das
Regeneration In Process
So when should we expect the update? Tommorow? I do hope that it won't be Wednesday...
DisNES II "A Twist of Fate"
- Thread starter Disenfrancised
- Start date
alex994
Hail Divine Emperor!
For the record, I sent orders 
JosefStalinator
Я буду снова здесь
As did I...
LittleBoots
The Bloody Banner
- Joined
- Jul 25, 2006
- Messages
- 1,979
Hey Joe (har har), I realize its probably too late for this turn, but are you turning down my offer of dropping the next turn's EP payment to Aragon in return for Panda's borders (which is what I thought we were getting anyway, but I'll pay for it just to settle things and as I wasn't around when the deal was made)?
JosefStalinator
Я буду снова здесь
Naw... I'd rather pay an eco for Toulouse
LittleBoots
The Bloody Banner
- Joined
- Jul 25, 2006
- Messages
- 1,979
Come on now, nobody wants a strong buffer state . Be cool. I'll be your best friend. I promise. 
. Be cool. I'll be your best friend. I promise. 
Sheep
Orange Shrooms!
Will be sending orders sometime tonight just need to do some last minute diplo,
das
Regeneration In Process
OOC: Rather uninspired, yes. One day, I WILL write a good story! One day...
IC:
Huge, majestic galleons with animal figureheads staring hungrily into the horizon sailed arrogant and confident like great Turkish noblemen, paying no heed to the equally-pathetic, equally-scorned enemies and subjects - the hastily-built, tiny enemy galleys ahead, and the Caliphate's own galleys, large and intimidating in their own size, but easily dwarfed by those galleons that had conquered the seven seas.
These galleons, as already said, were as arrogant as the great Turkish noblemen; and the great Turkish noblemen board were, as one could easily deduce from the sentence, just as arrogant and as scornful as the ships they commanded. Officers scurried and kowtowed, lesser sailors daren't even look, and at the same time went at great lenghts to avoid causing any displeasure, especially to the commanders on the largest and the most richly-decorated galleon; the Ottoman flagship, where Prince Kalim himself was resting, preparing himself for the battle to come.
Prince Kalim, the Sultan's third son, was what they call a Hero; a Great Man, an Iskander, one of those who were beyond good and evil and controlled history itself, and the lifes of thousands - nay, millions. His every gesture - even as he relaxed within his luxurious tent, sipping sherbet - was that of a great man; scribes wrote down everything he said, and everything that some claimed he had said, so that these sayings could be preserved for future generations. As officers kowtowed to the noblemen, so noblemen kowtowed before him, and curried his favours, and shook in fear of even the slightest discomfort or irritation shown by this new Turkish Iskander.
Allow not my sarcastic narrative to create a false impression, however; Prince Kalim, though he had his flaws, was indeed a great man, a succesful man - the very incarnation of success. He was the most favourite son of the Sultan; he was handsome, rich and had a huge harem waiting at home; and he also had the willpower to abandon all that for fame, glory... but also for a victory that would would save the Ottoman Empire, for Prince Kalim, for all his preconceptions and prejudices, was a very smart man as well, and realized, despite all the splendour in which he lived, that the Ottoman Empire was in crisis, that it needed to be saved, saved by a hero, and there was no other hero in the Ottoman Empire but Prince Kalim himself. That was perhaps also a misconception on his part, but indeed, he was a hero in that he could perform feats necessary to save the Ottoman Empire - and though there were other people in equal or perhaps even better positions to do so, only Prince Kalim dared move as decisively as they.
I already mentioned his charisma; but he also was a brilliant, energetic, audacious military commander, and very good at pushing through his ideas - in part, ofcourse, because of his position. He proposed the campaign plan to the Divan, and had no trouble in convincing it to go along and grant him the forces needed; messengers were dispatched to the other Ottoman commanders, the Pashas, in the region - they would have to change their plans accordingly. Meanwhile there was no time to lose; so Prince Kalim didn't wait for replies, and instead streamlined the preparations as quickly as possible; supplies, troops, ships were being prepared with surprising speed and efficiency, which perhaps had something to do with Prince Kalim's charisma, or his father's love for him, or perhaps the fearsome-looking jatagan the Hero always carried, sometimes unsheathing it when things were going slowly.
In any case, preparations took merely three weeks, and thus Prince Kalim's fleet was already in the Azov Sea; already, the Prince stood up gracefully, and walked majestically towards his attentive officers, and gave the other to attack. As always, the Ottoman fleet operated with great skill and coordination, while the Russians had little true experience, were outnumbered and had far weaker and smaller ships; they were easily defeated, and the Prince only smirked and said that this was to be expected; at the sea, without a numerical advantage, the Russians stood no chance. No, greater troubles awaited them at the fortress of Azov itself... And so Prince Kalim walked off to look from his ship's side at the nearby coast. He walked slowly and thoughtfully, and contemplated his plans.
