emerged, as Egypt entered the mix under Taurinos’ son Abinnaios, who had ascended to the throne under the influence of an “anti-Red Sea” camarilla. Al-Harith, who was steadily losing forts to the Sāsānian advance, quickly agreed to nominate a non-Chalkēdōnian patriarch of Jerusalem and to accept his title from Egypt in exchange for Egyptian silver, soldiers, and supplies. Abinnaios also launched an attack on Roman Cyprus, which was captured fairly easily.

Abinnaios’ intervention hardly made an impact on Constantius at Ravenna, who was busily shoring up his reign by increasingly frightening expedients. Priscus, unable to hang on in Ionia, evacuated his last garrisons in 590 and fled for Greece, hoping to shore up imperial rule there at the very least. He was summoned to Ravenna and executed for his pains, and replaced by Constantius’ cousin Domentiolus. Astirius, who was steadily (but slowly) losing ground in Iberia, was retained, but his family was taken hostage and kept at Rome to ensure his cooperation. In 593, a suspected plot between the Empress Atilia and the magister officiorum Palladius resulted in Atilia’s murder and Palladius’ tonsure and castration. This last event aroused the ire of Heraclianus at Carthage, who went into open rebellion and seized much of the Roman fleet, gaining control of Sicily and Sardinia.

The whole sad mess came to a head in 594 when Aufidius, fresh from successes against Pisen and the Thuringians, launched a massive invasion of northern Italy. Theodosius, one of Constantius’ few remaining loyal generals, led the præsental army into battle against the Gallic armies at Eporedia. Neither Aufidius’ troops nor the loyalists could gain any decisive advantage, and inconclusively mauled each other for two days straight. Constantius personally left Ravenna to take command of the præsental army, and had Theodosius publicly executed for his “failure” when he arrived. This was the last straw for the comes domesticorum, Seronatus, who had command of several of the remaining elite regiments of the army at Rome and Ravenna. Seronatus seized control of both cities, along with Constantius’ only child, Ælia Eudocia, and pledged his support to Heraclianus. Unknown to him, Heraclianus had died of old age a few months before, and had been replaced by his second-in-command, Eugenius. Eugenius was also an old Africa hand, and had masterminded several successful campaigns against the Mauri over the last several years. While he stayed safely in Carthage, he shipped most of his army to Rome along with several thousand Mauri fœderati under the command of his subordinate general Generidus.

As opposition to him mounted in southern Italy, Constantius, who was by then at least partially insane, launched an all-out attack on Aufidius’ army near Augusta Taurinorum. The Gallic troops, who had been cut off from the imperialists by the flooded Stura River, didn’t expect an attack on the grounds that it was insane to try to cross the Stura while it was swollen with melted snow. It was, in fact, insane, but by commandeering riverboats all down the Padus, the Emperor amassed enough transport to successfully cross the river and launch a successful night attack on Aufidius’ entrenchments. The Gauls fell back in disarray; many of them were slaughtered, and those that weren’t fled with Aufidius across the Alpine passes. Constantius then force-marched his army south to reclaim Ravenna, but as his army camped at Bononia, only a few days away from a confrontation with Generidus and the African troops, several of his soldiers broke into his tent and murdered him. Within a few days, representatives of the præsental army had contacted Generidus and offered to surrender.

The civil war was far from over, though, and now the greatest prize was a seven year old girl. Eudocia, who was staying at Rome under the custody of Seronatus and Pope Adeodatus, was the best link to legitimacy for any of the contestants, none of whom had actually claimed the title of Emperor yet. Seronatus had made an agreement with Generidus to hand Eudocia over, so Eugenius could marry her to his infant son Romanus, but after Constantius’ assassination Seronatus reneged on the agreement and fortified himself in Rome with the præsental army – which swore allegiance to Eudocia – and his palatine elites. He quickly opened negotiations with Aufidius, Eugenius, and even faraway Astirius, who still controlled Bætica and Carthaginensis. Generidus attempted to blockade Rome to force Seronatus to come to terms, but he lacked the manpower to do it, while Aufidius and his own army were recovering and taking control of northern Italy. Eventually Eugenius agreed to keep Seronatus on as regent in exchange for Romanus’ betrothal to Eudocia, and Seronatus duly admitted Generidus and his army into the city. Within a few nights, Generidus had had the troublesome “regent” assassinated while implicating the pope, and got rid of both of his enemies with a single stroke. The præsental army and the palatine troops came over to the African cause with hardly a murmur.

