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That was a nice backstory to set up a future war with Karaman. A one-province minor, shouldn't be too difficult... I like the diplomacy taking place between the Wallachians and the Ottomans. It fleshes out the international relations, beyond the simple 'improve relations to get an alliance or to vassalize, or simply attack and conquer' that seems to be all there really is to it in the game. 
Back to the Ottomans, are they still much of a threat? Did they manage to expand into the Middle East after they were removed from the Balkans?
A fine update, once again.
Back to the Ottomans, are they still much of a threat? Did they manage to expand into the Middle East after they were removed from the Balkans?
A fine update, once again.
You guys amaze me. I can't tell you how much I look forward to reading your comments and responses - I feel like a little kid at Christmas!
Machiavellian - You are much too kind. But don't stop!
jwolf - sometimes you have to take what you can get. I didn't tackle Karaman (province of Taurus) earlier because I didn't want another Muslim province. But CB's - usable CB's - are rare, and I knew if I didn't jump, someone else would. I was amazed that they went the better part of a century with no allies and didn't get eaten!
Valdemar - let me see... cost of holostage, supercomputers, lasers, VR gear, programming... convert to Euros... um, that's a lot of zeros!
No disrespect to the EU2 team, but I frequently put 'other music' on when I'm playing. Sometimes it is classical, jazz or new age... sometimes it's funk. What can I say. Hitchcock dances the way some people sing in the shower, and for the same reason - no one can see or hear!
Stuyvesant - I had to think for a while about why a one-province minor would twist the tail of a more powerful neighbor. Gambling that he could provoke a war, then get the Sultan to bail him out - while claiming all the prestige for warring on the infidel for himself - sounds like something a young man with strong religious convictions would do.
The Turks went east and south, gaining some territory in the middle east, curse them. I had hoped to reduce them and confine them in that earlier war, but they recovered quicker than I had hoped. Given that Austria will always be a threat in the west, I need to avoid another strong opponent in the east. So grabbing Karaman doesn't add much to my side but it will never be added to the Ottomans, either.
A new map will be coming shortly.
Machiavellian - You are much too kind. But don't stop!
jwolf - sometimes you have to take what you can get. I didn't tackle Karaman (province of Taurus) earlier because I didn't want another Muslim province. But CB's - usable CB's - are rare, and I knew if I didn't jump, someone else would. I was amazed that they went the better part of a century with no allies and didn't get eaten!
Valdemar - let me see... cost of holostage, supercomputers, lasers, VR gear, programming... convert to Euros... um, that's a lot of zeros!
No disrespect to the EU2 team, but I frequently put 'other music' on when I'm playing. Sometimes it is classical, jazz or new age... sometimes it's funk. What can I say.
Hitchcock dances the way some people sing in the shower, and for the same reason - no one can see or hear! Stuyvesant - I had to think for a while about why a one-province minor would twist the tail of a more powerful neighbor. Gambling that he could provoke a war, then get the Sultan to bail him out - while claiming all the prestige for warring on the infidel for himself - sounds like something a young man with strong religious convictions would do.
The Turks went east and south, gaining some territory in the middle east, curse them. I had hoped to reduce them and confine them in that earlier war, but they recovered quicker than I had hoped. Given that Austria will always be a threat in the west, I need to avoid another strong opponent in the east. So grabbing Karaman doesn't add much to my side but it will never be added to the Ottomans, either.
A new map will be coming shortly.
Karaman will at least give you something in that region. Not sure what, but I know it must be really, really useful. (This comment comming from a guy who will soon go after Baluchistan in his game; talk about land you don't really want...)
Nice update!
Nice update!
In the Gaming Area
Earth, Wind and Fire swung into ‘Fantasy’. Hitchcock waved the volume down to a murmur and looked critically at the map. Not ideal dispositions, but they would have to do. He shrugged and sent the diplomat to Karaman, bearing a declaration of war. It was March 1st, 1545 in game time. Hitchcock acknowledged the announcement that the Empire had reached level 3 infrastructure. He was sure that Barbara and Ray would be thrilled to hear of it, but at the moment he had more pressing concerns.
There was only one channel the campaign could follow. The army would have to mass in Antalya and march east along the coastal caravan road to Silifke, where the Goksu River poured into the Mediterranean. Once there, they would wheel to the left and proceed north up the river valley to Karaman. All of this route was rough, narrow and easily defended, and Ibrahim no doubt expected to hold the Imperial Army at bay for many months. With such delay would come disease, hunger, thirst and enormous expense. With enough delay, the Imperials might well just give it up as a bad job and go home.
Hitchcock murmured, “The board is set, the pieces are moving…” and flicked the datawand. The game awoke and the tiny figures of soldiers began marching. As he thought, the men of Karaman moved west along the coast road to Anamur and Gazipasa, repairing fortifications and raiding past Alanya on the coastal plain of ancient Pamphylia. Hitchcock made his manuevers carefully, using the Imperial navy to block enemy ports and his old-fashioned siege engines to wear down the city defenses. Gazipasa was ancient and the citadel small – it could be reduced at leisure. But the success or failure of the siege of Anamur might well decide the campaign, and this siege was painfully slow.
This slow rate of progress encouraged the westward flow of enemy troops, and the growing size of the enemy camp east of Anamur made it obvious that a battle would soon be coming. The Imperial Army kept a tight grip on the city, allowing no supplies or reinforcements to enter, but they were stretched thin by having to face in to the city and east to the opposing army. Hitchcock kept a close eye on the strength and morale indicators of the armies, and waited. It was far from certain that the Army of Thrace was going to prevail.
