Great posts all around people. Fun fact, Sanguine now has a very small port on the Southern Sea. It was also edged out of Great Power status from Oslad by only 2 Prestige.
Jarelian Independece Crisis coming to a close soon.
It was also edged out of Great Power status from Oslad by only 2 Prestige.
"Does your new rank suit you?" said General Bancaster. He was speaking to Captain Khurnov, but did not move his gaze from the casket before him.
Khurnov said nothing for a minute. He glanced around at the people gathered. Iletsky, always the one for dramatics, had wished his funeral be held on the battlefield where he died. He speculated with conviction that his end should come on one. Unfortunately, he was right. "I suppose," Khurnov finally said.
A priest from home had been taken all the way here to perform the sermon, as was the general's family, and those close to him, of which there were many. Khurnov was no exception. For all Iletsky's flaws, he was a charming and endearing man, friends to nearly all he met. Except, perhaps, the Bancasters. The Bancasters had an ancient feud with emotions. But even they would not risk appearances to avoid attending, and so they too came to honour the old general, standing like statues next to the hunched, shivering, and weeping crowd.
"You suppose?"
"Well, it's an honour, truly. But, I did what I had to. I don't feel like a hero." He looked on at the casket. "Especially not now," he added meekly.
"You should be honoured," Bancaster said unphased, "That medal on your lapel hasn't been given out many times."
Khurnov nodded. He didn't care for the medal itself. The sentiment of it, the knowledge that without him, the nation would have suffered a grave defeat, the legacy he would leave, that mattered to him more than the medal, or the estate of newly conquered land he was given. Bancaster's materialism surprised him. "Don't mistake me for ungrateful. But, Iletsky was a man I admired. The mood is not jovial."
"Yes. Of course."
The sermon continued without another word between them. Iletsky's body was mangled such that an open casket would have been distasteful, so the final goodbyes and kisses were skipped. The family were the only ones allowed to see his body before it was lowered into the grave; a large and solitary headstone placed in front of the Volga river.
Khurnov's spirits did not rise after its end. There was one more unpleasant task before him before he could end this day: another "honour."
~ * ~
Castle Turkov was a splendid and well-kept ruin from the middle ages. It stood on a hill outside the capitol, with a long, winding path leading up to it. The bitter chill was amplified by the raised altitude, and when the wagon finally arrived behind its courtyard, he was embraced by the insulated warmth of the keep.
Several guards escorted him downwards, to the dungeons. They made no attempt at conversation. Stomach butterflies put a lump in his throat. It was his grim honour to carry out this deed, as instructed by none other than the Emperor himself. There was much talk of Damian. Khurnov had not made up his mind about the Emperor, as he'd never had the chance to meet him. But this order was cruel.
At the furthest end of the dungeon, in a nondescript cell, laid a shivering, naked man. He had a beetle belly, and a thick, drooping chin. His graying hair was a mess, and filth covered his body.
This was the King of Kapitas.
The two guards unlocked the cell, and entered inside with Khurnov.
The man looked up in horror, and appeared to beg in Kapitan, whimpering and pleading. It would be pathetic for any man to be in his place. But here was a king, locked in his own dungeon, stripped of his clothes, and begging for the third son of a minor landholder to spare his life. Did he even know what was done to his family?
Khurnov stood there for a moment longer, before one of the guardsmen abruptly spoke, "Do you need a translation, sir?"
"No," he said, before drawing out his pistol. "Give him this. Tell him we will let him end his own life."
The soldier did so. The Kings sobbed stopped, and he grabbed the gun, looking on it in horror. He kneeled down and prayed for a long time, perhaps an hour. Khurnov made no objection, though the guards fidgeted in impatience.
The King finished his prayer, and looked on for one final time at Khurnov, with eyes like a sad puppy. Khurnov had a mixture of pity and distaste for the man. This was not the way a King should accept death. Yet, this was not the way a King should be treated.
Khurnov only nodded, doing his best to keep his face set.
At last, the King stuck the gun into his mouth, and shot his brains onto the wall. The noise from the gun inside the small chambers was deafening.
Khurnov explained to the guards that he and they were the only ones to know of the King and his family's fate. If it is ever heard from their lips, they will know a death like Turkov's. This did not invoke so much as a flinch from the guards, who mechanically wrapped the body in a thick blanket, before dragging it back to the wagon, and burying it in a mass grave, next to common soldiers, and the ruined remains of the castle's servants.
