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Why not both ? :D

Me wants both... me wants more updates... me loves your updates...
 
Homelands
Chapter Thirty Eight: Family Tree
Part 4


Prelude:
By 1347 the cracks in Monarchist supremacy were being slowly widened. The war was still a standstill in Estonia, but in the East Mordvia was free of Prussian rule. Vishly saw Mordvia as a drain and was happy to let it go. It freed many troops to go to different fronts and it left Gunvald alone. His eldest son's allies all lay to the south and west, Estonia, supported only by an increasingly distant Finland, was isolated. But not everything was going in favor of the Monarchists. Vishly suffered one major loss, one that would haunt him to the end of his reign, Butovit. Historians are unsure of what happened to Butovit. Both suicide and murder have crossed the minds of many, though no one theory has been proven. The most popular belief is that Butovit saw the errors of his allegiance and threatened to leave his father's service and was killed by his father. Just as likely was that he was removed as a rival by his younger brother, Vilhelms. Either way Vilhelms was quickly made Prince of Prussia, though he had even less support than Butovit did. Vishly knew defeating Gunvald was the only way that he could prevent his eldest son from taking the throne. Many in the court feared that the war had become a personal grudge for Vishly, and they would be right. For the King, the war meant little more than defeating Gunvald, it held little other meaning.

January 18th, 1347

Forgive me father, for what I am about to do is something that I have thought long and hard about. I have searched my soul, what little is left, and I realize I can no longer defend you as both a general and a son. I am surrendering my title as Prince of Prussia and renouncing my role as Marshal of Prussia. I trust Vilhelms will be more than willing to take both positions as it seems he already has. I fear, father, that our goals have shifted and I can no longer look at myself as a Prussian and continue to do what you ask me to do.

Butovit sighed and put his quill down. Gunvald was right, father was incapable of love, of any positive emotion or empathy. Vishly only had enough room in his hear for one person, and that person was Vishly. His father's attention had turned toward Vilhelms, because Vilhelms played the King's games. He put the King first, and only in the short-term. If father demanded, Vilhelms accomplished it, no matter how short sighted. Butovit knew what he must do, he had to flee in the depths of night. He was going to defect to Gunvald's side, packing what little he could into a small sack. He took off the ring that marked him as the Prince of Prussia, he placed it beside the crown of the Prince, a short circlet of silver. He looked over his letter one more time before he was startled by a knock at the door. He quickly covered up the letter and opened the door.

"Good evening, my lord," said one of the maids, "Vilhelms saw your candles burning from outside, and said you might want a bit of dinner and some wine."

Butovit looked at the meal and audibly chuckled, "Fine, thank you." He took the meal and put it down on his desk, but didn't dare touch it. He wasn't that stupid. He returned to his letter, reading it over again when he heard another rap at the door. Becoming annoyed, Butovit quickly stood up and opened the door. It was Vilhelms, "What do you want?"

"How is your wine?"

"I am not stupid, Vilhelms, it will not work."

"I knew you'd guess the intent, but I am telling you this now. Father and I know what you are attempting. You can either take that wine, or you can be tortured so slowly, for so long, you will forget any day when you were not pleading to me for death. This is my offer to you as your brother. Drink the wine Butovit."

"You know nothing for there is nothing to know." The two brothers stared each other down, but Vilhelms was just as stern and unmoved as Butovit. "Now run along and I might have it in me to not report your murder attempts to father."

"Fine, then I guess I have no choice..." Vilhelm's voice trailed off as he made quiet tsk-tsk noises. He produced a piece of paper, a warrant, signed by the King. It was for Butovit, and demanded he be brought back alive for 'interrogation'. Butovit could hear the guards coming, closing in on him, and he quickly avoided Vilhelm's grasp and made it to the table. In his panic he knocked over the stew, but managed to grab the wine glass and drink it all. It didn't take long, Vilhelms had not been lying. Soon he could feel his stomach twisting and his saw his vision blurring.

In his final moments Butovit could hear Vilhelms swearing and cursing, but with one final breath, one final ounce of strength Butovit said, "Fuck you boy, I'll see you in the lake of fire." And then he was dead, frozen with an evil smirk on his face.

"Fucking hell," Vilhelms exclaimed. "Stolen another victory from me, have you brother?!" He smashed the warrant into a wad and threw it at the deceased.

"Why did you actually poison the wine, my lord?" one of the death knights asked.

"I didn't... find me that maid... and stop blabbing our plans out to people, fucking idiots." With that Vilhelms left, headed back to his own room.

