NES2 V - The Great Game.
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Thlayli
Le Pétit Prince
But at least you got a gold medal! Good work, btw. 
Failure. It stung the soul of Zhang, moreso than the hard ground stung at his ankles as he crouched just below the bush. Moreso than it stung from being shot in a war that doomed the greatness Qing was headed towards. Zhang reminisced angrily for a moment, touching the bandage that wound around his stomach. A sudden rustling in the grass ahead of him stirred him at once, and he crouched even lower than before, becoming invisible under the numerous grass structures that dotted the front of the Emperor's Palace.
He could now see the man that was the source of his and so many other's misery,"Guangxu..." whispered Zhang under his breath angrily. It took all his willpower to prevent him from jumping up right there and ending the Emperor. Instead, Zhang breathed in, readying his weapon. If he jumped now, the two guards would surely kill him as well. Wait, two guards? Thought Zhang. The purges were worse than I thought.
The sudden rise of the seperatist White Lotus and the few defectors from inside Beijing and inside Guangxu's own inner circle had brought the Emperor to a level of paranoia unseen in China. Coming close to assassination several times, the Emperor then went on a purge campaign, killing hundreds of advisors, government officials, and thousands more civilians who were even slightly linked with the White Lotus. The guards of his were especially targeted, and the effects of that now could be seen. Ironic, his child like need to be secure will be his downfall. Zhang cocked his gun, aiming directly at the Emperor's head. He wanted to make sure this was the killshot. Zhang looked the emperor straight in the eye, keeping his gun steadied, and yelled,"Farewell Emperor. You have failed China for the last time." The Emperor turned around in time to see a bullet hit him in the heart, killing him instantly. Zhang was never a good marksman, but he was a good runner, and thats what he did now as he ran for his life.
The guards took chase at first, but slowed down as Zhang jumped the fence towards the city. They looked half-heartedly at the fence, half-heartedly at Guangxu...and went inside to report that the Emperor had been killed. The Qing Dynasty was no more.
Shortly after Guangxu's death, the official word came that the Qing Dynastical Monarchy had been dissolved. The Mandate had been given to a Manchu, and the Manchu had failed. Due to this fact, the Mandate of Heaven itself had fallen out of favor with the gods. The only way to strengthen China now would be a united republic, one with the Han's at the center and everyone in China incorporated. For a new China, for better or for worse.
He could now see the man that was the source of his and so many other's misery,"Guangxu..." whispered Zhang under his breath angrily. It took all his willpower to prevent him from jumping up right there and ending the Emperor. Instead, Zhang breathed in, readying his weapon. If he jumped now, the two guards would surely kill him as well. Wait, two guards? Thought Zhang. The purges were worse than I thought.
The sudden rise of the seperatist White Lotus and the few defectors from inside Beijing and inside Guangxu's own inner circle had brought the Emperor to a level of paranoia unseen in China. Coming close to assassination several times, the Emperor then went on a purge campaign, killing hundreds of advisors, government officials, and thousands more civilians who were even slightly linked with the White Lotus. The guards of his were especially targeted, and the effects of that now could be seen. Ironic, his child like need to be secure will be his downfall. Zhang cocked his gun, aiming directly at the Emperor's head. He wanted to make sure this was the killshot. Zhang looked the emperor straight in the eye, keeping his gun steadied, and yelled,"Farewell Emperor. You have failed China for the last time." The Emperor turned around in time to see a bullet hit him in the heart, killing him instantly. Zhang was never a good marksman, but he was a good runner, and thats what he did now as he ran for his life.
The guards took chase at first, but slowed down as Zhang jumped the fence towards the city. They looked half-heartedly at the fence, half-heartedly at Guangxu...and went inside to report that the Emperor had been killed. The Qing Dynasty was no more.
