NES2 V - The Great Game.
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Thlayli
Le Pétit Prince
Odd, I always felt similarly about the Ottomans...
das
Regeneration In Process
Huh?
Anyway, 1 hour 36 minutes left! Time for a Cryptic Prophecy (tm):
- Someone slipped up VERY badly.
- A great empire will be brought on the edge of collapse, fighting at least three separate wars at the time.
- Even more violence than the last update.
- Basically, there's a lot for you to look forward to...
Anyway, 1 hour 36 minutes left! Time for a Cryptic Prophecy (tm):
- Someone slipped up VERY badly.
- A great empire will be brought on the edge of collapse, fighting at least three separate wars at the time.
- Even more violence than the last update.
- Basically, there's a lot for you to look forward to...
Reno
The Studio Ghibli Fanatic
France or the FK?
Harleqin
Hippo Power
das said:
Gotta be me... maybe making some kind of slides from the top of mountains and to the bottom to make messengers move faster was a bad idea
Harleqin
Hippo Power
Kal'thzar said:you actually did that?
I'm not feeling that confident that i have a good grip of the rules and so on like i did with last turn, so I think one of them applies to me.
Nah, I'm not that silly
I'm curious as to what is happening... especially between France, FK, Ottomans and China.
Stormbringer
The Brick and The Rose
Lord_Iggy said:
My first turn playing in Goober's NES I bombed and overran Australia because he did not withdraw from Ceylon, and the second turn I invaded the USA because he threatened me, and when I withdrew I burned everything I could get my hands on.
das
Regeneration In Process
Won't make any clarifications on the Cryptic Prophecy yet - otherwise it won't be very cryptic, now would?
True, but is it enough to guarantee your safety? I think not!
True, but is it enough to guarantee your safety? I think not!
das
Regeneration In Process
Anyway, no more orders.
Harleqin
Hippo Power
Announcement to the Incan people of Peru
Less than 2 years ago we were fighting against Portuguese aggression. Now they are attacking the Holy Roman province of Neugranada, a province where many of our fellow Incans live. You know that we signed an alliance with Portugal at the end of the war and you know that it was a defensive alliance.
I have heard that many of you wonder why we have sent our armies north in support of Portugal, the Portugal that was our enemy. Why should we help them, when they've proven untrustworthy? I know the rumours have gone that we are fighting with Portugal in order to re-unite the Incans in Neugranada with Peru. That is only partially correct!
Earlier today Incan armies linked up with Imperial forces and attacked the Portuguese invaders! Fighting side by side Incans and Imperials have prepared and executed an ambush on Portuguese forces. At the same time members of the Black Ghosts have attacked Portuguese supply lines in the Amazonas.
We do this for a number of reasons. Not only are the Federated Kingdoms our friends and helped us with the peacetreaty last year, but we are also doing it because the Imperial Kaiser has promised that we will get our ancient lands in Neugranada back. In addition to this we are doing it because the Portuguese did not fulfill their obligations from the treaty of Buenos Aires. By failing to do so they have voided our alliance. We could have just turned a blind eye to this, but have decided to stand with our European friends and help them curb Portuguese aggression.
Finally, we are doing it to protect the lives of the Incan population of Neugranada and to bring peace and stability back to our continent.
As said before our forces are currently engaged in battle with the Portuguese. In Neugranada several thousand Incans have volunteered for military service and been armed. They are fighting for Peru and for their Sapa-Inca. I call upon you to do the same! Hopefully this conflict will be over soon, but any Incan who volunteers for the army will blessed by Inti and secure a place of glory by his side in the next life.
For Peru! For the Incans! For Unity! For Freedom!
By my hand,
The Sapa-Inca
OOC: Go Inca! I really hope I'm backing the right horse here
Less than 2 years ago we were fighting against Portuguese aggression. Now they are attacking the Holy Roman province of Neugranada, a province where many of our fellow Incans live. You know that we signed an alliance with Portugal at the end of the war and you know that it was a defensive alliance.