---
He walked slowly and thoughtfully, and contemplated his plans; but despite the similarity of this action to that of Prince Kalim's of a few months ago, the man we are speaking of was very, very different. He wasn't a Turk; he wasn't Muslim; he was in the service of the Ottoman sultan, but not as a military man, at least, not at present. He was not a hero at all, no, he was the type usually dispised by heroes, the scheming manipulative courtier who worked behind other people's backs. But he too was a great man, and he too knew that the Ottoman Empire remained in crisis, despite - or, Niccolo di Olive often thought, because - of Prince Kalim's efforts. Accordingly, Niccolo di Olive, military advisor with special capacities, also acted to save Turkey - in different ways ofcourse. While Kalim streamlined, invigorated, led and won campaigns, Niccolo di Olive sat in Konstantiniyye, and often visited various important officials (not to mention the Sultan himsel;f), and wrote letters to generals, admirals and governors. He coordinated the war effort; he requisitioned supplies and all other things needed for war, and raised armies, and prepared grand, strategic plans, and ordered attacks - and retreats. All too many retreats.
Perhaps it were the retreats; perhaps the initial shock of his appointment had worn out. In any case, he thought grimly as he passed the street that he remembered all too well, these assassinations will end soon. While Prince Kalim worked through officers, Niccolo di Olive worked through agents. Agents delivered letters and assassinated those impeding the war effort, agents now worked to find out who was behind the streak of recent assassination attempts.
Niccolo di Olive stopped at a coffee house. Yes, that was the place; the owner had noticed him, and rushed out to open the door into the basement, where Niccolo's informer was waiting.
---
Prince Kalim's adjutant was waiting; the Prince himself stood ponderously, having put away the looking-glass. He was in something of a predicament.
The first assault had failed. Janissaries, Tartars, mercenaries and Anatolian recruits alike all charged, under heavy cannon-fire, battle cries on their lips. jatagans swinging and muskets firing. Yet this was not enough; one by one, the assaulters fell under constant fire from the fortress; through the wall was breached by persistant bombardment before the assault, it was replaced by a wall of men. Turned into a disorderly mob by the dreaded "spetsnas" whose bullets claimed many officers and forced the assaulters to break formation, the Ottoman army stumbled at the walls, stumbled - and fell back, pursued by a rain of lead. It was a terrible massacre; and no gain was made at all. Prince Kalim and his entire army were in something of a predicament; though they could simply besiege and starve the city, that simply wasn't heroic, and would have taken toll on morale and supplies.
Prince Kalim's adjutant was waiting.
"Very well then." - said the Great Man at last - "I shall command the second assault personally. Summon the reserves, tell Mustafa Esad to take command; I shall start the assault, he shall reinforce me immediately upon the assembly of his forces, and we shall break through!"
True to his word and his character, Prince Kalim acted fast, calling his best troops, including his grumbling bodyguards, to rally aroujnd him, grouping them with some of those that had earlier been routed at the gates and now, ashamed of their conduct, seeked to redeem themselves. He ordered them to advance in sparse formations, and at the same time shouted for artillery to knock off the Russian towers and bombard the men in the breach with grapeshots. Though still taking casualties, the Ottomans, now spread out, managed to reach the wall much faster than earlier, quickly formed again and charged into the city. Prince Kalim himself again proved himself to be a true Iskander by risking his life, smashing a Russian's skull with his horsetail banner and then giving it to some other soldier; at that point, his leadership wasn't really needed, but his inspiration was, so he quickly shot one of the Russians on the wall, and cut down many, many others below.
Still more came, and the Ottomans were taking heavy casualties. Pinned towards the wall and having to avoid continued sniper fire, they eventually were broken into several groups, nearly surrounded by the Russian defenders despite all their efforts. Still Prince Kalim remained miracilously unhurt, and cut left and right in a blood frenzy. And soon, the moment he expected came; just as the Russians seemed triumphant, the reserves charged in, led by Mustafa Esad.
A young nobleman who too thirsted for the bloodied glory of war, Mustafa Esad saw fast advancement in rank under Prince Kalim's command. Perhaps this was because both had known each other in the past, perhaps because they were indeed fairly similar. It doesn't seem likely to have been because of Mustafa Esad's particularily severe case of hero worship, as it mostly went unnoticed anyway. In any case, Mustafa Esad was joyous when given such an important order by his hero; excited, he imitated his manner, and personally led the reserves to battle. Although they took heavier casualties than Prince Kalim's troops - advancing in a more conventional fashion - they were also more numerous, and the Russian spetsnasis were largely distracted. Thus the blowing of Turkish horns and the sudden appearence of screaming, jatagan-wielding Janissaries with horsetail banners had a startling effect.
Before the Russians could recover, the tables were turned; between Prince Kalim and Mustafa Esad, they were mostly cut down before they could properly turn around. Finally, some of them fled, and some of them hid; the city was in Turkish hands half an hour later, as the Ottomans secured the main square, massacring those that kept resisting.
"AZOV!" - shouted some timari, exhausted yet exultant; but he immediately swallowed a bullet and died. Even the Great Man shuddered at first, as for his men, they almost fled in panic; the spetnasis were still here...
It was a victory, but it felt petty when compared to the terrible losses, and the hordes of Russians ahead... The Prince confessed no worry, but in truth, he knew that the campaign was... a failure. It wasn't easy for him to reconcile with this.
