I seem to have been too optimistic, if 16 days it is for update nr 1.
Well, let's hope the longer wait gives better updates.
-
We have updated our Community Code of Conduct. Please read through the new rules for the forum that are an integral part of Paradox Interactive’s User Agreement.
I seem to have been too optimistic, if 16 days it is for update nr 1.
Well, let's hope the longer wait gives better updates.
You are forgiven, my son.
Now do an act of contrition, 3 Hail Mary's, an update, and let the Dutch win for a change.
Well, here's a map of the real Battle of Rocroi. Open fields, my friends, open fields--no nice passes to block with sweaty, shirtless Spaniards...
300 men try to stand outside the fortress, they are simply doomed against 30,000. Inside the fortress--Rocroi is a impressive piece of work, and the siege would last a while, but it would be a matter of time before the larger host stormed the city...
...I think the 300 Spaniards march to their doom, barring a miracle.
300 men try to stand outside the fortress, they are simply doomed against 30,000. Inside the fortress--Rocroi is a impressive piece of work, and the siege would last a while, but it would be a matter of time before the larger host stormed the city...
...I think the 300 Spaniards march to their doom, barring a miracle.
i hate to ask but since this is such a high prased ARR you should make it in to some kind of book or something on like PDF so people could download it off here cuz i am new and i would like to read the whole thing but i never have that much time to go through 347 pages and read everything. Just an idea i thought i give you
There is a table of contents with links to every update, so you don't have to go through all the pages.
As for the pdf, I tried to make one, but there's A LOT of work involved in doing so, mainly since everything would have to be copied and then reformatted, including the pictures, so that everything was in its proper place.
Too much work involved, for me anyway...
But the table of contents works nicely...
And what's that supposed to mean ? XD
No update in 16 days
Well i'm back from the weekend now . Exhausted as hell , but oh man . I need to talk to you asap .
Haha , I won't XD Resources is a good word for what will help good ole Spain survive , right ?
Maybe it's time you stop retreating and start advancing.
once more unto the breach !
I seem to have been too optimistic, if 16 days it is for update nr 1.
Well, let's hope the longer wait gives better updates.
I promise it'll be quality stuff . I'm making sure that they are updates that I'm going to enjoy .
Haha , did you know that if you think a particular penance is too hard , you can actually go to a different priest for confession again and get a new penance ?
Well, here's a map of the real Battle of Rocroi. Open fields, my friends, open fields--no nice passes to block with sweaty, shirtless Spaniards...
300 men try to stand outside the fortress, they are simply doomed against 30,000. Inside the fortress--Rocroi is a impressive piece of work, and the siege would last a while, but it would be a matter of time before the larger host stormed the city...
...I think the 300 Spaniards march to their doom, barring a miracle.
Well , let's not forget whatever troops there might be in Paris . France won't go undefended XD
the pdf is a dream of mine that I literally would need a week to compile considering the schedule . Especially with it difficult to just get out with an update I think i'll focus on updates for now . Thank you , Slevin for your praise
I do indeed hope you use the table of contents and please give us comments as you go along we would love to hear them !Update in the next 24 hours !
Was it the "update" or the "let the Dutch win" part that made you consider finding a new priest?
the pdf is a dream of mine that I literally would need a week to compile considering the schedule . Especially with it difficult to just get out with an update I think i'll focus on updates for now . Thank you , Slevin for your praise
Unless you found a program better than the one I found, a week is a dream.
I think it would take 15m or so, per update, for it to look as it does in the forum.
A way to do it, would be to get a team to compile it over a period of time.
Chapter CXLIX: Foundation / Late Repentant
9 May 1643
The white light that had enveloped him earlier was not hot nor was it painful to the eyes. Matthijs would reach out in that seemingly endless chamber and his fingertips could barely feel a kind of ethereal mistiness to the bright atmosphere around him. His body seemed lighter than it was before and he wasn't sure if he was falling backward or standing on some toy ball precariously wobbling in all directions.
“Where am I?” Matthijs asked.
A voice like an echo replied to him. “This is your universe, Matthijs. The one you wished to create. You will build the foundation here.”
The boy's eyes closed and his lids weighed down onto his face as if heavy hands were holding his eyes shut. In that darkness underneath his eyelids, it felt as if hours passed by although he must have only breathed twice in the interval. “Have I been here long?” Matthijs was able to ask after finally opening his eyes.
The figure of the young man he had seen earlier was present in front of him like a face shrouded with a cloud of white light.
The demeanor of the other one was stoic and his eyes sagged tiredly like some travelers he'd met from the Asia fresh off the galleons that had burgeoned from the colonies in China. “Yes you have,” the voice responded to him although Matthijs would have sworn he did not see the young man's lips move. “But here you are not bound by time... You can rest here for as long as you wish.”