I have heard that many of you wonder why we have sent our armies north in support of Portugal, the Portugal that was our enemy. Why should we help them, when they've proven untrustworthy? I know the rumours have gone that we are fighting with Portugal in order to re-unite the Incans in Neugranada with Peru. That is only partially correct!
Earlier today Incan armies linked up with Imperial forces and attacked the Portuguese invaders! Fighting side by side Incans and Imperials have prepared and executed an ambush on Portuguese forces. At the same time members of the Black Ghosts have attacked Portuguese supply lines in the Amazonas.
We do this for a number of reasons. Not only are the Federated Kingdoms our friends and helped us with the peacetreaty last year, but we are also doing it because the Imperial Kaiser has promised that we will get our ancient lands in Neugranada back. In addition to this we are doing it because the Portuguese did not fulfill their obligations from the treaty of Buenos Aires. By failing to do so they have voided our alliance. We could have just turned a blind eye to this, but have decided to stand with our European friends and help them curb Portuguese aggression.
Finally, we are doing it to protect the lives of the Incan population of Neugranada and to bring peace and stability back to our continent.
As said before our forces are currently engaged in battle with the Portuguese. In Neugranada several thousand Incans have volunteered for military service and been armed. They are fighting for Peru and for their Sapa-Inca. I call upon you to do the same! Hopefully this conflict will be over soon, but any Incan who volunteers for the army will blessed by Inti and secure a place of glory by his side in the next life.
For Peru! For the Incans! For Unity! For Freedom!
By my hand,
The Sapa-Inca
OOC: Go Inca! I really hope I'm backing the right horse here
1889
Mayor of H-Marker Lake
As soon as the evening prayer was over the girls resumed their gyrations and the patrons resumed stuffing coins into the dancers underwear. (A petition goes around every year asking the government to print paper money, but sadly most of the names on the petition can not be matched with a valid voter ID so the petitions are declared invalid.) In the back of The Seventh Veil, General Sahib Rashid 'Ali Khan continued his conversation with Minister Usuman dan Fodio.
The king does not know what to do with the army. He intends to have us be body guards for foreign merchants and caravans. The army will not sit back and take orders from foreign salesmen. said the General.
Nobody would mistake your father for a military commander, but his popularity with the people is unmatched regardless. the minister responded. Sahib, we have been friends all our lives so please tell me this is just your hard lemonade talking and I will forget all about this conversation. Any of your rash actions now would be a serious mistake.
Yes of course Usuman, I just need to go home and sleep it off. He said feigning jocularity.
Excuse me for suggesting it, but I think it best that you follow your fathers advice and simply be patient. Your time will come. Usuman added in an attempt at levity.
Sahib sat distractedly while his friend finished his drink then left. Was he drunk? Yes, a little bit, he admitted to himself, noting with shame that he nearly always was these days. Did that matter? Not a bit. He knew this was the opportunity that his father had been waiting for. If only he could get his father to see it.
---------------------------------------------------
No Sahib! There is no profit in war, only ruin.
Father, you should not be so naive as to put your intentions in the hearts of other men. The Portuguese have no friends, only enemies that they have not declared war on yet.
You should not be so paranoid and you should stop wasting my time with these scare tactics. You do not need to convince me that war is imminent just to get a few more divisions or some new equipment.
Only 4 years ago the Portuguese ravaged the west coast. I remember how it hurt you not being able to respond to such senseless brutality. Are you certain all these military preparations were just to appease me or were they because you realize who we have as a neighbor? All that you are attempting to build here will not be safe with such people living just down river, and it will all be meaningless if you refuse to use in a just cause.
Mohammad heard these words with a heavy heart, but could not refute their wisdom. Very well do what must be done.
The king does not know what to do with the army. He intends to have us be body guards for foreign merchants and caravans. The army will not sit back and take orders from foreign salesmen. said the General.
Nobody would mistake your father for a military commander, but his popularity with the people is unmatched regardless. the minister responded. Sahib, we have been friends all our lives so please tell me this is just your hard lemonade talking and I will forget all about this conversation. Any of your rash actions now would be a serious mistake.