---
By contrary, Niccolo di Olive never had problems with facts, and easily made the most use out of not just victories, but also defeats - even complete and utter defeats, while this was, how ever petty, a victory. The tables were turned, and the would-be assassin, so-called "informer", was on the ground, bleeding and moaning. Niccolo di Olive ALWAYS took precautions. That was why he, against all odds, retained both life and power.
Accordingly, he entered the coffee house basement with a pistol at ready, and immediately shot the "informer" in his right hand - the one with the probably-poisoned dagger, while two of Niccolo's own agents - the ones that he had ordered to follow him at some distance - had soon entered the basement as well and now helped tie up the assailant.
Ofcourse, it wasn't just a simple precaution. Niccolo di Olive didn't believe in such luck as this, and thought, quite rightly, that this was yet another assassination attempt. That was precisely why he did come here; to finally capture one of the assassins and interrogate him. As indeed the informer was, as he had claimed, Selim Kibris - a nobleman, unlike the other assassins, and well-known as a good friend of Mustafa Esad - Niccolo di Olive's hopes were high. It helped that Selim Kibris was such a coward - a simple threat of blinding and castration had turned out to be enough, as did the "carrot" of an eventual reward for cooperation. Soon Niccolo di Olive knew all that he needed to know, shot Selim Kibris just in case and hurried on towards the culmination.
---
The culmination came on a terrible summer day that not even the Europeans, to whom warmth was a luxury, would have considered nice - it was just too warm. Nevertheless, the garrisons carried on their duties, and Prince Kalim also didn't allow himself to rest when his troops were active. This was perhaps not as much out of solidarity, although he greatly gained in that in aftermath of the battle, as out of simple dislike for inactivity - so unusual in Oriental ruling families, and yet so usual in heroes. So withan indignant, impatient look, he wandered through the city, talked with the patrolmen to boost their morale, and often climbed up the walls and looked ahead through his spy-glass... Still, no Russians came.
Alas, a fatal inactivity was forced upon the Great Man by Allah Himself - fatal both for his army, which lost momentum, grew lazy and at the same time was persistantly besieged by the spetsnasis (indeed, was that not some poor patrolman's neck snapping just a few minutes ago?), and for Prince Kalim himself, who languished in triviality, held back only by the knowledge that any new campaigns would result in his army's ignominous, humiliating rout. Reinforcements and supplies were needed, but they just weren't coming, they were being diverted elsewhere by those Galatans and Phanariotes that seized power in Konstantiniyye, to defend their precious Balkan estates... at the price of losing the Ottoman Empire's finest army and best chance for victory. Prince Kalim was deeply frustrated; and moreso because all of his requests were apparently simply ignored! Cursed court rats, they hid behind his father's back and seized all power, and now... now they would rather lose the war than let him, Prince Kalim, save the Empire!
Some shots sounded inside the city. Prince Kalim shook his head and climbed back down; then he went towards the governor's residence (now turned into his headquarters), still pondering who exactly had betrayed him...
They got him in one of the city's many narrow streets, just near the main square before the governor's palace. Prince Kalim had a good reaction and a sharp knife, and he killed the first one quickly; the other one swore and pulled out a pistol; he fired, but only wounded Kalim, who jumped away in the last moment and proceeded to assault the second spetsnasi, throwing him to the ground with several kicks and thrusts. It was surprisingly easy to finish him off; the last time the spetsnasis attacked him they seemed much tougher. Kalim stood up, breathing heavily, and realized that they didn't even look like spetsnasis, and their swearing was Italian...
Someone fired.
Prince Kalim fell to the ground with a thud and a realization; he knew who the traitor was.
---
Niccolo di Olive also fell to the floor, prostrating himself before the Sultan; though capable to disregard tradition and cast aside cetermonies, di Olive, surprisingly enough, enjoyed them far more than the Turks that he worked with; perhaps because they amused him, perhaps because he sincerely liked all that made the East East as opposed to the West.
He also knew who the traitor was; he ofcourse always knew that he had killed Prince Kalim (or, rather, ordered his death), and now he also knew who was trying to kill him - it was as he had long suspected.
The Divan was fully assembled; Bayezid-Wazir looked faintly nervous, but then, he always preffered to remain quiet. The advisors also seemed shaken; that was to be expected, as the Sultan, on a rare occassion, was angry. The guards were apathic and bored, as usual; so was Mustafa Esad, the commander of the garrison.
The Sultan, in any case, was still angry.
"Why is it that we are being defeated everywhere - despite your wonderful promises? Had I accepted peace, we would have already recovered - and now, because I had listened to you, the Eternal State is under attack everywhere and our hold on the Indian Ocean is, I am told... threatened! Why, why should I still tolerate this?.. My son is dead, many troops are dead, subjects are dying... And we are actually losing battles! Not the war, the war I will win... by myself..."
Niccollo di Olive listened patiently and calmly as the Sultan droned on; he knew that only a few more seconds remained...
---
In his last few seconds of life, the Great Man summoned the remnants of his strenght, and tried to shout out the name of the traitor - for now, now it was apparent! But he could only moan weakly and occasionally shout incoherently: "Traitor! Infidel... Galata, Galata! Galata... Adder... Di Olive!"