Khurnov did not sleep well that night. There were yet more sins to commit. His orders were to maintain peace in the capitol with a garrison of men. Any sign of rebellion or insurrection was to be put down with merciless haste. Encouragements were made to make examples of people. Spoils from the war were to be redistributed to his men. It did not even occur to the General Staff to stipulate whether he was allowed to give any of it back to whomever it was stolen from.
~ * ~
Sinesia's wamrth was pleasant year-round. But it seemed that even in autumn, the Keljudi lands were stifling.
Felin Dovan had waved goodbye to those companions he'd befriended in Sinesia, and the woman bearing his child. Her oaf of a husband believed it was his, nevermind their not laying together in months. He promised, as he always did, to return someday. He really meant it, this time. With such a lovely girl, the boy was destined to be handsome. Hopefully he inherited his brains, rather than his mother's.
After days of travel, the Sultan's court was before him. There were no Tarquen, Junai, or Keljudi peoples the Imperial court trusted enough to send on this diplomatic mission. But this mission was to be easy: there were no contracts or deals to make. He had only to apply his prodigious charms.
The Sultan's palace stood out from the dunes of desert sand like a monolith. Felin breathed a sigh of relief as it came into full view. The heat had caused mirages to fool them many times, and he had a thirst like he'd never had pleasure to know.
~ * ~
"So, this is why we haven't heard anything from Dalatrum," Emperor Damian pondered aloud. He was alone, in his study, reading over a recent newspaper for Dalatrum's capitol. He'd had it requested after speaking with the diplomat posted at Sinesia's court. They, of course, heard about the recent events there much quicker than he.
He'd learned more than he expected from the paper. At that moment, he'd made up mind on the document he'd been keeping in his desk drawer. He took it out, signed it, and called for an aide to have it delivered. He grinned to himself with mild satisfaction at the former Great Power's predicament. Less than a year ago, they had rejected an alliance with them. Now they faced internal disorder, and the shame of losing their high place on the world's stage.
Nevertheless, he had no intentions of making them his enemy. He would not give them anything resembling trust. He could agree to walking away from a stand-off, so to speak, but no more.
~ * ~
The East-Seas Trading Pact
1. Sinesia, Braiyusal, Tangaria, Vitannia, Muthandia, Maljuk Caliphate, and Sanguine Empire shall escort their partners merchant ships and vice versa. 1.1. If said nation doesn't wish to join the pact, then the nation doesn't have to sign it. 1.2. If said nation does want to join the pact at a later date, then the nation has to get a copy of the pact and then sign their name on it.
2. All partner nations shall open their ports to the other partner nations. 2.1. If a nation wishes to still fine the other nations in the pact, then they can do so.
3. All partner nation must be able to protect the seas and trading ships for any threats face them.
By the Imperial Authority of the Sanguine Empire, this agreement is hereby rejected.
- Emperor Damian Gregory Amoury
* The reign of terror begins in Kapitas. Strict martial law will be enforced by General Bancaster, Captain Bancaster, Captain Khurnov, and Captain Viviot, until Kapitas can be adequately deemed as pacified.
* A diplomat is sent to the Keljudi Sultanate, to begin talks of cordial relations.
I wanted to post tonight, but I got a spot of writers block. Now I know what to write, but it's time for bed. I'll get her up when I wake up. My apologies.
Is it safe to say I have the largest amount of land? Also, prepare for some Mikasi warfare. ( If it's ok theo I'd like to post a war post, not unlike you have, but of a war between myself and the natives below me) This wont be anything concerning any player s:)
The Nehelenian colony in Serranthia is supposed to be about as large as my empire, the biggest in the Old World. Since you're way bigger than even that, I'd say your nation has the most land in the world.
I really wonder who made me fall in relationship with Nehalenia , I am at war with them or something? or it was because a Player?
During nationgen, relationships with the great powers were randomly determined. Neutral was the most likely option, but there was a chance one could start friendly or unfriendly with a nation.
Nehelenia just happened to draw the short stick when half the nations of the Old World turned out to dislike them.
I wanna see Angevad and Kalpia in a cage match. Angevad outguns and outnumbers them, yet Kalpia has a larger industry, more allies, and a terrain advantage.
I'll be honest, I was perhaps a bit cocky in my estimations of the enemy army's strength. However, since their entire force appears to be fighting the 1st and 3rd armies, the 2nd army should be peacefully raping the countryside without any resistance. At least we got that going for us.
Also, how could you Milkman?! Trying to get the cool, exotic powers against me, are you? If you're trying to earn yourself more friends, I'm afraid you're doing a poor job of it!
A delicious poast incoming, and this one will have some meat to it, I believe.