Yes of course Usuman, I just need to go home and sleep it off. He said feigning jocularity.
Excuse me for suggesting it, but I think it best that you follow your fathers advice and simply be patient. Your time will come. Usuman added in an attempt at levity.
Sahib sat distractedly while his friend finished his drink then left. Was he drunk? Yes, a little bit, he admitted to himself, noting with shame that he nearly always was these days. Did that matter? Not a bit. He knew this was the opportunity that his father had been waiting for. If only he could get his father to see it.
---------------------------------------------------
No Sahib! There is no profit in war, only ruin.
Father, you should not be so naive as to put your intentions in the hearts of other men. The Portuguese have no friends, only enemies that they have not declared war on yet.
You should not be so paranoid and you should stop wasting my time with these scare tactics. You do not need to convince me that war is imminent just to get a few more divisions or some new equipment.
Only 4 years ago the Portuguese ravaged the west coast. I remember how it hurt you not being able to respond to such senseless brutality. Are you certain all these military preparations were just to appease me or were they because you realize who we have as a neighbor? All that you are attempting to build here will not be safe with such people living just down river, and it will all be meaningless if you refuse to use in a just cause.
Mohammad heard these words with a heavy heart, but could not refute their wisdom. Very well do what must be done.
Thlayli
Le Pétit Prince
OOC: *sigh* Knowing the Prophecy isn't all it's cracked up to be...anyways, here's that story I promised an eternity ago. I suspect it was I that slipped up so badly...too many inaccuracies in my orders, or something. That, or I didn't account for the FK.
1864-Somewhere.
It was a large place...with many lives, real or false, rich or poor. The lithe, wiry man said a prayer over his victim, whose soul he had just extinguished...and threw his body into the river.
One year later...
The man was just an ordinary man. The city was large, and filled with opportunity. Peoples from all across the world had gathered here. The place had been inhabited almost since Man became self-aware, when the first seafaring traders built the outpost.
The city held millions, but the man was just one of many. He lived in a normal, waterfront apartment, (or so it might be called in an alternate universe, but this was little more than a tenement,) the press of humanity crushing down on him.
The man was Hakim Hakim. An orphan, parentless as long as he could remember, he fled from his orphanage as soon as he was old enough to walk. Working as a laborer until he reached adulthood, the man was a gardener. On the side, he studied chemistry, hoping one day to earn enough money from his gardening duties at the Royal Palace to attend University.
Hakim left his house as he normally did, spade in hand, wheelbarrow in front of him. Making his way from his house to the Palace was no easy task. And today was Fertilizer Day. He always made his own fertilizers, of course. Besides being a natural at it, he loved his work, and those fertilizer merchants by the Bazaar always slipped a little sawdust in. It was easy, if you knew the apothecaries, who always had everything on hand. A little bribe never hurt in obtaining some potassium sulfate... He smiled as the various ingredients tipped into the bags. His plants certainly would grow well tonight.
Hakim trudged by the side of the road. Trying not to avoid attention, his sackcloth hood was pulled low over his eyes. Whistling to himself, he crossed the street as he headed toward the Palace, failing to see the procession of nobles heading in the opposite direction.
The trumpet bearer riding at the head of the ******'s procession was having a bad day. His wife had left him, taking both children, and all of the money. Seeing this pathetic peasant blocking the way pushed him over the edge. The pompous man bellowed out a warning, "Move aside, peasant scum!" and promptly kicked him to the side.
Hakim only felt a heavy blow to the side of his head. Falling to the side of the road, he saw some morbidly obese man on a white horse ride away, several gilt carriages following him. Then some soldiers and....the procession went on. Hakim swore violently, sitting in the ditch and holding a rag to his bleeding nose. "No matter...Allah will judge him in due time."
His anger was soothed by gardening, as it usually was. The palace guards all knew him...they were the closest things to friends he had ever had He never thought that the life of a gardener would be his lot, but since the last man disappeared, and the Chief Gardener needed another laborer for the ******'s Palace, it was only natural that he would take the job.