Yet he was not to be disappointed; good old loyal Mustafa Esad (who rushed out in charge of a patrol upon ) had heard him, and later that day swore, along with some others, to avenge the death of their leader. As the campaign had ended - its goal accomplished and its mastermind dead - Mustafa Esad returned to Konstantiniyye; he used his connections to take his supporters along, under the pretense of organizing the garisson, weakened unacceptably by recent redeployments.
There Mustafa Esad used all the means open to him as a Turkish nobleman that remained unused previously; he went to great lenghts and swallowed his pride on several occasions, as he sent forth assassins against Niccolo di Olive - the traitor, the snake at the Sultan's court... the murderer of Prince Kalim. Yet alas, the wily Genoese escaped trap after trap, thwarted attempt after attempt. Even as attempts continued, Mustafa Esad - convinced of his safety - organized a conspiracy. He and his fellow avengers were, after all, in charge of the garisson. That garisson was weak, but it was the strongest armed force left in Istanbul. To hell with the consequences, Mustafa Esad decided - justice was long due. A coup, he told his astonished yet loyal followers, was in order. Death to the corrupt! Death to the treacherous! And above all - death to Niccolo di Olive, the adder from Galata.
---
"Death to the Galatan adder!" - Mustafa Esad shouted suddenly, and, pulling out his sword, charged Niccolo di Olive, to the silence of the stunned court. Yet he was shot, killed by a sniper's bullet just like his hero (yet unlike Kalim, Mustafa died quickly); Niccolo di Olive's men in the Babiali, and in the rest of Konstantiniyye, were not stunned at all, and Niccolo di Olive himself only pretended to be surprised; now the masque of fear had been dropped.
"That was to be expected." - he said calmly, with his usual phlegm - "Thank you, Francois." - to the assassin, who stepped out of the shadows and prostrated himself before the Sultan - "I beseech you, your majesty, do not take offense at the deeds of this man; he is in your service, and has rescued us from the actions of a traitor."
The court was still in silence.
"Alas, I myself have only learned of Esad's contacts in Russia recently; I intended to inform you of them today, as soon as I received full confirmation for I did not want to trouble your majesty by petty affairs and unproven conspiracies. Alas again - I was preempted. It is most fortunate that upon noticing this traitor's presence here I had taken this... precaution."
Giving his enemies and allies alike no time to recover, the Italian went on to explain, in brief, how Mustafa Esad allied with the Russians after a petty disagreement with Prince Kalim, how he assisted the hated spetsnasis with information necessary to kill Prince Kalim, and how he then moved to Konstantiniyye, and variously hindered the investigations of Prince Kalim's death... In other words, Niccolo di Olive cleaned himself from the mud of suspicion, shaking it all off and yet with great skill making sure that the dead garrison commander Mustafa Esad got all the blame. In the process, Niccolo di Olive said not a word of truth; and no doubt many courtiers saw through that easily. But as messangers arrrived and news came of the sweeping arrests of officers and the utter collapse of Esad's conspiracy in a matter of seconds, most courtiers saw just as easily that Niccolo di Olive got even stronger, and, in the good old Byzantine fashion, sacrificed the truth and upheld the rule of lie. The Sultan by now had went back into senility, and only approved the further plans outlined by Niccolo di Olive - for crackdowns on enemy spies, for negotiations abroad, and ofcourse for the new campaigns.
When he got home after this exciting day, Niccolo di Olive laughed, and wrote down on a piece of paper, as was his custom, that trully no ability is more important in affairs of state than the ability to lie - and not lie well, but just lie for the sake of tradition. After that - that all conspiracies end in anticlimax, whether succesful or not; it is the beginning and the development that is interesting, the outcome itself is terribly dull. In an ever more philosophical and esrious mood, he later wrote down a completely different thought that summed up the whole affair:
"Another difference between the West and the East comes to mind; the individualistic, fractured West is driven by great men, by heroes - and that is only right, for it is in its nature to be so dynamic, diverse and ever-changing, and thus in need of founder-heroes and destroyer-heroes, and the rest of their ilk. The East, meanwhile, consists of monolithic bureaucratic empires; it is only impaired by heroes, for heroes rarely tolerate solid foundations, even those created by them, to say nothing of those created by their ancestors; and thus heroes threaten the monolith empires. This is why, ofcourse, the monolith empires have developed precautions; a system of intrigues, assassinations and envies to drag the heroes down, to put them on the defensive or to just kill them. Though heroes still appear from time to time in the East, hopefully they shall eventually be driven extinct. Still, while they exist their destructive energy might be put to some good use... provided that they are killed off fast enough. More experiments are in order, I suppose..."
Then he rested for a while, and after that - got back to writing letters, to governors, generals and admirals; now that his survival was assured it was time to think about the survival of the Ottoman Empire...
IC:
Huge, majestic galleons with animal figureheads staring hungrily into the horizon sailed arrogant and confident like great Turkish noblemen, paying no heed to the equally-pathetic, equally-scorned enemies and subjects - the hastily-built, tiny enemy galleys ahead, and the Caliphate's own galleys, large and intimidating in their own size, but easily dwarfed by those galleons that had conquered the seven seas.
