Without any hint on what the others are that's not a very useful hint, now is it? 
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horrendous deaths decades later was UTTERLY UNKNOWN, likewise with sterility etc.
This is NOT a moral consideration during development.
What WAS known was that the atomic bomb would likely be *powerful*, or to put it differently, a very efficient explosive.
Nation in arms, total war, etc. are developments separate from the development of the atomic bomb.
When the atomic bomb was developed, it was deemed an *efficient* alternative to carpet bombing /firestorm bombing. Certainly, there are (can be) moral issues with these.... But to link the moral issues with the atomic bomb is a major case of projection; the nuke-specific morality issues only *started* at the very end of the development cycle.
Ok, I'll admit, grenades was maybe not the right example.
A siege would've been, though (unless you're claiming that the besiegers were typically letting food for children through
And I maintain that Spain "gazed too long into the abyss"
When I was talking about the bomb I was talking about the author's take on it which will affect the tone and the discussions going on in the HOI3 section . Naturally , this doesn't reflect what the researchers knew or did not know in the actual scenario which is why the nukes were developed =P . As for the fire bombings , I never liked those either . For someone as gung ho and violent as I might seem to be , I actually deplore the civilian casualties of such things as systematic carpet bombing etc .
Without any hint on what the others are that's not a very useful hint, now is it?
Haha , There was a hint that Raul gave you back in Season II in the chapter where he was sinking into the circle of the wrathful .
Well... noone claimed the Spanish to be sacred, so no doubt they would use not very humane tactics from time to time...
As for nukesI'm a bit puzzeled by their existence too, but than again, we have too little information on the great war episode to judge that.
And Raul's hints, too long ago, and probably too vague again
As for nukesI'm a bit puzzeled by their existence too, but than again, we have too little information on the great war episode to judge that.
And Raul's hints, too long ago, and probably too vague again
Well... noone claimed the Spanish to be sacred, so no doubt they would use not very humane tactics from time to time...
As for nukesI'm a bit puzzeled by their existence too, but than again, we have too little information on the great war episode to judge that.
And Raul's hints, too long ago, and probably too vague again
ROFL or maybe you're too lazy ! XD
Speaking of laziness , update is 60% done it'll be up in the next 18 hours !
..I'm getting confused!
You've read this AAR for about 2 years and only now you're getting confused?
You've read this AAR for about 2 years and only now you're getting confused?
Well, the problem is the confusion is now getting outside the actual updates... This is a worrying development.
I've been in a state of confusion since the table of content...
That explains my (relative...) sanity, I skipped it
yes, I am!
ROFL Don't worry , more will be revealed in this season XD
..I'm getting confused!
The characters will definitely struggle with it because it'll be clearly in application be able to wipe out whole cities indiscriminately . That's definitely morally questionable just like indiscriminate bombing is . As a matter of fact , I never used bombing runs in the HOI2 game that targeted anything other than actual troops as a moral course . I won't say , however , if nukes were used or note XD You'll just have to see .
You've read this AAR for about 2 years and only now you're getting confused?
Haha , the meta-confusion sets in ! What confuses me is how you got your custom avatar back XD
I've been in a state of confusion since the table of content...
That explains my (relative...) sanity, I skipped it
ROFL . The Table of Contents needs to be more streamlined , actually . Any suggestions ? XD
Update is 85% complete . Actually more like 90%
Expect it in the next 2.5 hours !
Gaaa! The suspense is killing me!!!
Your patience is about to get rewarded XD Uploading now !
Chapter CXXXI: Rescue?
22 March 1643
The sound of a thunderclap raced through the air as winds attempted to topple the makeshift fabrics that made up the front command headquarters of the rebel army. Situated in a sweeping camp the Northern Army formed a crescent along one of the banks of the Ouse River just several miles south of York. Inside the commander's tent, lamps shook in the minor tempest and bits of moisture sprayed up from the disturbed river adding a chilling splash to the nightly atmosphere of the evening.
