Timelines: What if Spain Failed to Control the World?

ColossusCrusher said:

It's true...<cocks shotgun, hears twig break, glances around nervously, breaks and runs>

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ROFL you guys are crazy XD

Murmurandus: with cover-up sprinkles !

Kurt_Steiner: ROFL Return of the Murmy . Gosh , that's awesomely too good not to use XD You must elaborate !

Estonianzulu said:

Bugs Bunny is a Viking, they know nothing of pyramids.

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ROFL . I see the theme of baldness continues !

Murmurandus: Haha , but the question is : do you have the accent ? XD

Avernite said:

I come back in here to find canonized has turned to writing erotic stories


Grubby and Kurt, what did you do to this poor upstanding Catholic to turn him into such an archetypal lustful young man?

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ROFL . There was nothing erotic about it at all ! - cries - XD

But now for another inter-season showcase !

Editor's Notes said:

At first when I had asked phargle to do an inter-seaso showcase for us , I had expected something more along his style : funny , unique , a parody perhaps in the most creative of traditions . However , after he finished his epic comedic piece , he surprised me with this wonderful little tribute to the Timelines style of Anachronism , Mystery , and Intrigue . Hope you all enjoy !

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Don Alejandro sat alone in the dark room. He had been at his desk for hours, just as he had been for the last three days. When the sun slipped into the western ocean, he reacted like an automaton, neither rising nor changing the direction of his gaze as he reached out to light the candle already on his desk. When he distantly became aware that the cold wind whipping off the night-time waters had crept into the room, he shrugged with extended lethargy into the blanket hanging off his chair. His throat was dry, so he sipped some wine. He was hungry, but he did not eat. Only when eye strain prevented him from staying awake any longer did he turn away from it - the small wooden box on his desk. And when he slept, he dreamt of nothing else.


Alejandro woke up suddenly when he heard someone entering his quarters. He sat upright in a fright, and the muscles in his body went from aching to primed back to aching before his mind realized the intruder was only a servant.

"Don Alejandro," the young man stammered in the thick local accent. His tone was apologetic. "You scared me."

Alejandro squinted as the servant pulled open the curtains. "Felipe?" he asked uncertainly. He wasn't yet sure of his surroundings. His mind was groggy, and the pain in his body and the tenseness in his arms still registered. It blocked out everything useful. Shaking his head, he looked questioningly at the boy.

"You said something?"

"Yes, Don Alejandro," the servant said. "It is Don Francisco. He is in the courtyard to see you."

"Very well. Thank you, Felipe."

"Don Alejandro?"

"Yes, Felipe?"

"Do you know you have a knife in your hand?"

At that, Alejandro turned and saw why his servant was alarmed. His right hand clutched a heavy dagger with disturbing intensity and had been raised to strike during the entire conversation. He had armed himself, nearly killing his servant, and he hadn't even noticed. Carefully, quietly, Alejandro lowered his arm and let go of the dagger.

"I am sorry, Felipe," Alejandro said slowly, trying to keep his voice from sounding rattled. "Tell Don Francisco I will see him."

The servant eagerly complied.


In the sun-lit courtyard of Don Alejandro's villa, amidst the Moorish orange trees that prospered in the California sun, Don Francisco waited. You could learn a great deal from a man by noting his surroundings, the aristocrat pondered to himself. The great crucifix on the wall, for example, or the distance from Alejandro's villa to nearby Los Angeles, or even the very orchard in which he stood – all these things told Francisco about the man he had come to see. Don Alejandro wanted to be left alone. Don Alejandro wanted to be thought an aristocrat, yet wanted nobody to come see him as such. And he knew Don Alejandro kept late nights and rigorously practiced his fencing . . . but with no need to do either. Grinning with smirking delight, the Spaniard crossed his arms and drummed his gloved fingers with excited, nervous energy. He had not yet spoken to Alejandro and already he knew so much. By the time the tired and distracted Alejandro stepped into the courtyard, the only fact Francisco saw fit to add to his analysis was that Alejandro was armed with a sword; but then, he had anticipated that as well.