Aufidius, in the meantime, launched a drive south down the peninsula with the aim of taking by conquest what he had failed to gain by negotiation. He captured poorly-garrisoned Ravenna and moved south along the Via Flaminia in early fall 594. Within a few weeks he drew up his army at Narnia, only fifty miles from Rome. Generidus, in command of the united præsental and African armies, moved his own troops up and engaged in a pitched battle with the Gallo-Roman forces in late September. Aufidius’ infantry made surprisingly good progress against the palatine regiments, but on the flanks, thousands of Mauri cavalry swarmed over the Gallo-Roman horse and put them to flight, then followed up with an attack on Aufidius’ camp. The Gallic general was killed, and his army was thrown into confusion. Parts of it surrendered, but most of the Gallic troops rallied and managed to cut their way out and retreat to Ravenna.

The Battle of Narnia effectively broke the back of the Gallo-Roman invasion, now under the direction of Aufidius’ successor Pacatus. Unwilling to try his hand at a second round with Generidus and the Eugenist army in 595, Pacatus and his troops packed up and headed back over the Alps, leaving garrisons in northern Italy to slow Generidus down. He then threw his army into an all-out attack on the recovering Thuringians, winning several symbolic victories and raiding widely in the Siquana river basin. The Gallo-Romans also scored a major triumph when Astirius, still fighting more or less on his own, was defeated in a pitched battle near Sætabis in Carthaginensis. In the aftermath of the victory there, Maximilianus conquered virtually all of Astirius’ inland territories and confined the comes Hispaniæ and his forces to a string of ports along the Mediterranean coast.

As Generidus and the Eugenist forces reoccupied northern Italy and moved into the Dalmatian coast, the issue of Greece was opened once again. Domentiolus, the late Constantius’ cousin, had had his troops declare him Emperor at Thessalonikē in spring 595 upon learning of Constantius’ murder. While irrelevant in terms of military threat to the Eugenist regime, Domentiolus was a symbolic threat and a rallying point for what pro-Constantius sentiment remained in Italy. He had also been distressingly successful. The largest body of Sclavene raiders yet had launched an attack on Roman Hadrianoupolis in 594, outnumbering Domentiolus and his Romans nearly six to one, but Domentiolus had relieved the city and smashed the Sclavene army, enrolling the survivors as fœderati. More Sclavenes were driven north of the Danube later in the year when Domentiolus reoccupied the Haimos forts. His navy, although tiny compared to the Eugenist fleet, was still able to beat back a Pontic amphibious invasion of Chios in the spring of 595.

In short, the ideal solution for Domentiolus would be for him to be conveniently murdered and to have one of his officers take over smoothly and pledge his loyalty to Romanus and Eudocia, who were officially acclaimed as the imperial couple in April 595. That almost happened. But when the Greco-Gothic officer Athalarichos murdered Domentiolus in the fall of 595 (apparently in a dispute over women), he instead pledged his loyalty to Nikētas and the Pontic armies. Pontic soldiers streamed across the Aegean, while Nikētas went to Constantinople and had himself acclaimed Roman Emperor, despite the disapproval of Patriarch Kyriakos (who was boiled alive for his trouble). Nikētas quickly sent to Rome to try to gain recognition as an imperial colleague, while preparing for a confrontation with the Sāsānians.

The Sāsānians had been doing very well for themselves. Abinnaios’ intervention briefly changed the balance of forces in Palæstina, but as the largest and most powerful empire in the world, the Iranians had plenty more cards to play. Hormizd had gotten a bloody nose in a battle near Dora in 592, but his army’s ranks were soon swelled once again by the addition of reinforcements. The tactical calculus had changed little: Egyptian and Ġassānid cavalry couldn’t stand up to the shock charge of the dehkāns, while Iranian infantry could very much hold their own against the Roman-style Egyptian footsoldiers. One by one, the Levantine ports fell under Sāsānian control. At the same time, Jabalah and his loyalists in the eastern deserts, after several years of hounding from the Laḫmids, finally gave up the ghost and fled into the Arabian wastes, a perfect reversal of the migration that had brought the Ġassānids there in the first place. The Sāsānian hold on the region continued to tighten. In an effort to snag more credibility as a war leader, Abinnaios had his fleet storm undefended Crete, but the act was quickly getting old, and new plots were being hatched in Alexandria every day.