“But what must I do now? I can't afford to waste time here...” Matthijs asked as he reached out to the figure. He was surprised to find that he could no longer see his arm in front of him although he still felt himself reaching forward. His surprise was sedated by the soothing white light around him. “Why can I not see my hand?” he asked suddenly although there was little actual distress in his voice. To his surprise, however, as soon as he finished his query, his arm reappeared.
“Move your mind through the light and you will make what you desire,” the boy instructed him. “Through your thoughts you can control the world around you.”
“How is that possible?” Matthijs suddenly protested as he shot his confused eyes towards the apparition.
“This is the Secret that those around you have wished to keep from you. This is the Secret from which your former Church and country have held from you. This is the real power of the what the Timepiece can accomplish.”
“Power...” Matthijs repeated fearfully as he pondered those words.
“This is the foundation of your universe, Matthijs. What you wish to happen here can be done.”
“But I thought Katja said that I would need the Timepiece for that,” the confused Matthijs interjected, “how is this possible without it?”
“She is correct. It is only through the Timepiece that you can make what you believe to be real. It is what binds your mind to reality. It is the infinite potentiality. With it, you can finally reject the world you know and bring about the world that you were robbed of.” Those last words echoed inside the endless chamber like the residue of tintinnabulating bells melting in the background. “It is what allows you to take what you imagine and want and form the world with it. Here: this is only the confines of your self. This place is your reality only.”
“So how do I do it?,” Matthijs asked after a moment, “how do I start making my own universe even in this place?”
The visage in front of him approached him quietly intensifying in light until only the outlines of those eyes and lips remained visible. “Creating a universe is an act of genesis. It requires something of you.” The voice and face moved closer until Matthijs could feel the other's presence directly in front of his face. It was then that a sudden sensation arose in him. He gasped.
“What are you doing?” Matthijs shouted violently.
“Perhaps this would make it easier for you,” the other responded. The face faded and for a moment the only thing Matthijs could see was the ambient light surrounding him until an outline began to reveal itself again. It was a face he could recognize as the dark lines began to fill in the emptiness of the white noise around him.
“Katja...” Matthijs only muttered astoundingly before the same sensation hit him and he gasped once more.
“Is this better?” was Katja's voice coming from that face. Matthijs had a surge, a charge run through his body before gasping again almost painfully. A short moan escaped him through his nose. The sensation was emanating from all over his body now.
“What is going on?” Matthijs took in his breaths sharply. All he could see were Katja's eyes staring at him and those lips curving into a grin. They approached slowly through the ethereal air and those outlines made contact with his face as another surge erupted through him. Whiteness enveloped him again. He felt his body tense up before the a flash forced words out of his mouth: “שַׁדַּי " He closed his eyes...
---
Íñigo woke up suddenly from his dream and looked around himself fitfully. His eyes could make out the lumbering, mountainous outline of Lope sleeping on the other end of the small chamber using some straw to separate him from the wooden planks below. The sweat was pouring down Íñigo's forehead as he reached up to swipe it away with his sleeve. The only light in the room was coming from the thin slit of luminescence that was creeping into the chamber from underneath the door. Íñigo could see Diego's shoes move across the hallway outside working as the watch for that evening.
He was surprised to see, however, two glowing spheres in the darkness of the room shining like hidden emeralds. Opposite the door and to his right, Belmont was evidently awake with his back against the wall and his weapons laying alongside him as he crossed his legs. Íñigo stared at those still eyes wondering for a moment if Belmont slept with his eyes open or whether he was truly awake. When a smile creased the Swiss's face, Íñigo had his answer. “Bad dream?” Belmont asked quietly.
“I've been having a lot of them...” Íñigo responded as he scratched his head noticing the sweat sticking to his fingers from his greased hair.
“When I was younger, I used to enjoy going to sleep. I thought that it was an adventure every time. When I was young, I could dream about anything. Fighting and besting monsters, being an emperor with a vast kingdom, having beautiful women...” Belmont grinned wider when Íñigo looked down with some embarrassment. “Now I don't like the dreams I have. Nowadays my dreams are darker and they keep me up at nights.”
Íñigo pulled himself up against the wall as well and pulled his knees up towards his chest. It was cold in the north even in the spring seasons and although they were rooming in a large warehouse on the outskirts of Oslo for the night, it did not stop the chill from entering into the halls and rooms. Íñigo pulled the only blanket they had available around his short frame and released a short shiver before tightening his grip on the thin fabric.