It was time. Hakim pulled off his sackcloth helmet, and began to pack the fertilizer into casks, taking care not to mishandle it. This stuff could be very dangerous if it was mishandled...Hakim chuckled at the thought of him being blown twenty feet in the air. He buried the casks, and proceeded along with his task.
But...something was amiss. The Chief Gardener looked at Hakim. Just before he collapsed of food poisoning, he saw his apprentice laborer doing something very strange.
Gentle, calm Hakim had an odd light in his eye. He grinned...an odd grin, almost malicious...almost...evil. What was it he withdrew from his cloak then? Just a harmless piece of string. But it was long. And then, he pushed the string into the casket...he couldn't be....NO! The Chief Gardener looked at the casket, the fertilizer, the string and the Palace. It all made sense. The disappearing of his workers...Hakim's strange chemical skills! He tried to cry out, but collapsed.
Hakim finished inserting the slow-burning fuse into the cask, and lit it. He had been provided excellent matches for the task, no need for flint and tinder. He lit the fuse, and carefully, almost lovingly, placed the cask in an alcove by the
palace walls. All over the palace, his comrades would be doing the same.
But he had to get out. People would have noticed the gardener. And if they had someone intelligent enough to recognize the symptoms of his death...it would be all over.
Hakim the Gardener left early. The palace guards waved amiably as he exited the beautiful compound. Hakim waved back. Despite being what he was, he sincerely hoped that the men didn't die.
The man was not Hakim Hakim.
As Talaf al-Jaafari, Special Demolitions Captain of the Persian Engineering Corps waved to his friends, he made calculations. He had to leave the city in the next hour, or he wouldn't escape with his life.
It would be chaos in Istanbul tonight.
1864-Somewhere.
It was a large place...with many lives, real or false, rich or poor. The lithe, wiry man said a prayer over his victim, whose soul he had just extinguished...and threw his body into the river.
One year later...
The man was just an ordinary man. The city was large, and filled with opportunity. Peoples from all across the world had gathered here. The place had been inhabited almost since Man became self-aware, when the first seafaring traders built the outpost.
The city held millions, but the man was just one of many. He lived in a normal, waterfront apartment, (or so it might be called in an alternate universe, but this was little more than a tenement,) the press of humanity crushing down on him.
The man was Hakim Hakim. An orphan, parentless as long as he could remember, he fled from his orphanage as soon as he was old enough to walk. Working as a laborer until he reached adulthood, the man was a gardener. On the side, he studied chemistry, hoping one day to earn enough money from his gardening duties at the Royal Palace to attend University.
Hakim left his house as he normally did, spade in hand, wheelbarrow in front of him. Making his way from his house to the Palace was no easy task. And today was Fertilizer Day. He always made his own fertilizers, of course. Besides being a natural at it, he loved his work, and those fertilizer merchants by the Bazaar always slipped a little sawdust in. It was easy, if you knew the apothecaries, who always had everything on hand. A little bribe never hurt in obtaining some potassium sulfate... He smiled as the various ingredients tipped into the bags. His plants certainly would grow well tonight.
Hakim trudged by the side of the road. Trying not to avoid attention, his sackcloth hood was pulled low over his eyes. Whistling to himself, he crossed the street as he headed toward the Palace, failing to see the procession of nobles heading in the opposite direction.
The trumpet bearer riding at the head of the ******'s procession was having a bad day. His wife had left him, taking both children, and all of the money. Seeing this pathetic peasant blocking the way pushed him over the edge. The pompous man bellowed out a warning, "Move aside, peasant scum!" and promptly kicked him to the side.
Hakim only felt a heavy blow to the side of his head. Falling to the side of the road, he saw some morbidly obese man on a white horse ride away, several gilt carriages following him. Then some soldiers and....the procession went on. Hakim swore violently, sitting in the ditch and holding a rag to his bleeding nose. "No matter...Allah will judge him in due time."