When the stalemate broke, events moved with bewildering speed. The Army of Crete came splashing ashore at Silifke at dawn, seizing the citadel and port from an astonished garrison. Fifteen thousand Imperial troops pushed west to set up their own blocking force on the coast road; another twenty thousand poured up the river valley like a flash flood in reverse, seizing the fortifications in the pass and stampeding the few troops who tried to stop them.
In panic, the Karamani army at Anamur tried to pull back, but Imperial cavalry smashed their rearguard and harried the fleeing columns. Disorganized, they made one attempt to force their way past the Army of Crete and then dissolved in panic. Between casualties, prisoners and rag-tag bands that fled into the lifeless hills, the Karamani army simply ceased to exist. Far to the rear, detachments of Imperial infantry kept Anamur securely under siege. With a secure port for supply established at Silifke and no enemy force left in the field, the Army of Thrace moved up the pass and invested the city of Karaman and the Army of Crete returned to its island base.
The scale of the debacle and the speed of the Imperial advance had important political consequences. Ibrahim’s prestige and authority were fatally undermined, both among his own people and with potential allies abroad. The troops, supplies and funds that the Sultan was gathering would be withheld, as there was no assurance that Karaman city could hold out until such assistance could arrive. The Mamelukes, for their part, had no desire to challenge the Imperial navy and no means of marching overland.
The siege was long and tedious, but as the Imperials did not possess cannon and were unable to assault the walls, it was largely uneventful. The city held out until the summer of 1546, by which point starvation was on every face and disease was epidemic. Eager to be rid of Ibrahim and his unpopular war, certain men of the city agreed to open a secondary gate one night. Imperial troops stormed in, opened the main gate and seized the city. The riots that followed the Imperial announcement of annexation did more damage than the campaign and siege, but Imperial troops were no strangers to riot work and this one was thoroughly suppressed.
In the Office of the Majister Militarum, March 22nd of 1545
Simeon looked up as a guard peered through the doorway. “I apologize for disturbing you, sir, but the Emperor has urgently requested your attendance.”
Simeon’s eyebrows rose even as he blotted the pen and pushed his papers into a leather valise. He levered himself to his feet, flexed his legs and knee-joints experimentally, and decided he could dispense with the cane.
The guard set a rapid pace down halls and connecting colonnades, and Simeon wondered at the urgency. The Emperor had been scheduled for a routine budget and finance meeting in the Azure conference room that nestled in a corner of the Palace block, only a park, a building and a fountain away. The House of the Dragon was no more than two-thirds completed, but the finished areas were immense. Imperial apartments, barracks, kitchens, offices, reception rooms, audience chambers and dozens of other buildings were interwoven with parks, pools, fountains, flower gardens and lawns in a beautiful yet complicated maze.
The guard paused at the door and ushered Simeon inside, where he saw a huddle of gowned ministers, speaking urgently to each other in low tones, shoulders hunched and heads bowed. Off on the other side of the conference table was Mircea, the Emperor’s brother, pale and upset. The Emperor was nowhere to be seen, but it was not unusual for him to pass routine meetings and administrative work on to Mircea. The heir apparent had shouldered all of the routine administrative work for years, now.
“Thank God you’re here, Simeon!” Mircea said loudly and motioned broadly for Simeon to join him. The ministers went silent and stared fixedly at him as he passed. A gowned figure came through the door in the outer wall, bulls-eye panes of glass twinkling as he closed the door to the garden. Simeon realized with some surprise that it was the court physician, Doctor Galba. He spoke before Simeon could say a word.
“Your Majesty, I must in sorrow tell you that the Emperor your brother is dead.” With that shocking statement, the physician went to one knee and bowed deeply. “God save the Emperor!” Simeon glared at the ministers until they made to kneel, then joined them. “God save the Emperor! Hail, Mircea, King and Emperor!”
The new Emperor motioned for the kneeling men to rise. “I thank you. I am sure you will all serve me as well and faithfully as you served my brother. Klestreus, go now to the Chancellor and make this terrible news known to him. Tell him I will meet him in the audience chamber in an hour and we will plan how to announce this to the people of the city. Doctor Galba, if you would fetch the guards and make the arrangements for the body… Simeon, do stay, please. We must talk.”
Mircea waited for the room to clear, eyes hooded in thought and hands plucking restlessly at his robes. “We were arguing over the receipts and expenditures for Bulgaria,” he said quietly, “and Radu was bored, as always. So he decided to step out into the garden for a minute. Old Klestreus had gone to the sideboard for wine and heard a noise – I suppose it was Radu, falling. Certainly none of us heard him cry out. I sent for Galba, but he said it was too late, that Radu must have died instantly. Just… died. Not a mark on him, anywhere. Just… dead.”
He looked directly at Simeon. “This makes you next in line for the throne, you know.”
“Heaven forfend,” Simeon said with a shudder. “You and your lady wife need to get busy and produce some suitable princes, is what this means. I don’t want to be the heir and I absolutely do not want the throne.”
Mircea found a tiny smile, infinitely sad. “Radu always said you were the best man of all of us. Can I depend on you to stay at your present post?”
“Of course, Your Majesty. I serve – or not – at your pleasure.”
“That sounds very strange when directed at me… And the army, what will they think of this?”