Standing amidst concerned ministers, the supreme commander of the rebel forces held his baton close to his left hip as if a spider had stung him on his side. He moved his gauntlet off of his right hand and wiped the sweat and mist off of his long beard. There was a soft hum of voices around him only interrupted by the howling wind. The officers had been talking for most of the night and some were so tired in their speech that it was as if they were carrying champagne on their tongues as they spoke.
A swift motion of the entranceway by one of the guards seized the commander's attention and he looked up to see a courier being escorted inside. “A message for General Devereux,” the young courier said quickly as he approached the table. “From Captain Edwards downriver with his compliments.”
General Devereux stroked his beard one last time as if to consider whether or not he should read the dispatch. Eventually he nodded the young man towards the other end of the table where a lieutenant promptly received the letters and handed them over to the commander-in-chief. Devereux went through it quickly and scanned them under the dim light of the lamp swaying above.
The rest of the room was silent as he read the report. When he finished, he carelessly handed it over to his lieutenant who began to pass it around to the captains in the tent. As the paper passed under the noses of each officer in the circuit of the table, each would in turn jolt their heads upward to their commander until the entire room laid their eyes on Devereux.
“We knew this would happen sooner or later, gentlemen,” Devereux began quietly. One of the officers held something up in his hands for Devereux to see. The commanding officer nodded and immediately, a metallic object was placed on the map below them. A small soldier of silver now stood atop Brighton and a silver figure of a ship accompanied it on the water next to that city.
“Twenty thousand heavily armed Spanish men. Fifteen thousand of them foot and the rest cavalry,” the officer placing the icons down recited from the letter.
As the men around the table gazed at the imposing stature of the silver soldier, the officer carefully retreated the smaller bronze figure that had been placed at Brighton earlier and moved it northwards towards London where another bronze piece awaited it.
“Captain Edwards also requests further orders now that he's unloaded his transports, sir,” the messenger spoke up suddenly. The young man was obviously as tired as the Captain might have been after such a long journey.
“Tell Captain Edwards that he has the Parliament's thanks for his fine service in evading the Spanish blockade and tell him that Colonel Lexington will see to his men.” Devereux nodded to one of his officers who saluted and followed the courier out of the tent.
“Even if Cromwell regroups with Fairfax south of the Thames, they'll still be outnumbered if the Spanish decide to move forward,” one of the officers spoke up as soon as the Colonel stepped out. Devereux nodded silently while keeping his eyes on the silver piece that was now dominating Sussex. “Their fifteen thousand to the enemy's twenty,” the officer continued.
“We have no choice, General,” another officer spoke up. “We must head south and hope that we reach London in time.”
“That would leave the entire northern front exposed!” one of the officers spoke up to object. “The Scots will return from this defeat soon and they'll find that there is nothing that separates them from the rear of our army and our exposed cities--”
“We gain more and more support every month,” yet another officer entered the discussion, “the people will resist the Scots--”
“You mean women and children will resist the Scots!” the dissenting officer shot back quickly. “Spanish support is strongest here and in Wales,” the young officer reiterated, “if we don't finish our campaign, we'll lose half the nation to Spanish hands!”
“No,” the targeted officer returned, “it will go to Scottish hands and the people of England will resist them more than the Spanish. The threat right now is that!” he raised his voice while jabbing a finger towards the silver figurine staring ominously upward towards London. “We can always come back to defeat these ragtag highlanders afterwards, but if we do not defeat that then this country is surely doomed.”
“Leave it to Fairfax and Crom--”
“We will head south,” Devereux finally spoke up. The discussions ceased and all of the men around the table looked towards their commanding officer. Most were not surprised: Devereux was an energetic commander, and he would not spare his men the southernly march if it meant it was the proper course to do in the war. “Colonel Stapleton, since you object to the march, I'm leaving you in charge of a group of horse along with the natural garrisons of the northern towns and whatever Captain Edwards unloads. You will succor where necessary and keep the Scots in check as we attempt to expel the Spaniards.”
Stapleton nodded with some dissatisfaction, but kept his attentive composure. “As you wish, sir,” he obediently replied.