Shortly after Guangxu's death, the official word came that the Qing Dynastical Monarchy had been dissolved. The Mandate had been given to a Manchu, and the Manchu had failed. Due to this fact, the Mandate of Heaven itself had fallen out of favor with the gods. The only way to strengthen China now would be a united republic, one with the Han's at the center and everyone in China incorporated. For a new China, for better or for worse.
Thlayli
Le Pétit Prince
Whispers in Mecca, Part Two
Abaan always wondered what his purpose in life was. An orphan from the Turkish War, he was a diligent apprentice to one of the local blacksmiths. There was always a large market for bullet casings, cannon barrels, and all the various accoutrements of war. Persia required it, and Hassan’s Metals provided it. Abaan always acted grateful to his master who provided for him, but there was something deeper. Apathy.
He didn’t cry when his father was killed at the First Battle of Riyadh, the entire column wiped out by General Allashir Kemal’s mounted charge. Supposedly his father held the final strongpoint in the desert city, and perished defending it. But who knew, Abban figured. People tell broken-spirited children that their parents died heroically all the time…he probably died of tuberculosis or something.
Oh well, it didn’t matter. The only thing that Abban wanted to do was pray at the mosque. It was a beautiful, domed affair, tucked into a small street on the northern side of the city. He didn’t have to think, or even care, about confusing things like politics, government, and his future. In a cloud of incense his cares drifted away, to be replaced with complacency. It fit him, really, and he enjoyed it.
When the Persian soldiers first marched into Mecca, most of the population waited before passing judgment. After all, they might be no better than the Ottomans. But their troops marched on after performing the hajj that year, and left the Arabs to themselves. Some soldiers even married girls living in the city. They only left a small garrison. Well, that hadn’t been done in a couple hundred years…someone actually trusting the Arabs with their own affairs. So the inhabitants of Mecca decided not to slaughter the garrison in their sleep, a fairly nice gesture.
It wasn’t like Abban cared about any of this, of course. Anything that was bigger than him wasn’t his concern at all. He had a dull, muddled feeling that things would be better though, and for a time they were, as commissions from the Persian Army came in. His mind was filled with thoughts of work, which was definitely good. And his master was in a better mood too, which meant more money and fewer beatings. Every now and then he actually did get paid…occasionally.
Some time during that winter though, (as if anything in Arabia could be called "winter,") things changed. Being the way he was, Abban didn’t like change of any kind. There were explosions, and the sounds of struggle echoed throughout the holy city. At first, there were occasional sounds of small-arms fire, soon replaced by artillery. As homes throughout Mecca were indiscriminately defiled by the raining death, Abban slowly realized that the Federates were attacking. The random screams of “Dear Allah, save us from the Federates!” that were echoing from the street served to tip him off, a little.
The next morning, as looters and relatives alike combed the wreckage of homes for something of value, they marched in. There were a lot of them. Definitely more than the Persians, or even the Ottoman Empire. Their orange uniforms shone in the noonday sun as they strode down the street. Men, horses, cannons. It was clear that they weren’t there to negotiate. After summarily executing the captured Persian garrison, and any resisting political leaders, they set up shop in the city. And Meccans slowly realized that they meant to stay. A few cheered as the solemn army marched down the streets, mostly socialists, or Sunni zealots who hated the Safavids. But most couldn’t really find any problems with the Persian rule, if it could even be called that.
Abban hurried home, dispersing with most of the crowd. Things were changing again, but not for the better. The blacksmith’s was closed down, and his master left. Probably fled for Riyadh, to regroup with the Wahhabites, Abban mused. Though he was idly glad to spend more time at the mosque, he realized that he would probably starve soon.
Of course, something happened the next day. There was more damage done the day after the Federates moved in. Radical pro-Federate militias roamed the streets, searching for resisters, or Shiites, to massacre. The Federates stood by as mosques, homes, and schools were burnt down. And as usual, Abban didn’t care a bit…at least, until he walked to his mosque that day.