“You are not well known to the army, Majesty, but there is no discontent among the officers or in the ranks. The army is loyal. Legate Paulus has your guard well in hand, and he is utterly loyal.”
“I know this, Simeon, but it helps me to hear you say it. How goes the war?”
“The latest communiqué reports everything was going well before Anamur. The other preparations are well advanced. We started a rumor in Crete that the army was to be rotated to Macedonia and replaced with men from other garrisons. The expedition has strict orders not to put in to Cyprus, so they should be off Silifke in a few more days. There are no reports of storms, but ships move at their own schedule and we cannot change the wind or tide.”
Mircea nodded, rubbing his cheeks and eyes with his hands. “I thank you… I am grateful for your support, Simeon. But I must go to the Chancellor, now. There are announcements to be made, arrangements…”
Simeon made his salute and followed the new Emperor out the door, sending up a silent prayer of thanksgiving that God had permitted them an Emperor worth following… and a second prayer, begging the Almighty to grant the new Emperor many, many children. And soon.
Earth, Wind and Fire swung into ‘Fantasy’. Hitchcock waved the volume down to a murmur and looked critically at the map. Not ideal dispositions, but they would have to do. He shrugged and sent the diplomat to Karaman, bearing a declaration of war. It was March 1st, 1545 in game time. Hitchcock acknowledged the announcement that the Empire had reached level 3 infrastructure. He was sure that Barbara and Ray would be thrilled to hear of it, but at the moment he had more pressing concerns.
There was only one channel the campaign could follow. The army would have to mass in Antalya and march east along the coastal caravan road to Silifke, where the Goksu River poured into the Mediterranean. Once there, they would wheel to the left and proceed north up the river valley to Karaman. All of this route was rough, narrow and easily defended, and Ibrahim no doubt expected to hold the Imperial Army at bay for many months. With such delay would come disease, hunger, thirst and enormous expense. With enough delay, the Imperials might well just give it up as a bad job and go home.
Hitchcock murmured, “The board is set, the pieces are moving…” and flicked the datawand. The game awoke and the tiny figures of soldiers began marching. As he thought, the men of Karaman moved west along the coast road to Anamur and Gazipasa, repairing fortifications and raiding past Alanya on the coastal plain of ancient Pamphylia. Hitchcock made his manuevers carefully, using the Imperial navy to block enemy ports and his old-fashioned siege engines to wear down the city defenses. Gazipasa was ancient and the citadel small – it could be reduced at leisure. But the success or failure of the siege of Anamur might well decide the campaign, and this siege was painfully slow.
This slow rate of progress encouraged the westward flow of enemy troops, and the growing size of the enemy camp east of Anamur made it obvious that a battle would soon be coming. The Imperial Army kept a tight grip on the city, allowing no supplies or reinforcements to enter, but they were stretched thin by having to face in to the city and east to the opposing army. Hitchcock kept a close eye on the strength and morale indicators of the armies, and waited. It was far from certain that the Army of Thrace was going to prevail.
When the stalemate broke, events moved with bewildering speed. The Army of Crete came splashing ashore at Silifke at dawn, seizing the citadel and port from an astonished garrison. Fifteen thousand Imperial troops pushed west to set up their own blocking force on the coast road; another twenty thousand poured up the river valley like a flash flood in reverse, seizing the fortifications in the pass and stampeding the few troops who tried to stop them.
In panic, the Karamani army at Anamur tried to pull back, but Imperial cavalry smashed their rearguard and harried the fleeing columns. Disorganized, they made one attempt to force their way past the Army of Crete and then dissolved in panic. Between casualties, prisoners and rag-tag bands that fled into the lifeless hills, the Karamani army simply ceased to exist. Far to the rear, detachments of Imperial infantry kept Anamur securely under siege. With a secure port for supply established at Silifke and no enemy force left in the field, the Army of Thrace moved up the pass and invested the city of Karaman and the Army of Crete returned to its island base.
The scale of the debacle and the speed of the Imperial advance had important political consequences. Ibrahim’s prestige and authority were fatally undermined, both among his own people and with potential allies abroad. The troops, supplies and funds that the Sultan was gathering would be withheld, as there was no assurance that Karaman city could hold out until such assistance could arrive. The Mamelukes, for their part, had no desire to challenge the Imperial navy and no means of marching overland.
The siege was long and tedious, but as the Imperials did not possess cannon and were unable to assault the walls, it was largely uneventful. The city held out until the summer of 1546, by which point starvation was on every face and disease was epidemic. Eager to be rid of Ibrahim and his unpopular war, certain men of the city agreed to open a secondary gate one night. Imperial troops stormed in, opened the main gate and seized the city. The riots that followed the Imperial announcement of annexation did more damage than the campaign and siege, but Imperial troops were no strangers to riot work and this one was thoroughly suppressed.
In the Office of the Majister Militarum, March 22nd of 1545
Simeon looked up as a guard peered through the doorway. “I apologize for disturbing you, sir, but the Emperor has urgently requested your attendance.”
Simeon’s eyebrows rose even as he blotted the pen and pushed his papers into a leather valise. He levered himself to his feet, flexed his legs and knee-joints experimentally, and decided he could dispense with the cane.