His anger was soothed by gardening, as it usually was. The palace guards all knew him...they were the closest things to friends he had ever had He never thought that the life of a gardener would be his lot, but since the last man disappeared, and the Chief Gardener needed another laborer for the ******'s Palace, it was only natural that he would take the job.
It was time. Hakim pulled off his sackcloth helmet, and began to pack the fertilizer into casks, taking care not to mishandle it. This stuff could be very dangerous if it was mishandled...Hakim chuckled at the thought of him being blown twenty feet in the air. He buried the casks, and proceeded along with his task.
But...something was amiss. The Chief Gardener looked at Hakim. Just before he collapsed of food poisoning, he saw his apprentice laborer doing something very strange.
Gentle, calm Hakim had an odd light in his eye. He grinned...an odd grin, almost malicious...almost...evil. What was it he withdrew from his cloak then? Just a harmless piece of string. But it was long. And then, he pushed the string into the casket...he couldn't be....NO! The Chief Gardener looked at the casket, the fertilizer, the string and the Palace. It all made sense. The disappearing of his workers...Hakim's strange chemical skills! He tried to cry out, but collapsed.
Hakim finished inserting the slow-burning fuse into the cask, and lit it. He had been provided excellent matches for the task, no need for flint and tinder. He lit the fuse, and carefully, almost lovingly, placed the cask in an alcove by the
palace walls. All over the palace, his comrades would be doing the same.
But he had to get out. People would have noticed the gardener. And if they had someone intelligent enough to recognize the symptoms of his death...it would be all over.
Hakim the Gardener left early. The palace guards waved amiably as he exited the beautiful compound. Hakim waved back. Despite being what he was, he sincerely hoped that the men didn't die.
The man was not Hakim Hakim.
As Talaf al-Jaafari, Special Demolitions Captain of the Persian Engineering Corps waved to his friends, he made calculations. He had to leave the city in the next hour, or he wouldn't escape with his life.
It would be chaos in Istanbul tonight.
Disenfrancised
Beep Beep
Okay, I really hope that I don't count as a 'Great'
Slipping up however
has trust betrayed me?
Unlike some I'm not confident enough to talk of winning battles not yet detailed in the update...diplomacy on the other hand...
(in story form but this is an offical thinging...identical dispatches have been sent to the french, HRE, and other important peoples).
____________________
Second floor, The west wing of the Houses of Parliment, London, FK
Skoropadsky's leg ached again as he walked down the brightly lit corridor, the falls of his crutch echoing gently off the paneled walls. He winced and continued on, though Nevski, his adjucant and translator for when Skoropadsky's English failed him, spotted the grimace.
"The leg acting up sir?" He inquired in Russian.
"Yes yes, enough about it, my own fault after all! Though I still say if you cut a mans legs off its reasonable to be suprised when he bites your leg hard enough to sever a tendon...Just goes to show you should never turn your back on a Turkmeni!" He shifted to english and continued on "Now...let speak in this language for the moment, it will...um...improve my skills, and make our hosts less suspicous"
"I am still suprised they sent an Ataman to this, especially such a war hero! And even more suprised you agreed to go!"
Skoropadsky responded with a shrug and a nasty grin, "Well they needed someone of importance, and I have been irritating the old Bear again...as for my...part; well...I've always wanted to see London"
They arrived at the large polished door of the great mans chambers, Skoropadsky rapping once on the oak with his crutch. They could hear movement inside, no doubt the secretaries in the antechamber, but no one came to open the entrance. Nevski, impatient, moved to knock once again, only to be stopped by a raised finger and a smile from Skoropadsky. After a time suitable for their belittlement, a young impecciably dressed secretary opened the door and admitted them to a busy space of desks and notes as four more energetic youngster earnestly coped and annotated reports and filed documents.
"So" said Skoropadsky, prempting the functionaries blathering, "When will his lordship see us?"
"When he is ready of course!" was snapped in reply, evidently he had deemed his introduction to be of far more import than Skoropadsky had.
