InTveresting Times: An AfTver Action Report

Episode XXXVI: Alea IacTver Est

An Extract From The Seventh Mighty Epistle of His Excellency Charles Percival Huiver-Bagge, MA (Oxford)

It is I.

Thunderous, dazzling and groundbreakingly original – and that is just my wardrobe – I return to further enlighten you of the goings on in the Empire of Tver. The delay in my latest epistle is not due to tardiness – for shame! – but to the inefficiencies of the postal service in this backward nation of babbling merchants and incompetent artists. My official portrait is still undone – the court painter should be boiled upside down in fruit preserve.

In any case, I return, and you are joyous.

Further divisions have been drawn between the Czarina and her cousin, Lady Elena. In spite of this, Lady Elena maintains her professionalism, and remains a dedicated servant of Czarina Aleksandra. Recently, though, she acted as the bearer of ill news. Her smile was, I am sure, a grimace of regret.

‘The king of Georgia has a son, Aleksandra.’



The Czarina sighed, wrinkling her nose (a rather pretty nose – though as a wrinkled stump to that of our most Britannic Majesty of course!).

‘Ah well. Send him our congratulations.’

‘You could declare warrr, my Czarrrina?’ suggested Don Pedro (I never see the man enter a room! It is unusual!)

‘War, Don Pedro? On another Orthodox prince? I want his throne, but not by force!’

‘I merely thought, my Czarrrina...’

‘Don’t, Don Pedro. You’ll only hurt yourself. No. Russia and Georgia will always be friends. Why would we ever encroach on their territories?’

‘As you say, my Czarrrina...’

‘I do. Now. Mijado, is the colonisation of Tambow progressing?’

The robed clergyman nodded.



‘Excellent. Elena, what is happening on the eastern front?’

‘The Nogai are causing trouble, Aleksandra. They are wary of our focusing of resources in the eastern provinces.’



The Czarina sniffed. ‘It matters naught. They will come raiding and pillaging at some point – and we will send them scurrying back to their holes in the ground once again. We could be their firmest ally and they would still try to attack us. Any real developments?’

Brother Mijado glided forwards, and presented the Czarina with a document, which she studied.

‘An interesting idea. A country run by priests? You don’t support this idea, Mijado?’

The hooded figure shook his head. (I assume – otherwise the hood moved side to side of its own accord).



‘At least you’re working on something useful. How are the palace sheep?’

An encouraging nod.



‘Splendid. Every woollen rug enriches our coffers.’

A true statement. There was further trouble to come later that week, however: a book about the habits of beavers had been circulating in the northern territories for some time (amongst the few of these simpletons who can read!), which painted them in an overly romantic manner. Trappers began to take pity on the beasts for their ‘cuteness’, leading to a shortage of quality beaver fur.



This shortage did not, of course, affect me: as an esteemed gentleman, my tailor was able to put aside some top quality fur for my new cloak.

‘For such fine clients, we use only best fur. Simples!’, as he said. Fortunate to have his reassurance, having heard that some unscrupulous tailors continued to sell cloaks made from the fur of a mere cat.

Back at court, Brother Mijado had further good news for the Czarina.



The colonisation of Tambow was complete, the province now fully part of the Empire of Tver.

The time had come, declared the Czarina, for decisive action.

‘Don Pedro, arrange for military access from Provence.’

The Spaniard looked at her blankly. ‘Which province, my Czarrrina?’

‘Provence, not province. The country. South of France.’



‘Ahh…si. You are planning your next holiday?’

‘Not at all. I have ordered the admiral of the fleet to have one of our carracks sent to our Black Sea port. Hopefully they will be able to stop off in Provence to resupply.’



‘Meanwhile, our artillery units will mobilise towards the border with Hungary.’



Lady Elena eyed her cousin.

‘You’re still set on this course, Aleksandra?’ Her evil-eyed cat, Montague, echoed her appearance of scepticism.

‘Absolutely. Zaporozhie is rightfully ours – as is the rest of the Crimean. They claim our Ukrainian provinces - they require to be reeducated. Now. Where is my son?’

‘Aleksandr has gone with the artillery train, Aleksandra. He wanted to test out a new compound he had been working on.’

Prince Aleksandr is a dedicated man of science, spending most of his time locked in a laboratory with Tver’s finest (by which I mean most dangerous) scientific minds. He speculated to me recently that the technologies used in artillery could one day be used to propel man to the Moon! Such nonsense. He said that it would merely require one who was determined not to kneel, and whose arm was strong. The boy talks nonsense – if ever such an advance were to be made, it would not be these primitive, brutish Russians. Only the demi-men of the Americas surpass them in barbarism (as detailed in my mighty work, Huiver-Bagge’s Glorious Voyages In The New World). Woe betide us should these nations be the ones leading us into the heavens!