When Yazdgard IV learned that Nikētas had proclaimed himself Autokratōr of the East, he assumed that their loose mutual agreement – mostly “live and let live” – would be able to survive so long as Nikētas continued to address him as a superior. It soon became clear that Nikētas was uninterested in staying under Yazdgard’s thumb. He demanded control over all Anatolia as well as Syria, all the while addressing the Šāh-an-šāh as an equal. None of this was acceptable, of course. Fresh Sāsānian armies were dispatched to Anatolia to deal with the upstart Greek. But Nikētas surprised the Iranians and stole a march on them, launching a sneak attack on the great base at Ikonion in the winter of 597. The Sāsānian armies were sent reeling back beyond the Tauros.

The Kārin family, one of the great Parthian houses, had been in command of the armies defeated at Ikonion. Sukhrā, the chief of the family, had been made spāhbed of the North (kūst-i ādurbādagān) by Ardašīr III; for this particular ignominious failure, Yazdgard demoted Sukhrā and sent him off to govern Ṭabaristān. In his place, he elevated the Mihrān noble Īzadgushasp into the position of spāhbed of the North – it will be remembered that his family had lost the governorship of Ādurbādagān after a catastrophic defeat at the hands of the Mamikonean revolt nearly two centuries prior – and instructed him to bring fire and sword to Anatolia. While several thousand Armenians under the command of the puppet ruler Smbat invaded Nikētas-allied Lazikē, Īzadgushasp opened the campaign of 599 with a multi-pronged attack on the Tauros forts that stretched Pontic defenses to the utmost and then – snapped them, filtering through the passes near Kamacha to start raiding widely. Nikētas’ general Leontios attempted to challenge the Sāsānian army near Mōkissos with a scratch force – most of the army was in Europe – but was badly defeated. With the disintegration of Leontios’ army, there were effectively no garrisons in Anatolia of any sort (as the Sāsānian raiders passed back over the Tauros, having softened up the Pontic defenses quite well for further exploitation). Whatever the Anatolian Greeks may have thought about Nikētas personally and his claim to the imperium, they certainly began to act as though imperial authority was irrelevant. The bacaudæ of the fifth century and their self-help government returned to Anatolia.

Eugenius’ government at Rome – remaining there, at least for the time being, as Ravenna was too far away from Eugenius’ power base in Africa – had been prevaricating on the issue of Nikētas’ claim to the purple in order to determine if he would make a useful temporary ally while Roman troops cleaned up the Gallic insurgency. By 600, it seemed more or less clear that his regime was collapsing. In that year, Roman fleets occupied the Ionian islands, and Roman agents began sounding out Pontic commanders about switching sides. They were not particularly successful compared to the signal victory they achieved in Iberia. Astirius, desperately clinging onto the coastal towns of the south, had died in 599, and his successor, Ruptilius, was eager to come to terms with the Roman regime, offering his military services if he were reinforced and if his command as comes Hispaniæ were confirmed by the center. The government at Rome quickly agreed. Progress against the Gallo-Roman rebels in the Alps was ridiculously slow, and a second front would be much appreciated.

As the Eugenist government slowly got back on its feet, Abinnaios’ government began to collapse. Although the Egyptians still had strong positions on Cyprus and Crete – strong chiefly because they were unopposed – they were losing ground in the important theater, the Levant. In 601, Hormizd – or possibly another general of the Ispahbudhān, Zarmihr (the sources are unclear) – fought a battle with an Egyptian army that had come to relieve the siege of Azōtos, al-Harith’s last stronghold. Although the Egyptians apparently had the element of surprise, the Iranian commander reacted quickly and improvised a crushing heavy cavalry flank attack that scattered the Egyptians and routed their Harithite allies. Two months later, Sāsānian troops opened the gateway to Egypt itself by storming the lightly defended fortress at Pēlousion. In the south, the commander of the garrison in the Thebaid, Aimilios, revolted with the aid of Nobatian fœderati and quickly seized control of the entire country south of Antinoopolis. Almost simultaneously, a palace coup was launched against Abinnaios, who only narrowly crushed it (some historians believe that the Alexandrine conspirators were in contact with Aimilios). Abinnaios apparently decided that the Jews were behind the whole thing, and had his troops begin to purge the Jewish quarter of Alexandria, kicking off riots that engulfed the city.

In 602, the Egyptian disaster unfolded in full scope. As Aimilios’ army advanced down the Nile and Sāsānian troops stormed into the Delta, Abinnaios’ loyal forces melted away. When Hormizd’s army besieged Babylon, the fortress and army base guarding the boundary between Egyptian Augoustamnikai and Arkadia, the remaining soldiers there surrendered within a few days. The nascent Sāsānian fleet in the Mediterranean swelled with Egyptian turncoats, and allowed Iranian troops to rapidly occupy the most important Deltaic strongpoints. Abinnaios successfully put down the Alexandrine uprisings in blood, but almost immediately found his city besieged. He attempted to flee the city for Cyprus or Kyrēnaia, but his plans were discovered by the Alexandrine garrison, who captured him before he could leave and murdered him. Their commander, Timotheos, attempted to take control and repel the Iranians, but only lasted five days before Hormizd’s troops broke into the city.