The guard set a rapid pace down halls and connecting colonnades, and Simeon wondered at the urgency. The Emperor had been scheduled for a routine budget and finance meeting in the Azure conference room that nestled in a corner of the Palace block, only a park, a building and a fountain away. The House of the Dragon was no more than two-thirds completed, but the finished areas were immense. Imperial apartments, barracks, kitchens, offices, reception rooms, audience chambers and dozens of other buildings were interwoven with parks, pools, fountains, flower gardens and lawns in a beautiful yet complicated maze.
The guard paused at the door and ushered Simeon inside, where he saw a huddle of gowned ministers, speaking urgently to each other in low tones, shoulders hunched and heads bowed. Off on the other side of the conference table was Mircea, the Emperor’s brother, pale and upset. The Emperor was nowhere to be seen, but it was not unusual for him to pass routine meetings and administrative work on to Mircea. The heir apparent had shouldered all of the routine administrative work for years, now.
“Thank God you’re here, Simeon!” Mircea said loudly and motioned broadly for Simeon to join him. The ministers went silent and stared fixedly at him as he passed. A gowned figure came through the door in the outer wall, bulls-eye panes of glass twinkling as he closed the door to the garden. Simeon realized with some surprise that it was the court physician, Doctor Galba. He spoke before Simeon could say a word.
“Your Majesty, I must in sorrow tell you that the Emperor your brother is dead.” With that shocking statement, the physician went to one knee and bowed deeply. “God save the Emperor!” Simeon glared at the ministers until they made to kneel, then joined them. “God save the Emperor! Hail, Mircea, King and Emperor!”
The new Emperor motioned for the kneeling men to rise. “I thank you. I am sure you will all serve me as well and faithfully as you served my brother. Klestreus, go now to the Chancellor and make this terrible news known to him. Tell him I will meet him in the audience chamber in an hour and we will plan how to announce this to the people of the city. Doctor Galba, if you would fetch the guards and make the arrangements for the body… Simeon, do stay, please. We must talk.”
Mircea waited for the room to clear, eyes hooded in thought and hands plucking restlessly at his robes. “We were arguing over the receipts and expenditures for Bulgaria,” he said quietly, “and Radu was bored, as always. So he decided to step out into the garden for a minute. Old Klestreus had gone to the sideboard for wine and heard a noise – I suppose it was Radu, falling. Certainly none of us heard him cry out. I sent for Galba, but he said it was too late, that Radu must have died instantly. Just… died. Not a mark on him, anywhere. Just… dead.”
He looked directly at Simeon. “This makes you next in line for the throne, you know.”
“Heaven forfend,” Simeon said with a shudder. “You and your lady wife need to get busy and produce some suitable princes, is what this means. I don’t want to be the heir and I absolutely do not want the throne.”
Mircea found a tiny smile, infinitely sad. “Radu always said you were the best man of all of us. Can I depend on you to stay at your present post?”
“Of course, Your Majesty. I serve – or not – at your pleasure.”
“That sounds very strange when directed at me… And the army, what will they think of this?”
“You are not well known to the army, Majesty, but there is no discontent among the officers or in the ranks. The army is loyal. Legate Paulus has your guard well in hand, and he is utterly loyal.”
“I know this, Simeon, but it helps me to hear you say it. How goes the war?”
“The latest communiqué reports everything was going well before Anamur. The other preparations are well advanced. We started a rumor in Crete that the army was to be rotated to Macedonia and replaced with men from other garrisons. The expedition has strict orders not to put in to Cyprus, so they should be off Silifke in a few more days. There are no reports of storms, but ships move at their own schedule and we cannot change the wind or tide.”
Mircea nodded, rubbing his cheeks and eyes with his hands. “I thank you… I am grateful for your support, Simeon. But I must go to the Chancellor, now. There are announcements to be made, arrangements…”
Simeon made his salute and followed the new Emperor out the door, sending up a silent prayer of thanksgiving that God had permitted them an Emperor worth following… and a second prayer, begging the Almighty to grant the new Emperor many, many children. And soon.
I apologize for not posting last night, but I have had - and continue to have - problems with my browser.
stroph1 - What Karaman gives me is a little more depth south of Thrace... that, and a Muslim province with lots of revolts.
Sometimes I wonder why I take these places... bored, I guess.
stroph1 - What Karaman gives me is a little more depth south of Thrace... that, and a Muslim province with lots of revolts.
Sometimes I wonder why I take these places... bored, I guess.
Capital! Updates from my favorite writer on the forum!
There's this one sentence I want to single out:
And then the death of the Emperor. Such a smooth transition of power, such a change from the earlier successions, when the Empire was still only Wallachia. Whether you intended it or not, to me it shows the modernization/progress/development (take a pick) within Wallachia/the Empire, which, once more, made it feel 'properly' historical to me. Just like the mention of the still not-finished palace, that I have raved about before.
In my mind, Radu ruled for a long time. Is that true, or am I confusing the length of this story with the length of his rule?
There's this one sentence I want to single out:
Just one short sentence, but I really like the use of the word 'splashing'. That one word adds so much life to it. Rather than that line being a simple statement of fact, it turns it into a fine description. I can see the ships beaching, the men wading ashore through knee-deep water... Definitely my favorite line of that whole update.Director said:
And then the death of the Emperor. Such a smooth transition of power, such a change from the earlier successions, when the Empire was still only Wallachia. Whether you intended it or not, to me it shows the modernization/progress/development (take a pick) within Wallachia/the Empire, which, once more, made it feel 'properly' historical to me. Just like the mention of the still not-finished palace, that I have raved about before.
In my mind, Radu ruled for a long time. Is that true, or am I confusing the length of this story with the length of his rule?