In any case, the young Prince wished to test out anew explosive powder he had created which, he said, would greatly improve the Tverian artillery. General Sugorsky took a great personal interest in His Highness’ work, and personally fired the first experimental salvo.


The deployment of the Tverian fleet necessitated its expansion: should their two carracks be deployed against either the Turk or the Magyar, their northern port cities would be open to pirate attack. A new galley was laid down to patrol the White Sea coastline.



Further worrying developments came later, however, as Hungary’s ally Brandenburg once more flexed her muscles, annexing the rich port city of Danzig.



This bold stroke was followed up by another declaration of war from the rampant Germans: the king of Brandenburg laid claim to the city of Meissen, and deployed his armies. The Hungarians, eager to confirm their alliance with this emerging nation, joined them in the war.



Better news was to come, though, as Brother Mijado reported (in writing, naturally) that the missionaries he had sent to Uralsk had met with great success: the light of Christ shone once more upon that barren province. The presence of a large number of rough men with pikes, I am sure, had no influence on their new-found zeal.



Emboldened, the Czarina’s preparations for war continued apace. A new general was recruited to replace the smoking boots of Sugorsky. General Kholmsky was perhaps not all that the Czarina had hoped for – his wardrobe lacked the shock factor of his predecessor. She could only hope that his habit of setting his beard on fire with his potato pipe – this strange new root has fine medicinal qualities when smoked – would aid him in battle.



Nothing, it seemed, would stand in the way of Brandenburg, as more of their opponents surrendered before the march of her well-disciplined troops. Worrying indeed for the Czarina, though I say that this is to the good of Her Britannic Majesty: never will we have a firmer ally than the men of Berlin, and the march of the Brandenburger boot shall always, I am sure, be a welcome sound to the sons of Britannia.



And so, it seems, the Czarina prepared for battle with the Hungarians. Advisable or not, only time shall tell.



In the meantime, upon this thunderous note, I shall leave you, suspended in wonder. The storm clouds of war gather above my head, but it is time for me to break my spell of prose, and free you to your normal, dreary lives until my next instalment.

I am Huiver-Bagge. You are not.

Huiver-Bagge

@ Memento Mori: Distinctly possible, considering Tver's areas of expansion in the last few years. Probably some Tartar blood in there somewhere


@ loki100: You're a master of finding animal-related typos - and many other things, I am certain. Sugorsky gave his life to the advancement of science, and I suspect that he will not be the last.

And for your last point, you're about to find out...

@ RGB: When it comes to you, please let me know...and yes, the Magyar has moved too far into my territory. The time has come to strike!

@ homy_dog34: Sadly, caution and patience aren't the first words associated with Scots...

@ Ramidel: I have pondered the potential benefits of taking over some western territory and building better units in them. I'm tempted by the thought of a Window on the West (I've got the mission again, and have a Claims Core on Estland) in the Baltic states, and extending it down towards Prussia...this would be some way off, though.

Episode XXXVII: War! (War!) What Is It Good Tver? Part I

An extract from Huiver-Bagge's Tveriad by Charles Percival Huiver-Bagge MA (Ox.) KG (Surely pending)

Battle commences.

Hordes of armed men and women pour forth into breaches in the defences. Steel flashes, the shouts of the combatants, the screams of the injured.

But enough of my book signing event.

The war has begun, and I, Charles Percival Huiver-Bagge (MA, Ox.) shall be your guide and your guardian. When the history of human conflicts is written, a hundred centuries from now, the names of the Peloponnesian War, the Carthaginian War and the Trojan War shall be joined by that of the Tverian Reconquest of Zaporozhia – and I shall be its Homer.

The declaration of war was sent from the Cazrina’s elegant hand, delivered to king Lajos of Hungary by a servant who had forgotten to feed the palace bears the previous week (luckier than the last servant who forgot to feed the palace bears, who had to...feed the palace bears, if you know what I mean).

Tver swooped down on Hungary like a Cambridge Professor setting on a pork pie. The Czarina ordered two large armies to push into the disputed Crimean region.



The declaration of war, though, brought panic to the court. Lady Elena and Don Pedro had long opposed any military action, and now Don Pedro’s worst fears had been realised.

‘Hungary’s allies have joined her , my Czarrrina!’

The Czarina shrugged her shoulders. ‘And?’

‘The mighty Brandenburg marches to war with them!’



The Czarina smiled. ‘Reading was never your strong point, was it Don Pedro?’

‘My Czarrina?’

‘Look again. At the last letter.’



‘Carrramba.’

