INES Ib: Novus Ortus
- Thread starter Imago
- Start date
OK, I'll fix it.
Why not UUs x 1.5, irr x 0.5? (i.e. none of the above 
)
EDIT: Never mind, didn't see that the mod has answered already.
)EDIT: Never mind, didn't see that the mod has answered already.
Luckymoose
The World is Mine
I am having the hardest time actually writing orders. I have an gut feeling telling me to stop playing Iberia. Completely unenthusiastic about playing it. But haven't made up my mind if I shall quit or not.
Perfectionist
Angel of Verdun
Uninspired orders sent. Only 1 PM this time. Azash, are you in this?
And now, an uninspired story.
Bernhard looked up from his papers. He had aged considerably in the last few years. His hair was mostly gone, he had difficulty walking and his hands trembled. Though his body was slowly failing, his mind was as sharp as ever and he continued to tirelessly administer to the Emperor's affairs. “Welcome back, your majesty,” he said in a voice as strong and clear as ever, “We did not expect you so soon.”
Pepin crossed the room and slumped into a chair. “With the roads in such fine condition, I decided to press on as fast as possible.”
Bernhard set aside his papers and turned to the Emperor. “How was Svearland and how was your journey?” he inquired.
“Svearland was absolutely delightful,” Pepin responded with more than a touch of bitterness. “The greatest concentration of manpower in the world brought to a halt by a mound of dirt, and a bevy of generals explaining at great length precisely why we can't make any progress. I can scarcely wait to return. As to the journey, well, I can say that I never intend to step foot on a ship again. Coming back by land may have taken longer, but at least the ground doesn't pitch. And it gave me an opportunity to see Germany first hand.” He gave Bernhard a sly look and continued, “It seemed to be doing rather well. Great prosperity everywhere I went.”
“Yes, your majesty,” Bernhard said in a slightly pained voice. “Germany is doing very well indeed. Trade is up, and more importantly customs and tax receipts are up. It would appear that you were right about Hunald.”
“Luckily. Now, seeing Germany's success has made me think. Germany is prosperous, eastern France is prosperous, but that is not the case in all of the Empire.” Pepin stood up and began pacing, becoming more and more agitated as he went on. “While the German cities bloom, and the German burghers feast, there are sections of our Empire that barely have enough to eat. Sections where civilization is all but non-existent. And if we examine all the various regions, which emerges as the worst?” He strode to the table and spent a brief moment trying to find a map of the Empire. Having located one, he dramatically slammed his hand onto the south-western corner of France. “Aquitaine! The seat of the old empire, once the most prosperous area in Europe. Now the only settlement of consequence is Bordeaux, six thousand people squatting on a beach. And apart from Bordeaux, you must travel to the Rhone before finding another real city.”
Having waited patiently through Pepin's speech, Bernhard now interjected, “Yes, Aquitaine's reduced stature is deplorable, but I don't see what we can do about it at the moment.”
“What we can do about it,” said Pepin excitedly, “is build. Make Bordeaux a proper city, with a proper harbour. There is great potential for trade along the coast, but we have not made good on that potential. If we act decisively, we can bring Aquitaine to the level of Germany.”
Bernhard sighed. If the Emperor had a fault, it was his tendency to be carried away by grandiose schemes. When that happened, it invariably fell to Bernhard to pull him back to earth. “If I may be blunt, your majesty, while a worthy idea, that seems somewhat impracticable at the moment. After all, there is a war on.”
Pepin smiled. “Not for much longer.” He reached into the bag on his belt and withdrew a paper, which he tossed to Bernhard. “What is this?” Bernhard asked. “The latest reports on the Svear military,” came the response. Bernhard read it and became increasingly incredulous. “Is this accurate?” he asked when he finished
“It seems to be. The Svear king,” Pepin said in tones of triumph, “has barely ten thousand loyal soldiers remaining.”
“I never knew he was so weak.”
“Neither did I. Neither did he, probably. With the rebels gaining strength every day, the war should be over within a couple of years, and we need scarcely focus all our energies on it. So you see, I think we can spare the resources to develop Aquitaine.”
Bernhard looked thoughtful for a moment then said, “That simplifies things, but there is another problem that you may not have considered. The Count of Bordeaux is not known for his energy. He will not act, and it will be difficult to convince him to allow the Imperial government to act.”
“Yes, old Odalric is a problem,” Pepin said darkly. “He would dig his heels in.” He brightened. “Happily, I believe that there is a solution. As you may have heard, the Count of Istria was killed in Svearland while I was there. Poor blighter was hit by an arrow from the wall while inspecting troops. Vastly improbable shot. Anyway, he didn't have any heirs, so that leaves Istria without a Count at the moment.”