Nikētas also got into a bind in 602. To the dismay of Athalarichos and the Roman turncoats that had murdered Domentiolus, the would-be Emperor elected to try to hold off the Iranian invaders with the majority of his army instead of breaking up Sclavene raids. Initially, this worked out moderately well, with Pontic reinforcements surprising Sāsānian troops at Gangra in 601; later that year, though, the Pontic troops ran up against the full force of Īzadgushasp’s field army at Nazianzos and collapsed. The following year, the shattered Pontic armies could do nothing but fall back before the Iranians, who swept through the Anatolian plateau and began to occupy positions on the coast. A prominent Sāsānian fortification was erected at Skoutari, just across the Straits from Constantinople, from where one could (poetically) see Iranian campfires at night. Pontic garrisons throughout Ionia abandoned their posts, partly from the overwhelming force with which they were confronted and partly from lack of pay. At the same time, Sclavene raids from their territories north of the Danube intensified. For the first time, Sclavene raiders successfully broke into a major fortified city – Hadrianoupolis – and sacked it bloodily; when a feeble Pontic force was dispatched to corral them, they escaped along the ridge of the Haimos, sticking to the high ground, hills and mountains, as would become a literary trope for Greek and Roman authors soon enough.

Unprecedented Sāsānian military successes were mirrored by Eugenist victories further west. Pacatus had gambled on being able to occupy Thuringian territory in the confusion that followed the death of Pisen in 599. Initially, it seemed to pay off, as his general Sebastianus conquered the Siquana basin and swept into old Roman Belgica. It became increasingly apparent that there was very little to conquer there: the whole thing was less an issue of conquest and more of colonization. The Thuringian state virtually evaporated, with none of the various claimants able to rally a united opposition against the Gallo-Roman onslaught, but the Gallic invaders had little with which to replace it. And the Eugenists were more than capable of seizing the initiative that Pacatus had so obligingly bequeathed them. In Iberia, Ruptilius and his army, bolstered by African regiments, brought Maximilianus and the Gallic army to battle at Cæsarobriga and won a major victory. Gallæcia erupted in a pro-Roman rebellion, and soon Maximilianus was forced to make tracks for the Pyrenæi. By 603, the Romans were finally strong enough to attack the fortifications of Arelate. Generidus’ army captured the place after a three-week siege and used it as a springboard for an attack up the Rhodanus. At Alba Helvia, the Romans and Gallo-Romans clashed in yet another set-piece battle, with inconclusive result; a few weeks later, Generidus and Sebastianus led their armies against each other again on the Isara River, and this time the Romans clearly worsted the rebels. Sebastianus fell back to Pacatus’ residence at Lugdunum, where he had his ostensible chief murdered, then opened negotiations with Eugenius’ government. The regent permitted Sebastianus and Maximilianus to surrender, and their Gallic armies were reintegrated into the Roman military. The Eugenists had, at least temporarily, reunited the Roman Empire in the west.

---

I trust this is a sufficiently awesome Post #22,000. :p Second post incoming.

[party]
 
But things were murkier than ever before. Despite the victory, Rome’s manpower was more attenuated than ever; the Balkans had been effectively lost, while control of Gaul, despite being more extensive than at nearly any point in the last few centuries, was ridiculously thin. The Roman military had essentially no presence at all in, say, Armorica, which was choked with bacaudæ and Thuringian warlords. Large sections of Iberia were either ungoverned or effectively independent, such as Gallæcia. Only Africa and Italy were firmly under imperial control if anything at all was. And the budget, of course, was a total mess.

Eugenius, despite his age, began to try to fix many of these problems. In his view, Rome just needed a decade or two of peace and it would able to recover – like it had so often in the last several centuries. He was increasingly optimistic. Unlike Serena, he chose not to risk men and treasure on reconquering the Balkans – instead, the fleet conquered Crete and a few other low-cost acquisitions in the Aegean. The regent aimed at a modus vivendi with the Sāsānians and some kind of intermediary zone in the Balkans. Flushed with the colossal victories of the past twenty years, the aging Yazdgard IV was more than happy to come to terms with the Romans. When, in 606, Nikētas was assassinated on the orders of Athalarichos, the Greco-Gothic warlord gained an imperial title from Rome and authority over the Balkans (so long as it didn’t cost anything); a year later, the Pontic general Manouēl, who had been busily resisting Sāsānian incursions beyond the Pontic Mountains, came to terms with the šāh-an-šāh that permitted him to rule the Black Sea coast as a vassal.

