PandaNES II - Les Fleurs du Mal

[das]

detailed, preferably. Though not obsessively so.

Are my orders fine then? They're not very detailed, that's for sure...

 

[Insane_Panda]

Your orders are perfectly fine. They are not detailed, by any means, but they do give me all the information which is required for me to update.

 

[Capulet]

Sigged.

Sweet.

That makes two signatures that I'm quoted in.

 

[das]

Well good, that is exactly how I hoped they would be.

 

[Insane_Panda]

Are you prepared for a monstrosity, das? The way it is turning out, these BT orders are nearing the size of the update

 

[das]

I already got two-PM BT orders. I doubt your ability to top that by much.

 

[Harleqin]

To: Prussia
From: Bavaria
As you are undoubtedly aware the Austrians have, most impolitely, declared war on us. We seek to reaffirm the friendship between our two nations and hope that this will in no way affect our relationship.

To: France
From: Bavaria
Austria has, rather annoyingly, declared war on us. Please come and save us. We will try to stall them and not allow them to step on the clean streets of Munich or rape our sheep.

OOC: Dang, my ruler is pathetic.... but this is more amusing than I thought it would be

das, since you didn't reply in your own thread... are my BT orders ok... or too simplistic? Just reply when answering diplo so we don't hijack this or answer in your own thread

 

[das]

They're okay. Unlike some other people's.

IC:

From: France
To: Bavaria

We shall ofcourse lend our support to you; the Habsburg tyrants shall never deflower a sheep again!

 

[Imago]

TO: The Kingdom of Naples
FROM: The People of Sardinia

We will agree to join your Kingdom, in light of recent events.

From: The Combined Kingdoms of Naples and Sicily
To: The People of Sardinia

We applaud your decision. You will not regret playing your part in helping to reunify Italy.

To: The Combined Kingdoms of Naples and Sicily
From: His Holiness Pope Pius VI

Yes, we are perfectly aware of what a NAP includes, an agreement not to attack your territories in exchange for an agreement from you not to attack our territories. We do not ask for, nor do we expect more.

From: The Combined Kingdoms of Naples and Sicily
To: The Papal States

If you finalize the eternal NAP, the agreement will be held to, as our word is our bond. However, if you do not, we will be forced to invade, to insure the stability of South Italy.

@Insane Panda or das-

Was Marie Antoinette killed during the last turn? Clearly, Louis was, but in Naples, sadly, the queen's fate matters more than the king's.

And another story to come soon.

 

[North King]

Was Marie Antoinette killed during the last turn? Clearly, Louis was, but in Naples, sadly, the queen's fate matters more than the king's.

Panda says yes. Which is why my ruler is acting rather jumpy at all French threats (Marie Antoinette was his aunt)...

EDIT: Guess that my last sheep-deflowering venture just didn't have quite enough power behind it. I'll make sure not to make that mistake in Bavaria.

 

[Luckymoose]

ooc: When are orders due?

 

[The Strategos]

Psalmus David.
Dominus regit me, et nihil mihi deerit:
in loco pascuæ, ibi me collocavit.
Super aquam refectionis educavit me;
animam meam convertit.
Deduxit me super semitas justitiæ
propter nomen suum.
Nam etsi ambulavero in medio umbræ mortis,
non timebo mala, quoniam tu mecum es.
Virga tua, et baculus tuus,
ipsa me consolata sunt.
Parasti in conspectu meo mensam
adversus eos qui tribulant me;
impinguasti in oleo caput meum:
et calix meus inebrians, quam præclarus est!
Et misericordia tua subsequetur me
omnibus diebus vitæ meæ;
et ut inhabitem in domo Domini
in longitudinem dierum.
-Psalmus XXII
​

Rain fell down from the darkened skies, giant tears from heaven. That’s right God, I thought, not without a tinge of bitterness, weep, weep for your scattered sheep. Let your tears wash away the blood of your sons which stain the soil.

It was dark, the blackness of the night made even darker by the storm clouds that obstructed the skies, shutting out even the feeble light of the moon and stars. Rain dripped down my cloak, creating miniature waterfalls, cascading down the lip of the hood which was drawn over my head to fall with a splash to the ground below. To the patter of the rain was added the squishing noise of my travels, as with each step I took, the muddy ground clung to my already caked boots, not wishing to surrender their prize.

Steadily I toiled with single minded determination, despite darkness, mud, and weather, towards my goal, a single flickering light, a small island in the midst of a sea of darkness. It reached almost cosmic poetical significance for me during my short journey, that small light. Like the countryside, our nation was engulfed in darkness, a spiritual death that, events seemed to show, led inexorably to physical death, a spiritual terror that was much worse than the physical terror unleashed by those Parisian demons.