"Well then we will wait" The two Dalnorossians stood for a few minutes while the civil servants worked. Soon however Skoropadsky grew bored and began to pace up and down. As he paced, he brought his crutch down quite forcefully; the crashing soon breaking the concentration of the functionaries. A few more minutes of this and the young men broke first, one scurried through to door on the far side of the office. He returned a few minutes later and indicated them to follow.
"It may be childish" Skoropadsky remarked in russian under his breath, "but you should never let a buearocrat get the upper hand; once you are caught in their web they will suck you dry with waiting and forms and requests"
The short corridor leading to Lord Russells office was lined with the portraits of Foreign secretaries past, hard and cold looking men all. Skoropadsky nodded in appreciation of this, a nation did not rise to mastery on smiles and kindness after all. Arriving at yet another door in this warren on the Thames the young functionary knocked, and upon hear a gruff reply from inside, showed them in.
"Thank you Brownings, take notes of the proceeding between me and these gentlemen" The old man behind the desk said briskly. Turning to the Dalnorossians he looked them up and down, and seemed quite unimpressed with what he saw, he did not rise from his seat to greet them.
Skoropadsky grinned, he supposed he made an amusing sight; his formal clothes had be lost in an accident when crossing the atlantic, and he was now dressed in a fine Federate suit, with a few unusual touches. His Bulava, symbol of his office, still hung from his belt, though the scabbard of his Shashka was empty. The wide leather belt and ribbons were not common parts of a typical Federate gentlemans ensemble either. His head, shaved except the ponytail at the back, had probably be the casue of some of the earlier secretaries annoyance.
"I believe that is the first time I have be called a gentleman, your Lords ship"
"No doubt Mr...?"
"Nor have I been called Mr often either, my title is Ataman, Ataman Volodymyr Pavlovich Skoropadsky. This is my Adjucant Mykhailo Ivanovich Nevski. We bring you a message from the Grand Rada of Dalnorossia, one Parliment to another"
"Very well Ataman, the Federated kingdoms are always interested in hearing what the nations of Asia have to say" Lord Russell settled back into his chair and steepled his fingers.
"The Grand Rada wishes it to be known to the various great nations, in the hope of retaining cordial and polite relations, that the insufferable cruelty that the Sublime Porte had laid on the lands north of Black Sea, the brutal slaughter of all minorities who disagreed, the occupation of lands not rightfuly theirs, all that will end. In short that a state of war now exists between Dalnorossia and the Ottoman throne, all diplomacy having failed. We do this at the bequest of various groups which have risen up in defience of the Turks only to be trodden on again and again. However we wish a number of things to be clarified, hence this visit.
Firstly, whilst rumour tells us that our actions are occuring concurrently with others, we are not operating in formal alliance with them, we will complete our goals and this war irrespective of their actions.
Secondly, those goals are the reclaiming of the ancestral Cossack lands north of the Black Sea and in the Causacus and the freeing and formation of independent states for the Armenians and Georgians, both whom have requested our aid to liberate them from the Ottomans.
Thirdly, once these goals are achieved we will wish no further agression against the Ottomans, only defending the lands we have freed and fending off any counterattacks.
If you desire it we can leave you with documents detailing all the instances of Ottoman oppression that have prompted this move."
"Interesting, when do you plan to begin this mission of 'liberation'?"
"I believe the opening salvo would have been fired sometime last night"
"So you wished us great powers to be informed, but not too informed?"
"If you would remember we had an appointment for yesterday, that was rescheduled by your office..."
"I will present this to the cabinet, you will have some reponse to carry back to your Parliment within the week"
"Thank you" The meeting was clearly over, Lord Russell did not look to see them leave but immediatly picked up his pen and began to write. Skoropadsky wondered at the necessity of this whole trip, but alas the niceties must be observed. As those Nipponese swordsmen he had met in Ezo believed; one should always smile and nod, even...no especially when the blades were drawn.
Slipping up however
has trust betrayed me?Unlike some I'm not confident enough to talk of winning battles not yet detailed in the update...diplomacy on the other hand...