Other kinds of diplomatic overtures were made in an entirely separate direction. In 605, as skeleton Roman armies crisscrossed northern Gaul showing the flag, a Christian mission crossed the Channel. Headed by Etherius, one of Pope Marcellinus III’s lackeys and a close friend of the young Empress Eudocia, the expedition was equals parts scouting expedition, diplomatic overture to the chieftains in Britain, and, of course, pious effort to bring Christian light to the heathen. In the nearly two centuries since Roman authority in Britain collapsed, much had changed. New kingdoms had emerged on the eastern coast of the island, founded at least in part by ‘Germanic’ groups from the Continent, mythologized as Angles, Saxons, and Jutes. While these polities – a term here used very loosely – were certainly founded in part by migratory groups (although the reason these groups came to be in Britain remains hotly debated), they were, of course, largely populated by the same people who had lived there before, although many now spoke the Saxon tongue, thought of themselves as Saxon, were legally considered ‘Saxon’ in the law (insofar as there were laws), and so forth. These Saxons, of course, were inconveniently non-Christian, unlike the Romano-British and Irish who lived in the western part of the island, and so needed to have their souls saved – and needed to be tied into the network of patronage and a Church hierarchy that would allow the Romans to better influence them.

Etherius successfully made contact with the ruler of Cantware on the southern coast, a former ally of Aufidius and Pacatus named Ælfrīc. Having recently been driven from most of his domains by Ecgberht, ruler of the Geuissæ, Ælfrīc was hiding on the island of Thanet, at the mouth of the Thames, and was in sufficiently desperate straits that he was willing to convert to Christianity and give Etherius land for the construction of a monastery to try the whole thing out. A few months later, Ecgberht’s territory came under attack by Ceolwald, ruler of the Hwicce, to the north, and he withdrew from Cantware – evidence enough of divine providence (along with the substantial amounts of shiny things that Etherius’ party showed Ælfrīc) for the conversion to take. In 606, Etherius reported back to the Pope and the imperial household, and the following year he returned with even more clergymen to build an abbey and cathedral at Ælfrīc’s capital amidst the remnants of the Roman town of Durovernum; Etherius himself became bishop of Durovernum and began to work towards expanding the Christian faith elsewhere in the island.

Rome also attempted to organize diplomatic and missionary efforts on the other side of the Rhine, but here they were stymied. Several Thuringian warlords agreed to be clients of Rome; many were already Christians as it was. But beyond the zone of the Rhine – where Roman control was based on a couple thousand soldiers and a prayer – Rome had virtually no influence at all. To make up for this deficiency, Eugenius basically broke the bank hiring soldiers from northern Gaul, a motley collection of ethnic Franks, Thuringians, trans-Rhenan Thuringians, Saxons, and Gallo-Romans. At the same time, much of the rest of the mobile army was tied down reestablishing control over Dalmatia and Illyria, a project that was going unevenly at best.

In the last few decades of the seventh century, a new polity had begun to coalesce in the region between Avar influence and Thuringian hegemony, along the Danube. Oral history that eventually made its way to the Greek monkish author of the Chronikon Thessalonikon of the eighth century, who wrote of a Roman merchant named Tonantius who managed to gain the loyalty of several local tribes, many who had migrated to the region from Boihæmum; it was he who led them in battle against the Avars at the semimythical Battle of Dervanisburg (a location that has never been positively identified) and triumphed, founding the Baiawarioz. The bones of this story may very well be true, but the reasons for the genesis of these Bavarians can be found in more verifiable locations. The Bavarian tribes were undoubtedly clients of either the Thuringians or the Avars; when the Thuringian state dramatically collapsed in the late 590s and early 600s, while the Avar qagans absorbed themselves in fratricidal war, the Bavarians were well placed to gain a great deal of adherents very quickly, and step into the power vacuum in Central Europe, perhaps under the leadership of this Tonantius.