It was ruined. The dome had collapsed, windows were shattered, and the structure charred with soot from a fire, clearly lit by arsonists. The mosque had a printing press, one that often put out pro-Persian literature. It never went as far as criticizing the Federate occupation, but merely questioning it was enough to merit a crackdown. As Abban joined the crowd of would-be worshippers gathering in front of the mosque, he heard whispers about the building’s fate.
“Spies were hiding there, I hear…”
“A shootout, you say?”
“Burned it after the imam refused to leave…”
“No, it wasn’t the Sons of Mohammed,* Federate troops did this!”
As Abban gazed, slack jawed, towards the door of the mosque, he saw something. A Federate Jack, nailed to the door by a bloody knife. He thought for a moment. “So, the orangebacks did do this…they burned down my mosque. Why?” In that second, something started to well up in his breast. His cheeks flushed, and his eyes narrowed, as his hands started to shake, slightly.
For the first time in his life, Abban felt true anger. And hatred, hatred for the scum that did this, the ones that destroyed the only place in the world that brought him solace. He wasn’t going to be complacent any longer…that was over. Someone was going to die because of this, and he knew exactly where to go to accomplish this.
Abban straightened his shoulders, and walked purposefully to a tavern on the south side of the city…one that everyone knew about. It was the place to contact the Eyes and Ears.
Everyone knew…except the Federates, that is.
---
From: Persia
To: China
We officially recognize the Republic of China, and grant it a Guarantee of Independence. We would also like to propose a Defensive Alliance, in order to safeguard the integrity of your new nation.
Abaan always wondered what his purpose in life was. An orphan from the Turkish War, he was a diligent apprentice to one of the local blacksmiths. There was always a large market for bullet casings, cannon barrels, and all the various accoutrements of war. Persia required it, and Hassan’s Metals provided it. Abaan always acted grateful to his master who provided for him, but there was something deeper. Apathy.
He didn’t cry when his father was killed at the First Battle of Riyadh, the entire column wiped out by General Allashir Kemal’s mounted charge. Supposedly his father held the final strongpoint in the desert city, and perished defending it. But who knew, Abban figured. People tell broken-spirited children that their parents died heroically all the time…he probably died of tuberculosis or something.
Oh well, it didn’t matter. The only thing that Abban wanted to do was pray at the mosque. It was a beautiful, domed affair, tucked into a small street on the northern side of the city. He didn’t have to think, or even care, about confusing things like politics, government, and his future. In a cloud of incense his cares drifted away, to be replaced with complacency. It fit him, really, and he enjoyed it.
When the Persian soldiers first marched into Mecca, most of the population waited before passing judgment. After all, they might be no better than the Ottomans. But their troops marched on after performing the hajj that year, and left the Arabs to themselves. Some soldiers even married girls living in the city. They only left a small garrison. Well, that hadn’t been done in a couple hundred years…someone actually trusting the Arabs with their own affairs. So the inhabitants of Mecca decided not to slaughter the garrison in their sleep, a fairly nice gesture.
It wasn’t like Abban cared about any of this, of course. Anything that was bigger than him wasn’t his concern at all. He had a dull, muddled feeling that things would be better though, and for a time they were, as commissions from the Persian Army came in. His mind was filled with thoughts of work, which was definitely good. And his master was in a better mood too, which meant more money and fewer beatings. Every now and then he actually did get paid…occasionally.
Some time during that winter though, (as if anything in Arabia could be called "winter,") things changed. Being the way he was, Abban didn’t like change of any kind. There were explosions, and the sounds of struggle echoed throughout the holy city. At first, there were occasional sounds of small-arms fire, soon replaced by artillery. As homes throughout Mecca were indiscriminately defiled by the raining death, Abban slowly realized that the Federates were attacking. The random screams of “Dear Allah, save us from the Federates!” that were echoing from the street served to tip him off, a little.