Well, Director, now at last I have caught up with you, so I can start posting and telling you how much I have enjoyed reading this stupendous tale from start to... wherever we are now! I think reading it (relatively) quickly perhaps helped with following the tortuous plots and subplots, but now I'm on an equal footing with other readers, so please, keep up that increased rate of posting you promised!
To all: Apologies. My computer was 'gifted' with a little widget that reset the browser page, and it has taken a couple of days to get Ad-ware installed and my machine cleaned up. Additional material will be posted tonight, US time.
Stuyvesant - ships 'in those days' were designed to be pretty shallow, but getting men, supplies and horses ashore without docks would be tricky. No modern-day conveniences like bow ramps, here.
Radu was elected Prince of Wallachia on September 18, 1521, Emperor on February 11, 1523 (Byzantium annexed) and died on March 22, 1545 for a total reign of 24 years give-or-take.
The actual history of Wallachian/Romanian rulers lists, in the same time period, Radu de la Afumati (our Emperor Radu I), Vladislav al III-lea, Radu Badica, Radu de la Afumati (again), Vladislav al III-lea (again), Radu de la Afumati (again), Vladislav al III-lea (again), Radu de la Afumati (again), Moise, Vlad Inecatul, Vlad Vintila, Radu Paisie and - finally - Mircea.
EU2 - sensibly - just lets Radu keep the throne during that period, and so did I.
The House of the Dragon is, of course, on the site where the Topkapi complex was actually built. And like Topkapi, it includes barracks, offices, banquet halls and kitchens, conference rooms, housing for administrators and so on... Topkapi was well designed and went up relatively quickly. Dragon House has been more-or-less complete for years, but they keep having to rebuild and add-on because they need more offices and such.
Farquharson - Glad to hear from you! And very glad you are writing again. Reading it all more-or-less non-stop probably does assist comprehension.
Barring additional computer problems, I am committed to posting an update every second day.
Stuyvesant - ships 'in those days' were designed to be pretty shallow, but getting men, supplies and horses ashore without docks would be tricky. No modern-day conveniences like bow ramps, here.
Radu was elected Prince of Wallachia on September 18, 1521, Emperor on February 11, 1523 (Byzantium annexed) and died on March 22, 1545 for a total reign of 24 years give-or-take.
The actual history of Wallachian/Romanian rulers lists, in the same time period, Radu de la Afumati (our Emperor Radu I), Vladislav al III-lea, Radu Badica, Radu de la Afumati (again), Vladislav al III-lea (again), Radu de la Afumati (again), Vladislav al III-lea (again), Radu de la Afumati (again), Moise, Vlad Inecatul, Vlad Vintila, Radu Paisie and - finally - Mircea.
EU2 - sensibly - just lets Radu keep the throne during that period, and so did I.
The House of the Dragon is, of course, on the site where the Topkapi complex was actually built. And like Topkapi, it includes barracks, offices, banquet halls and kitchens, conference rooms, housing for administrators and so on... Topkapi was well designed and went up relatively quickly. Dragon House has been more-or-less complete for years, but they keep having to rebuild and add-on because they need more offices and such.
Farquharson - Glad to hear from you! And very glad you are writing again. Reading it all more-or-less non-stop probably does assist comprehension.
Barring additional computer problems, I am committed to posting an update every second day.
Bully! Great news indeed. As for the revolts, what are your religious tolerance settings at right now? Further, I am trying to get it into my head how many religions you are dealing with - Orthodox and Catholic, and now Muslim? And lastly, why are Ray and Barbara taking a break and letting Hitchcock do the gaming? I may have missed this, and if so forgive me.
OK. I learned something about humility, here. As soon as I started talking about posting every other day, I got worms, viruses, spyware, thunder storms, dead telephone lines, power surges...
You don't have to shout for me to get the point, Oh Lord. I will post updates as rapidly as I can - but no guarantees, OK?
coz1 - good questions. After taking Taurus (formerly Karaman) I set the sliders to equal tolerance for Orthodox, Catholic and Muslim because I have provinces of those religions. Tolerance for Protestants is at zero... for now. Worse news is coming, on that subject.
Ray and Barbara called it a day and let Hitchcock take the night shift.
You don't have to shout for me to get the point, Oh Lord. I will post updates as rapidly as I can - but no guarantees, OK?
coz1 - good questions. After taking Taurus (formerly Karaman) I set the sliders to equal tolerance for Orthodox, Catholic and Muslim because I have provinces of those religions. Tolerance for Protestants is at zero... for now. Worse news is coming, on that subject.
Ray and Barbara called it a day and let Hitchcock take the night shift.
Director you cad! You fooled me into thinking that there was an update today, but all I see are excuses.
No worries, when you get to updating I shall read it. But don't take too long (not that I am one who should talk about taking a long time to update)
No worries, when you get to updating I shall read it. But don't take too long (not that I am one who should talk about taking a long time to update)
In the Gaming Area
Hitchcock flipped through announcements and reports. Plague in Cyprus, Crete and Thrace – that was bad, but a logical consequence of shipping so many troops in and out of those provinces. He set the religion slider to equal tolerance for Orthodoxy, Islam and Catholicism, pushing tolerance for Protestants all the way to zero. The irony of the situation did not escape him; on many points of doctrine he thought the Orthodox and Protestants might have a great deal in common.