“And Istria is right next to Venice,” Bernhard said thoughtfully.
Pepin nodded. “Where old Odalric spends as much time as possible anyway. If we offer him Istria, I'm sure he will return Bordeaux to the Crown. Everybody wins. He gets to spend his time in dissipation in Venice and we get a free hand in Bordeaux.”
“Yes, that should work. Very well, assuming that we can do it, and can pay for it, what exactly is 'it'?”
“Well...” Pepin paused for a moment and rummaged through the papers. “Do you have a map of Aquitaine?”
Bernhard shook his incredulously and there was a break while Pepin ran to the door, accosted a bewildered servant and shouted at him to bring the map. The servant ran off, and a couple of minutes later returned bearing the map. Pepin thanked the servant perfunctorily, took the map and spread it on a table.
“For starters, we need to build a proper harbour at Bordeaux,” Pepin said, indicating the area on the map, “and then we need to build roads. Lots of roads. Aquitaine is barely connected by land to the rest of the Empire. After that...” For a long time, Pepin and Bernhard discussed Pepin's plans. Pepin was enthusiastic, Bernhard slightly less so, but they agreed on most things in the end. The next day, messengers were sent to the Count of Bordeaux bearing the Emperor's offer, and to engineers and architects throughout the Empire.
And now, an uninspired story.
*******
The door burst open and the Emperor entered. “Bernhard!” he exclaimed in greeting.Bernhard looked up from his papers. He had aged considerably in the last few years. His hair was mostly gone, he had difficulty walking and his hands trembled. Though his body was slowly failing, his mind was as sharp as ever and he continued to tirelessly administer to the Emperor's affairs. “Welcome back, your majesty,” he said in a voice as strong and clear as ever, “We did not expect you so soon.”
Pepin crossed the room and slumped into a chair. “With the roads in such fine condition, I decided to press on as fast as possible.”
Bernhard set aside his papers and turned to the Emperor. “How was Svearland and how was your journey?” he inquired.
“Svearland was absolutely delightful,” Pepin responded with more than a touch of bitterness. “The greatest concentration of manpower in the world brought to a halt by a mound of dirt, and a bevy of generals explaining at great length precisely why we can't make any progress. I can scarcely wait to return. As to the journey, well, I can say that I never intend to step foot on a ship again. Coming back by land may have taken longer, but at least the ground doesn't pitch. And it gave me an opportunity to see Germany first hand.” He gave Bernhard a sly look and continued, “It seemed to be doing rather well. Great prosperity everywhere I went.”
“Yes, your majesty,” Bernhard said in a slightly pained voice. “Germany is doing very well indeed. Trade is up, and more importantly customs and tax receipts are up. It would appear that you were right about Hunald.”
“Luckily. Now, seeing Germany's success has made me think. Germany is prosperous, eastern France is prosperous, but that is not the case in all of the Empire.” Pepin stood up and began pacing, becoming more and more agitated as he went on. “While the German cities bloom, and the German burghers feast, there are sections of our Empire that barely have enough to eat. Sections where civilization is all but non-existent. And if we examine all the various regions, which emerges as the worst?” He strode to the table and spent a brief moment trying to find a map of the Empire. Having located one, he dramatically slammed his hand onto the south-western corner of France. “Aquitaine! The seat of the old empire, once the most prosperous area in Europe. Now the only settlement of consequence is Bordeaux, six thousand people squatting on a beach. And apart from Bordeaux, you must travel to the Rhone before finding another real city.”
Having waited patiently through Pepin's speech, Bernhard now interjected, “Yes, Aquitaine's reduced stature is deplorable, but I don't see what we can do about it at the moment.”
“What we can do about it,” said Pepin excitedly, “is build. Make Bordeaux a proper city, with a proper harbour. There is great potential for trade along the coast, but we have not made good on that potential. If we act decisively, we can bring Aquitaine to the level of Germany.”
Bernhard sighed. If the Emperor had a fault, it was his tendency to be carried away by grandiose schemes. When that happened, it invariably fell to Bernhard to pull him back to earth. “If I may be blunt, your majesty, while a worthy idea, that seems somewhat impracticable at the moment. After all, there is a war on.”
Pepin smiled. “Not for much longer.” He reached into the bag on his belt and withdrew a paper, which he tossed to Bernhard. “What is this?” Bernhard asked. “The latest reports on the Svear military,” came the response. Bernhard read it and became increasingly incredulous. “Is this accurate?” he asked when he finished
“It seems to be. The Svear king,” Pepin said in tones of triumph, “has barely ten thousand loyal soldiers remaining.”