These galleons, as already said, were as arrogant as the great Turkish noblemen; and the great Turkish noblemen board were, as one could easily deduce from the sentence, just as arrogant and as scornful as the ships they commanded. Officers scurried and kowtowed, lesser sailors daren't even look, and at the same time went at great lenghts to avoid causing any displeasure, especially to the commanders on the largest and the most richly-decorated galleon; the Ottoman flagship, where Prince Kalim himself was resting, preparing himself for the battle to come.
Prince Kalim, the Sultan's third son, was what they call a Hero; a Great Man, an Iskander, one of those who were beyond good and evil and controlled history itself, and the lifes of thousands - nay, millions. His every gesture - even as he relaxed within his luxurious tent, sipping sherbet - was that of a great man; scribes wrote down everything he said, and everything that some claimed he had said, so that these sayings could be preserved for future generations. As officers kowtowed to the noblemen, so noblemen kowtowed before him, and curried his favours, and shook in fear of even the slightest discomfort or irritation shown by this new Turkish Iskander.
Allow not my sarcastic narrative to create a false impression, however; Prince Kalim, though he had his flaws, was indeed a great man, a succesful man - the very incarnation of success. He was the most favourite son of the Sultan; he was handsome, rich and had a huge harem waiting at home; and he also had the willpower to abandon all that for fame, glory... but also for a victory that would would save the Ottoman Empire, for Prince Kalim, for all his preconceptions and prejudices, was a very smart man as well, and realized, despite all the splendour in which he lived, that the Ottoman Empire was in crisis, that it needed to be saved, saved by a hero, and there was no other hero in the Ottoman Empire but Prince Kalim himself. That was perhaps also a misconception on his part, but indeed, he was a hero in that he could perform feats necessary to save the Ottoman Empire - and though there were other people in equal or perhaps even better positions to do so, only Prince Kalim dared move as decisively as they.
I already mentioned his charisma; but he also was a brilliant, energetic, audacious military commander, and very good at pushing through his ideas - in part, ofcourse, because of his position. He proposed the campaign plan to the Divan, and had no trouble in convincing it to go along and grant him the forces needed; messengers were dispatched to the other Ottoman commanders, the Pashas, in the region - they would have to change their plans accordingly. Meanwhile there was no time to lose; so Prince Kalim didn't wait for replies, and instead streamlined the preparations as quickly as possible; supplies, troops, ships were being prepared with surprising speed and efficiency, which perhaps had something to do with Prince Kalim's charisma, or his father's love for him, or perhaps the fearsome-looking jatagan the Hero always carried, sometimes unsheathing it when things were going slowly.
In any case, preparations took merely three weeks, and thus Prince Kalim's fleet was already in the Azov Sea; already, the Prince stood up gracefully, and walked majestically towards his attentive officers, and gave the other to attack. As always, the Ottoman fleet operated with great skill and coordination, while the Russians had little true experience, were outnumbered and had far weaker and smaller ships; they were easily defeated, and the Prince only smirked and said that this was to be expected; at the sea, without a numerical advantage, the Russians stood no chance. No, greater troubles awaited them at the fortress of Azov itself... And so Prince Kalim walked off to look from his ship's side at the nearby coast. He walked slowly and thoughtfully, and contemplated his plans.
---
He walked slowly and thoughtfully, and contemplated his plans; but despite the similarity of this action to that of Prince Kalim's of a few months ago, the man we are speaking of was very, very different. He wasn't a Turk; he wasn't Muslim; he was in the service of the Ottoman sultan, but not as a military man, at least, not at present. He was not a hero at all, no, he was the type usually dispised by heroes, the scheming manipulative courtier who worked behind other people's backs. But he too was a great man, and he too knew that the Ottoman Empire remained in crisis, despite - or, Niccolo di Olive often thought, because - of Prince Kalim's efforts. Accordingly, Niccolo di Olive, military advisor with special capacities, also acted to save Turkey - in different ways ofcourse. While Kalim streamlined, invigorated, led and won campaigns, Niccolo di Olive sat in Konstantiniyye, and often visited various important officials (not to mention the Sultan himsel;f), and wrote letters to generals, admirals and governors. He coordinated the war effort; he requisitioned supplies and all other things needed for war, and raised armies, and prepared grand, strategic plans, and ordered attacks - and retreats. All too many retreats.
Perhaps it were the retreats; perhaps the initial shock of his appointment had worn out. In any case, he thought grimly as he passed the street that he remembered all too well, these assassinations will end soon. While Prince Kalim worked through officers, Niccolo di Olive worked through agents. Agents delivered letters and assassinated those impeding the war effort, agents now worked to find out who was behind the streak of recent assassination attempts.
Niccolo di Olive stopped at a coffee house. Yes, that was the place; the owner had noticed him, and rushed out to open the door into the basement, where Niccolo's informer was waiting.
---
Prince Kalim's adjutant was waiting; the Prince himself stood ponderously, having put away the looking-glass. He was in something of a predicament.