“I was thinking about what you told me the other day, Mister Belmont,” Íñigo said. “about how you've made the Church wait for you and now you have to wait to be brought back in.”
Belmont shifted his eyes skyward as if in contemplation as he remembered their conversation. “There's not a day I don't think about it. Being outside of the Church is dangerous, Íñigo. It's like throwing away your invitation to get into the most lavish party in town even though you're a poor street rat that has nothing to eat.”
Íñigo had to decipher the analogy for a minute before asking: “But don't you think if it was that obvious people wouldn't do it?” Íñigo asked almost defensively.
Belmont nodded. “Yes, but many times it isn't obvious.” Here, the Swiss soldier laughed ruefully. “And it's mostly our fault, too. Have you ever seen the street urchins in Madrid, Íñigo?”
“Only sometimes,” Íñigo admitted as he similarly looked up to gather his thoughts, “though I tend to stay away from them: Lope always tells me that they'll steal from us faster than we can think it. In some ways they can be more dangerous than Lope and I... or maybe just that much more desperate.”
“Do you ever see them eating from the garbage?” was Belmont's next question.
“Of course,” Íñigo replied.
“Could you imagine if garbage was all you've ever eaten your entire life? If you never knew anything else, it's hard to trust someone who says 'if you clean yourself up, then you can eat real food.' Most of us will just keep getting dirty in the trash since we're comfortable eating it even if it's killing us on the inside.”
“It sounds like you've thought about this a lot,” Íñigo replied as he looked downward to Belmont who was still looking at the ceiling above them.
“It's easy when that kind of thing happens to you. I guess I only get to be an Old Testament prophet about it because I've been there. I've had my fill of the muck.” Belmont turned to face his young companion. “I'm sure it's been shown to you before,” Belmont said almost mysteriously.
“When?” Íñigo sat up curiously.
“Do you know why you go to Mass every Sunday? That's not very usual for a mercenary is it?”
Íñigo looked down in thought for a second while pressing his jaw upward was if he was trying to bite onto the question and taste it. “I guess I go because Lope goes,” Íñigo replied.
“And why do you follow Lope to Mass?” Belmont asked quickly as if anticipating the response already.
Íñigo had to think about that one very carefully and he had to furrow his brow quietly to contemplate what he was about to say as if he was carefully decanting wine out of an old wineskin. “He didn't go as often as he does now,” Íñigo said as he thought about it. The more he spoke, the easier the words seemed to flow from him. “I knew that because whenever he did decide to go, he would go to the chapel attached to my orphanage. When some of the brothers talked to him, he would go with them sometimes to deliver foodstuffs to the nearby villages as paid protection since there were, sometimes, highway robbers. I remember, though, that he was a violent man back then. Even when I was young I could recognize danger when I saw it. The other children would talk amongst themselves about how dangerous he was and how we should stay away from him, but I never listened to them.
“Eventually, the chapel couldn't afford to hire any men for protection along the highways since money was becoming a problem. The orphanage was taking in the boys that had lost fathers in all of the wars that were going on. They could barely afford to feed us all. Lope resented it at the time. He thought that even when he tried to be sincere with God, that he was robbed.
“When the other boys and I would sometimes sneak out into the town after the friars went to sleep, I would catch a glimpse of him drinking at the tavern and always having loose women around him. There were rumours that went around that he was one of the best swords for hire in Cadiz but that he would even kill women and children if they got in the way since he was so desperate for money. I could tell he was unhappy, though. He never had a smile on his face even when he was drunk. It went on like that for almost three years when I was a young boy, but he told me years later what finally got him to change and from that why I still follow him to Mass every Sunday.
“At the time there was a nobleman by the name of Don Curzio who had been a rival of his. Don Curzio was a Swordsman, and a spoiled rich man—or so it seemed at least to Lope. The nobleman worked for the Inquisition and was generally hated amongst the mercenaries. A rival nobleman wanted him killed so he set a bounty. It was probably because the Inquisition had something on this other Don that he wanted their agent eliminated and the evidence taken. The two conditions for the bounty was that Don Curzio would be dead and all official documents of his taken back to the contractor. Both because of his competitiveness and because Don Curzio was a hated man amongst the soldiers of fortune, Lope agreed to the terms.
“He eventually found the man in his own manor. Lope had slipped past the vassal guards and entered into the man's chamber. Don Curzio was completely taken off guard and was disarmed quickly. Lope did not even think twice about killing him...” Íñigo paused for a moment as if quietly saying a prayer for the dead.
“How did this change Lope?” Belmont asked with his smile as if he was merely leading the young Íñigo to the proper answers.