“I never knew he was so weak.”
“Neither did I. Neither did he, probably. With the rebels gaining strength every day, the war should be over within a couple of years, and we need scarcely focus all our energies on it. So you see, I think we can spare the resources to develop Aquitaine.”
Bernhard looked thoughtful for a moment then said, “That simplifies things, but there is another problem that you may not have considered. The Count of Bordeaux is not known for his energy. He will not act, and it will be difficult to convince him to allow the Imperial government to act.”
“Yes, old Odalric is a problem,” Pepin said darkly. “He would dig his heels in.” He brightened. “Happily, I believe that there is a solution. As you may have heard, the Count of Istria was killed in Svearland while I was there. Poor blighter was hit by an arrow from the wall while inspecting troops. Vastly improbable shot. Anyway, he didn't have any heirs, so that leaves Istria without a Count at the moment.”
“And Istria is right next to Venice,” Bernhard said thoughtfully.
Pepin nodded. “Where old Odalric spends as much time as possible anyway. If we offer him Istria, I'm sure he will return Bordeaux to the Crown. Everybody wins. He gets to spend his time in dissipation in Venice and we get a free hand in Bordeaux.”
“Yes, that should work. Very well, assuming that we can do it, and can pay for it, what exactly is 'it'?”
“Well...” Pepin paused for a moment and rummaged through the papers. “Do you have a map of Aquitaine?”
Bernhard shook his incredulously and there was a break while Pepin ran to the door, accosted a bewildered servant and shouted at him to bring the map. The servant ran off, and a couple of minutes later returned bearing the map. Pepin thanked the servant perfunctorily, took the map and spread it on a table.
“For starters, we need to build a proper harbour at Bordeaux,” Pepin said, indicating the area on the map, “and then we need to build roads. Lots of roads. Aquitaine is barely connected by land to the rest of the Empire. After that...” For a long time, Pepin and Bernhard discussed Pepin's plans. Pepin was enthusiastic, Bernhard slightly less so, but they agreed on most things in the end. The next day, messengers were sent to the Count of Bordeaux bearing the Emperor's offer, and to engineers and architects throughout the Empire.
Sheep
Orange Shrooms!
Orders sent. Sorry no story, Really busy with the nes I am running.
All are one, and the One is Amon-Ra!
One to create us. Man and woman, earth and sky, fire and water.
One to feed us. Rich and the poor, young and elderly, man and beast.
One to rule us. King and peasant, soldier and farmer, priest and merchant.
One to teach us, from tomes ancient and new, of life and death, god and man.
One to unite us, by sword and spear, word and wit, love and loyalty.
One to guide us, through the wisdom of the Prophet Chta!
May the words of Chta teach us the only real truth:
All are one, and the One is Amon-Ra!
Hail Amon-Ra! Hail Chta! Hail the King! Hail Humanity!
One to create us. Man and woman, earth and sky, fire and water.
One to feed us. Rich and the poor, young and elderly, man and beast.
One to rule us. King and peasant, soldier and farmer, priest and merchant.
One to teach us, from tomes ancient and new, of life and death, god and man.
One to unite us, by sword and spear, word and wit, love and loyalty.
One to guide us, through the wisdom of the Prophet Chta!
May the words of Chta teach us the only real truth:
All are one, and the One is Amon-Ra!
Hail Amon-Ra! Hail Chta! Hail the King! Hail Humanity!
Yes, he's in this. The 5/19 orders in was a hint.
Great story, btw. You and Contempt are really dominating that part of the NES.
What nation is he playing?
jeps
Arcadefire
Did you now? My guess is the The Northern War, as that involves HCE (orders in) and Svearland (orders in)
EDIT: Luckymoose, don't quit. REGULAR UPDATES!!!!!!!! Iberia, with little room for expansion (other than Morocco) can be a perfect place to build, conquer, and possibly become a world power.
Also, looking forward to the update.
EDIT: Luckymoose, don't quit. REGULAR UPDATES!!!!!!!! Iberia, with little room for expansion (other than Morocco) can be a perfect place to build, conquer, and possibly become a world power.
Also, looking forward to the update.
Which war is completed?
Perfectionist
Angel of Verdun
And it should be a fairly simple war, unless something very unexpected happens.
And now for something completely different.
*****
The priest is walking to each of the men, blessing them. Ordinarily Berthar doesn't care for priests, with their learning and effete mannerisms. This one is different, though. He carries a sword, and Berthar can tell he knows how to use it, and has a prominent scar running down one side of his face. So, Berthar pays more attention than he normally would, though not enough to bother to listen to what the priest says to Berthar's men. The priest finally comes to Berthar, at the end of the line.