‘Indeed. They have abandoned Hungary to their fate. After all the help Hungary gave them annexing their neighbours.’ The Czarina shook her head. ‘I’ll never understand the Germans.’

‘Neither will I, Czarrrina.’

‘You will never understand anything, Don Pedro...’

The treacherous men of Brandenburg had dishonoured their alliance with Hungary, leaving the Magyars at the mercy of the armies of Tver! But the war was not yet won.



Hungary had a number of strong armies – any miscalculation would lead to disaster. I, Charles Percival Huiver-Bagge, explorer and writer extraordinaire, would accompany the Tverian armies to the front line. As you all know, I laugh in the face of danger – what have I to fear from these brutish Magyars, I who have faced the forests of the Andes and discovered the Straits of Huiver-Bagge before that Portuguese bastard tied me up in a sack, threw me into the ocean, and named them after himself!

And yet, dangerous there was, and plenty. At any time I might have been impaled by a hairy Magyar with a massive chopper. I might also have been stabbed.

The enemy recovered swiftly from the shock of the Tverian assault, and sent troops into Tver’s Crimean holdings.



The army in Kouban, though, was trap – as soon as battle was joined, two more Tverian armies rushed to reinforce their comrades, striking at the flanks of the outnumbered and outmanoeuvred Magyars.



The result of this mighty clash, whose reverberations would be heard as far away as Lisbon, was to be expected.



The Hungarians retreated, but were attacked once again in Azow, given no time to recover by the Tverian armies.



The Battle of Poltava saw another large Hungarian force engaged, but once again, Tverian troops were in a position to flank the Magyars and cut off their retreat.



Where Hungary’s most useful ally had abandoned her, Tver’s were only getting started. The Czarina’s cousin, Duke Boris of Muscowy, led his troops into Hungary’s north-eastern territories.



Pleased with the opening phase, the Czarina delegated Lady Elena to oversee the deployment of siege forces, with a brief to ensure that they were protected from Hungarian counter-attacks.



The Minister for Finance came up with a new idea – perhaps merchants should actually count the monies they received, rather than simply throwing it all into a big sack as has been done since time immemorial. The man is a loon, a pedant, and probably a heretic.



The Battle of Kiev was another resounding success – clearly Ukraine will always be a happy hunting ground for Russians, who will always be received in a spirit of friendship and brotherhood.



In trouble, King Lajos treated for peace. The Czarina’s reply was a finely-crafted wooden box containing a lump of coal with a smiling face etched onto it.



Hungarian resistance, though, required the reallocation of resources. Troops were moved from the eastern provinces to reinforce the assault on Crimea.



The Czarina ordered the treasury to cease the collection of war taxes – while very useful for funding the war effort, the strain that they were putting on influential wallets had the potential for causing trouble. The Russias shall, of course, always be lands where peaceful protest is tolerated.



Boris Rurikovich was once again proving his worth, as another Hungarian force was decisively defeated at Podolia.



Trouble was to rear its ugly head, though, in the occupied Golden Horde territory of Vetluga – Qasim Khanate nationalists once more demander independence for their country.



Troops were deployed to lay sieges across the Crimean region. Once taken, the Czarina would be able to force the King of Hungary to negotiate the transfer of Zaporozhia to her control.



But Hungary’s allies still prospered, and all of Tver shook at one of the peace demands.



While Tver is, for now, in the ascendant, the Hungarian beast is merely wounded, not dead. Will Tver’s other enemies see a chance to attack? Will Ragusa fall upon the Tverian armies like the sword of heaven? You shall find out in time. For now, I, Charles Percival Huiver-Bagge, am signing off. To war. Further reports shall thunder to the presses the moment they fall from my manful quill, but for now, I must take a deep breath, and return to the bosom of the battlefield. Lucky indeed that I am a man amongst men, treading – as ever – where the weak dare not to even tiptoe.

Huiver-Bagge

@ homy_dog34: A finer scribe the world has never seen, and likely never shall. And it's going rather better than expected, considering my incompetence.

@ loki100: A fellow graduate of that mighty bastion of learning, then? (though I was English Lit). I've been looking for an opportunity to get a few cracks at St Andrews in here...


@ MrQwerty: Looking at that screenshot again, I'm not sure how I won that battle (I don't really udnerstand the game mechanics) - it's probably either the Quality slider, as you say, or the fact that I have Military Drill and Joe Magyar doesn't (another reason I was scared of Brandenburg - they do have it.)

@ RGB: I, of course, have no idea what film industry you are referring to.

- awkward silence -

And yes, it's a very sensible offer. Don't know why the Czarina didn't accept it...