You would think it would be enough for them to have control over our physical, enough to be able to kill this earthen vessel whenever it suited their whim, to build their precious “republic” on the bones of innocents. But it is not enough, it is never enough for them. Intoxicated by power, they follow in Lucifer’s original folly, seeking to wage war against the very gates of heaven. They are worthy successors to their father Nero. Or perhaps, it is Flavius Claudius Iulianus, which they seek to emulate, turning from the light to embrace the darkness, encouraging others to follow in their folly.

And still, like that small, flickering light which I was even now approaching, a small light shines, even still, in the midst of the darkness. The Church remains, a light shining in the darkness. Oh, how the darkness hates the light. Like a ravenous wolf, it prowls about, seeking to extinguish the light which shows their deeds for the depraved vanities they are. Their ancestors crucified, they, more enlightened, more cultured, merely guillotine.

“See,” they tell themselves, “we do not need God, we have Reason, we do not need churches, we have the altar of the fatherland, we do not need to live in the Anno Domini, we live in the Year of the Revolution!” And so instead of the chaste bride of Christ, they parade out their cheap whore, their sham dressed in finery, her face painted. And so they pretend to themselves that their ghoulish substitute is the paradigm of beauty. They praise the mask, telling themselves that the corruptions underneath the mask does not matter, that real beauty is inferior to painted on exteriors.

I was, by now, at the source of the light I had been working towards. It was a small barn, dilapidated through neglect, the warm glow of light seeping out through the cracks. At my knock, the barn doors opened partway, revealing a pair of suspicious eyes peering at me. “Ah Father, come in.” The door opened even further, allowing me to slip in, the door slamming quickly behind me, a dull thud indicating a bar falling in to place, barring the door.

Behind me stood the man who admitted me, a burly man in the peasant mold, his hair streaked with grey. To my left stood a nervous teen, uncertainly holding an ancient hunting gun while to my right, almost hidden in the shadows huddle a couple of younger children. It was the scene in front of me, however, that arrested my attention.

A woman, obviously the wife of the man who let me in, was sobbing quietly, her body shuddering as she attempted vainly to stifle her crying. Beside her was a table, the focus of her attention. On the table lay a young man, a boy really, or if one was going by mere appearances alone, a broken rag doll. With every labored breath, red flecks bubbled out of his mouth. A sweet, sickly smell emanated from some stained bandages which were wrapped tightly around his chest.

“He was shot by the revolutionaries in a skirmish near Lyon.” Here the man’s voice broke, “The wound…he’s not going to live much longer. We were hoping you would perform last rites.”

I nodded. Despite the growing darkness, there were some, a remnant, who fought on. They were not knights of stories, romantic paladins, but simple folks, poor, rough hewn farmers. God, as he proved time and time again, enjoyed using the simple and weak of this world to confound the wise and strong. From these humble people, will spring another generation of saints and martyrs, giving their lives on behalf of a kingdom, not of this world. And maybe, God willing, as the darkness stamps out their light, embers will fly, like sparks from a dying fire, and ignite the world.

“Leave us. I will hear his confession now.” Thus begins the last rite. May God have mercy on this lad and the thousands of others like him. May God have mercy on us all.

 

[The Strategos]

From: The Combined Kingdoms of Naples and Sicily
To: The Papal States

If you finalize the eternal NAP, the agreement will be held to, as our word is our bond. However, if you do not, we will be forced to invade, to insure the stability of South Italy.

Of course we want it, we wouldn't have proposed it if we didn't want it (and give me some time to respond before making threats, messengers don't teleport from your kingdom to ours you know )

 

[Luckymoose]

I bet I could insure the stability of South Italy.

 

[Imago]

@The Strategos-Good. The only reason my diplo was as such was because of your posted NAP explanation, which I at first thought was an ambiguious confirmation of said NAP, and IC, my nation is rather...aggressively neutral.

 

[Imago]

A New Italian Dawn​

“Libertà.”

“Liberty?” asked the young sixteen year old Francis, heir to the crown of Naples. “Why did you say such a word?”

He and Verità were sitting together, cross-legged, on the ground of one of the royal gardens. And Verità sighed.

“Liberty is the most important thing in the world, young one,” he said.

“But you told me the most important thing in the world was the restoration of the Roman Empire,” said Francis. “You have said that many, many times.”

“The restoration of the Roman Empire is my personal goal,” said Verità. “There is a difference. I feel every person in the world should have a say in his government. I have been reading the papers of the French and American Revolutions. You should too. They would teach you something.”