“May Taranis lend strength to your arm, may Teutates protect you from wounds and may Lugus light the way for you,” the priest says. The blessing sounds strange in the priest's rough voice. Berthar has heard it a hundred times before though, and barely listens. He is slightly disappointed that this priest has nothing different to say. Having completed his rounds, the priest walks away and the captain of the ship approaches. “Alright, this is as far as we go,” he says. Berthar knows this, and despises the captain for making such a redundant statement, but salutes anyway. The captain then starts giving orders. The longboats that they have been towing are brought alongside the ship, and Berthar and his men clamber down into them, twelve to a boat. The lines are cast off, and the big ship begins to sail west, while Berthar and his men start rowing east. The sun sets shortly after they begin, and they have a long night ahead of them.
Around midnight, Berthar looks to the east. They have chosen the new moon for this mission, and clouds cover the stars, making it almost pitch black. Nevertheless, Berthar can see a slightly darker mass on the horizon. Land. They are approaching their goal. He says this to his men, and they begin to row with renewed strength. Suddenly, Berthar curses. He has seen a bonfire on the beach. No ordinary people would be on this remote beach. It must be a patrol. Berthar curses their bad luck. They can't land elsewhere; their directions are specific to this point. Berthar whispers to his lieutenant in the other boat. The sound travels eerily over the open water. After a short, furious discussion, they reach a decision. They row a bit longer, close enough to the shore that the tide will wash the boats up on the beach. Then Berthar stands and quietly gives orders to his men. He can hear his lieutenant doing the same in the other boat. They strip any unnecessary clothing and weapons, taking only a long knife each, and dive into the water. Luckily, it has been unusually warm of late, and the water is tolerable. They begin to swim towards shore, shadowing the boats.
The commander of the Svear patrol is unhappy. He doesn't see why they have to spend the night on this gods forsaken beach when they could be warm and comfortable in barracks. His men are also unhappy. To alleviate their unhappiness, they have been drinking the beer that two of them smuggled along. The commander has had less than most, but is still quite tipsy. He is just thinking of trying to get some sleep when he thinks he sees something in the breakers. He has been around the bonfire for too long, and his eyes aren't used to the dark, so he looks again but still sees it. He calls two of his men to him and goes to investigate. As he approaches, he sees another shape in the water, and as he comes closer they resolve themselves into boats. That's odd, he thinks. What are two longboats doing in the middle of nowhere with no one to row them? He finds it somewhat amusing and chuckles. He comes to the boats and looks inside the first of them. He sees armour and weapons. That sobers him up quickly, and he shouts to the rest of his patrol to come over. As he turns, he thinks he sees a darker patch in the water, but when he looks again it is gone. He can't concern himself with that at the moment.
Berthar is lying in the shallows, only his nose above water. He watches a Svear soldier look in the boat, and turn to yell to the rest of them. As the soldier turns, he looks in Berthar's direction for a moment, and Berthar is afraid he has been seen. But he looks away after a moment, and Berthar gives a sigh of relief. The Svear have their backs to him, so he begins to edge towards the boat. A soldier is giving orders to the rest of them. Berthar gets within a foot of him without anyone noticing. He draws his knife slowly. He then lunges, grabs the soldier by the foot, pulls him down and slits his throat. As he does this, the rest of his men lunge up out of the water. Though the Svear are wearing armour and have larger weapons, they are half drunk and caught completely by surprise. Berthar draws the dead man's sword and lunges into the fray, cutting down two more Svear. In less than half a minute, it is over. Berthar is turning to congratulate his men on a job well done when he sees that one of the Svear has escaped and is running for a horse. None of Berthar's men can catch him, and if he gets away their mission will be ruined. Berthar shouts to his lieutenant, who is the closest to the Svear soldier. His lieutenant runs forward, picks up an axe from one of the dead men and throws it at the soldier. It is a long shot, but he hits the escaper in the back of the head.
One of Berthar's men is badly injured. They can't take him along, so they give him a knife and he cuts his own throat. The rest of them bear some minor injuries, but nothing they can't handle. They pull the boats out of the water and unload them. They then cut up the boats and burn them on the Svear bonfire, and pull the bodies of the dead men towards the forest. Hopefully when people come to investigate, they will assume that the patrol was killed by rebels from inland. Shortly before sunrise, they are finished and move off into the forest. They have a great deal of ground to cover and no time to lose.
The Major
Warlord
Orders away...