At any rate, during the early 600s, Rome had a vague sense of these Bavarians increasing in power out on the Danube, but aside from attempting to gather a Thuringian coalition together to help solidify control of the Rhine frontier, Eugenius did nothing about the imminent Bavarian threat. With his limited resources, it’s not clear what he could have done. Still, it’s hard to say the Bavarian expansion into formerly Thuringian Germania Magna caught the Romans by surprise. Theodo, who is identified as rex in both the Chronikon Thessalonikon and the history of Calminius of Antissiodurum (his actual position of authority is hard to gauge), and who was allegedly the son of this Tonantius, led the Bavarians, their subjects, and their allies in an attack on the Roman-allied warlord Hermenfridus somewhere in the valley of the Mœnus River. Hermenfridus’ army, and the forces of several other Thuringian warlords, was badly defeated and sent reeling across the Rhine into Roman Gaul – save for the sizable portion of it that was incorporated into Theodo’s war machine. Then, citing familial differences, Theodo launched attacks on the Frisians and Saxons and subjected them both. Eugenius’ government at Rome attempted to get Theodo and his Bavarians in a systematic relationship with Rome, perhaps to replace the Thuringians as a stable northern polity, but Theodo would have none of it, citing frontier incidents and raids by the Thuringian chieftains that had fled across the Rhine, along with innumerable other, minor “provocations”. In 611, the Bavarian “horde” crossed the Rhine – the Chronikon Thessalonikon’s description of the crossing claims that the Bavarians crossed on New Year’s Eve when the river was unusually frozen, but this is nonsense – and swarmed into Roman Gaul.

These Bavarians that were so readily compared to the Rhine invaders of 406 – although such a comparison is superficial, pace Chang (who highlights the disunity of the earlier Rhine invaders, the small size of their forces, their repeated near-defeats, and the much more pivotal role of the Constantinian rebellion on Roman politics) – were a disparate mixture of various groups employing various styles of fighting, and certainly had no single language. (Yet.) They certainly had the use of horse archers who fought in the Avar style, and certainly the majority of their troops had at least been trained and equipped like something similar to those of Rome. But they were quite poorly organized, even if they had something like technical parity with the Roman military. Had they been facing the Roman army of Probus, much less that of Serena, the Bavarians would probably have been roughly handled and forced back across the Rhine. But this Rome was suffering from overstretch and recovering from a devastating series of civil wars. Its armies were nearly as depleted as its coffers. Despite the remarkable successes of Eugenist arms at the end of the civil war, Rome simply lacked the power it had formerly had.

Theodo’s intentions are impossible to fathom, but negotiations recorded in the diplomatic history of the ninth-century historian Cuthbert of Bamburgh indicate that at least initially, he was uninterested in physical conquest; his goals lay more towards the acquisition of tribute and spoils (to distribute them, of course, among his many followers), and the accrual of military glory. Migration was certainly not among his goals. The 611 and 612 campaigning seasons merely saw the Bavarians raid widely, sacking a few of the more important cities of northern Gaul (insofar as northern Gaul even had cities anymore) at Lutetia and Senones. The hodgepodge Roman army on the Rhine attempted to parry these strokes, and succeeded in isolating and crushing a few Bavarian raiding parties, but by and large Roman security was a sieve.

So in 613, despite ailing from dropsy, Eugenius himself went north, along with most of the small Iberian army, to stabilize the situation. From the start, things seemed to go unusually well; after assuming command of the Rhenish field army at Argentoratum, the Romans were able to launch a few cavalry raids to lay waste to the Bavarian territory beyond the river. But then the campaigning season began in earnest. Reports filtered south of a massive Bavarian crossing near Mogontiacum; Eugenius had his army move north into the Ardennes to confront the Bavarians while he himself was carried along with it in a sedan chair, leaving the light cavalry to despoil the Bavarian settlements on the other side of the Rhine. As the Romans moved into the trackless forest north of Divodurum, following the Mosella River, the army began to register Bavarian cavalry raids as pinpricks on its flanks. At some point during the transit to the small settlement where the city of Augusta Treverorum used to be, Eugenius’ army passed through a ravine along the Mosella road and was blocked by strong resistance from Bavarian infantry behind a palisade and other fortifications. With the Roman columns halted, Bavarian troops closed in from the surrounding forest in a disaster that innumerable bad historians have compared to the battles of Lake Trasimene and the Teutoberger Wald. The actual casualties that the Roman army suffered were quite light. Eugenius, unfortunately, was one of them. Most of the rest of the soldiers fled or were captured; many of those were more than willing to join up with Theodo’s army.