"Don Alejandro!" the Spaniard exclaimed with affected warmth. Spreading his arms and grinning, he bowed deeply. Alejandro nodded curtly in response as Francisco stood up.

"I have not had the pleasure," Alejandro noted defensively. "Don Francisco, I presume?" Francisco continued grinning and tilted his face affirmatively. "I apologize for keeping you waiting, but I. . ."

"I did not know you were a swordsman," Francisco interrupted smoothly. "And I do not need apologies when it is I who am intruding upon your schedule," he added. "Had I known you kept late hours, naturally I would have adjusted my arrival time accordingly."

Alejandro nodded blankly. Francisco flashed yet another of his wide grins before continuing.

"You were trained in Spain?"

"Was I trained in Spain. . ." Alejandro repeated with some distraction. Responding with more confidence, he added, "No, Florence."

"Di Grassi?" Francisco asked with intent interest.

"I. . . yes," Alejandro responded.

"And you lived in Florence?"

"Yes," Alejandro said flatly. "Don Francisco, can I help you?"

Francisco laughed. "Don Alejandro, if I did know any better, I would say that you do not like me!"

"It is not that, Francisco," Alejandro frowned, hoping to hide a lie with another lie. "I am merely tired. Please accept my apologies."

"But of course, but of course," Francisco quickly replied. "And I should apologize in turn for putting you in this mood."

Alejandro said nothing. Francisco was setting off his finely-tuned sense of paranoia, and he was unwilling to cede any more of the advantage to the cocky aristocrat. At least he had seen fit to bring a blade to the discussion. Francisco was unarmed, which meant even if he was not alone. . .

"Are you alone?" Alejandro asked suddenly.

Francisco raised his eyebrows in feigned curiosity. "Alone, Don Alejandro? Even an ascetic noble such as myself requires servants, and I have several waiting with my horses. And what of you? Do you have servants in your villa?"

Alejandro looked away, hoping his face didn't betray him. "I have servants."

"Felipe is a fine young boy," Francisco responded savagely.

Alejandro sharply met his gaze again.

"I ask again, Don Francisco. If I can help you, then state your purpose. Otherwise. . ."

"Otherwise, you have much more pressing things to do," Don Francisco finished with a hungry smile. "Tell me, Don Alejandro, when you first found it."

Alejandro froze. His skin went hot and then cold, and he breathed deeply to calm the panic that started to seize him as he saw Francisco's practiced nobleman's pose relax into something far more suited to combat. The stance hinted at martial talent Francisco should not have.

Francisco stopped grinning and spoke slowly and quietly. "You can't possible think that you could hide it from His Holiness forever."

"I don't need to hide it forever," Alejandro growled.

"Of course you don't," Francisco snapped, and leapt forward as Alejandro pulled his sword. Grabbing Alejandro about the throat, he landed three swift punches to the ribs and knocked the sword aside before letting go. Stunned at the speed and brutality of the attack, Alejandro fell to the ground in dazed pain.

"That hot agony you feel are the ribs I broke," Francisco began to lecture. Pacing about Alejandro like a jackal, he shook his head and kicked the sword across the courtyard. "Don't bother getting up," he dismissively added when he saw Alejandro trying to stand.

Alejandro groaned and lurched away like a broken doll, blinking through the pain. He was a strong man and an experienced fighter, but he had not expected Francisco to be so fast or precise. The way he attacked, the efficiency of motion, it all reminded him of . . . his mind shut down that line of thought. Francisco was faster and stronger, he knew that, but Alejandro knew from hard experience that speed and strength could be overcome. You were trained for this, Alejandro told himself. Keep him at bay. Just get yourself some time. Let him think he has won. Let him make a mistake. The pain in the ribs left his balance in confusion and his eyes clouded with dark splotches. Staggering and favoring one side, he clumsily supported himself on one of the columns at the courtyard's edge. Trying to keep his distance while his vision returned, he called out to the Spaniard.

"Don Francisco!" he shouted, his breath ragged. "How did you find out?"