The first assault had failed. Janissaries, Tartars, mercenaries and Anatolian recruits alike all charged, under heavy cannon-fire, battle cries on their lips. jatagans swinging and muskets firing. Yet this was not enough; one by one, the assaulters fell under constant fire from the fortress; through the wall was breached by persistant bombardment before the assault, it was replaced by a wall of men. Turned into a disorderly mob by the dreaded "spetsnas" whose bullets claimed many officers and forced the assaulters to break formation, the Ottoman army stumbled at the walls, stumbled - and fell back, pursued by a rain of lead. It was a terrible massacre; and no gain was made at all. Prince Kalim and his entire army were in something of a predicament; though they could simply besiege and starve the city, that simply wasn't heroic, and would have taken toll on morale and supplies.
Prince Kalim's adjutant was waiting.
"Very well then." - said the Great Man at last - "I shall command the second assault personally. Summon the reserves, tell Mustafa Esad to take command; I shall start the assault, he shall reinforce me immediately upon the assembly of his forces, and we shall break through!"
True to his word and his character, Prince Kalim acted fast, calling his best troops, including his grumbling bodyguards, to rally aroujnd him, grouping them with some of those that had earlier been routed at the gates and now, ashamed of their conduct, seeked to redeem themselves. He ordered them to advance in sparse formations, and at the same time shouted for artillery to knock off the Russian towers and bombard the men in the breach with grapeshots. Though still taking casualties, the Ottomans, now spread out, managed to reach the wall much faster than earlier, quickly formed again and charged into the city. Prince Kalim himself again proved himself to be a true Iskander by risking his life, smashing a Russian's skull with his horsetail banner and then giving it to some other soldier; at that point, his leadership wasn't really needed, but his inspiration was, so he quickly shot one of the Russians on the wall, and cut down many, many others below.
Still more came, and the Ottomans were taking heavy casualties. Pinned towards the wall and having to avoid continued sniper fire, they eventually were broken into several groups, nearly surrounded by the Russian defenders despite all their efforts. Still Prince Kalim remained miracilously unhurt, and cut left and right in a blood frenzy. And soon, the moment he expected came; just as the Russians seemed triumphant, the reserves charged in, led by Mustafa Esad.
A young nobleman who too thirsted for the bloodied glory of war, Mustafa Esad saw fast advancement in rank under Prince Kalim's command. Perhaps this was because both had known each other in the past, perhaps because they were indeed fairly similar. It doesn't seem likely to have been because of Mustafa Esad's particularily severe case of hero worship, as it mostly went unnoticed anyway. In any case, Mustafa Esad was joyous when given such an important order by his hero; excited, he imitated his manner, and personally led the reserves to battle. Although they took heavier casualties than Prince Kalim's troops - advancing in a more conventional fashion - they were also more numerous, and the Russian spetsnasis were largely distracted. Thus the blowing of Turkish horns and the sudden appearence of screaming, jatagan-wielding Janissaries with horsetail banners had a startling effect.
Before the Russians could recover, the tables were turned; between Prince Kalim and Mustafa Esad, they were mostly cut down before they could properly turn around. Finally, some of them fled, and some of them hid; the city was in Turkish hands half an hour later, as the Ottomans secured the main square, massacring those that kept resisting.
"AZOV!" - shouted some timari, exhausted yet exultant; but he immediately swallowed a bullet and died. Even the Great Man shuddered at first, as for his men, they almost fled in panic; the spetnasis were still here...
It was a victory, but it felt petty when compared to the terrible losses, and the hordes of Russians ahead... The Prince confessed no worry, but in truth, he knew that the campaign was... a failure. It wasn't easy for him to reconcile with this.
---
By contrary, Niccolo di Olive never had problems with facts, and easily made the most use out of not just victories, but also defeats - even complete and utter defeats, while this was, how ever petty, a victory. The tables were turned, and the would-be assassin, so-called "informer", was on the ground, bleeding and moaning. Niccolo di Olive ALWAYS took precautions. That was why he, against all odds, retained both life and power.
Accordingly, he entered the coffee house basement with a pistol at ready, and immediately shot the "informer" in his right hand - the one with the probably-poisoned dagger, while two of Niccolo's own agents - the ones that he had ordered to follow him at some distance - had soon entered the basement as well and now helped tie up the assailant.
Ofcourse, it wasn't just a simple precaution. Niccolo di Olive didn't believe in such luck as this, and thought, quite rightly, that this was yet another assassination attempt. That was precisely why he did come here; to finally capture one of the assassins and interrogate him. As indeed the informer was, as he had claimed, Selim Kibris - a nobleman, unlike the other assassins, and well-known as a good friend of Mustafa Esad - Niccolo di Olive's hopes were high. It helped that Selim Kibris was such a coward - a simple threat of blinding and castration had turned out to be enough, as did the "carrot" of an eventual reward for cooperation. Soon Niccolo di Olive knew all that he needed to know, shot Selim Kibris just in case and hurried on towards the culmination.