“Why bother?” asked Francis. He gestured at one of the servants, who was watering the plants in the garden. “He serves me, now, but many more will serve me in the future. To be king is to have all the pleasure in the world. When my father dies, I will be able to do whatever I want. In the future, if I wish, my armies will march to the Papal States, and conquer that land. I need not concern myself with things such as liberty.” He spat the last word, as if it was a curse.

“There is a reason you mother allows me to be one of your tutors,” said Verità, “and there is a reason I wanted the job. No one else will speak to you in the manner I will.” He seemed to be talking to himself.

“What do you mean?” asked Francis.

Suddenly, Verità was on his feet, and he dragged Francis up with him. He lifted the boy off the ground, holding him by his throat.

“You must understand that to be a king is to have all the burden in the world, young one,” said Verità calmly, as Francis struggled to free himself.

The young man’s legs kicked the air. “Servant…” he wheezed, looking at the gardener. “Run. Send help.”

The gardener only glanced briefly in the prince’s direction, and then resumed watering the plants.

“That man is a member of the New Roman Society,” said Verità. “He respects my authority more than yours. But the key question here, is why.” Verità threw Francis to the ground, and look down at him, as the young man lay there.

“I’ll tell my mother about this,” said Francis, his clothes now dirtied. “She’ll send you back to the prison from where you came. No, she’ll have you executed.”

But the young man seemed to be talking only to keep himself warm. There was fear in his eyes, real fear. Francis did not even try to get up off the ground.

“The gardener is loyal to me because I stand for liberty, and I stand for unity,” said Verità. “You stand for neither. As you are, you stand for the tyranny of absolute monarchy, and you stand for those who care about nothing but themselves. You would attack the Papal States, the most holy nation in the world, simply because the notion amused you!”

“What do you care?” asked Francis. “You believe in the Roman Empire. You’re no Catholic. You probably worship Jupiter!”

Verità showed Francis a cross he wore underneath his shirt, and then returned it to its hiding place. “So few understand me,” he said. “So few.” He gazed all the more strongly at Francis. “I am no pagan. I am Catholic, as are you. But God would be ashamed of you now.”

Verità reached down, and pulled Francis to his feet. “”Things are changing, young one. Parliaments have been created in Naples, at my suggestion. True, they have no power over the king yet, but things will not remain that way for long.”

Verità continued. “I do not just stand for a new Roman Empire,” he said. “I stand for liberty, and I stand for unity. And I will teach you to walk my path. One way, or another.”

***

Elsewhere in the royal palace, in the middle of a hallway, a cry echoed through the halls. Marie Caroline, Queen of Naples, was sobbing, as she clutched a message in her hands.

“The First Republic killed my sister!” she shouted at passing servants. “To think I once trusted them!”

Suddenly, a man came to stand beside her. John Acton, Prime Minister of Naples, was there. “You must stay the course, my queen,” he whispered in her ear. “You must not attack the First Republic. We must honor our treaties.”

“Why are you saying this?” asked the queen, suspicious. “You sound like Verità, when a year ago, you were so opposed to setting him free.”

“I have changed, my queen,” said the Englishman. “Verità is no madman, and I have come to agree with his writings. Far more then you ever did. You released him to further your own power. But he has surpassed you in influence.”

Marie Caroline just stared at him.

“You must stay the course,” said Acton. He put a hand on her shoulder. “Now, let us leave this hallway. If the king learns you reacted as such to your sister’s death, he may decide to join the coalition against the First Republic. As much is unlikely, as the King listens to Verità almost as much as I, but it is never good to take unnecessary chances.”

“You are right,” said the queen, at last. She stopped shuddering. She remembered that Verità’s suggested policies had gained Naples the hearts and minds of the people of Sardinia. She dared not fail him now.

 

[Luckymoose]

Nice story,and orders sent.

 

[Grandmaster]

To Bavaria:
From the Kingdom of Prussia:
It is pitiful to watch a German, after having conspired with the murderous Jacobin rebels, come groveling to my court, begging to be saved from his own countrymen. You have disgraced yourself and your kingdom by befriending the mutineers and scoundrels of Paris. You have forfeited your royal honour by standing alongside the executioners of Louis the Martyr. You have betrayed the trust of Prussia and of your people. The King of Bavaria has made his decision; now he will face its consequences. What course of action the Habsburg Emperor chooses to take in Bavaria is no longer a matter of concern to the King of Prussia. May God have mercy on your treacherous and cowardly soul.

 

[das]

Its good to know that I am feared.

 

[Grandmaster]

It is fully my intention to put an end to your foolish little revolt and salt the soil of France.