“The rest of us will form tomorrow early in the morning and begin marching. Send word south to Fairfax to prepare a defense of London—that is where I believe the Spanish are going next. They want to end this war quickly and that is where they will strike first.” A page was quick to exit the room with the instructions. “For now, let's get some sleep. We have an army to rescue in a few weeks time—and, God willing—a country to save.”
---
Surprise Special Guest Author Calipah
Surprise Special Guest Author Calipah
He stared at the blank page for a moment. Cautiously he dipped the tip of his pen in the flask and applied it on the paper. Black on White. Could he say it veers on the realm of sexual elation? Almost like a virgin’s nuptial, deflowered in grace. Amusing. Taking a deep breath, he began to write:
Land of Persepolis paradise green! Do you remember me?
Deserts and mountains pale in the trek to the Holy Abode of your being.
Painful depart! How I missed your nurturing embrace adored one.
Oh beloved Persia, answer mine questions.
Have the kosmos decreed thee a mockery of all beauty?
Or have the ancient gods created you a testament, an Aphrodite made real?
Know that alone your lilac air I breathe, your lavender waters I yearn to drink,
my heart and soul are yours as the downtrodden Qays was to untouchable Layla.
Driven to the fringes of madness in the rapturous passion of your worship,
you will find no faithful servant or lover as I.
My word is stronger than Alexander’s,
and know that the very son of Nishapur
could not describe the richer love that is hidden.
He wrote the Rubbayiat, I live the verses of his poetry.
But what do I ask? A glance alone to perceive the depths.
I ask but that, the ever lowly slave appealing at the gates of your greatness and splendor!
Satiate my desire you seductive enigma,
for a conscious moth you have made me to your flame.
Can there be a worse fate?!
Darkness to extinguish the light.
They call such sentiment evil. But what is evil but a void?
Or is it? Zoroaster, Mani, tell me without delay, has the balance broken last?
A shattered world is it that I rule in mine Persia?!
Yet again I kneel before the altar of History past, to sacrifice the boar of temporal now. Do I invoke the spirit of a Cyrus or Shapur?
Will fortune bring another Valerian or a sacked Cstephon?
The oracle is broken, its waters a cesspool of filth.
The image is murky. Destiny? Is that you?
A will of a God made resplendent in the actions of men?
It is settled then. Dreams of Al-Firdausi. King of Kings.
I must take the sword out of the scarab and fight the evil,
the great ominous serpent of a yonder sea…
He lifted his trembling hand from the manuscript. The strokes of his pen had lost their balance; the characters now more like thorned roses than the pristine twists of Damascene steel. He laid his quilted pen gently on the side and sighed wearily. It would be best to leave the riled up spirit of the muse to calm. Confusion of a trickster mind, epic prose foundered by the hanging shadow of statesmanship. Not a Gilgamesh, but can he not even have a moment of respite? I am a slave in King’s attire and my name has become Bade'h al-Zaman
“Ghulam” he murmured softly. An echo rang throughout the high ceiled chambers.
“Mein Shahinshah?” came the answer from the other side of the hall.
“Has the Diwan assembled?” he asked. A moment of hesitant silence passed.
“Mein Khalifah, they are always at the ready.”
He nodded his head and sighed. Steadily, he lifted his body off the cushioned seat, taking care not to entangle his robes. He cast a defeated look at the scattered papayri. “Mine enemy” he whispered with a faint smile, and turned towards the double doors at the end of the arched hallway. The Saradukar jolted to attention, their golden armor banging slightly against the marble of the floor.
Glancing coyly, he nodded in acknowledgement. His steady steps bespoke the immensity of his weighty crown, his slanted shoulders its toll. Behind him immediately gaited the ‘shadow’ retinue, ever there at his service, but espousing the sinister impression of distance and even absence. Fool’s gold this claim to the absolute be. The richly decorated wooden doors, sprinkled with playful gyros and springs, swung open, the slaves at its sides bowing mechanically in row.