(in story form but this is an offical thinging...identical dispatches have been sent to the french, HRE, and other important peoples).
____________________
Second floor, The west wing of the Houses of Parliment, London, FK
Skoropadsky's leg ached again as he walked down the brightly lit corridor, the falls of his crutch echoing gently off the paneled walls. He winced and continued on, though Nevski, his adjucant and translator for when Skoropadsky's English failed him, spotted the grimace.
"The leg acting up sir?" He inquired in Russian.
"Yes yes, enough about it, my own fault after all! Though I still say if you cut a mans legs off its reasonable to be suprised when he bites your leg hard enough to sever a tendon...Just goes to show you should never turn your back on a Turkmeni!" He shifted to english and continued on "Now...let speak in this language for the moment, it will...um...improve my skills, and make our hosts less suspicous"
"I am still suprised they sent an Ataman to this, especially such a war hero! And even more suprised you agreed to go!"
Skoropadsky responded with a shrug and a nasty grin, "Well they needed someone of importance, and I have been irritating the old Bear again...as for my...part; well...I've always wanted to see London"
They arrived at the large polished door of the great mans chambers, Skoropadsky rapping once on the oak with his crutch. They could hear movement inside, no doubt the secretaries in the antechamber, but no one came to open the entrance. Nevski, impatient, moved to knock once again, only to be stopped by a raised finger and a smile from Skoropadsky. After a time suitable for their belittlement, a young impecciably dressed secretary opened the door and admitted them to a busy space of desks and notes as four more energetic youngster earnestly coped and annotated reports and filed documents.
"So" said Skoropadsky, prempting the functionaries blathering, "When will his lordship see us?"
"When he is ready of course!" was snapped in reply, evidently he had deemed his introduction to be of far more import than Skoropadsky had.
"Well then we will wait" The two Dalnorossians stood for a few minutes while the civil servants worked. Soon however Skoropadsky grew bored and began to pace up and down. As he paced, he brought his crutch down quite forcefully; the crashing soon breaking the concentration of the functionaries. A few more minutes of this and the young men broke first, one scurried through to door on the far side of the office. He returned a few minutes later and indicated them to follow.
"It may be childish" Skoropadsky remarked in russian under his breath, "but you should never let a buearocrat get the upper hand; once you are caught in their web they will suck you dry with waiting and forms and requests"
The short corridor leading to Lord Russells office was lined with the portraits of Foreign secretaries past, hard and cold looking men all. Skoropadsky nodded in appreciation of this, a nation did not rise to mastery on smiles and kindness after all. Arriving at yet another door in this warren on the Thames the young functionary knocked, and upon hear a gruff reply from inside, showed them in.
"Thank you Brownings, take notes of the proceeding between me and these gentlemen" The old man behind the desk said briskly. Turning to the Dalnorossians he looked them up and down, and seemed quite unimpressed with what he saw, he did not rise from his seat to greet them.
Skoropadsky grinned, he supposed he made an amusing sight; his formal clothes had be lost in an accident when crossing the atlantic, and he was now dressed in a fine Federate suit, with a few unusual touches. His Bulava, symbol of his office, still hung from his belt, though the scabbard of his Shashka was empty. The wide leather belt and ribbons were not common parts of a typical Federate gentlemans ensemble either. His head, shaved except the ponytail at the back, had probably be the casue of some of the earlier secretaries annoyance.
"I believe that is the first time I have be called a gentleman, your Lords ship"
"No doubt Mr...?"
"Nor have I been called Mr often either, my title is Ataman, Ataman Volodymyr Pavlovich Skoropadsky. This is my Adjucant Mykhailo Ivanovich Nevski. We bring you a message from the Grand Rada of Dalnorossia, one Parliment to another"
"Very well Ataman, the Federated kingdoms are always interested in hearing what the nations of Asia have to say" Lord Russell settled back into his chair and steepled his fingers.