The next morning, as looters and relatives alike combed the wreckage of homes for something of value, they marched in. There were a lot of them. Definitely more than the Persians, or even the Ottoman Empire. Their orange uniforms shone in the noonday sun as they strode down the street. Men, horses, cannons. It was clear that they weren’t there to negotiate. After summarily executing the captured Persian garrison, and any resisting political leaders, they set up shop in the city. And Meccans slowly realized that they meant to stay. A few cheered as the solemn army marched down the streets, mostly socialists, or Sunni zealots who hated the Safavids. But most couldn’t really find any problems with the Persian rule, if it could even be called that.
Abban hurried home, dispersing with most of the crowd. Things were changing again, but not for the better. The blacksmith’s was closed down, and his master left. Probably fled for Riyadh, to regroup with the Wahhabites, Abban mused. Though he was idly glad to spend more time at the mosque, he realized that he would probably starve soon.
Of course, something happened the next day. There was more damage done the day after the Federates moved in. Radical pro-Federate militias roamed the streets, searching for resisters, or Shiites, to massacre. The Federates stood by as mosques, homes, and schools were burnt down. And as usual, Abban didn’t care a bit…at least, until he walked to his mosque that day.
It was ruined. The dome had collapsed, windows were shattered, and the structure charred with soot from a fire, clearly lit by arsonists. The mosque had a printing press, one that often put out pro-Persian literature. It never went as far as criticizing the Federate occupation, but merely questioning it was enough to merit a crackdown. As Abban joined the crowd of would-be worshippers gathering in front of the mosque, he heard whispers about the building’s fate.
“Spies were hiding there, I hear…”
“A shootout, you say?”
“Burned it after the imam refused to leave…”
“No, it wasn’t the Sons of Mohammed,* Federate troops did this!”
As Abban gazed, slack jawed, towards the door of the mosque, he saw something. A Federate Jack, nailed to the door by a bloody knife. He thought for a moment. “So, the orangebacks did do this…they burned down my mosque. Why?” In that second, something started to well up in his breast. His cheeks flushed, and his eyes narrowed, as his hands started to shake, slightly.
For the first time in his life, Abban felt true anger. And hatred, hatred for the scum that did this, the ones that destroyed the only place in the world that brought him solace. He wasn’t going to be complacent any longer…that was over. Someone was going to die because of this, and he knew exactly where to go to accomplish this.
Abban straightened his shoulders, and walked purposefully to a tavern on the south side of the city…one that everyone knew about. It was the place to contact the Eyes and Ears.
Everyone knew…except the Federates, that is.
---
From: Persia
To: China
We officially recognize the Republic of China, and grant it a Guarantee of Independence. We would also like to propose a Defensive Alliance, in order to safeguard the integrity of your new nation.
From: The Republic of China
To: Persia
If you could guarantee your own independence first, then your invitation might carry some weight...
From: The Republic of China
To: White Lotus
The days of a Manchu run China are over, come with us to the bargaining table. We are willing to negotiate your representation in a new HAN MAJORITY RAN China. 98% of the people shouldnt be ignored after all...
To: Persia
If you could guarantee your own independence first, then your invitation might carry some weight...
From: The Republic of China
To: White Lotus
The days of a Manchu run China are over, come with us to the bargaining table. We are willing to negotiate your representation in a new HAN MAJORITY RAN China. 98% of the people shouldnt be ignored after all...
Insane_Panda
Deity
Im like NK, a very inconsistent NESer. I shall be looking into new possibilities - Bulgaria looks sort of interesting. I think I'm going to take smaller nations and build them up, it worked well for Armorica. Whenever I take superpowers I tend to not give them enough to allow them to fully succeed.
Insane_Panda
Deity
That flucking duck! (just kidding )
Alright, the mafia looks very interesting though. (the sicilian mafia, that is.)
)Alright, the mafia looks very interesting though. (the sicilian mafia, that is.)
Insane_Panda
Deity
Hey, do you guys plan to make Japan independent? If so give her to me!
Insane_Panda
Deity
Disenfranchizzled, please check your PMs.
Thlayli
Le Pétit Prince
From: Persia
To: China
Sure, sure. And the Defensive Alliance? You don't have to get involved in any of our current conflicts, of course...