Despite having won a colossal victory on the Mosella, Theodo’s operations were oddly subdued for the rest of 613: the Bavarians sacked Avaricum and little else. What was more interesting was that, at the end of the year, several Thuringian warlords and their retinues stayed in northern Gaul while Theodo and the main army fell back across the Rhine. More of them followed in 614. Theodo and the main army, it has been cogently argued, did not take up a permanent position in Gaul because of a desire for conquest, but because he needed to better control his Thuringian, Saxon, and Frisian vassals that were taking up residence all over Roman Belgica and Germania. But from 615 onward, a permanent position was just what Theodo assumed. With what appears to have been widespread support from the local Roman notables (which by now included descendants of Franks, Goths, Thuringians, Burgundiones, and Alamans in addition to the usual Gallo-Roman types), the Bavarian chieftain moved his residence to Aurelianum on the Liger, from where he began to direct the conquest of Roman Gaul.

The Romans were not in much of a position to stop him. Back at the imperial residence in Rome itself, intense political squabbles broke out over who would assume Eugenius’ place at the head of the state. Romanus, the titular Emperor, was more or less of ruling age, but apparently quite soft in the head, so to speak. Several contestants tried to gain control of the addled Emperor, but eventually it came down to Pope Gregorius I and Empress Eudocia, and, well, Eudocia had a bit more pull with her husband. After struggling to secure some of the more minor pieces on the chessboard of government – Martinus, the comes domesticorum, being the most important of these prizes – Eudocia managed to convince her husband to limit Gregorius’ audiences and, by early 614, to allow her control over military and civil appointments. Apparently it was from this point that she began to appear more prominently on Roman coinage, as well, including a series of solidi featuring Eudocia’s portrait and monogram by themselves.

Rome still had armies at hand, but not enough to cover the entire empire. From 615 onward, Eudocia and the various Roman generals apparently hatched a plan that involved something of a phased withdrawal from Gaul towards the Pyrenæi and Narbonensis. Gaul itself had hardly been part of the Empire over the last several decades, and before that only the southern portions had ever really been tied into Roman control. So Rome simply wouldn’t make much of an effort to hold it. Of course, the whole thing wasn’t as neat as all that; it wasn’t really a question of not putting up a fight at all (that couldn’t be countenanced) but of not putting up much of a fight. Roman troops still intermittently fought battles against Bavarian raiders, just not major ones. A similar scenario played out in the east, where Rome more or less gave up the fight for the Pannonian interior against the Avars, various Sclavene groups, and Bavarians and instead concentrated on holding key positions like the pass at Æmona and the sheltered Dalmatian coastline.

It was in the latter stages of this phased withdrawal, such as it was, that Eudocia apparently implemented at least part of a series of military and civil programs generally filed under the collective label of the locatian reforms – although elements of the reforms certainly predated her period of ascendancy and others definitely antedated it. Since the reign of Diocletianus, effectively, the Roman military had been divided into limitanei, effectively frontier guards, and the higher quality comitatenses, which were concentrated in regional field armies. The system was a fine one, especially after the institution of the Procopian fiscal and supply reforms, but it was also ridiculously expensive. In addition, in times of serious military difficulty, lower-quality limitanei had been promoted into the field armies to make up for heavy casualties, becoming pseudocomitatenses; the line between the two types of formation was increasingly blurred as time went on. Finally, Probus II had decided that funding the limitanei was prohibitively costly, and simply stopped paying them. But now even the regional field armies were an increasing drain on the Roman budget. The plan that is variously credited to either Eudocia or to the magister officiorum, Flavius Claudianus, was to allot soldiers in the field armies imperial land to decrease the amount of money they had to be paid, and to cluster these soldier-settlements such that they were concentrated on the borders of the Empire, so they could easily serve a protective role. The now-stationary field armies were termed locatiani, or, loosely, ‘emplacements’, in Africa, northern Italy, southern Italy (loosely, the ‘Obsequium’, or elite palatine regiments, were stationed in Suburbicaria as a separate locatianus), and Iberia. Similarly, the fleet was established in its own locatiani in Dalmatia and in the western Mediterranean islands. This was literal retrenchment to complement the budgetary retrenchment taking place back at Rome.

Actual fighting was thus somewhat sparse until 619, when Thuringian and Frisian raiders attacked Tolosa, just north of the Pyrenæi. Here, the locatian system proved its merit, as the Iberian locatianus successfully mobilized and beat back the invaders, inflicting heavy losses. Within a few years, though, Theodo himself would begin leading raiding armies to the far south. The tenuous Roman hold on Burdigala was gradually loosened in 621 and 622 – in 623, the Romans finally were driven out, fleeing further south, into Novempopulana. In the same year, a Bavarian attack on Valentia in Viennensis was only narrowly beaten back. But the Romans were clearly holding the Bavarians, who seem to have run out of steam. With the semi-independent Thuringian chieftains having largely exhausted their energy against the south Gallic locatiani, Theodo turned his attention to consolidating his control over the vast new empire that had fallen into his lap. Eudocia and her generals dared not pick a fresh fight – not that they could easily do so anyway, with the defensively oriented army they had just created.