August 22nd, 1977

Bendiks woke when a ray of sun from a near-by window ran across his face. He reached for his alarm clock and in the process knocked over a bottle of cheap vodka. "Fuggin bottle, fuggin clock... gah..." He grabbed the clock and looked at the time: 10:22. "Fug" He smacked his gums a few times and then rolled back onto the bed, spreading himself out. But he was not alone. "Gah!" He jumped out of the bed, standing in only a pair of women's panties. "Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck!" as he pulled them off he noticed the state of his small studio. Articles of clothing were scattered about. Looking about he found his boxers hanging from the ceiling fan. He jumped up and pulled them down. Once he had covered at least some of his body he sat down on the edge of his bed which doubled as a couch. He looked at Isabel, who was still sleeping, having taken the edge of the bed without the sun glare. Bendiks took a deep breath, it had been a while since he had woken up with someone else in his bed. She rolled over and slowly her eyes opened. She looked up at him, at first with a smile, then with a sudden spike of terror.

"Holy shit, what are you doing here?!" she exclaimed.

"I should be asking you, this is my place!" Bendiks responded. Isabel looked even more terrified and then quickly glanced around the apartment and began freaking out. She wrapped herself in sheets and began walking around gathering up her clothes. After a few minutes everyone had calmed down, but they were still shaken. "Would you like me to make some breakfast and coffee?"

"Yes."

"Black or cre... O wait... out of cream... black it is..." Bendiks said, looking into his fridge. He put a kettle on the stove and added water out of the tap. Then he took out a few slices of state issued bacon and a loaf of bread, unsliced. He put them directly onto the stove top, and then while they cooked he went back into the fridge and pulled out a bottle of jam.

"Do you remember what happened last night?" Isabel asked.

"No, but I woke up with this next to my head, so probably nothing good," he said holding up the bottle of vodka. "Also, I was wearing your panties..."

Isabel hung her head into her lap. "My mother is going to freak out... she'll think I was out past curfew! Then when I say I am not, she'll wonder where I was... I am in trouble... shit..." Bendiks watched Isabel have her nervous breakdown while he turned the toast over so the other side would brown.
 
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Well at least we now know that modern Prussia isn't all bad. They give their people bacon! :D
 
First off, Kickass AAR. I know i'm new here, but, the After Action Reports are something worth while to read. The AAR's setting is... Different.

Now, the Modern Day Era parts I believe are very interesting. So, in 1977, California is it's own independent Communist Republic? It seems that the Anglo-Prussians were a Colonial power. It's unfourtianate that the Communists got a foothold in Greece. I wonder how England did; they proably were a big colonial power, perhaps not as big as like they were in real life, but, perhaps they colonized Brazil and South America while the HRC, Prussians, Morrocans, and perhaps the Swedes grappled for dominance in North America?

Also; just for the mod; but, I remember in EU3 China could get Quest for the New World if they built a Merchant Fleet and discovered it or something, you'll proably not do anything with it, but, China and HRC as rivals on the west coast or something would be unique, the probelm is, is that due to the Tech Levels, China wouldn't last too long.

Sorry, if it's overly long and I may not get certain elements, but, my first few posts should be long in my opinion. Or, I'm just doing this for fun. :D
 
C-c-c-combo Breaker!

First off, Kickass AAR. I know i'm new here, but, the After Action Reports are something worth while to read. The AAR's setting is... Different.

Now, the Modern Day Era parts I believe are very interesting. So, in 1977, California is it's own independent Communist Republic? It seems that the Anglo-Prussians were a Colonial power. It's unfourtianate that the Communists got a foothold in Greece. I wonder how England did; they proably were a big colonial power, perhaps not as big as like they were in real life, but, perhaps they colonized Brazil and South America while the HRC, Prussians, Morrocans, and perhaps the Swedes grappled for dominance in North America?

Also; just for the mod; but, I remember in EU3 China could get Quest for the New World if they built a Merchant Fleet and discovered it or something, you'll proably not do anything with it, but, China and HRC as rivals on the west coast or something would be unique, the probelm is, is that due to the Tech Levels, China wouldn't last too long.

Sorry, if it's overly long and I may not get certain elements, but, my first few posts should be long in my opinion. Or, I'm just doing this for fun. :D

Welcome and thank you.

You've got quite a bit of speculation there, and I am not going to ruin the future books by spoiling too much. The world is, however, very different. California is going to play a big(ish) role in Book 4, though the center is still on Prussia itself. Prussia's colonialism is going to be the center of Book 3, so of course we'll have to wade through Book 2.