The months and years rolled by. Austria remained bogged down in unending wars in Germany and Italy, accomplishing nothing of note. Still, Hitchcock was relieved to see that Austrian attention was fixed on the west. 1545 became 1546, and that year grew old in turn.
The Polish declaration of war caught him completely by surprise – who declares war in November? There must be a Polish joke there, somewhere. He groused, and cursed. And then he jumped with surprise when a contralto voice said, “What is that?” into his left ear.
At first he thought Frank or Joe must be playing some kind of bizarre practical joke, but after a second he muted the music and dialed up the room lights. The woman standing beside his couch was Asian, young – no, he took that back. He couldn’t see any sign of age in the smooth face, but her posture – perfectly at rest, not tense but simply still – spoke of maturity. She bowed slightly and offered her hand. “I am very sorry if I surprised you. I was curious to see this game that Kevin tells me so much about, and I could not sleep. I am Seung Jin Lee, Kevin’s mother. Please call me Sue – everyone does.”
“I’m very pleased to meet you, Sue. I’m Hitchcock to my friends.”
She motioned at the equipment in the Gaming Area. “I had no idea all this was so complicated. I didn’t understand what Kevin was doing here, I only knew he was hurt, in some trouble. But Mister Thompkins took John and I to Kevin’s workshop today and let us try that new VR that he has been working on. It was amazing!”
Hitchcock nodded. “With the bugs worked out of it, that system will revolutionize entertainment. Your son is going to be wealthy and famous, I think.”
“So what is this, and why are you here alone in the middle of the night?”
As a younger man, Hitchcock would have used that as an opening for a chance to turn the conversation in a different direction. But he sensed no hidden meaning behind her words, just honest curiosity, so he answered directly.
“This is part game, part military and political simulation of the fifteenth through nineteenth centuries. Kevin was using this as the background for his VR program. Hooking the VR into the game lets you play the game by becoming one of the characters. You could become a Queen, rule your country, and play against your friends or just against the game program.”
He motioned at the vast map on the holostage. “Kevin started a game – a VR experience – as Wallachia, what we call Romania or Transylvania today. When the software was sabotaged, and he was looped in the VR, we kept the game running for his sake. Romania is an Empire now – wait, let me pull up the political map. It’s that gray area in the Balkans, Greece and western Turkey.” He shrugged. “Now, we’re keeping the game going so we can test out some new software. It creates scenes, like scenes in a play, using computer-generated characters. Here. Let me show you…”
The House of the Dragon, Spring of 1547
Paolo turned down a connecting corridor and Simeon stopped dead in his tracks. “You can’t go through there!” he hissed, but Paolo just grinned. “A lot has changed while you’ve been up north, my friend. The new Emperor moved all of his brother’s courtesans out of the palace and took over the space for offices.” He motioned, and Simeon started forward again, using his stick sparingly.
“Don’t mention wool taxes or sheep,” Paolo confided, leaning in close to be heard. The rain had been coming down hard all day long, and thick streams of water poured from the eaves and splashed past the windows. “That hasn’t gone well and His Majesty is a little sensitive about it.”
“You’d better tell me,” Simeon said wearily. “What now?”
“This Emperor isn’t much like his brother,” Paolo said. “A better man in some ways. Modest, pious, dresses plainly. Loves his wife, doesn’t host parties… devotes his time and energy to imperial matters and the church. He is simple in word and deed, and the nobles have started calling him the Shepherd – Cio Banul in the old tongue.”
“So what went wrong?” Simeon prompted. They had come to an alcove in the corridor, furnished with padded chests. Simeon sank down gratefully onto the nearest, and Paolo perched next to him.
“He decided to improve collection of the wool tax by requiring all sheep to be counted by the taxmen. So the army, the taxmen and the shepherds have all been chasing sheep for the last two months, and all of them are unhappy – including the sheep. ‘Cio Banul’ has become the punchline to a lot of tavern jokes.”
Simeon grimaced. “Well, let’s get this over with.” Another short connecting corridor brought them to a large suite that now served as library, map room and conference chamber for the Emperor. They passed by the guards and stopped before a wide table. The Emperor Mircea was busily scribbling on a letter, but he blotted the ink and looked up as they approached.
“Prince Simeon, so very good to see you! Be comfortable, both of you… wine? Refreshments? Ah… You bring good news, I hear!”
“Yes, Your Majesty, I have the honor of reporting not one victorious battle, but three. General Count Theros defeated an army of ten or twelve thousand, mostly Polish cavalry, at Miezur and destroyed it as a fighting force. I authorized him to pull in the border garrisons, after that – another eight cohorts – which brought him up to about twenty-five thousand of all arms. He beat another force of sixteen thousand plus a few thousand Teutonic Knights and chased the survivors over the border into Galicia. The rearguard – about nine thousand – tried to make a stand there, but he whipped them again and pushed on to Lwow. We were investing the city when I departed.”
“Can we take the city?”
“I see no reason why not, Your Majesty. I don’t believe the Poles have a field army worthy of the name any more. The fortifications of Lwow are old, and our engineers are very good.”
“This is good news indeed! And how are the new, smaller cohorts performing?”
“As well as we hoped, Your Majesty. The field commanders were skeptical about reducing their strength to only a thousand men, but the new cohort moves and maneuvers faster. Effectively, it gives us more officers for fewer troops, which gives us better control of those troops. They fought well, Your Majesty.”