“When Lope searched the room and found the papers that he was asked to get, he also found receipts there. They were recent bank notes donating most of Don Curzio's fortune to my orphanage that were to be delivered the next day. There was also a letter of intention there addressed to the orphanage. Apparently, Don Curzio had been an orphan himself from my same orphanage. The father who had adopted him was a wealthy conquistador from New Spain and that's how he rose in rank. Lope felt so guilty that he had killed the man who would have helped him find a job again that he ran away from that place. He presented himself to the priest at my orphanage after wandering the streets half starving and confessed to the murder. Father Geraldo advocated on his behalf with the Inquisition and managed to secure him as the orphanage's personal mercenary-guard as penance. He impressed the friars with his piety and genuine repentance that he was released from his obligations only after a few months. It was then that he adopted me.”
“Why did he adopt you in particular?” Belmont asked.
“It was in the letter of intention. Don Curzio was supposed to be my new father,” Íñigo answered calmly and the words flowed as if hot and cold water intermingled together. “Lope told me life would be hard especially being a soldier for hire, but I saw the change in him and that's what made me accept the new life despite its hardships. I saw him move from the dangerous man I knew only as a small lad to the courageous man who protected me and nurtured me. Even the women that he brought into our lives were respectable ladies even if they were poor. But he always told me that although he has never found me a mother, Mother Church would always be there for us. I didn't believe him because he said it, I believed him because I want to be the same kind of man he is.”
“It sounds like you're already almost there, Íñigo,” Belmont replied. “I know that Lope is very proud of you. I told you that you've seen much of what I've seen already: it has been given to you as a gift from your father.” Belmont could see Íñigo's face tense up in emotion when he said that. “And that is also the real lesson behind late repentance. Lope could not have adopted you without having worked and purged the residual evil that was still inside of him. He needed to get rid of attachment to sin, attachment to the worldly things. He needed time to purge those. That is why I cherish my time awaiting for my entrance to the glory of the Church again because it is also time for me to wash away whatever is left of what I have done and in doing so come to understand what waiting until the last minute does to the soul and why we should avoid it. It helps us to understand that we are making God wait for us whenever we are in a life of sin and even when we finally realize we need Him, our own sins make us wait until we are cleansed of them before we can see His face.”
---
Woodhouse's officers looked at each other with a kind of astonishment that kept each of them speechless. Huddled as they were in the small tent with the swinging lantern above for light, there was still this feeling amongst them that they were heavens apart. “You can't be serious...” one person fumbled in his question like a fish floundering on land pathetically.
“I said I'm just thinking about it, blast it, I haven't decided anything yet,” Woodhouse burst out as he turned around abruptly from the table in between all of them and pushed himself to the edge of the tent. “This has always been a sacred space, gentlemen. This circle, this counsel that I keep with all of you has always been a place where we could speak freely.” Woodhouse's voice was firm yet desperate. “We are not regular officers. We are fighting for our nation as volunteers. Most of us were vagrants, rebels, looters, criminals. Whatever it was, we still have become the most pivotal fighting force this little nation has.”
“But you're thinking of throwing all that away to the Spaniards!” another officer interjected. “What you're imagining is treason!”
“We're already traitors!” Woodhouse shot back. “We are fighting not for the parliament or for kings: we are fighting for England! To save England we may have to compromise these revolutionary ideologies...”
“But why, sir? We have a very good chance of victory here,” another officer pleaded, “with Rocroi about to be invested by the Prince, our attack on Brighton is almost sure to catch them by surprise. The Spanish will be trapped in a half burnt London and we are faster than they are. We could win English independence: a dream we hardly thought possible only a few months ago!”
“But at what cost?!” Woodhouse shouted. “Do you wish to sacrifice all of Europe to the Persians?!”
“Since when did you care about what happens in Austria or Italy or Morocco?” someone else raised his voice, “This is about our Island. The rest of Europe can burn so long--” Woodhouse spun around and landed a heavy gauntlet on the man's cheek. The man crashed against the table and nearly broke the unsteady fixture before raising an arm in defense.
“Listen to yourself!” Woodhouse chastised him as his eyes flared open shocking the others into paralysis. “Listen to all of you! Do you think that this Persian threat will stop there? Do you think the Caliphate will be satisfied with Madrid as it was satisfied with it before? Did it not crawl its way like some beached octopus into Tours? Into Greece? And you wonder why no one has pity on the plight of those of us here in England when you yourselves would so readily condemn our fellow Christians to an evil far greater than Spain. This is why that spy died in that basement in London. This is why he let me kill him with my own hands. He chose to allow that to happen because his vision was greater than his own life. His horizon was not the white cliffs of Dover, but all of Western Civilization.”