The AAR is so good, you get a triple post! :p

Bacon is a good sign indeed.
I know, I am quiet proud.

Bacon is a delicious sign.
 
Excellent work once again. I especially like that you didn't make Prussia into some sort of idyllic, otherworldly, paradise, but that it resembles how an actual nation might be. I have a question though, did the civil war between Guvald and Vishly actually occur in game, or is it just a story-telling device?
Yes and no. There was no real war between a King and his heir, however there were a bunch of revolts (more than usual) during this time frame due to Vishly's pile of evil traits making everyone nervous. They were especially centered on Estonia, so that's where Gunvald got based here.

The big thing is that Gunvald and Vishly were so very different from each other, so they made good enemies.
 
Homelands
Chapter Thirty Eight: Family Tree
Part 5


Prelude:
Butovit's death left many in Vishly's court suspicious and worried. Some went as far as demanding Vishly end his war with Gunvald. However, those nobles didn't last very long. Vishly became more fanatical about ending the war. His demands fell squarely on Vilhelms, who now saw what his elder brothers had both seen and known. He found his father distant, prone to violent outbursts, and hate-filled. Vishly never really spoke with people, he spoke to people. Everything was one sided, even Ziedás was marginalized. She sat off in a corner, unmoving, being fed by several assistants who occasionally moved her. The young Prince, however, took to his new posts with a gusto. He was determined to prove himself to his father (who didn't love him), his mother (who didn't notice him) and the nobility (who didn't want him). All this fueled his ever increasing anger and madness. But unlike Vishly and Butovit's controlled and smoldering madness, Vilhelms was prone to outbreaks at the drop of a hat. He was a loose cannon, often winning pyrrhic victories due to his brutish battle tactics. His victories achieved usually only through massive numerical advantages. His first assignment was to pacify Sambigrád, where sailors had staged a mutiny which boiled over into an all-out revolt. This revolt was the first of many due in part to Vilhelms' brutality. The Prince soon found himself holding the distinction of the most hated man in the Empire, second only to his father who had let loose such a monster.

September 25th, 1347

Gunvald had left the front briefly to work on pressing political matters at his capital. His so-called allies were quick to leave him behind in their own quest for independence. They saw little concern for Prussia itself, only for their own fortunes. "So much for Fraternal loyalty," Gunvald said to Viba. He looked at his map and slowly hashed Wallachia off. "My father is quick to give peace to many, and these people abandon me. They use his grudge against me to their own advantage. Soon it shall be only me and my father at war."

"We cannot win that war, Gunvald."

"I know that. We need to get more support from within my father's court. We need to get the people to revolt, like Sambigrád and Dánzik. We need a revolt so that my father will lessen the pressure on our fronts so we can better fight. I need more armies!"

"Well, then not all is lost, father," Doyvát entered the room, he was dressed in his knightly finery, having just ridden across the breadth of Prussia. "I return from Poland and Ducal Kiev, and I bear some good news," the Prince said with a deep bow.

"And what would that be?" Gunvald asked.

"Your revolts have started. Opole, Krákográd, Pinsk, Kiev and Chernigrád are all in revolt as we speak. It seems your younger brother, Vilhelms, has his work cut out for him. The Count of Lviv and the Prince of Silesia have both decided to remove their support from Vishly and their banners are now yours!" Doyvát said.

"O thank the heavens! How many men do they bring with them?

"A total far short of a total victory, but 50,000 men total is 50,000 more men for us. That should be enough to at least distract Vilhelms." Doyvát took a deep bow, his training with the knights of old was very obvious, but Gunvald saw him as a bright, friendly option to the other military commanders. Just having Doyvát around was a point in favor for Gunvald. His son had quite a following for his exploits, which included defeating a regiment of Death Knights by challenging them to a drinking game.

"As always, my lord, a pleasure to serve and protect." Doyvát laughed and then put his hat back on, "And now, I return to the front... we have a war to win father!"

August 22nd, 1977

Bendiks and Isabel exited a movie theater with throngs of other movie-goers. The two had decided, on Isabel's urging, to avoid her mother as much as possible. Bendiks did not need any more convincing than that. The movie had been the same movies Bendiks saw when he left Prussia to travel to California. Boy is a servant, boy joins rebellion, boy becomes great hero, boy dies but saves the workers of Prussia. Only now, instead of a boy dying defending his home in the fields of Poland he died defending the poor Romans from the evils of Imperialism and Fascism and Capitalism. How lucky those Romans were. In Rome and the other Communist countries such films were mandatory viewing. The fatherly Prussians had to remind their flock of the sacrifices made in the Patriotic War so that they could be free of monarchs and free to enjoy Communism.