@ Chief Ragusa: This is all your fault isn't it? Stop spamming me with ludicrous peace offers ya git! And yes, true about the borders. One of the biggest challenges facing a growing nation. I have a few ideas though...

@ All: A short update, since it's essentially the conclusion of the last one.

Chapter XXXVII: War! (War!) What Is It Good Tver? Part 2

An extract from Huiver-Bagge's Tveriad by Charles Percival Huiver-Bagge MA (Ox.) KG (Surely pending)

Fortune smiles upon you, doughty Englishman or giggling wench. It is Huiver-Bagge O’ Clock.

It is well known amongst the learned and knowledgeable that I, Charles Percival Huiver Bagge, do not measure fear in the same way as ordinary men. I walk hand in hand with danger, indulge her with a romantic feast, and bring her indescribable wonderments by nightfall.

Thus I am well-equipped to comment upon the closing days of that most Herculean of conflicts, the Tverian Reconquest of Zaporozhia. The valiant Tverians had made great thrusts (a matter upon which I am an authority) into Hungarian territories, but with the Magyars’ powerful allies waiting in the wings, fear of a counter-attack hovered like a vulture. And why not, when such mighty nations could, at any time, send their numberless legions into the conflict?



The Duke of Bar demanded a cessation of hostilities and considerable concessions (in exchange for what he did not make clear), which the Czarina answered in a manner reminiscent of her scholarly father. She sent the Duke a fine portrait for his art collection – it bore a fine resemblance to His Highness, although I shall never look at goats in the same way again (although the goat, at least, seemed to be enjoying its position of dominance).

The Magyars themselves, however, were a spent force, and King Lajos begged the Czarina for peace.



Czarina Aleksandra, though, would have none of it.

‘My Czarrrina, the offer is generous and most useful’ advised Mysterious Don Pedro

‘Not nearly enough. We’re not here to annoy the Hungarians. We’re here to drive them completely out of our sphere of influence.’

‘Oh, naturrrally, my Czarina, but perhaps that should wait for another time? A more opportune moment?’

‘Like when? Her armies are defeated, and their allies are no threat to our invincible legions! No. We can take much more from the Hungarians than this, and we will.’

Despite the entreaties of her advisors to take what was on offer before the mighty Bar flexed its muscles, she stood firm (as all fine men should do in her presence!) – this peace, she said, would be negotiated on her terms, not those of the Hungarian king.

Victory in the Siege of Kaffa – with its impressive vineyards and storehouses of fine wines – was a great boon to the morale of the Tverian army.



The Hungarians’ main armies defeated, the Tverian force was divided into smaller units to besiege the major towns of the Crimean region. As months past, city after city surrendered to the onslaught.



The Czarina has said at the start of the war that she did not mind King Lajos personally. In fact, she greatly admired his Pecs. But it would be Cousin Boris, Duke of Muscowy, who would get his hands on Lajos’ beautiful Pecs.



Czarina Aleksandra’s victory was total, her foes routed or unwilling to commit to the battle. Her council, as ever, played the devil’s advocate: they were, I am sure, truly overjoyed at her successes. Don Pedro congrrrratulated her, Lady Elena and her cat smiled icy smiles, and Brother Mijado said nothing – a compliment of there ever was one.



The total collapse of Lajos’ resistance came soon afterwards, when he finally surrendered his Pecs to the rampant Rurikoviches.



This was now time for negotiation. The Czarina drove a hard bargain: this wasa rare opportunity to drive the Latins out of the Crimean. Niot every province, but those that remained would likely overthrow their Magyar overlords, allowing them to be absorbed at will into the Empire of Tver.



So it was that the Empire of Tver once more took upon a new shape. The Cartographers’ Guild were not overjoyed, as it required the re-angling of the country’s font – but the letters themselves were as buxom as the Czarina’s...charity.



The largest city of Crimea was renamed Czarinagrad in honour of the mighty Empress of Tver.



Thus it was that the Tverian Reconquest of Zaporozhia came to a close. The Crimean region firmly in Tverian hands, the first of her great enemies defeated, likely to soon be feasted on by other hungry Latin powers. For now, though, the Czarina is the undisputed mistress of eastern Europe.

Enough now. Battle is done, and it is time for feasting on the bounties of victory. Even I, the inimitable Charles Percival Huiver-Bagge, mightiest chronicler of this age of change, must refresh myself after the battles of this most thunderous victory for the Empire of Tver. The savages shall celebrate long into the night, and while I am of a far finer breed than any of them, I too shall sample their festivities – for purely cultural reasons, of course.

Until further stories of my exploits in this far-flung realm, you, dear reader, shall make do with this thunderous volume.

Huiver-Bagge