---
The culmination came on a terrible summer day that not even the Europeans, to whom warmth was a luxury, would have considered nice - it was just too warm. Nevertheless, the garrisons carried on their duties, and Prince Kalim also didn't allow himself to rest when his troops were active. This was perhaps not as much out of solidarity, although he greatly gained in that in aftermath of the battle, as out of simple dislike for inactivity - so unusual in Oriental ruling families, and yet so usual in heroes. So withan indignant, impatient look, he wandered through the city, talked with the patrolmen to boost their morale, and often climbed up the walls and looked ahead through his spy-glass... Still, no Russians came.
Alas, a fatal inactivity was forced upon the Great Man by Allah Himself - fatal both for his army, which lost momentum, grew lazy and at the same time was persistantly besieged by the spetsnasis (indeed, was that not some poor patrolman's neck snapping just a few minutes ago?), and for Prince Kalim himself, who languished in triviality, held back only by the knowledge that any new campaigns would result in his army's ignominous, humiliating rout. Reinforcements and supplies were needed, but they just weren't coming, they were being diverted elsewhere by those Galatans and Phanariotes that seized power in Konstantiniyye, to defend their precious Balkan estates... at the price of losing the Ottoman Empire's finest army and best chance for victory. Prince Kalim was deeply frustrated; and moreso because all of his requests were apparently simply ignored! Cursed court rats, they hid behind his father's back and seized all power, and now... now they would rather lose the war than let him, Prince Kalim, save the Empire!
Some shots sounded inside the city. Prince Kalim shook his head and climbed back down; then he went towards the governor's residence (now turned into his headquarters), still pondering who exactly had betrayed him...
They got him in one of the city's many narrow streets, just near the main square before the governor's palace. Prince Kalim had a good reaction and a sharp knife, and he killed the first one quickly; the other one swore and pulled out a pistol; he fired, but only wounded Kalim, who jumped away in the last moment and proceeded to assault the second spetsnasi, throwing him to the ground with several kicks and thrusts. It was surprisingly easy to finish him off; the last time the spetsnasis attacked him they seemed much tougher. Kalim stood up, breathing heavily, and realized that they didn't even look like spetsnasis, and their swearing was Italian...
Someone fired.
Prince Kalim fell to the ground with a thud and a realization; he knew who the traitor was.
---
Niccolo di Olive also fell to the floor, prostrating himself before the Sultan; though capable to disregard tradition and cast aside cetermonies, di Olive, surprisingly enough, enjoyed them far more than the Turks that he worked with; perhaps because they amused him, perhaps because he sincerely liked all that made the East East as opposed to the West.
He also knew who the traitor was; he ofcourse always knew that he had killed Prince Kalim (or, rather, ordered his death), and now he also knew who was trying to kill him - it was as he had long suspected.
The Divan was fully assembled; Bayezid-Wazir looked faintly nervous, but then, he always preffered to remain quiet. The advisors also seemed shaken; that was to be expected, as the Sultan, on a rare occassion, was angry. The guards were apathic and bored, as usual; so was Mustafa Esad, the commander of the garrison.
The Sultan, in any case, was still angry.
"Why is it that we are being defeated everywhere - despite your wonderful promises? Had I accepted peace, we would have already recovered - and now, because I had listened to you, the Eternal State is under attack everywhere and our hold on the Indian Ocean is, I am told... threatened! Why, why should I still tolerate this?.. My son is dead, many troops are dead, subjects are dying... And we are actually losing battles! Not the war, the war I will win... by myself..."
Niccollo di Olive listened patiently and calmly as the Sultan droned on; he knew that only a few more seconds remained...
---
In his last few seconds of life, the Great Man summoned the remnants of his strenght, and tried to shout out the name of the traitor - for now, now it was apparent! But he could only moan weakly and occasionally shout incoherently: "Traitor! Infidel... Galata, Galata! Galata... Adder... Di Olive!"
Yet he was not to be disappointed; good old loyal Mustafa Esad (who rushed out in charge of a patrol upon ) had heard him, and later that day swore, along with some others, to avenge the death of their leader. As the campaign had ended - its goal accomplished and its mastermind dead - Mustafa Esad returned to Konstantiniyye; he used his connections to take his supporters along, under the pretense of organizing the garisson, weakened unacceptably by recent redeployments.
There Mustafa Esad used all the means open to him as a Turkish nobleman that remained unused previously; he went to great lenghts and swallowed his pride on several occasions, as he sent forth assassins against Niccolo di Olive - the traitor, the snake at the Sultan's court... the murderer of Prince Kalim. Yet alas, the wily Genoese escaped trap after trap, thwarted attempt after attempt. Even as attempts continued, Mustafa Esad - convinced of his safety - organized a conspiracy. He and his fellow avengers were, after all, in charge of the garisson. That garisson was weak, but it was the strongest armed force left in Istanbul. To hell with the consequences, Mustafa Esad decided - justice was long due. A coup, he told his astonished yet loyal followers, was in order. Death to the corrupt! Death to the treacherous! And above all - death to Niccolo di Olive, the adder from Galata.
---
"Death to the Galatan adder!" - Mustafa Esad shouted suddenly, and, pulling out his sword, charged Niccolo di Olive, to the silence of the stunned court. Yet he was shot, killed by a sniper's bullet just like his hero (yet unlike Kalim, Mustafa died quickly); Niccolo di Olive's men in the Babiali, and in the rest of Konstantiniyye, were not stunned at all, and Niccolo di Olive himself only pretended to be surprised; now the masque of fear had been dropped.