California.png

The Flag of the Republic of California. California was know for its staunch anti-communist ideology and being a hotbed of fascism between 1920 and 1990.

"So what was California like... I mean... socially... what are the people like?" Isabel asked.

"Well... it isn't very different from here... but it is very different at the same time. They have all the same problems, just for different reasons. See, in California, they don't lie to the hungry. The rich keep the food, but they admit it, while here we get lied to. Also in California it is much harder to become a party member..."

"Why is that, don't they just have a few tests like here?"

"Yeah, but it is harder to pass those tests... because instead of reciting the pledge and reading a few books... they check your ancestry. If you are red, or part red, or your grandmother was friends with a red you are rejected."

"Red? Like us?"

"No, sorry... Native Californians, they are called 'reds' because of their skin. So Whites rule everything, and White Orthodox Christians are on the top, followed by White Christians, Jews and White Muslims, and then Half-Breeds, then Red Christians, then Red Pagans."

"Wow... and they say we are bad... at least you can be Jewish in Prussia..."

"Barely, but the natives in California have very little. So all the good land is owned by whites, and the major cities are white-only.... but whites are only about ten percent of the population. The rest lives in reservations inland, especially in the deserts in the south. But they are strong. They refuse to speak the official languages, they refuse to worship the official God... they are very inspirational."

"So that is why you emulate their music?"

"Yeah... I guess..."

"Did you go anywhere else?"

"Not really... stopped in France on my way out there. I only saw the inside of the airport."

"Did you go through Lyon?"

"No, just crummy Paris."

"Aw, that is too bad... the capital is supposed to be absolutely beautiful! It is where all the famous rebels stay. The safe house of the down trotted, the non-believers and non-conformists... all the pretty arches and buildings..." Isabel drifted off into a mental image of the warm Lyonnais streets, the people bustling between coffee houses and public forums. An artist stands, painting a young couple in love under the Victory Arches. A city where French, Breton and Vasque are all spoken together, no one beating out the others.

"You want out pretty bad, huh?"

"No... yes... well... maybe... I don't speak anything but Prussian, and I love Prussia... I just..."

"Don't love the government?"

"Yeah..."


End Chapter Thirty Eight
 
Awesome updates as usual ! :cool:

Only problem, they don't come often enough :D
 
Homelands
Chapter Thirty Nine: By the Blade
Part 1


Prelude:
Year eight of the Second Fraternal War was welcomed in with independence for Hungary and Austria. Prussia was rapidly shrinking, torn to shreds by her own hand. Bohemia and Brandenburg were probably next to go while Vishly was reluctant to let Denmark go. If anything much of what Gunvald had promised had come to fruition. The recently free countries then had it in themselves to squander their newly won independence with petty infighting a wars against their Muslim neighbors. In the Baltic theater Prince Doyvát and Duke Gunvald fought against an enemy that was quickly becoming demoralized. Under the harsh leadership of the Prince of Prussia, Prince Vilhelms, the armies of Mariengrád and Memelgrád had beaten down many a rebellion, but the soldiers were weary of killing their own people. In the waning weeks of summer, the four armies met once again, this time only a few hours ride from Memelgrád. Gunvald was dangerously close to the capital, but was acting rashly, wishing to see the conclusion of the war as soon as possible. Doyvát and Vilhelms personally met on the battlefield and tested their might against one another. That battle was an important turning point for all involved, and almost cost the war for both sides. Many historians call it the "Pyrrhic Draw" as it left both sides worse off than they began, but neither side managed to beat the other decisively.

September 18th, 1348

The clash of steel once again filled Doyvát's ears. He sat on horseback and commanded his troops calmly and expertly, despite the numerous arrows that flew by his head. On the battlefield he was an inspiration to the Fraternal Forces, his appearance and cool demeanor gave strength to his men. His youth and energy revitalized even the oldest and most hardened knights. So when he commanded not a man in ear shot was going to disobey. He had their loyalty because he had their respect. He was never cruel to his friend nor his foe. In his dulled and dented suit of armor he was the poor knight, a knight of honor and chivalry. So when he saw an opposing knight in shining armor and followed by a black and white banner he knew it was Vilhelms and it was his duty to face his uncle.