As the Romans did their best to catch a breath in the western Mediterranean, the Sāsānians, by contrast, ascended to even greater heights. Yazdgard IV had died in 607, but the empire he bequeathed to his son Xusro was as vast as that of the Achaemenids and far wealthier. With the far west secure – the Aegean Sea and the vast, trackless Libyan Desert were the termini of Sāsānian control – Xusro sought glory instead in the farthest east. Vistāhm of the Ispahbudhān, the spāhbed of the East (kūst-i khwarāsān), raided widely in the territory of the far-off Tiele, who had of late been harassing Iranian Dihistān and Sugd. In 609, Vistāhm and his army won a major victory at Gurgānǰ on the Amu Darya, at which the Tiele qagan Ishbara was killed. The Tiele confederacy, ramshackle at the best of times, then gave up the ghost completely and started to disintegrate wholesale, spinning component parts off in several directions. For the moment, the Iranians chose not to work towards putting something in place of it, and the power vacuum stood as it was.

Other than that relatively minor military operation in the north, Xusro’s reign was largely quiet and successful. In order to act as a lock on the ambitions of the Ispahbudhān governor of Lower Egypt, Aimilios and the Thebaid troops were given a protectorate position, as was Nobatia, which saw its tottering rule in northern Nubia propped up by an influx of Aimilian and Sāsānian troops and cash. The šāh-an-šāh was nothing if not pragmatic. He spent most of his time patronizing artists and literati and generally acting kingly in an altogether boring fashion for virtually the entirety of his eleven-year reign. When he kicked the bucket in 618, his son Kavādh began to hatch grander plans.

Kavādh II, in the old-school feudalist narrative, chafed at the restrictions placed on his policy by the great Parthian families, especially the Ispahbudhān and the Mihrān, who dominated the military government of the west and the east. In order to weaken them, it is said, he instituted massive fiscal reforms aimed at improving the royal treasury and decreasing his dependence on the Parthian houses, while at the same time reducing the connection between the various families and their regions of governorship by removing governors from their families’ home regions. The end result was theoretically improved royal power, weakened dynasts, and a triumph for centralization over particularism. This view is quite clearly an artifact of the eleventh century or thereabouts, and has no place in seventh-century Iranian scholarship. In reality, Kavādh’s reforms were somewhat more modest. He did conduct a fiscal reform, but it did not appreciably fill the royal coffers because it relied on an inherently unreliable system to monitor taxation – not that corruption was all that relevant anyway. His reforms in the structure of aristocratic power, on the other hand, very much did happen, but their effects seem to have angered the Parthian noble families more than anything else. In addition, he seems to have dissolved the Laḫmid state on the grounds that it was unnecessary, having Hīra sacked and burned to the ground while the various constituent tribes of the banu Laḫm were spun off in various directions, many of them retaining a loose attachment to Tīsifōn.

Nevertheless, it was a brand spanking new system, well balanced for the grand goal of conquering India, which was apparently Kavādh’s aim. In 626 a sizable army under the leadership of the Kārin spāhbed Dādmihr debouched from the Khyber and moved into the Punjab, which was dominated by a rump Hayāṭila qaganate based out of Taksashila. The locals, who appear to have been utterly taken by surprise, seem to have put up little to no fight. Taksashila was sacked and burned. As Dādmihr and the army returned back to Iranian Kūšānšahr through the Khyber, they learned of a terrible defeat suffered by Sāsānian arms at Tirmiḏ a few months before at the hands of a poorly known but surprisingly well organized steppe army, fired by some sort of religious fervor. The steppe warriors had gone on to sack Marv and Samarkand before melting back into the Central Asian wastes. Sāsānian Sugd was scoured clean.

With that, the grand Sāsānian invasion of India was called off indefinitely. The Iranian northeast was under heavy attack.

Spoiler Europe, the Middle East, Central Asia, and North Africa, 626 :
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OOC: I'm sorry it took this long for me to get off my ass and do some work. Nevertheless, work has in fact been done. Huzzah! Questions/comments/general lollygagging for postcount are all welcome.
 
Exciting. The Greek is basically a weak client of the Romans, yes?
 
Yeah, that's more or less what Athalarichos is in charge of. I'll probably end up giving more of an overview of this Yet Another Gothic Successor State in the next installment.
 
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