"The Grand Rada wishes it to be known to the various great nations, in the hope of retaining cordial and polite relations, that the insufferable cruelty that the Sublime Porte had laid on the lands north of Black Sea, the brutal slaughter of all minorities who disagreed, the occupation of lands not rightfuly theirs, all that will end. In short that a state of war now exists between Dalnorossia and the Ottoman throne, all diplomacy having failed. We do this at the bequest of various groups which have risen up in defience of the Turks only to be trodden on again and again. However we wish a number of things to be clarified, hence this visit.
Firstly, whilst rumour tells us that our actions are occuring concurrently with others, we are not operating in formal alliance with them, we will complete our goals and this war irrespective of their actions.
Secondly, those goals are the reclaiming of the ancestral Cossack lands north of the Black Sea and in the Causacus and the freeing and formation of independent states for the Armenians and Georgians, both whom have requested our aid to liberate them from the Ottomans.
Thirdly, once these goals are achieved we will wish no further agression against the Ottomans, only defending the lands we have freed and fending off any counterattacks.
If you desire it we can leave you with documents detailing all the instances of Ottoman oppression that have prompted this move."
"Interesting, when do you plan to begin this mission of 'liberation'?"
"I believe the opening salvo would have been fired sometime last night"
"So you wished us great powers to be informed, but not too informed?"
"If you would remember we had an appointment for yesterday, that was rescheduled by your office..."
"I will present this to the cabinet, you will have some reponse to carry back to your Parliment within the week"
"Thank you" The meeting was clearly over, Lord Russell did not look to see them leave but immediatly picked up his pen and began to write. Skoropadsky wondered at the necessity of this whole trip, but alas the niceties must be observed. As those Nipponese swordsmen he had met in Ezo believed; one should always smile and nod, even...no especially when the blades were drawn.
Disenfrancised
Beep Beep
andis-1 said:
Don't underestimate yourself, besides I think there are quite a few others in running for the spotlight
!
Thlayli
Le Pétit Prince
To: The "Sublime" Porte
From: Persia
For exactly four hundred and eleven years, since the fall of Constantinople, the Sultan of the Ottoman Empire has ruled over a vast territory, and laid claim to be the "Defender of the Faith," protector of all Islam. For a time, Ottoman rule brought wealth and power to Islam. But now that wealth has fostered corruption and intolerance.
Shiites in Iraq, Wahhabi Arabs, and many others, have no self-government, no freedom, and no respect from the Ottoman government. They suffer under the autocratic rule of the Turkish Tyrant. The Sultan is no longer Defender of the Faith, he is merely Defender of the Turks.
The injustices inflicted upon fellow Muslims are too much to bear. It is time for a new Islam to arise, one free of corruption. From Tunis to Dubai, the oppressive rule of tyranny will be thrown off, and freedom and equality shall be given to all under Persian or Arab rule.
Sultan Selim, you are unworthy of the title of "Defender of the Faith". I am now given a divine mandate to claim that title.
Consider our two nations at war.
Shah Ardashir IV
Signed by the Islamic Council
From: Persia
For exactly four hundred and eleven years, since the fall of Constantinople, the Sultan of the Ottoman Empire has ruled over a vast territory, and laid claim to be the "Defender of the Faith," protector of all Islam. For a time, Ottoman rule brought wealth and power to Islam. But now that wealth has fostered corruption and intolerance.
Shiites in Iraq, Wahhabi Arabs, and many others, have no self-government, no freedom, and no respect from the Ottoman government. They suffer under the autocratic rule of the Turkish Tyrant. The Sultan is no longer Defender of the Faith, he is merely Defender of the Turks.
The injustices inflicted upon fellow Muslims are too much to bear. It is time for a new Islam to arise, one free of corruption. From Tunis to Dubai, the oppressive rule of tyranny will be thrown off, and freedom and equality shall be given to all under Persian or Arab rule.
Sultan Selim, you are unworthy of the title of "Defender of the Faith". I am now given a divine mandate to claim that title.
Consider our two nations at war.
Shah Ardashir IV
Signed by the Islamic Council
- Status