“Even if you are right, sir,” one of the officers interceded, “this repentance may come too late. Even if we do surrender, there is no guarantee that Spain will be open to negotiation and even then Fairfax may still fight.”
“You're right, there would be no guarantee. But I ask you all now. For the sake of all of us, we must try.”
Interlude
“Was he a patriot or was he a coward?” the question rang through like a heavy bell tolling. “Woodhouse's decision would have drastic consequences for the war, for England, and for Europe in a way that neither side expected.”
“It doesn't matter if he was a patriot or a coward, he is a prime example of one of those people who shouldn't have been there,” another voice grumbled. “He is another reason to change everything. His existence is a mistake written by a brainless author or two.”
“We will have enough time to rewrite and correct all of the mistakes. However, the Lost Number is still nowhere to be found...”
“They have taken him and hidden him from us. We must accelerate the scenario.”
“We cannot stop now. I will send for the Lost Number myself. The rest of you can continue to find aberrations to erase from this history. Especially that Schenkhuizen. He must never be allowed to exist.”
Chapter CL: Schenkhuizen (coming soon)
I do hope the Spanish are amenable to compromise. And figures not meant to be in history? Interesting, perhaps another facet of the timepiece will come uncovered?
The Timepiece was made by an organisation in our world, it screwed up the timeline, and now the Lost Number is needed to get the timeline back in order.
Schenkhuizen, noble as he is, is indeed an aberration from history
Schenkhuizen, noble as he is, is indeed an aberration from history
Now, now, I'd think you'd have a better opinion of English Patriot and his epic dynasty...
Seriously, though, interesting the idea of people "not supposed to be there"... nice to have a philosophical look into alternate history.
Now, now, I'd think you'd have a better opinion of English Patriot and his epic dynasty...
ROFL I didn't catch that one
I sense a hint of "Matrix" in this update...
And those English are fools if they think just surrendering themselves will make THAT much of a difference against the Persians.
Capture/isolate the Spanish army, and negotiate from there, now THAT might be an idea.
At this time, the Spanish position still looks decent, so the Spaniards are just going to assume *this* rebellion considers itself futile, leading to very little, if any, troops being rotated off the island (to fight the Persians)
OTOH, if you first make sure they realise that the army is lost, and you offer to "return" it.. now that might get you something.
Schenkhuizen.. Well, let's wait and see what exactly the following chapter suggests about what makes him an abberation. So far, he hasn't acted against Dutch interests as such, so I'm willing to grant him some leeway...
And those English are fools if they think just surrendering themselves will make THAT much of a difference against the Persians.
Capture/isolate the Spanish army, and negotiate from there, now THAT might be an idea.
At this time, the Spanish position still looks decent, so the Spaniards are just going to assume *this* rebellion considers itself futile, leading to very little, if any, troops being rotated off the island (to fight the Persians)
OTOH, if you first make sure they realise that the army is lost, and you offer to "return" it.. now that might get you something.
Schenkhuizen.. Well, let's wait and see what exactly the following chapter suggests about what makes him an abberation. So far, he hasn't acted against Dutch interests as such, so I'm willing to grant him some leeway...
Yep more secrets slowly unraveled
The Timepiece was made by an organisation in our world, it screwed up the timeline, and now the Lost Number is needed to get the timeline back in order.
Schenkhuizen, noble as he is, is indeed an aberration from history
Oohhh , an organization from our world , eh ? What kind of organization is this and why did they make it ?
Now, now, I'd think you'd have a better opinion of English Patriot and his epic dynasty...
Haha , well I was speaking more of myself when I poked fun at the Author although these individuals are obviously speaking of the Divine Author since this reality is their reality . "or two" was just a little reference to EP's ownership to it as well XD
ROFL I didn't catch that one
I thought you'd get a little giggle from it XD Evil conspirators are evil .
If you get routed by an enemy and then offered a 'surrender' , you would most likely reinforce the position before moving off elsewhere . Surrendering now would make the most sense , but I'll also leave that up to our readers ... you'll see what I mean in just a little bit .
Except in that Orson Scott Card novel, where the goal was to prevent Columbus from returning and give the natives more time to prepare...
Except in that Orson Scott Card novel, where the goal was to prevent Columbus from returning and give the natives more time to prepare...
Haha , doesn't it make you wonder : what was the original point of departure between our world and theirs ? Do you remember the first chapter ? Alexandria was already in Spanish hands by then . I intentionally left the first 100 years of this scenario hidden .
Wow. I guess it isn't a good idea to skip from chapter 35 to chapter 149. I'm completely lost. I guess I'll just have to do a lot of reading to catch up.