“And modestly you take none of the credit yourself, eh, Simeon? Well, I know whose idea it was. And I know that Count Theros may have won victories, but he did so with an army you organized and officers you trained. And I am grateful!”
“There is some bad news, Your Majesty. Our offer to the Poles was rebuffed, so the war will continue. We have never taken the fight to the Poles in the past, so they have no reason to think that Lwow won’t hold out. As I say, I expect we can take the city – but a siege requires supplies and reinforcements as well as time.”
Mircea looked up and down the table at the piles of scrolls, vellum folios and bound books. He sighed and fingered one of the folders in the stack to his left. “This is the preliminary plan and estimate for a great cathedral of the western style, with flying buttresses and great windows of stained glass, all to the glory of God… I wanted to build it down by the old palace.”
He looked at Simeon with sorrowful eyes. “We cannot fight this war and build this church unless I go to the bankers… And after my brother’s excesses, I would rather not mortgage our revenues. And the master builder is pressing me to begin the project or release him to another commission in France. So. The General-and-Count will have his requisitions paid, Simeon – within reason! And you personally keep a close eye on his spending!”
He sighed again and prodded the stack of papers again. “My beautiful church… I thought the Emperor was supposed to have his way! And instead I always seem to have to choose what I must, and not what I want. My beautiful church…”
Hitchcock flipped through announcements and reports. Plague in Cyprus, Crete and Thrace – that was bad, but a logical consequence of shipping so many troops in and out of those provinces. He set the religion slider to equal tolerance for Orthodoxy, Islam and Catholicism, pushing tolerance for Protestants all the way to zero. The irony of the situation did not escape him; on many points of doctrine he thought the Orthodox and Protestants might have a great deal in common.
The months and years rolled by. Austria remained bogged down in unending wars in Germany and Italy, accomplishing nothing of note. Still, Hitchcock was relieved to see that Austrian attention was fixed on the west. 1545 became 1546, and that year grew old in turn.
The Polish declaration of war caught him completely by surprise – who declares war in November? There must be a Polish joke there, somewhere. He groused, and cursed. And then he jumped with surprise when a contralto voice said, “What is that?” into his left ear.
At first he thought Frank or Joe must be playing some kind of bizarre practical joke, but after a second he muted the music and dialed up the room lights. The woman standing beside his couch was Asian, young – no, he took that back. He couldn’t see any sign of age in the smooth face, but her posture – perfectly at rest, not tense but simply still – spoke of maturity. She bowed slightly and offered her hand. “I am very sorry if I surprised you. I was curious to see this game that Kevin tells me so much about, and I could not sleep. I am Seung Jin Lee, Kevin’s mother. Please call me Sue – everyone does.”
“I’m very pleased to meet you, Sue. I’m Hitchcock to my friends.”
She motioned at the equipment in the Gaming Area. “I had no idea all this was so complicated. I didn’t understand what Kevin was doing here, I only knew he was hurt, in some trouble. But Mister Thompkins took John and I to Kevin’s workshop today and let us try that new VR that he has been working on. It was amazing!”
Hitchcock nodded. “With the bugs worked out of it, that system will revolutionize entertainment. Your son is going to be wealthy and famous, I think.”
“So what is this, and why are you here alone in the middle of the night?”
As a younger man, Hitchcock would have used that as an opening for a chance to turn the conversation in a different direction. But he sensed no hidden meaning behind her words, just honest curiosity, so he answered directly.
“This is part game, part military and political simulation of the fifteenth through nineteenth centuries. Kevin was using this as the background for his VR program. Hooking the VR into the game lets you play the game by becoming one of the characters. You could become a Queen, rule your country, and play against your friends or just against the game program.”
He motioned at the vast map on the holostage. “Kevin started a game – a VR experience – as Wallachia, what we call Romania or Transylvania today. When the software was sabotaged, and he was looped in the VR, we kept the game running for his sake. Romania is an Empire now – wait, let me pull up the political map. It’s that gray area in the Balkans, Greece and western Turkey.” He shrugged. “Now, we’re keeping the game going so we can test out some new software. It creates scenes, like scenes in a play, using computer-generated characters. Here. Let me show you…”
The House of the Dragon, Spring of 1547
Paolo turned down a connecting corridor and Simeon stopped dead in his tracks. “You can’t go through there!” he hissed, but Paolo just grinned. “A lot has changed while you’ve been up north, my friend. The new Emperor moved all of his brother’s courtesans out of the palace and took over the space for offices.” He motioned, and Simeon started forward again, using his stick sparingly.
“Don’t mention wool taxes or sheep,” Paolo confided, leaning in close to be heard. The rain had been coming down hard all day long, and thick streams of water poured from the eaves and splashed past the windows. “That hasn’t gone well and His Majesty is a little sensitive about it.”
“You’d better tell me,” Simeon said wearily. “What now?”
“This Emperor isn’t much like his brother,” Paolo said. “A better man in some ways. Modest, pious, dresses plainly. Loves his wife, doesn’t host parties… devotes his time and energy to imperial matters and the church. He is simple in word and deed, and the nobles have started calling him the Shepherd – Cio Banul in the old tongue.”
“So what went wrong?” Simeon prompted. They had come to an alcove in the corridor, furnished with padded chests. Simeon sank down gratefully onto the nearest, and Paolo perched next to him.
“He decided to improve collection of the wool tax by requiring all sheep to be counted by the taxmen. So the army, the taxmen and the shepherds have all been chasing sheep for the last two months, and all of them are unhappy – including the sheep. ‘Cio Banul’ has become the punchline to a lot of tavern jokes.”