"Vilhelms!" Doyvát cried across the cacophony of the battlefield. He thrust his finger out toward his uncle and tried issuing his challenge again. He saw Vilhelms draw a large claymore and stop to dismount. The Prince did the same, drawing his sword and grabbing his shield off the side of the horse. Dropping onto the ground he could see his uncle's shield was updated to bear the coat of arms of the Prince of Prussia. His own shield bear the three blue lions of Estonia. He pounded on it with his gauntlet as part of his own pre-battle ritual. When Vilhelms was close enough, the Prince swung his sword forward, getting behind his uncle's sword and cracking him on the shoulder. Doyvát's opponent was slow to respond, using all his strength to heft up the large sword and swing it sickeningly downwards. Doyvát counted by quickly getting his shield above his head and deflecting the blow to the side.

A few minutes of fighting was broken up by Doyvát kicking Vilhelms away and then regaining his breath and composure. "Uncle, you are too small to use that sword, you should fetch a long sword and a shield." He waved his own bastard sword around to show him how much lighter it was.

"Shut up! I don't need you telling me my limits, childe."

Under his helmet Doyvát cocked a sideways smile. Vilhelms wasn't even a year older than him, but Vishly's support did that to a man's ego. Vilhelms lifted his sword again and ran at Doyvát. This time Doyvát was not playing around. He ducked under Vilhelm's first swing and then grabbed the back on his uncle's helmet. Lifting it only so slightly Doyvát plunged his sword into Vilhelms' neck, and then with another grunt of effort took his uncle's head clean off of its shoulders. The Prince took a deep breath and watched Vilhelms' head roll away. A sense of accomplishment soon welled up, but he forcibly held it down. Not the time for gloating. But as he looked around many of the enemy troops were in a panic, retreating away from where Doyvát had killed Vilhelms. But the Prince felt that something was wrong. No army just collapses as one just because a commander is killed. No, something was afoul and it'd be damned if he didn't know about it.

MemelgrdBattle.png

Fraternal Knights before the battle.

Climbing back onto his horse Doyvát galloped back to where the commanders were gathering. Notably missing was his father. "Where is my father?" Doyvát demanded.

The commanders looked around worriedly, then once finally croaked, "He was captured by the enemy. That is why the retreated back."

"Fuck!" Doyvát threw his helmet against the ground. His brown curly hair bounced as he threw his head back and screamed upwards. When he had calmed down enough he looked around, "Well Vishly shall find his own generals are down by one... I have slain the Prince of Prussia, Vishly will realize that his only legal heir is now Gunvald... he wouldn't dare kill his only heir."

"Vishly will kill Gunvald by dawn tomorrow. The war is over..."

"What?" Doyvát exclaimed. "This war is far from over. How dare you even imply that it is."

"What are we without Gunvald?"

"So that's it, everything we've sacrificed... everything HE sacrificed is for nothing? Are you stupid? Is that how to treat the memory of your King?!" Doyvát yelled, pointing his finger in the direction of where he thought Gunvald to be.

"I am sorry my lord bu..."

"But nothing. If you are so certain Gunvald is dead then crown me his regent, I will hold that title until I know for certain he is dead. But this is not over simply because we do not know where my father is. Now unpack the camp, we stay here and tomorrow we face whatever is left of Vishly's army and we will keep fighting until this war is over, am I understood?"

September 20th, 1348

Gunvald awoke in pitch blackness. He was almost certain he was dead. He felt around on the moist stone floor, searching for some sign of where he was. He eventually felt a cold bar across his way and pushing his hand around it, he realized he was in a dungeon cell. He hung from the bars letting his eyes adjust and eventually he saw well enough that he was not alone. Across the hall, beyond the metal bars was another cell occupied by a lonely looking man with white hair past his shoulders. The head turned slowly, its face covered in a sadistic smile. "G'mornin your majesty," cackled the voice. "Let me welcome you to Mariengrád. Once upon a time this place house Dukes and Kings, now it is a place of worship... worship of King Vishly and his death knights."

"What do you mean?"

"Don't you get it? They are going to torture you. They'll torture you until you beg for death between sobs and globs of blood. They'll torture you because they have nothing better to do."

"I doubt that. Why wouldn't they just kill me? My father has wanted that more than anything for almost thirty years now."

"I think it has something to do with the death of Vilhelms in that battle you got yourself caught in!"

"Vilhelms is dead?!"

"Yup! And that leaves only you, Gunvald. Only one Prince left, and Vishly dying on the throne. O how wonderful it will be once you are all dead! Then only I will be left!"