To: China
Sure, sure. And the Defensive Alliance? You don't have to get involved in any of our current conflicts, of course...
Insane_Panda
Deity
Disenfrancised, get on AIM!
Disenfrancised
Beep Beep
I am on AIM
Disenfrancised
Beep Beep
The Grand Rada of Dalnorossia wishes to announce to the world that after lengthy discussion with ex-patriots and members of the glorious Japanese rebellion that has overthrown their Qing oppressors, a new Japanese state is to be welcomed to the world!
The Accord of Edo
The New Japanese state is to be a Constitutional Monarchy, under the spirital and moral guidence of the great emperor Kemmu, and under the temporal and legal guidence of a single chamber parliment based on the Dalnorossian model. There is to be a two year establishment period to restore basic functioning to the nation before elections are to be held to select the representives of the nation. The regions of the parliment members are yet to be defined. During this time Nikolai Hirobumi will be acting-First Minister, though we do not doubt that a man of his skills and dignity will be re-elected by a grateful nation. As he has be a tireless agent working for their freedom.
The New Japanese nation will consist of the islands of Honshu, Kyushu, and Shikoku. Plus a number of minor island chains.
During this period of establishment, Dalnorossia will
-Provide funding to reestablish basic infrastructure.
-Place a small Military force at the Acting-First Ministers Disposal, to maintain order and provide training to the new Japanese army.
-Defend Japan's coasts until a time when it is no longer necessary.
For all time Dalnorossia and the Nation of Japan pledge, in addition to our eternal vow of friendship
A guarntee of independence from Dalnorossia to Japan.
A Pledge from Japan to Dalnorossia to come to Dalnorossia's aid if asked.
An agreement not to enter into any alliances or pacts the other is not a member of without prior agreement.
That free passage of goods and persons is to flow between our two nations.
To Cooperate on matters of local and global importance.
Signed
Perviy Prikaznik Mikhail Dezhnev, on behalf of the Grand Rada of Dalnorossia
Acting Perviy Prikaznik Nikolai Hirobumi on behalf of the Nation of Japan
The Accord of Edo
The New Japanese state is to be a Constitutional Monarchy, under the spirital and moral guidence of the great emperor Kemmu, and under the temporal and legal guidence of a single chamber parliment based on the Dalnorossian model. There is to be a two year establishment period to restore basic functioning to the nation before elections are to be held to select the representives of the nation. The regions of the parliment members are yet to be defined. During this time Nikolai Hirobumi will be acting-First Minister, though we do not doubt that a man of his skills and dignity will be re-elected by a grateful nation. As he has be a tireless agent working for their freedom.
The New Japanese nation will consist of the islands of Honshu, Kyushu, and Shikoku. Plus a number of minor island chains.
During this period of establishment, Dalnorossia will
-Provide funding to reestablish basic infrastructure.
-Place a small Military force at the Acting-First Ministers Disposal, to maintain order and provide training to the new Japanese army.
-Defend Japan's coasts until a time when it is no longer necessary.
For all time Dalnorossia and the Nation of Japan pledge, in addition to our eternal vow of friendship
A guarntee of independence from Dalnorossia to Japan.
A Pledge from Japan to Dalnorossia to come to Dalnorossia's aid if asked.
An agreement not to enter into any alliances or pacts the other is not a member of without prior agreement.
That free passage of goods and persons is to flow between our two nations.
To Cooperate on matters of local and global importance.
Signed
Perviy Prikaznik Mikhail Dezhnev, on behalf of the Grand Rada of Dalnorossia
Acting Perviy Prikaznik Nikolai Hirobumi on behalf of the Nation of Japan
Insane_Panda
Deity
Nikolai Hirobumi signs the Accord, and is on his way to Edo immediately.
Thlayli
Le Pétit Prince
As long as this "Kemmu" is no relative of the Hitsuji Tyrant, then it is a good treaty.
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