As he entered the chambers, the faint murmur hushed into dreadful silence. Before him, clad in the robes of Imperial regalia, the Viziers, Walis, Amirs, and Askari Qayds – the collective Diwan of the Empire. The select crowd of fifteen men bounded a mural chiseled on the floor. It displayed the holdings of the Safavid Caliphate, a green hue immersing the ancient Orient and expanding in every direction. In the customary manner, he lifted his right hand in salutation. The Diwan accordingly fell to its knees in reverence to the King of Kings. When he at last rested his hand by his side, they slowly rose to their weary feet.
He took his seat at the throne near the head of the mural and adjusted his turbaned diadem. He examined their faces intently. They had little beady eyes, almost pigeon-like in quality. Did they show an Eastern wile or capricious delusion? He could not yet decide. He licked his lips slightly; let the little game commence: “I am in no mood for formalities today – mince your words lest your heads pay the price of loose tongues” he turned pensively towards the black-robed Ninevehian, and posed “How goes the task so far?”
The emaciated Iraqi fidgeted a bit, but quickly composed himself “Majesty, the last of the frigates are nearly finished. The pathways however, will take another week or so to lay out properly. We have encountered some difficulties with the terrain near the coast.” The Caliph fingered the orb of his ring anxiously “Will the Isphani catch wind of it?” The Iraqi shook his head “They are lulled into thinking that they have bought the peace with Al-Quds. We have even delivered them the full amount of the purchase – stacks of bullion, but a trifling sum from your stupendous treasury Excellency and we made sure to send our most powerful Qatil pretending to be our emissary along with the gold. Besides, if the Shahinshah would allow my humble interjection, but the sight of a fleet built in the middle of the wastelands of Mosul would surly give any interlocutor the conclusion that its vessels are destined but to the Euphrates alone. The Turkish Trick was done only once before, and I doubt any mind could stretch to the height of our genius. They will not see this blow coming and they shall reel from it. I swear it.”
“Do not tamper our endeavor with your evil eye Hassan” the Caliph alleged bemusingly “And what of that Firanji?”
A jovial Governor bowed slightly at his words, the colorful dishdasha and blue turban he championed displayed the whimsical style of the new Egyptian nobility. “Beg your pardon, he is Inglezi your Majesty” the Governor corrected cheekily “Mr. Fran’cis Bayyakani has… served the Empire well before his death. The other Franks we have in our pay pale in comparison to his stature. ” Apprehension and awkward silence
“Do they work? His contraptions…” the Caliph asked grudgingly.
“They explode I can grant you that” the Governor admitted solemnly “They are unwieldy, but given enough time, we shall master them God willing.”
Sigh, a fool’s errand? Better turn to another subject “Have the emissaries returned?” he inquired.
“The Muslims in Hindustan are solidly behind us and will defect to our cause. The Emperor in Dongjing is receptive but has exhibited uncertainty. The Russ on the other hand are still aching for another punch. The Czar says he will parlay with us in a joint offensive if we are truly intent on one” rejoined a youthful Emir “As for the corsairs and pirates in Dejerba, they have told us that they will support us only if we show a presence in Isphani Ifriqya. They do not wish to repeat the same mistake again. This is a relatively easy task with our contingents in Tarablus. A rebellion is very likely”
The Caliph bit his lower lip asking“And the Brotestanti?”
At this a staunch Minister crouched to his knees and traced his finger along the Danube and then the Rhine, resting it on the area designated in Farsi as Alemania “Our contact has informed us that, given enough dinars and support, he can orchestrate an uprising throughout the northern reaches of this area. There is also news of unrest in…” he moved his finger listlessly to the Lowlands “…Hollanda and…” he jumped to the isle “…the island of Ingeltra. This could prove to be an asset in the coming war, Mein Khalifah” he reflected “The Isphani armada is off the coast of Hollanda. This gives us enough time to assemble our ships and launch them into the Mediterranean.”