Simeon grimaced. “Well, let’s get this over with.” Another short connecting corridor brought them to a large suite that now served as library, map room and conference chamber for the Emperor. They passed by the guards and stopped before a wide table. The Emperor Mircea was busily scribbling on a letter, but he blotted the ink and looked up as they approached.
“Prince Simeon, so very good to see you! Be comfortable, both of you… wine? Refreshments? Ah… You bring good news, I hear!”
“Yes, Your Majesty, I have the honor of reporting not one victorious battle, but three. General Count Theros defeated an army of ten or twelve thousand, mostly Polish cavalry, at Miezur and destroyed it as a fighting force. I authorized him to pull in the border garrisons, after that – another eight cohorts – which brought him up to about twenty-five thousand of all arms. He beat another force of sixteen thousand plus a few thousand Teutonic Knights and chased the survivors over the border into Galicia. The rearguard – about nine thousand – tried to make a stand there, but he whipped them again and pushed on to Lwow. We were investing the city when I departed.”
“Can we take the city?”
“I see no reason why not, Your Majesty. I don’t believe the Poles have a field army worthy of the name any more. The fortifications of Lwow are old, and our engineers are very good.”
“This is good news indeed! And how are the new, smaller cohorts performing?”
“As well as we hoped, Your Majesty. The field commanders were skeptical about reducing their strength to only a thousand men, but the new cohort moves and maneuvers faster. Effectively, it gives us more officers for fewer troops, which gives us better control of those troops. They fought well, Your Majesty.”
“And modestly you take none of the credit yourself, eh, Simeon? Well, I know whose idea it was. And I know that Count Theros may have won victories, but he did so with an army you organized and officers you trained. And I am grateful!”
“There is some bad news, Your Majesty. Our offer to the Poles was rebuffed, so the war will continue. We have never taken the fight to the Poles in the past, so they have no reason to think that Lwow won’t hold out. As I say, I expect we can take the city – but a siege requires supplies and reinforcements as well as time.”
Mircea looked up and down the table at the piles of scrolls, vellum folios and bound books. He sighed and fingered one of the folders in the stack to his left. “This is the preliminary plan and estimate for a great cathedral of the western style, with flying buttresses and great windows of stained glass, all to the glory of God… I wanted to build it down by the old palace.”
He looked at Simeon with sorrowful eyes. “We cannot fight this war and build this church unless I go to the bankers… And after my brother’s excesses, I would rather not mortgage our revenues. And the master builder is pressing me to begin the project or release him to another commission in France. So. The General-and-Count will have his requisitions paid, Simeon – within reason! And you personally keep a close eye on his spending!”
He sighed again and prodded the stack of papers again. “My beautiful church… I thought the Emperor was supposed to have his way! And instead I always seem to have to choose what I must, and not what I want. My beautiful church…”
Have you ever read "pillars of the earth" by ken Follet?
You should, its nothing like his thrillers and is an astonishing work of historical novel
V
Finally an update!
You let a few worms, viruses, spyware, thunderstorms, dead telephone lines and power surges stop you from posting? What a whimp. Why when I was your age I didn't let any little measly bug stop me from posting.
There never seems to be enough money for everyting you want to do in a small country.
Joe
You let a few worms, viruses, spyware, thunderstorms, dead telephone lines and power surges stop you from posting? What a whimp.
Why when I was your age I didn't let any little measly bug stop me from posting. There never seems to be enough money for everyting you want to do in a small country.
Joe
So, a brief interlude for "Here There Be Worms", but I'm glad you have successfully slain/vanquished/tamed them and are back in the writing seat! And finally we meet Kevin's martial arts expert mother - but what is she going to do, exactly? Can't wait to find out (well, I can but not too long I don't think...)
Can't you harnish the worms and make them work FOR Joe and Frank?
Joe, exactly how old are you when you can call both Director and LD young man?
V
Joe, exactly how old are you when you can call both Director and LD young man?
V
It's good to hear that your connection to HistoryPark has been restored.
Two thoughts.
1) That new emperor seems to be a decent enough chap, even if he doesn't quite live up to Radu's impressive standards. Already you've given him a character of his own.
2) Based on your description of the Polish war thus far, it sounds like you're actually having an easy time of it... I could be very, very wrong, of course. Hopefully, the Poles will be more co-operative once you capture Lwow and peace can be speedily concluded.
Thanks for writing!
Two thoughts.
1) That new emperor seems to be a decent enough chap, even if he doesn't quite live up to Radu's impressive standards. Already you've given him a character of his own.
2) Based on your description of the Polish war thus far, it sounds like you're actually having an easy time of it... I could be very, very wrong, of course. Hopefully, the Poles will be more co-operative once you capture Lwow and peace can be speedily concluded.
Thanks for writing!
Wallachia - where the men are men and the sheep are scared?
It seems the devil has had quite a time with your computer lately. Hate it when that happens. Good to know all has been solved. And thanks for the answers. Religion slider hell, it seems. Still with just three to worry about, the Muslim revolt risk can't be too bad. Though I guess those territories still have some nationalism issues as well.
It seems the devil has had quite a time with your computer lately. Hate it when that happens. Good to know all has been solved. And thanks for the answers. Religion slider hell, it seems. Still with just three to worry about, the Muslim revolt risk can't be too bad. Though I guess those territories still have some nationalism issues as well.