"His Holiness is not a stupid man," Francisco replied as he advanced calmly across the courtyard. "And, as you have no doubt guessed" – at that, he closed with one quick stride, splintering with a barely-missed kick the wood of the column near Alejandro's head – "we have spies everywhere!"

Alejandro stumbled backwards from the exploding wooden beam and bumped into the small shrine Francisco had earlier admired. He reached to catch himself and failed, pulling the crucifix and a clatter of coins, bowls and candles down with him onto the cobblestone path. Francisco kept pace as Alejandro fled, pausing only when he fell. There the two men paused, with Alejandro on his back, an arm raised to protect his face from the man now standing over him.

"Traitor," Francisco sneered. "You are beaten, my dear Alejandro, and I care not if you choose surrender or death." The Spaniard chuckled menacingly at those prospects. "Felipe is a fine young boy. His Holiness will soon own what you spend so many nights pondering. Quite frankly, I expected this to not be so easy."

"Did you?" mumbled Alejandro. With apparent pain, he put his palms on the pile of debris he had knocked down and slowly eased himself up.

"Not really," Francisco replied, and swung a fist at Alejandro's face. Suddenly standing quickly, Alejandro turned and took the punch in his left arm as he charged his shoulder into Francisco, knocking the Spaniard back. He felt his arm break from the strike, but Francisco was left off-balance. With a wide arc, Alejandro smashed the crucifix he had hidden behind his back into Francisco's temple, collapsing his foe's skull with one solid blow. Francisco fell backwards into the sunny courtyard and collapsed at the foot of one of the orange trees. The lifeless body twitched for moments and then stopped moving.

"Jesus Christ," Alejandro swore in English, returning at once to his British accent. He dropped the crucifix and picked up his sword, running with a limping gait to his study. There he found what he knew he would.


"Felipe," Alejandro said. He was surprised at how betrayed he sounded. Felipe whirled around in a panic.

"They took it, Don Alejandro!" the young man cried.

Alejandro just nodded. "And how did they find it?"

"I don't know."

"I am sorry, Felipe."

"Me too, Don Alejandro," Felipe said sadly.


Turning away from his dead servant, Alejandro dropped the now-bloodied blade to the stone floor. A shout echoed from the courtyard; that confirmed what Alejandro already suspected – Francisco's men were still in the villa. Moving as quickly as he could with a broken arm and several broken ribs, he peeled off his shirt and kicked off his boots as he walked painfully into his study. Knocking aside a portrait from the wall revealed a hidden space, and he reached in to take the small object stored there. He finished undressing and shut the door behind him. He could hear the men getting close now. Pressing a button on the object, he spoke into it.

"I have been compromised."

A pause.

"They have it."

Another pause. The sound of several armored soldiers running towards his location echoed in the hallway. Alejandro could hear one of them shouting at the sight of Felipe's dead body.

"I need to get out," he added finally.

The people outside rushed the door and slammed into it, nearly knocking it open in one go. Someone slammed into it a second time, and then a third, and then the sound of a pistol filled the hall as a large metal ball tore the lock away. A half-dozen men rushed into the room to confront Alejandro, but could only look around the small chamber with mystified horror.

The room was empty. Don Alejandro was gone.

ColossusCrusher said:

We know it's not erotic, it's just that since it can be misconstrued as such, it will be.

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ROFL you guys really are mean XD

Murmurandus said:

Oh, God! He has taken over phargle too!!!!

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ROFL ! oh pish posh .

Kurt_Steiner: Kurt's my older Catalan brother , of course he bullies me =( .

Grubnessul: Internet Culture and its websites (I'm not going to name them here ) is in the 8th circle of hell . I will not have that monstrosity rear its ugly head here !

Kurt_Steiner: A porn star ?! . I .. . I .... I'm so scandalised XD

Enewald said:

oooh, Alejandro, who-ever-he-was/is, escaped!

It's spam all the way up to 5000?

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I do wonder if phargle's going to want to continue the story sometime XD . Either way it also works as a stand alone XD . Please give him your comments and tell him what you think ! One of the great things about the Inter-Season showcase is that we can see the different writing styles of different authors and readers and can give them some feedback as they experiment in the Timelines universe !