Jafar, the veteran who had conquered Al-Quds in the first war and who had been silent up to that moment, spoke up with a slight 'tap to his scarab.' “This is an opportune moment Mein Shahinshah. The straits are undefended, and the whole breadth of the Middle sea is open to our forces. We can strike anywhere, from Qustantiniyyah to Roma. The chains are ready and if the corsairs join us, we can bottle up the Mediterranean before the Armada can even react. Allah smiles upon our endeavor, His will be done.” An Empire of a thousand nations, in every direction gaining tract, rolling hills of soldiers and bureaucrats, gunpowder smoke ascending to the heavens, the sign of a revitalized Islam.
He closed his eyes for a moment, to contemplate, to meditate the cost of his bhaktic action. Old battles these be...Valerian's crown or a ruined Cstephon?
“Kill the Rum.”
Interlude
“You killed him...” Trey stuttered. He felt numb. He felt like his entire body was being encased in a fixture of ice. Even the hot water on his back was like a chilling blanket covering his entire frame.
“Trey, we have to get out of here,” Natasha spoke up as she stepped further into the room, but she stopped herself halfway as soon as she became aware of the impropriety of simply walking up to him.
“You killed him...” Trey repeated. His eyes wandered to the still body next to his stall. In the white haze of his vision, an invasion of red pulled his eyes down to his feet. The blood was slowly moving towards his toes... His breath left him.
“Trey!” Natasha called out to him again as the young man stepped back to the rear wall of the stall at the horror of red liquid swirling into the drain. “We have to leave! Randall's waiting outside with the car, we have to go now!”
Trey looked up at the young lady and looked at those pleading eyes. He knew that she could not come any closer: he knew he had to get out of that shower himself. He kept his eyes on Natasha as if they would provide a rope to pull up out of this dark hole that was surrounding him. He fumbled at the wall behind him without taking his eyes off the girl and managed to switch the water off. His hand reached over the stall door and pulled his towel to him.
Trey swung the towel around his torso and pushed the door open. He avoided the startling image of Jim laying on the tiles and stepped wide enough over the pooling blood to clear the body. He immediately felt a rush of vertigo as he cleared the young man, but he forced himself to rush forward towards Natasha's figure.
Natasha started grabbing Trey's clothes from the bench along with his belongings. “There's no time to get dressed, you can do that once we get you out of here...”
They both began running, but not before the figure of Jim turned over. By the time they were both in the hall, the shot young man began to reach for his phone. “Stop their escape...” the whisper went out.
Chapter CXXXII: Escape! (coming soon)
Ah! Another great chapter with brilliant imagination and eloquence. From Devereux to Islam, a leap of writing without a black mark in the transmutation of the narrative. A showerscene with suspense at the end crowns the whole affair of reading this chapter with an exhausted smile. Excellent work, sir! I can tell your hardest part to write was the poetic part, whcih, might I say, was well worth it!
Ah! Another great chapter with brilliant imagination and eloquence. From Devereux to Islam, a leap of writing without a black mark in the transmutation of the narrative. A showerscene with suspense at the end crowns the whole affair of reading this chapter with an exhausted smile. Excellent work, sir! I can tell your hardest part to write was the poetic part, whcih, might I say, was well worth it!
Thank you so much for the high praise ! XD very flattering ! That part with the Persians was by my good friend calipah so he gets the credit. XD
Man, if a spider bit me on the hip, I would be doing more than putting a baton there. I would jumping around, going all Christian Bale on its arse.
And all those poor dung beetles. If only the Persians would stop putting swords into them and use their scabbards instead.
BTW another great episode. I loved it. I'm suddenly in the mood to go off to read some Omar Khayyam.
And all those poor dung beetles. If only the Persians would stop putting swords into them and use their scabbards instead.
BTW another great episode. I loved it. I'm suddenly in the mood to go off to read some Omar Khayyam.
ROFL , spiders are nasty creatures . XD And don't ask me about the scarab , that was in Calipah's transliteration XD he told me it was an idiomatic expression .
Man, I visualized Christian Bateman, erm..., Bale, doing that. It hurts
Haha . Oh you guys XD
Wow! Give my regards to Calipah! I thoroughly enjoyed his section on the ShahinShah's choice.
TheExecuter
TheExecuter