"That was to be expected." - he said calmly, with his usual phlegm - "Thank you, Francois." - to the assassin, who stepped out of the shadows and prostrated himself before the Sultan - "I beseech you, your majesty, do not take offense at the deeds of this man; he is in your service, and has rescued us from the actions of a traitor."
The court was still in silence.
"Alas, I myself have only learned of Esad's contacts in Russia recently; I intended to inform you of them today, as soon as I received full confirmation for I did not want to trouble your majesty by petty affairs and unproven conspiracies. Alas again - I was preempted. It is most fortunate that upon noticing this traitor's presence here I had taken this... precaution."
Giving his enemies and allies alike no time to recover, the Italian went on to explain, in brief, how Mustafa Esad allied with the Russians after a petty disagreement with Prince Kalim, how he assisted the hated spetsnasis with information necessary to kill Prince Kalim, and how he then moved to Konstantiniyye, and variously hindered the investigations of Prince Kalim's death... In other words, Niccolo di Olive cleaned himself from the mud of suspicion, shaking it all off and yet with great skill making sure that the dead garrison commander Mustafa Esad got all the blame. In the process, Niccolo di Olive said not a word of truth; and no doubt many courtiers saw through that easily. But as messangers arrrived and news came of the sweeping arrests of officers and the utter collapse of Esad's conspiracy in a matter of seconds, most courtiers saw just as easily that Niccolo di Olive got even stronger, and, in the good old Byzantine fashion, sacrificed the truth and upheld the rule of lie. The Sultan by now had went back into senility, and only approved the further plans outlined by Niccolo di Olive - for crackdowns on enemy spies, for negotiations abroad, and ofcourse for the new campaigns.
When he got home after this exciting day, Niccolo di Olive laughed, and wrote down on a piece of paper, as was his custom, that trully no ability is more important in affairs of state than the ability to lie - and not lie well, but just lie for the sake of tradition. After that - that all conspiracies end in anticlimax, whether succesful or not; it is the beginning and the development that is interesting, the outcome itself is terribly dull. In an ever more philosophical and esrious mood, he later wrote down a completely different thought that summed up the whole affair:
"Another difference between the West and the East comes to mind; the individualistic, fractured West is driven by great men, by heroes - and that is only right, for it is in its nature to be so dynamic, diverse and ever-changing, and thus in need of founder-heroes and destroyer-heroes, and the rest of their ilk. The East, meanwhile, consists of monolithic bureaucratic empires; it is only impaired by heroes, for heroes rarely tolerate solid foundations, even those created by them, to say nothing of those created by their ancestors; and thus heroes threaten the monolith empires. This is why, ofcourse, the monolith empires have developed precautions; a system of intrigues, assassinations and envies to drag the heroes down, to put them on the defensive or to just kill them. Though heroes still appear from time to time in the East, hopefully they shall eventually be driven extinct. Still, while they exist their destructive energy might be put to some good use... provided that they are killed off fast enough. More experiments are in order, I suppose..."
Then he rested for a while, and after that - got back to writing letters, to governors, generals and admirals; now that his survival was assured it was time to think about the survival of the Ottoman Empire...
Sheep
Orange Shrooms!
Good story mate, I really enjoyed it. So much I needed to post my approval.
On another note I have sent orders about an hour or two ago now. Sorry if they were cr@ppy.
On another note I have sent orders about an hour or two ago now. Sorry if they were cr@ppy.
Disenfrancised
Beep Beep
Just to reassure everyone that the update is progressing. It took me longer to write about the French peace than most of the war updates 
Also @Sheep, do you want to make up a name for your sultan or should I?
Also @Sheep, do you want to make up a name for your sultan or should I?
JosefStalinator
Я буду снова здесь
Glee update 
Disenfrancised said:Just to reassure everyone that the update is progressing. It took me longer to write about the French peace than most of the war updates
Also @Sheep, do you want to make up a name for your sultan or should I?
I am looking forward to the update
. Will it be here tonight so I know if I should stay up?
das
Regeneration In Process
That tends to happen to me too - let me guess, you put a few recaps and/or strategic analyses in.
Disenfrancised
Beep Beep
@Darkening, are you around and do you have AIM or MSN? You shouldn't make an assumption of NPC agreement 
. I can put off doing your section for oh...at least 2 hours.
. I can put off doing your section for oh...at least 2 hours.
Luckymoose
The World is Mine
Disenfrancised said:@Darkening, are you around and do you have AIM or MSN? You shouldn't make an assumption of NPC agreement
So it will come tonight?
Disenfrancised
Beep Beep
Luckymoose said:
it'll have too as I'm going away for the weekend
.
Sheep
Orange Shrooms!
Yeah just base if off an Indonesian guy or something dis.
alex994
Hail Divine Emperor!
HAIL THE GREAT STORK! Yes I know it's not really a stork 
Yes I know it's not really a stork
Disenfrancised
Beep Beep
Darkening - your running low on time...
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